¶ A notable doctour, preachyng in a solemne audience, sayd, that in Erasmus workes were certayne heresies. Who, beyng come out of the pulpit, was desired of a learned man to shewe foorthe some place hereticall. Hee aunswered, that he had neuer red Erasmus bookes: hee began once to reade the woorke intitled Moria,[310] but by reason it was so high a stile, he feared to fal into some heresy.
¶ A great clerke, noseld[311] vp in scoole doctours, not well vnderstanding the latin stile and phrase, that than began to florishe apase, and hauynge smale acquaintaunce with the noble authours of the latyne tongue, saide, that Erasmus, with his rhetorike and eloquence went about to corrupte the Byble. For this (quoth he) I dare be bolde to say: that the holy scripture ought not to be mingled with the eloquence of Tully, nor yet of Cicero.[312]
¶ A fryer, that preached on a tyme too the people, inueighed greatly agaynste Erasmus, because he, in his booke called Enchiridion,[313] preysyng the Apostles doctryne, sayde, that theirs was Germana theologia, that is to saye in Englishe, the very ryght diuinitee. Lo (sayeth this dotishe fryer), here may ye see, what a man Erasmus is: he sayeth, there is no diuinite but in Germonie, where heretikes are specially fauored and maintayned.
¶ Because Erasmus wrote, that it wer better for the monke of the charterhouse to eate fleshe than to suffer his brother Venire in capitis discrimen, that is to saye, than his brother should stand in ieoperdie of his life: this dotishe doctour interpretat his wordes thus: The charterhouse monke wer better eate fleshe, than his head shoulde a littell ake.[314]
By these tales we may se, what peuysshe preachers haue been in this world: And be thei neuer so foolishe: yet the ignorant people, lacking lerninge to iudge suche matters, thinke them selues well taught, when they be cleane misledde.
¶ After kyng Richard the iii had vsurped the crowne of England, he, to staye and stablishe the people, that sore murmured against his dooynges, sent for fyue thousand men out of the North partes vp to London: and as he was mustryng of them in Thickettes feelde, one of the souldiers, cam, and clappynge the kyng on the shoulder, said: Diccon, Diccon, by the mis, ays blith that thaust kyng![316]
¶ A canon in Hereforde, that kepte a good house, toke into his seruice a gentilmans sonne, to trane and bryng hym vp, to wayte and serue at the table.[317] So on a day the sayde canon, hauynge many strangers at his bourd, made a signe to his man, that there wanted some thyng. He, nought perceuyng, cam to his maister and sayde: Sir, what lacke you? Seest not, man (quoth he), they haue no bread on the table? Sir, saide his man, there was enough euen now, if they woulde haue let it alone.
¶ The same Canon, an other tyme, bad his sayd seruant after supper, go downe and draw a cuppe of wyne, to make his guestes drinke at theyr departing, whom he had before taught, how he shuld take of the couer. So the yong man, bringyng the candell in one hand, and the cup of wine couered in the other, offred it vnto them. His mayster, seyng that, made a token to hym. He, not knowyng wherfore, sayd: Sir, what woulde you haue? Take of the couer (quoth his mayster). Then holde you the candell (saide the seruaunt).
¶ A gentilman, brought vp at London in an In of court, was maryed, and kepte an house in the countrey: and as he sate at supper with his neyghbours aboute hym, vpon an alhalow-daie at night, amonge other communication, he talked of the solemne ringyng of the belles (as was the vsage than). His man, that waited on the table, sayd to his maister: sir, he that were this nyghte in London, shoulde here wonderfull ryngyng, and so began a tale. Hys mayster, not content with his talke, said: Hold thy peace, foole, wilt thou tel me of ringing in London? I know it (I trow) a lyttell better than thou. For I haue beene there an C alhalow nyghtes.
¶ A certayne poore blynde man[318] in the countrey was ledde by a curst boy to an house where a weddyng was: so the honest folkes gaue him meate, and at last one gaue hym a legge of a good fatte goose: whiche the boy receyuyng kept a syde, and did eate it vp hym selfe. Anon the blynde man saide: Iacke, where is the leg of the goose? What goose (quod the boy)? I haue none. Thou liest (quoth the blinde man), I dyd smell it. And so they wente forth chidyng together, tyll the shrewde boye led the poore man against a post: where hittyng his brow a great blow, he cryed out: A hoorson boy, what hast thou done? Why (quod the boy) could you not smell the post, that was so nere, as wel as the goose that was so farre from your nose?
