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1

CHAPTER VIII.

2
3

HOW IACK OF NEWBERY KEEPING A VERY GOOD HOUSE, BOTH FOR
4HIS SERUANTS AND RELIEFE OF THE POORE, WON GREAT CREDIT
5THERBY, AND HOW ONE OF HIS WIUES GOSSIPS FOUND FAULT
6THERWITH.

7
8    Good morrow Gossip, now by my truely I am glad to see you
9in health. I pray you how dooth Maister Winchcombe ? What
10neuer a great belly yet? now fie, by my fa your husband is waxt idle.
11    Trust mee Gossip, saith mistresse Winchcombe , a great belly
12comes sooner then a new coate, but you must consider wee haue
13not beene long married: but truly gossip you are welcome, I pray
14you sit down and we will haue a morsell of something by and by.
15    Nay truely Gossip I cannot stay quoth she, indeede I must be
16gone: for I did but euen step in to see how you did.
17    You shall not chuse but stay a while quoth mistris Winchcombe ,
18and with that a fayre Napken was layd vpon the little Table in
19the Parlour, hard by the fire side, whereon was set a fine cold
20Capon, with a great deale of other good cheare, with Ale and Wine
21plentie.
22    I pray you Gossip eate, and I beshrew you if you spare quoth
23the one.
24    I thanke you heartily Gossip saith the other. But hear you
25Gossip, I pray you tell mee: doth your husband loue you well, and
26make much of you?
27    Yes truly I thanke God quoth shee.
28    Now by my truth sayd the other, it were a shame for him if hee
29should not: for though I say it before your face, though he had
30little with you, yet you were worthy to bee as good a mans wife
31as his.
32    Trust me I would not change my Iohn for my Lord Marquesse,
33quoth she: a woman can be but well, for I liue at hearts ease, and
34haue all things at will, and truly hee will not see mee lacke any
35thing.

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36    Gods blessing on his heart quoth her Gossip, it is a good hearing:
37but I pray you tell mee, I heard say your husband is chosen for
38our Burgesse in the Parliament house, is it true?
39    Yes verily quoth his wife. I wis it is against his will; for it will
40be no small charges vnto him.
41    Tush woman, what talke you of that? thankes be to God, there is
42neuer a Gentleman in all Barkshire that is better able to beare it.
43But heare you Gossip, shall I bee so bold to aske you one question
44more?
45    Yes, withall my heart quoth shee.
46    I heard say that your husband would now put you in your hood,
47and silke gowne, I pray you is it true?
48    Yes in truth, quoth mistresse Winchcomb , but farre against my
49mind, Gossip: my french hood is bought already, and my silke
50gowne is a making, likewise the Goldsmith hath brought home
51my chayne and bracelets: but I assure you Gossip, if you will beleeue
52mee, I had rather go an hundred miles then weare them, for
53I shall be so ashamed that I shall not looke vpon any of my
54neighbors for blushing.
55    And why I pray you? quoth her Gossip. I tell you deare woman,
56you need not be any thing abashed or blush at the matter, especially
57seeing your husbands estate is able to maintaine it: now
58trust me truly, I am of opinion you will become it singular well.
59    Alas quoth mistresse Winchcombe , hauing neuer beene vsed to
60such attyre, I shall not know where I am, nor how to behaue my
61selfe in it: and beside, my complexion is so blacke, that I shall
62carry but an ill fauoured countenance vnder a hood.
63    Now without doubt (quoth her Gossip) you are to blame to say
64so: beshrew my heart if I speake it to flatter; you are a very faire
65and well fauored young woman as any is in Newbery . And neuer
66feare your behauiour in your hood: for I tel you true, as old and
67withered as I am my selfe, I could become a hood well enough,
68and behaue my selfe as well in such attyre as any other whatsoeuer,
69and I would not learne of neuer a one of them all: what
70woman, I haue beene a prety wench in my dayes, and seene some
71fashions. Therefore you need not feare, seeing both your beauty
72and comely personage deserues no lesse then a french hood, and
73bee good comfort. At the first (possible) folkes will gaze something

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74at you: but bee not you abashed for that, it is better they
75should wonder at your good fortune, then lament at your miserie:
76but when they haue seene you two or three times in that attyre
77they will afterward little respect it: for euery new thing at the first
78seemes rare, but being once a little vsed, it growes common.
79    Surely gossip you say true, (quoth shee) and I am but a foole to
80bee bashfull: it is no shame to vse Gods gifts for our credites:
81and well might my husband thinke me vnworthy to haue them,
82if I would not weare them: and though I say it, my hood is a
83fayre one, as any woman weares in this countrey, and my gold
84chaine and bracelets are none of the worst sort, and I will shew
85them you, because you shall giue your opinion vpon them: and
86therewithall shee stept into her chamber and fetcht them foorth.
87    When her Gossip saw them, she sayd: Now beshrew my fingers
88but these are fayre ones indeede. And when doe you meane to
89weare them Gossip?
90    At Whitsontide (quoth shee) if God spare mee life.
91    I wish that well you may weare them, sayd her Gossip, and I
92would I were worthie to bee with you when you dresse your selfe,
93it should bee neuer the worse for you: I would order the matter
94so, that you should set euery thing about you in such sort as
95neuer a Gentlewoman of them all should staine you.
96    Mistresse Winchcombe gaue her great thankes for her fauour,
97saying, that if she needed her helpe, she would be bold to send
98for her.
99    Then beganne her gossip to turne her tongue to another tune,
100and now to blame her for her great house keeping. And thus she
101beganne: Gossip, you are but a young woman, and one that hath
102had no great experience of the World, in my opinion you are something
103too lauish in expences: pardon me good gossip, I speake but
104for good will; and because I loue you, I am the more bolde to
105admonish you: I tell you plain, were I the Mistresse of such a house,
106hauing such large allowance as you haue, I would saue 20. pound
107a yeare that you spend to no purpose.
108    Which way might that be (quoth mistres Winchcombe ?) indeed
109I confesse I am but a greene housewife, and one that hath but small
110tryall in the world, therefore I should bee verie glad to learne any
111thing that were for my husbands profite, and my commoditie.
112    Then listen to mee quoth shee: You feede poor folkes with the
113best of the beefe, and finest of the wheate, which in my opinion

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114is a great ouersight: neither do I heare of any Knight in this
115countrey that doth it. And to say the truth, how were they able to
116beare that port which they doe, if they saued it not by some
117meanes? Come thither, and I warrant you that you shall see but
118browne bread on the boord: if it be wheate and rie mingled together,
119it is a great matter, and the bread highly commended:
120but most commonly they eate either barlybread, or rie mingled
121with pease, and such like course graine: which is doubtlesse, but
122of small price, and there is no other bread allowed, except at their
123owne boord. And in like manner for their meate: it is well knowne
124that neckes and poynts of beefe is their ordinarie fare: which because
125it is commonly leane, they seeth therewith now and then a
126peece of bacon or porke, whereby they make their pottage fat, and
127therewith driues out the rest with more content. And thus must you
128learne to doe. And besides that, the midriffes of the Oxen, and the
129cheekes, the sheepes heads, and the gathers, which you giue away
130at your gate, might serue them well enough: which would be a
131great sparing to your other meat, and by this meanes you would
132saue in the yeare much mony, whereby you might the better maintaine
133your hood and silke gowne. Againe, you serue your folkes
134with such superfluities, that they spoyle in manner as much as they
135eate: beleeue me were I their Dame, they should haue things more
136sparingly, and then they would thinke it more daintie.
137    Trust mee gossip (quoth Mistresse Winchcombe ) I know your
138wordes in many things to bee true: for my folkes are so corne fed,
139that wee haue much adoe to please them in their dyet: one doth
140say this is too salt: and another saith this is too grosse, this is too
141fresh, and that too fat, and twentie faults they will finde at their
142meales: I warrant you they make such parings of their cheese, and
143keepe such chipping of their bread, that their very ortes would serue
144two or three honest folkes to their dinner.
145    And from whence I pray you proceedes that (quoth her Gossip)
146but of too much plentie? but yfaith were they my seruants, I would
147make them glad of the worst crumme they cast away, and thereupon
148I drinke to you, and I thanke you for my good cheere with all
149my heart.
150    Much good may it doe you good gossip, sayd mistress Winchcomb :
151and I pray you when you come this way let vs see you.
152    That you shall verily quoth she, and so away she went.
153    After this, mistresse Winchcomb tooke occasion to giue her folks