¶ In London dwelled a mery pleasant man (whiche for [t]his tyme we may call Makeshift[319]) who, beyng arrayed somewhat haruest lyke, with a pytcheforke on his necke, went forth in a mornyng and mette with twoo lode of hey comeyng to the citieward, for the whiche he bargayned with the owners to paye xxx shillynges. Whyther shall we bring them, quoth thei? To the Swan in Longe Lane[320] by Smithfeeld (quoth he), and soo left them, and sped him thether the next[321] waye. Whan he came to the good man of the Swanne, he asked, if he would bye two good lodes of hey? Yes marie, sayde he. Where be thei? Euen here they come (quoth Makshyft). What shall I paye? sayde the inholder. Foure nobles (quoth hee): but at length they agreed to xx shilling. Whan the hey was come, Makshyft bad them vnlode. While they were doyng so,[322] he came to the inholder,[323] and said: sir, I prai you let me haue my monei: for, while my men be vnloding, I wil goe into the citee to buy a littell stuffe to haue home with me. The good man was content, and gaue it hym. And so he went his way. Whan the men had vnloded the hey, they came and demanded their money. To whom the inholder saide: I haue paid your maister. What master (quoth they)? Mary, quod he, the same man that made you bring the hey hether. We know hym not, quod they. No more doe I (quod he); that same man bargayned with me for the hey, and hym haue I payed: I neyther bought nor sold with you. That is not enough for vs, quod they; and thus thei stroue together. But what ende thei made, I know not. For I thynke Makeshift came not againe to agree them.
¶ A Mery man, called Qualitees,[324] on a tyme sette vp billes vpon postes aboute London, that who so euer woulde come to Northumberlande Place[325] should here suche an antycke plaie[326] that, both for the mattier and handelyng, the lyke was neuer heard before. For all they that shoulde playe therin were gentilmen.
Those bylles moued the people (whan the daye came) to come thyther thycke and threfolde. Now he had hyred two men to stande at the gate with a boxe (as the facion is), who toke of euery persone that came in a peny, or an halfe peny at the least. So whan he thought the market was at the best, he came to the gate, and toke from the men[327] the boxe with money, and geuynge theym their duitie, bade them go into the hall, and see the rome kepte: for hee shoulde gooe and fetche in the plaiers. They went in, and he went out, and lockt the gate faste, and toke the key with hym: and gat hym on hys geldynge, whiche stode ready saddilled without Aldryshegate[328] at an In,[329] and towarde Barnet he roade apace. The people taryed from twoo a clocke tyll three, from three to foure, styll askyng and criyng: Whan shall the plaie begyn? How long shall we tarye? Whan the clocke stroke foure, all the people murmured and sayed: Wherefore tarye we any longer? Here shall be no playe. Where is the knaue, that hath beguyled vs hyther? It were almes to[330] thruste a dagger throughe hys chekes, sayeth one. It were well done to cutte of hys eares, sayeth an other. Haue hym to Newgat! sayeth one: nay, haue hym to Tyburne! sayed an other. Shall wee loose our money thus, saieth he? Shall wee bee thus beguiled, sayeth this man? shulde this be suffered, saieth that man? And so muttrynge and chydyng, they came to the gate to goe oute; but they coulde not. For it was faste lockt, and Qualitees had the key away with him. Now begynne they a freshe to fret and fume: nowe they swere and stare: now they stampe and threaten: for the locking in greeued them more than all the losse and mockery before: but all auayle not. For there muste they abide, till wayes may be founde to open the gate, that they maye goe out. The maidens that shoulde haue dressed theyr maisters suppers, they wepe and crye; boyes and prentises sorow and lament; they wote not what to say, whan thei come home.
For al this foule araye,
For al this great frai,
Qualites is mery ridyng on his waie.[331]
¶ In the Goldesmithes hall, amonge theyr other plate, they had a fair standyng cuppe, with an image of S. Dunstane on the couer, whiche image hadde an image of the dyuell at his foote.[332] So it chaunced at a banket that the sayed image of the dyuell was lost and gone. On the morow after, the bedyll of the company was sent about to serche amonge the goldesmythes, if any suche came to be sold. And lyke as of other[333] he enquired of one, if any man had brought to hym to be solde the foole that sate at sainct Dunstanes foote vpon the couer of the cuppe? What foole meane you? quoth he. Mary, the diuell, sayde the bedill. Why, quoth the other, call ye the diuell a foole; ye shal find him a shrewd foole, if ye haue ought to do with hym? And why seke you for him here amonge vs? Where shoulde I els seke for hym? (sayde the bedill). Mary in hell, quoth he, for there ye shall be sure to fynde the dyuell.