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154shorter commons, and courser meate then they were wont to haue:
155which at length being come to the good mans eare, hee was very
156much offended therewith, saying: I will not haue my people thus
157pincht of their victuals. Emptie platters make greedy stomackes,
158and where scarcitie is kept, hunger is nourished: and therefore wife
159as you loue mee let me haue no more of this doings.
160    Husband (quoth she) I would they should haue enough: but it
161is a sinne to suffer, and a shame to see the spoyle they make: I
162could bee verie well content to giue them their bellyes full, and
163that is sufficient, but it grieues me, to tell you true, to see
164how coy they are, and the small care they haue in wasting of
165things: and I assure you, the whole towne cryes shame of it, and
166it hath bred me no small discredit for looking no better to it.
167Trust me no more, if I was not checkt in my owne house, about
168this matter, when my eares did burne to heare what was spoken.
169    Who was it that checkt thee, I pray thee tell mee? was it not
170your old gossip, dame dayntie, mistresse trip and go? I beleeue it
171was.
172    Why man if it were she, you know shee hath beene an old housekeeper,
173and one that hath known the world; and that shee told
174mee was for good will.
175    Wife (quoth hee), I would not haue thee to meddle with such
176light braind huswiues, and so I haue told thee a good many times,
177and yet I cannot get you to leaue her company.
178    Leaue her company? why husband so long as she is an honest
179woman, why should I leaue her company? Shee neuer gaue mee
180hurtfull counsell in all her life, but hath alwayes been ready to
181tell me things for my profit, though you take it not so. Leaue her
182company? I am no gyrle I would you should well know, to bee
183taught what company I should keepe: I keepe none but honest
184company I warrant you. Leaue her company ketha? Alas poore
185soule, this reward she hath for her good will. I wis I wis, she is
186more your friend, then you are your owne.
187    Well let her be what she will sayd her husband: but if shee
188come any more in my house, shee were as good no. And therefore
189take this for a warning I would aduise you: and so away he went.

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190

CHAPTER IX.

191
192

HOW A DRAPER IN LONDON, WHO OWED IACKE OF NEWBERRY
193MUCH MONEY BECAME BANKROUT, WHOM IACK OF NEWBERY
194FOUND CARRYING A PORTERS BASKET ON HIS NECK, AND HOW
195HE SET HIM VP AGAIN AT HIS OWNE COST, WHICH DRAPER
196AFTERWARD BECAME AN ALDERMAN OF LONDON.

197
198    There was one Randoll Pert a Draper, dwelling in Watling
199streete , that owed Iacke of Newbery fiue hundred pounds at
200one time, who in the ende fell greatly to decay, in so much that hee
201was cast in prison, and his wife with her poore children turned out
202of doores. Al his creditors except Winchcomb had a share of his
203goods, neuer releasing him out of prison, so long as he had one
204penny to satisfie them. But when his tidings was brought to Iack
205of Newberies eare, his friends counselled him to lay his action
206against him.
207    Nay (quoth he) if he be not able to pay me when hee is at
208libertie, hee will neuer be able to pay me in prison: and therfore
209it were as good for me to forbear my mony with out troubling him,
210as to adde more sorrow to his grieued hart, and be neuer the
211neerer. Misery is troden downe by many, and once brought low
212they are seldome or neuer relieued: therfore he shall rest for me
213vntoucht, and I would to God he were cleare of all other mens debts,
214so that I gaue him mine to begin the world again.
215    Thus lay the poore Draper a long time in prison, in which space
216his Wife which before for dayntinesse would foule her fingers,
217nor turne her head aside, for feare of hurting the set of her neckenger,
218was glad to goe about and wash buckes at the Thames side,
219and to bee a chare-Woman in rich mens houses, her soft hand was
220now hardened with scowring, and in steade of gold rings vpon her
221lillie fingers, they were now fild with chaps, prouoked by the sharpe
222lee and other drudgeries.
223    At last, master Winchcombe being (as you heard) chosen against
224the Parliament a Burgesse for the towne of Newbery , and comming

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225vp to London for the same purpose, when hee was alighted at his
226Inne, hee left one of his man there, to get a Porter to bring his
227trunke vp to the place of his lodging. Poore Randoll Pert , which
228lately before was come out of prison, hauing no other meanes of
229maintenance, became a Porter to carry burthens from one place
230to another, hauing an old ragged doublet, and a torne payre of
231breeches, with his hose out at the heeles, and a paire of olde broken
232slip shooes on his feet, a rope about his middle instead of a girdle,
233and on his head an old greasie cap, which had so many holes in it,
234that his haire started through it: who assoone as hee heard one call
235for a Porter, made answere straight: here Master, what is it that
236you would haue caryed?
237    Mary (quoth hee) I would haue this Trunke borne to the spread
238Eagle at Iuiebridge.
239    You shall master (quoth hee) but what will you giue me for my
240paines?
241    I will giue thee two pence.
242    A penny more and I will carry it, sayd the Porter: and so being
243agreed, away he went with his burthen till he came to the spread
244Eagle doore, where on a sudden espying Master Winchcombe
245standing, hee cast downe the Trunke and run away as hard as euer
246hee could.
247    Master Winchcombe wondring what hee meant thereby, caused
248his man to runne after him, and to fetch him againe: but when
249he saw one pursue him, he ranne then the faster, and in running,
250here he lost one of his slip shooes, and there another: euer looking
251behinde him, like a man pursued with a deadly weapon, fearing
252euery twinkling of an eye to bee thrust thorow. At last his breech,
253being tyed but with one poynt, what with the haste he made, and
254the weakenesse of the thong, fell about his heeles: which so shackled
255him, that downe hee fell in the streete all along, sweating and
256blowing, being quite worne out of breath: and so by this meanes
257the Seruing man ouertooke him, and taking him by the sleeue, being
258as windlesse as the other, stood blowing and puffing a great while
259ere they could speake one to another.
260    Sirra, quoth the Seruingman, you must come to my maister, you
261haue broken his Trunke all to peeces, by letting it fall.
262    O for Gods sake (quoth he) let me go, for Christs sake let me goe,
263or else Master Winchcombe of Newbery will arrest me, and then I
264am vndone for euer.

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265    Now by this time Iack of Newbery had caused his Trunke to be
266carryed into the house, and then he walked along to know what
267the matter was: but when he heard the Porter say that he would
268arrest him, he wondred greatly and hauing quite forgot Perts
269fauour, being so greatly changed by imprisonment and pouertie,
270he said, Wherefore should I arrest thee? tell me good fellow: for
271mine owne part I know no reason for it.
272    O Sir (quoth he) I would to God I knew none neither.
273    Then asking him what his name was: the poore man falling
274downe on his knees, sayd: Good Maister Winchcombe beare with
275me and cast me not into prison: my name is Pert , and I do not
276deny but I owe you fiue hundred pound: yet for the loue of God
277take pittie vpon mee.
278    When Maister Winchcombe heard this, hee wondred greatly at
279the man, and did as much pittie his miserie, though as yet hee
280made it not knowne, saying: Passion of my heart man, thou wilt
281neuer pay mee thus: neuer thinke being a Porter to pay fiue hundred
282pound dept. But this hath your prodigalitie brought you to,
283your thriftlesse neglecting of your busines, that set more by your
284pleasure than your profite. Then looking better vpon him, he said:
285What neuer a shoo to thy foot, hose to thy legge, band to thy
286necke, nor cap to thy head? O Pert this is strange; but wilt thou
287be an honest man, and giue me a bill of thy hand for my mony?
288    Yes sir, with all my heart, quoth Pert .
289    Then came to the Scriueners (quoth he) and dispatch it, and I
290will not trouble thee.
291    Now when they were come thither, with a great many following
292them at their heeles, master Winchcomb said: Hearest thou Scriuener?
293this fellow must giue mee a bill of his hand for fiue hundred
294pounds, I pray thee make it as it should bee.
295    The Scriuener looking vpon the poore man, and seeing him in
296that case, said to master Winchcombe : Sir, you were better to let
297it bee a Bond, and haue some sureties bound with him.
298    Why Scriuener (quoth hee) doest thou thinke this is not a sufficient
299man of himselfe for fiue hundred pound?
300    Truly Sir (sayd the Scriuener) if you thinke him so, you and I
301am of two minds.
302    Ile tell thee what (quoth master Winchcombe ) were it not that
303we are all mortall, I would take his word assoone as his Bill or
304Bond; the honystie of a man is all.

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305    And wee in London (quoth the Scriuener) doe trust Bonds farre
306better then honestie. But Sir when must this money bee payd?
307    Marry Scriuener when this man is Sheriffe of London .
308    At that word the Scriuener and the people standing by laughed
309heartily, saying: In truth Sir make no more adoe but forgiue it
310him: as good to doe the one as the other.
311    Nay beleeue mee (quoth hee) not so: therefore do as I bid you.
312    Whereupon the Scriuener made the Bill to be payd when Randoll
313Pert was Sheriffe of London , and thereunto set his owne hand
314for a witnesse, and twentie persons more that stoode by set their
315handes likewise. Then hee asked Pert what hee should haue for
316carrying his trunk.
317    Sir (quoth hee) I should haue three pence, but seeing I finde you
318so kinde, I will take but two pence at this time.
319    Thanks good Pert quoth he, but for thy three pence, there is
320three shillings: and looke thou come to mee to morrow morning
321betimes.
322    The poore man did so, at what time Master Winchcombe had
323prouided him out of Birchin lane, a faire sute of apparell, Marchantlike,
324with a faire blacke cloake, and all other thinges fit to
325the same: then he tooke him a shop in Canweeke streete, and furnisht
326the same shop with a thousand pounds worth of cloath: by
327which meanes, and other fauours that master Winchcombe did
328him, hee grew againe into great credite, and in the end became
329so wealthy, that while maister Winchcombe liued hee was chosen
330Sheriffe, at what time he payed fiue hundred pounds euery pennie,
331and after dyed an Alderman of the Citie.

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332

CHAPTER X.

333
334

HOW IACK OF NEWBERIES SERUANTS WERE REUENGED OF THEIR
335DAMES TATTLING GOSSIP.