¶ What tyme Agesilaus, king of the Lacedemonians, was come to Tachas the kyng of Egipt, to aide him in his wars: Tachas beholdyng Agesilaus to bee a man of so litel stature and smal personage tauntyng hym with this scoffe, sayde: The mountayne hath trauayled, Iupiter forbode, but yet hee hathe broughte forth a mouse.[334] Agesilaus beynge offended wyth hys saying, answered: and yet the tyme wyl come, that I shall seeme to the a Lyon. And not longe after, it chaunced through a sedycion that arose amonge the Aegypcyans, whan Agesilaus was gone from him, the king was constreyned to flee to the Persians.
¶ A certayne man called Corar, determyned hym selfe for mede[335] to teache the arte of Rhetorycke, with whom a yong man, named Tisias, couenanted on this wyse, that he wold pay him his wages, whan he had perfectly learned the scyence. So whan he had lerned the art, he made no haste to paye his teacher, wherfore hys mayster sued hym. Whan they came before the iudges, the yonge man demaunded of hys mayster, what was the effecte of the scyence? He aunswered: In reasonyng to perswade.[336] Than go to, if I perswade these honourable iudges that I owe you nothing, I wil pay you nothyng: for you are cast in your action. And yf I can not perswade them, than wil I pay you nothing, because I haue not yet perfectly learned the art. Corar wrestyng[337] the yonge mans owne argumente agaynst hym selfe, said: If thou perswade them, that thou oughteste[338] me nothynge, than (accordynge to the couenaunt) thou must nedes pay mee my wages: for thou haste the art perfectly. Now yf thou canst not perswade them: yet shalt thou pay mee my wages, because thou arte condemned by the Iudges' sentence to be my detour.
¶ What tyme Athenodorus the Phylosopher had (by reason of hys greate age) obteyned lycence of Auguste to depart home, he admonysshed him, that beyng angry, he should neyth saye nor dooe any thyng, before he had by hym selfe rehearsed ouer the xxiiii Greeke letters. Whych saying whan the prince heard, he sayed: he had yet nede of him to teache hym the arte to keepe sylence, by coloure whereof he retayned the olde man about hym a whole yere longer.
By this tale we maie perceyue, that of al things a prince, a ruler, a iudge ought specyally to eschewe wrathe. For the morall booke sayeth: Anger troubleth the mynde, that it can not discerne the truth. And Seneca wryteth, that slowe tarryinge doeth profite in nothyng but in wrathe.
¶ As a Frenche kyng on a tyme was in huntyng, he hapned to lose his companie, and comyng through a brome heath, he herde a poore man and his wife piteously complayne on fortune. The kyng, after he had wel heard the long lamentacion of theyr poore and miserable state, came vnto them, and after a few words he questioned with them howe they liued. They shewed him, how they came daily to that heath, and all the brome, that thei and their asse coud cary home, was lyttell enough to finde theim and their poor children meat. Well (quoth the kyng), loke that you bryng to morow early to the court gate as many bromes as you and your asse can carye, and see that you sell them well. For I warrant you thei shalbe bought apase. They thanked hym, and so he departed from them. Anon came the lordes, knightes, and gentilmen to the kinge, and home they rode. After supper the kyng called them all before hym, and gaue them in commaundement that neither lord, knyght, nor gentilman, should on the morow come into the courte wythout a new brome in his hande. For he had a thyng to doe, whiche they shoulde know afterwarde. So on the morowe, whan they come to the court gate, there found they the poore man, his wife and the asse, loded with bromes, whiche hee solde to the galauntes of the court, euen as he wolde him selfe. Wherby the sayd poore man was made riche for euer and they lyttell the woorse. Thus whan the kynge sawe the states and gentilmen of his court come in so wel furnished with grene bromes, and consydring the cause wherfore it was, he laughed merilye.