336
337    Vpon a time it came to passe, when Master Winchcombe was
338farre from home, and his Wife gone abroad: That Mistris
339many-better, dame tittle-tattle, gossip pinte-pot, according to her
340old custome came to Mistris Winchcombes house, perfectly knowing
341of the good mans absence, and little thinking the good wife
342was from home: where knocking at the gate, Tweedle stept out and
343askt who was there? where hastily opening the wicket, he sodainly
344discouered the full proportion of this foule beast, who demanded
345if their Mistris were within.
346    What, mistris Franke (quoth he) in faith welcome: how haue
347you done a great while? I pray you come in.
348    Nay, cannot stay quoth shee: Notwithstanding, I did call to
349speake a word or two with your Mistris, I pray you tell her that
350I am heere.
351    So I will (quoth he) so soone as shee comes in.
352    Then said the woman, what is shee abroad? Why then farewell
353good Tweedle .
354    Why what haste, what haste, mistris Frank (quoth he) I pray you
355stay and drinke ere you goe, I hope a cup of newe Sacke will doe
356your old belly no hurt.
357    What (quoth shee) haue you new sacke alreadie? Now by my
358honestie I drunke none this yeare, and therefore I do not greatly
359care if I take a taste before I go: and with that shee went into the
360wine cellar with Tweedle , where first hee set before her a piece of
361poudred biefe as greene as a leeke: And then going into the kitchen,
362he brought her a piece of rosted beefe hot from the spit.
363    Now certaine of the Maidens of the house and some of the
364young men, who had long before determined to bee reuenged of
365this pratling huswife: came into the Cellar one after another, one
366of them bringing a great piece of a gambon of Bacon in his hand:

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367and euerie one bad mistresse Franke welcome: and the first one dranke
368to her, and then another, and so the third, the fourth, and the
369fift: so that Mistresse Franks braines waxt as mellow as a pippin
370at Michaelmas, and so light, that sitting in the Cellar she thought
371the world ran round. They seeing her to fall into merry humors,
372whetted her on in merriment as much as they could, saying: mistresse
373Frank , spare not I pray you, but thinke your selfe as welcome
374as any woman in Newberie , for we haue cause to loue you,
375because you loue our mistris so well.
376    Now assure you quoth shee (lisping in her speech) her tongue
377waxing somwhat too big for her mouth, I loue your mistresse well
378indeed, as if she were my owne daughter.
379    Nay but hear you quoth they, she begins not to deal well with
380vs now.
381    No my Lamb quoth shee, why not?
382    Because quoth they, she seekes to bar vs of our allowance, telling
383our Master that hee spends too much in housekeeping.
384    Nay then (quoth she) your mistresse is an Asse, and a foole: and
385though she goe in her hood, what care I? she is but a girle to mee:
386twittle twattle, I know what I know: Go to, drinke to mee. Wel
387Tweedle , I drinke to thee with all my hart: why thou whoreson
388when wilt thou be maried? O that I were a young wench for thy
389sake: but tis no mater though I be but a poore woman, I am a true
390woman. Hang dogs, I haue dwelt in this Towne these thirtie
391winters.
392    Why then quoth they, you haue dwelt here longer than our
393Maister.
394    Your Master, quoth shee? I knew your Master a boy, when he
395was called Iacke of Newbery ; I Iacke , I knew him called plaine
396Iack : and your Mistresse, now she is rich and I am poor, but tis
397no matter, I knew her a draggle tayle girle, marke yee?
398    But now quoth they, she takes vpon her lustily, and hath forgot
399what shee was.
400    Tush, what will you haue of a greene thing quoth shee. Heere
401I drink to you, so long as she goes where she list a gossipping: and
402tis no matter, little said is soone amended: but heare you my maisters,
403though mistresse Winchcomb goe in her hood, I am as good
404as shee, I care not who tell it her: I spend not my husbands money

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405in cherries and codlings, go to, go to, I know what I say well
406enough: I am sure I am not drunk: mistresse Winchcomb , mistresse?
407No, Nan Winchcombe , I will call her name, plain Nan :
408what, I was a woman, when she was se-reuerence a paltrie girle,
409though now she goes in her hood and chaine of gold: what care I
410for her? I am her elder, and I know more of her tricks: nay I
411warrant you I know what I say, tis no matter, laugh at me and
412spare not. I am not drunke I warrant: and with that being scant
413able to hold open her eyes, shee began to nodde and to spill the
414wine out of the glasse: which they perceiuing let her alone, going
415out of the cellar till shee was sound asleepe, and in the meane
416space they deuised how to finish this peece of knauery. At last they
417consented to laie her forth at the backside of the house, halfe a
418mile off, euen at the foote of a stile, that whosoeuer came next ouer
419might finde her: notwithstanding, Tweedle stayed hard by to see
420the end of this action.
421    At last comes a notable clowne from Greenham , taking his way
422to Newbery , who comming hastily ouer the stile stumbled at the
423Woman, and fell down cleane ouer her: but in the starting vp,
424seeing it was a woman, cryed out, alas, alas.
425    How now, what is the matter quoth Tweedle ?
426    O quoth hee here lies a dead woman.
427    A dead woman quoth Tweedle : thats not so I trow, and with
428that hee tumbled her about: bones of mee quoth Tweedle , its a
429drunken Woman, and one of the Towne vndoubtedly: surelie it is
430great pittie shee should lie heere.
431    Why? do you know her quoth the Clowne?
432    No not I, quoth Tweedle : neuerthelesse, I will giue thee halfe a
433groat and take her in thy Basket, and carry her throughout the
434Towne and see if any body know her.
435    Then said th'other, let me see the money and I will: For by the
436Masse che earnd not halfe a groat this great while.
437    There it is quoth Tweedle .
438    Then the fellow put her in his basket, and so lifted her vpon
439his back. Now by the masse shee stinkes vilely of drinke or wine,
440or some thing: but tell mee, what shall I say, when I come into
441the towne, quoth hee?
442    First quoth Tweedle , I would haue thee so soone as euer thou
443canst go to the townes end, with a lustie voice, to crie O yes; and
444then say, who knowes this woman, who? And though possible

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445some will say, I know her, and I know her, yet do not thou set
446her downe till thou comest to the market Crosse, and there vse the
447like words: and if any bee so friendly, to tell thee where shee dwels,
448then iust before her doore crie so againe: and if thou performe
449this brauely, I will giue thee halfe a groat more.
450    Maister Tweedle (quoth he) I know you well enough, you dwell
451with Maister Winchcomb , do you not? Well, if I do it not in the
452nick, giue mee neuer a pennie: And so away hee went till hee came
453to the Townes end, and there hee cryes out as boldly as anie Baylifes
454man, O yes, who knowes this woman, who?
455    Then said the drunken woman in the Basket, her head falling
456first on one side, and then on the other side, Who co mee, who?
457    Then said hee againe, Who knowes this woman, who?
458    Who co mee, who (quoth shee) and looke how oft hee spake the
459one, she spake the other: saying still Who co mee, who co mee, who?
460Whereat all the people in the streete fell into such a laughing, that
461the teares ran downe againe.
462    At last one made answer, saying: goodfellow she dwels in the
463North brooke street, a little beyond master Winchcombes .
464    The fellow hearing that, goes downe thither in all haste, and
465there in the hearing of a hundred people, cries: Who knowes this
466woman, who? whereat her husband comes out, saying: Marrie that
467doe I too well God helpe mee.
468    Then sayd the Clowne, if you know her, take her: for I know
469her not but for a drunken beast.
470    And as her husband tooke her out of the Basket, shee gaue him
471a sound boxe on the eare, saying: What you Queanes, do you mocke
472mee, and so was caried in.
473    But the next day, when her braines were quiet, and her head
474cleared of these foggie vapours shee was so ashamed of her selfe,
475that shee went not forth of her doores a long time after: and if
476any body did say vnto her, Who co me who? She would bee so mad
477and furious, that shee would bee ready to draw her knife and to
478stick them, and scold as if she stroue for the best game at the
479cucking stools. Moreouer, her prattling to Mistresse Winchcombes
480folks of their mistresse, made her on the other side to fall out with
481her, in such sort that shee troubled them no more, either with
482her companie or her counsell.

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483

CHAPTER XI.

484
485

HOW ONE OF IACK OF NEWBERIES MAYDENS BECAME A LADIE.

486
487    At the winning of Morlesse in France , the noble Earle of Surrey
488beeing at that time Lord high Admirall of England , made
489manie Knights: among the rest was Sir George Rigley , brother to
490Sir Edward Rigley , and sundrie other, whose valours farre surpassed
491their wealth: so that when peace bred a scarcity in their
492purses that their credits grew weak in the Citie, they were inforced
493to ride into the country, where at their friends houses they might
494haue fauourable welcome, without coyne or grudging. Among the
495rest, Iacke of Newbery that kept a table for all commers, was neuer
496lightly without many such guests: where they were sure to haue
497bold welcome and good cheere, and their mirth no lesse pleasing
498then their meat was plentie. Sir George hauing lyen long at boord
499in this braue yeomans house, at length fell in liking of one of his
500maidens, who was as faire as she was fond.
501    This lustie wench hee so allured with the hope of marriage, that at
502length shee yeelded him her loue, and therwithall bent her whole
503studie to work his content: but in the end she so much contented
504him, that it wrought altogether her owne discontent: to become
505high, she laid her selfe so low, that the Knight suddenly fell ouer
506her, which fall become the rising of her belly: but when this wanton
507perceiued her selfe to bee with child, shee made her moane
508vnto the Knight, saying:
509    Ah sir George , now is the time to perform your promise, or to
510make me a spectacle of infamy to the whole world for euer: in the
511one, you shall discharge the duty of a true Knight; but in the other,
512shew your selfe a most periured person: small honour will it bee
513to boast in the spoyle of poore maidens, whose innocencie all good
514Knights ought to defend.
515    Why thou leud paltrie thing quoth hee: commest thou to father
516thy bastard vpon mee? A way ye dunghill carrion, awaie: heare
517you good huswife, get you among your companions, and lay your