¶ There chaunced, in a certaine part of the realme, an offyce to fal into the kings handes by the deth of a man which was worth a cccc crounes by the yere. An honest witty gentilman, dwelling therby, trustyng to obteyne the sayde offyce, made as good speede to the courte as hee could, and as soone as he might come to the kynges presence, he kneled downe, and in most humble wise desired his grace to geue vnto hym that offyce, declaring what it was. The king perceiuing how good an office it was, and thinking therwith to rewarde some suche one of hys seruauntes, that had well deserued it, answered quickely, and sayd: My frend, be content; you get it not. The gentilman, heryng those wordes, sayd: I most hertely thancke your grace; both I and myne are mooste bounden to praye for your hyghnesse;—and so, makynge lowe obeysaunce, wente his waye. Whan he had gone a lyttell waye, the kyng commaunded to call hym againe. Whan he was come backe, the kyng asked him if he dyd well vnderstand, what answere he gaue hym. Yes, truely, sayd the gentilman. What sayd I, quoth the kynge? Marye, your grace bad me bee contente, for I shoulde not haue the offyce. Why dyd you than (quoth the kyng) geue me so great thankes? Because, sayde the gentylman, your grace gaue me so sone an answere without longer suite and losse of tyme, whiche would haue bene to me a very muche hyndraunce. For I haue at home a great householde, vnto the which it behoueth me to loke dylygently, or els it wyl be wrong wyth me. The kynge, markynge well the wysedom and dexterytee of the gentylman, and conceyuyng a fauoure towarde hym, sayd: Wel, nowe shal you thanke me twyse: for you shall haue the offyce that you sewe for: and than, castynge hys eyes vpon hys Chauncelloure, commaunded hym, that all suche wrytynges as concerned [t]hys sayd offyce, shoulde wyth al speede bee made oute, that he were at home agayne to ouerloke hys famyly.
¶ Robert Lyciense, a fryer of Italye (of whome we spake before), preachyng on a tyme with great vehemencye of wordes and gesture, exhorted the prynces and people to make warre agaynste the Turkes and other the enemies of chrystendome: and whan he came to the very effect, and [was] moste hotte and earnest in his tale, he began to wepe, that there were none, that wold to so godly a purpose offer them selfe to be capitains. If this be the let[341] of the mattier, beholde me here, whiche will be nothynge abasshed to cast aside this grey friers coate, and to take vpon mee to be a souldiour, or your capitaine. And euen with that woorde he caste of his vpper coate; and vnderneth he was a playne souldiour, arraied in a skarlet cloke, and a long rapier hangeyng by his side. And in this warlyke apparell, in the personage of a Capitan, he stode and preached halfe an houre. Being sente for of the Cardinals with whom he was familiar, hee was asked what was the pretence of that new example. He answered, that he did it for his wenches pleasure, who familiarly confessed that nothynge in the sayd Robert displeased hir, saue his friers coate. Then saide he to hir:
In what apparell shal I best plese you? In a
man of warres, quoth shee? Than se
that you be at my sermon to
morow, quoth he.[342]
P. 16. Of him that preched on Saynt Christophers day.
In A Booke of Meery Riddles, 1617 (repr. of ed. 1629, p. 73 of Mr. Halliwell's Literature of the xvith and xviith centuries Illustrated, &c. 1851), we have the following:—
The xvii Riddle.
"Who bare the best burthen that ever was borne
At any time since, or at any time befor[n]e.
Solution.—It was the asse that bare both Our Lady and her Sonne out of Egypt."
P. 21. Of the yonge woman that sorowed so greatly her husbondes deth.
"There was a poor young Woman who had brought herself even to Death's Door with grief for her sick Husband, but the good Man her Father did all he could to comfort her. Come, Child, said he, we are all mortal. Pluck up a good heart, my Child: for let the worst come to the worst, I have a better Husband in store for thee. Alas, Sir, says she, what d'ye talk of another Husband for? Why, you had as good have stuck a Dagger to my Heart. No, no; if ever I think of another Husband, may—! Without any more ado, the Man dies, and the Woman, immediately breaks into such Transports of tearing her Hair, and beating her Breast, that everybody thought she'd have run stark-mad upon it. But, upon second Thoughts, she wipes her Eyes, lifts them up, and cries, Heaven's will be done! and turning to her Father, Pray Sir, says she, about t' other Husband you were speaking of, is he here in the House?"—Complete London Jester, 1771, p. 49.
This story was appropriated by the editor of Pasquil's Jests, mixed with Mother Bunch's Merriments, of which there were several editions, the first appearing in 1604. In Pasquil's Jests, the tale is told of a "young woman of Barnet."
She rowned her father in the eare.