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518litter where you list, but if you trouble me any more, trust mee
519thou shalt dearely abie it: and so bending his browes like the angry
520god of warr, he went his waies leauing the child breeding wench
521to the hazard of her fortune, either good or bad.
522    The poore maiden seeing her selfe for her kindnesse thus cast
523off, shed many teares of sorrow for her sinne, inueighing with manie
524bitter groanes, against the vnconstancie of loue-alluring men. And
525in the end, when shee saw no other remedie, shee made her case
526knowne vnto her mistresse: who after she had giuen her many
527checkes and taunts, threatening to turne her out of doores, shee
528opened the matter to her husband.
529    So soone as he heard thereof, he made no more to do, but presently
530poasted to London after Sir George , and found him at my
531Lord Admirals. What master Winchcombe (quoth hee) you are
532heartily welcome to London , and I thank you for my good cheere:
533I pray you how doth your good wife, and all our friends in
534Barkshire ?
535    All well and merrie, I thank you good Sir George , quoth hee: I
536left them in health, and hope they do so continue. And trust me
537sir (quoth he) hauing earnest occasion to come vp to talke with a
538bad debter, in my iourney it was my chance to light in company of
539a gallant widow: a Gentlewoman shee is of wondrous good wealth,
540whom grisly death hath bereft of a kinde husband, making her a
541Widow ere shee had been halfe a yeare a wife: her land, sir George ,
542is as well worth a hundred pound a yeare as one penny, being as
543faire and comely a creature as any of her degree in our whole countrey:
544Now sir, this is the worst, by the reason that she doubtes her
545selfe to bee with child, she hath vowed not to marrie these xii.
546moneths: but because I wish you well, and the Gentlewoman no
547hurt: I came of purpose from my businesse to tell you thereof:
548Now sir George , if you thinke her a fit wife for you, ride to her,
549woo her, winne her, and wed her.
550    I thanke you good Maister Winchcombe (quoth he) for your
551fauour euer toward mee: and gladly would I see this young Widow
552if I wist where.
553    Shee dwels not halfe a mile from my house quoth Maister Winchcombe ,
554and I can send for her at any time if you please.

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555    Sir George hearing this, thought it was not best to come there,
556fearing Ioane would father a child vpon him, and therefore said,
557hee had no leasure to come from my Lord: But quoth hee, would
558I might see her in London , on the condition it cost me twenty
559nobles.
560    Tush, sir George (quoth Maister Winchcombe ) delay in loue is
561dangerous, and hee that will woo a widow, must take time by the
562forelocke, and suffer none other to stop before him, least hee leape
563with out the Widowes loue. Notwithstanding, seeing now I haue
564toulde you of it, I will take my gelding and get me home, if I
565heare of her comming to London I will send you word, or perhaps
566come my selfe: till when adieu good sir George .
567    Thus parted Master Winchcombe from the knight: and being
568come home, in short time hee got a faire Taffetie gowne, and a
569french hood for his maide, saying: Come ye drab, I must be faine
570to couer a foule fault with a faire garment, yet all will not hide
571your great belly: but if I finde meanes to make you a Lady, what
572wilt thou say then?
573    O Maister (quoth she) I shall be bound while I liue to pray for
574you.
575    Come then minion (quoth her mistris) and put you on this gown
576and french hood: for seeing you haue lien with a Knight, you must
577needes bee a gentlewoman.
578    The maid did so, and being thus attired, shee was set on a faire
579gelding, and a couple of men sent with her vp to London : and being
580well instructed by her maister and dame what shee should do,
581shee tooke her iourney to the Cittie in the Terme time, and lodged
582at the Bell in the Strand: and mistresse Louelesse must be her
583name, for so her Master had warned her to call her selfe: neither
584did the men that waited on her, know the contrary, for Master
585Winchcombe had borrowed them of their Maister, to wait vpon a
586frend of his to London , because he could not spare any of his owne
587seruants at that time: notwithstanding they were appointed, for the
588Gentlewomans credit, to say they were her owne men. This being
589done, Master Winchcombe sent sir George a Letter, that the Gentlewoman
590which hee toulde him of, was now in London , lying at
591the Bell in the Strand, hauing great busines at the Terme.