Gower (Confessio Amantis, ed. Pauli, Vol. 1. p. 161) has a precisely similar expression:—
"But whan they rounenin her ere,
Than groweth all my moste fere."
P. 21. Of him that kissed the mayde with the longe nose.
"'Good Sir William, let it rest' quoth shee, 'I know you will not beleeue it when I haue reuealed it, neither is it a thing that you can helpe: and yet such is my foolishnesse, had it not beene for that, I thinke, verily I had granted your suite ere now. But seeing you vrge me so much to know what it is, I will tell you: it is, sir, your ill-fauoured great nose, that hangs sagging so lothsomely to your lips, that I cannot finde in my heart so much as to kisse you.'"—Pleasant History of Thomas of Reading, by T. D. circa 1597, p. 73 (ed. Thoms).
P. 26. Of the Marchaunt that lost his bodgetie betwene Ware and Lon[don].
In Pasquil's Jests, 1604 occurs an account substantially similar to the present, of "how a merchant lost his purse between Waltam and London."
P. 28. Of the fatte woman that solde frute.
"Being thus dispatcht he layes downe Jacke
A peny for the shot:
'Sir, what shall this doe?' said the boy.
'Why, rogue, discharge my pot!
So much I cald for, but the rest
By me shall nere be paid:
For victualls thou didst offer me;
Doe and thou woot, I said.'"
The Knave of Clubbs, by S. Rowlands, 1600 (Percy Soc. ed. p. 20).
P. 31.—Wilson introduces the "notable historie" of Papirius Pretextatus into his Rule of Reason, 1551, 8o, and it had previously been related in Caxton's Game and Playe of the Chesse, 1474.
P. 33. Of the corrupte man of law.
"An arch Barber at a certain Borough in the West, where there are but few Electors, had Art enough to suspend his Promise till the Voters, by means of Bribery, the old Balsam, were so divided, that the casting vote lay in himself. One of the Candidates, who was sensible of it, cameinto his little dirty Shop to be shaved, and when the operation was finish'd, threw into the Bason Twenty Guineas. The next Day came the other Candidate, who was shaved also, and left Thirty. Some Days after this, the first return'd to solicit the Barber's Vote, who told him very coldly, That he could not promise. Not promise! says the Gentleman; why I thought I had been shaved here! 'Tis true, says the Barber, you was, but another Gentleman has been trimm'd since that; however, if you please, I'll trim you again, and then tell you my mind."—Complete London Jester, ed. 1771, p. 99.
P. 35. Conon peaked into the court.—So in Skelton's Colin Clout (Works by Dyce, I. 312), we have:—
"He cryeth and he creketh,
He pryeth and he peketh,
He chides and he chatters," &c.
In the Posthums Poems of Richard Lovelace, Esq. 1659, 80, p. 60, the word is employed in a different sense:—
"Have you not marked their C[oe]lestial play,
And no more peek'd the gayties of day?"
To peak, however, in the sense in which it is used by Skelton, and in the Merie Tales, &c. is of rather frequent occurrence in Scoggin's Jests, 1626 (but first printed before 1565); and Gascoigne employs the word in the same manner in the Steel Glas, n. d. (1576) 4o. The passage in Gascoigne, which I perused long ago, was brought back to my recollection by a note by the Rev. A. Dyce to Skelton's Colin Clout.
P. 38.—See Diogenes Laertius, transl. by Yonge, p. 226. Diogenes the Cynic evidently had Thales in his mind when he said "that mathematicians kept their eyes fixed on the sun and moon, and overlooked what was under their feet."
P. 40. Of him that dreamed he fonde golde.
In Pasquil's Jests, we are told "how drunken Mullins of Stratford dreamed he found golde." It is the same story.
P. 52. Gelidus facet anguis in herba.—Whoever edited this collection of stories seems to have had a great fancy for quotations. Throughout the C. Mery Talys, on the contrary, there is not a single instance of this passion for extracts. Sir Thomas Overbury, in his Characters (if at least they were written by him), ed. 1632, sign. K4, describes "An Innes of Court man" as taking "ends of Latine, though it be false, with as great confidence as ever Cicero could pronounce an oration." I suspect that the Mery Tales and Quicke Answeres were collected by some person more or less versed in the classics and in foreign authors, which was probably not the case with the C. Mery Talys, which do not smell so much of the inkhorn, as Gascoigne would have said.