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592    With which newes Sir Georges heart was on fire, till such time
593as he might speake with her: three or four times went hee thither,
594and still shee would not bee spoken withall: the which close keeping
595of her selfe, made him the more earnest in his sute.
596    At length he watcht her so narrowly, that finding her going forth
597in an euening, hee followed her, shee hauing one man before, and
598another behinde: carrying a verie stately gate in the street, it draue
599him into greater liking of her, beeing the more vrged to vtter
600his minde.
601    And suddenly stepping before her, hee thus saluted her, Gentlewoman
602God saue you, I haue often beene at your lodging and could
603neuer finde you at leisure.
604    Why sir quoth shee (counterfeting her naturall speech) haue you
605any businesse with me?
606    Yes faire Widow quoth he, as you are a clyent to the law, so am
607I a sutor for your loue: and may I find you so fauorable to let me
608plead my owne case at the bar of your beautie, I doubt not but to
609vnfold so true a tale as I trust will cause you to giue sentence on
610my side.
611    You are a merry Gentleman quoth shee: But my own part I
612know you not: neuerthelesse, in a case of loue, I will bee no let
613to your sute, though perhaps I helpe you little therein. And therefore
614Sir, if it please you to giue attendance at my lodging, vpon
615my returne from the Temple, you shall knowe more of my minde,
616and so they parted.
617    Sir George receiuing hereby som hope of good happe, stayed
618for his dear at her lodging doore: whom at her comming she
619frendly greeted, saying: Surely Sir, your diligence is more then the
620profit you shall get thereby: but I pray you how shall I call your
621name?
622    George Rigley (quoth hee) I am called, and for some small
623deserts I was knighted in France .
624    Why then Sir George (quoth shee) I haue done you too much
625wrong to make you thus dance attendance on my worthlesse person.
626But let mee bee so bold to request you to tell mee, how you
627came to know mee: for my owne part I cannot remember that euer
628I saw you before.
629    Mistris Louelesse (sayd Sir George ) I am well acquainted with a

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630good neighbour of yours, called Maister Winchcombe , who is my
631very good friend, and to say the truth you are commended vnto
632mee by him.
633    Truly sir George sayd shee, you are so much the better welcome:
634Neuerthelesse, I haue made a vowe not to loue any man for this
635tweluemoneths space. And therefore Sir, till then I would wish
636you to trouble your selfe no further in this matter till that time
637be expired: and then if I finde you bee not intangled to any other,
638and that by triall I finde out the truth of your loue, for Master
639Winchcombes sake your welcome shall bee as good as any other
640Gentlemans whatsoeuer.
641    Sir George hauing receiued this answere was wonderous woe,
642cursing the day that euer he meddled with Ioane whose time of
643deliuerance would come long before a tweluemoneth were expired,
644to his vtter shame, and ouerthrowe of his good fortune: for by that
645meanes should hee haue maister Winchcombe his enemie, and
646therewithall the losse of this faire Gentlewoman. Wherefore to preuent
647this mischiefe he sent a Letter in all haste to maister Winchcombe ,
648requesting him most earnestly to come vp to London , by
649whose perswasion hee hoped straight to finish the marriage. Maister
650Winchcomb fulfilled his request, and then presently was the marriage
651solemnized at the Tower of London , in presence of many
652gentlemen of Sir Georges friends. But when hee found it was Ione
653whome hee had gotten with child, hee fretted and fumed, stampt,
654and star'd like a diuell.
655    Why (quoth M. Winchcomb ) what needs all this? Came you to
656my table to make my maid your strumpet? had you no mans house
657to dishonor but mine? Sir, I would you should well know, that I
658account the poorest wench in my house too good to be your whore,
659were you ten knights: and seeing you tooke pleasure in making
660her your wanton, take it no scorne to make her your wife: and vse
661her well too, or you shall heare of it. And hould thee Ione (quoth
662he) there is a hundred pounds for thee: And let him not say thou
663comst to him a begger.
664    Sir George seeing this, and withall casting in his minde what
665friend Maister Winchcombe might bee to him, taking his wife by
666the hand gaue her a louing kisse, and Master Winchcombe great
667thankes. Whereupon hee willed him for two yeres space to take his
668diet and his Ladies at his house: which the Knight accepting rode

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669straight with his wife to Newbery . Then did the Mistris make
670curtsie to the Maid, saying: you are welcome Madam, giuing her
671the vpper hand in all places. And thus they liued afterward
672in great ioy: and our King, hearing how Iacke had matcht
673Sir George , laughing heartily thereat, gaue him a liuing
674for euer, the better to maintain my Lady his Wife.
675FINIS.