P. 54. Breble-brable.
In Twelfth Night, act iv. sc. 2, Shakespeare makes the Clown use bibble-babble in a similar sense; but afterwards in the same drama, act v. sc.1, brabble is put for "a brawl."
This word is no doubt the same as the "pribbles and prabbles" which Sir Hugh uses more than once in the Merry Wives of Windsor. See act v. sc. 5.
P. 60. Of hym that payde his dette with crienge bea.—Compare the story of "the subtility of Kindlewall the lawyer repayed with the like craft," printed in Pasquil's Jests, ed. Gilbertson, n. d. 4o.
P. 65. All to.—I fear that I too hastily adopted the self-suggested notion that the former words might be read more properly as one word, and in the sense which I indicated. Perhaps as all to or al to is not uncommonly used by early writers in this way, though the meaning in the present case is not particularly clear, it may be better to restore the original reading.
P. 67. Of the Inholders wyfe and her ii lovers.—See Rowlands' Knave of Clubbs, 1600, ed. Rimbault, p. 25.
P. 67. Daungerous of her tayle. So in the Schole-house of Women, 1542, the author says:—
"Plant them round with many a pin,
Ringed for routing of pure golde,
Faire without, and foule within,
And of their tailes have slipper holde."
P. 70. Of Mayster Vavasour and Turpin his man.
"A Lawyer and his Clerk riding on the Road, the Clerk desired to know what was the chief Point of the Law. His Master said, if he would promise to pay for their Suppers that Night, he would tell him; which was agreed to. Why then, said the Master, good Witnesses are the chief Point in the Law. When they came to the Inn, the Master bespoke a couple of Fowls for Supper; and when they had Supped, told the Clerk to pay for them according to Agreement. O Sir, says he, where's your witness."—Complete London Jester, ed. 1771, p. 102.
P. 72. One of Pasquil's Jests is "how mad Coomes, when his wife was drowned, sought her against the stream." It is merely a new application of the present anecdote.
P. 75. Of the foole that thought hym selfe deed.—A story of a similar character occurs in The Meeting of Gallants at an Ordinarie, or, the Walkes in Powles, 1604, (repr. 1841, p. 19), where "mine Host" gives an account of "how a yong fellow was even bespoke and jested to death by harlots."
P. 93. He fell to a nyce laughyng.
Nice, in the sense of foolish, is also used by Gower, who likewise employs the substantive nicete in a similar way:—
"But than it were a nicete
To telle you, how that I fare!"
Confessio Amantis, lib. vi.
Chaucer employs the word in a similar sense very frequently. In the Cuckoo and the Nightingale, is the following passage:—
"To telle his might my wit may not suffice,
For he can make of wise folks ful nice."
P. 103. Crakers.—See the last edition of Nares, voce Crake and Craker. But an earlier example of the use of the word than any given in the Glossary occurs in Lupset's Works, 1546, 12mo (A Compendious Treatise teachying the waie of dying well, fol. 34 verso; this treatise was first printed separately in 1541). In a reprint of the C. Mery Talys, which appeared in 1845, the Editor, not knowing what to make of crake and craker, altered them, wherever they occurred, to crack and cracker respectively!
P. 113. Ch' adde.—In Wits Interpreter, The English Parnassus, by J. Cotgrave. 1655, ed. 1662, p. 247, is "the Devonshire Ditty," from which the following is an extract:—
"Cockbodikins, chil work no more,
Dost think chi labour to be poor?
No, no, ich chave a do—" &c.
But this phraseology is not peculiar to Devonshire.
P. 113, note 2.—Some additional particulars of interest, relative to ancient wines, may be found in Morte Arthure, ed. 1847, pp. 18, 20; and in the Squyer of Low Degre (Ritson's Ancient Engl. Met. Renancees, iii).
P. 121. Of the Courtear that ete the hot costerde.
"An arch Boy being at Table where there was a piping hot Applepye, putting a Bit into his Mouth, burnt it so that the Tears ran down his Cheeks. A Gentleman that sate by, ask'd him, Why he wept? Only said he, because it is just come into my Remembrance that my poor Grandmother died this Day Twelvemonth. Phoo! says the other, is that all? So whipping a large Piece into his Mouth, he quickly sympathized with the Boy; who seeing his Eyes brim-full, with a malicious Sneer Ask'd him, Why he wept? A Pox on you, said he, because you were not hanged, you young Dog, the same Day your Grandmother died."—Complete London Jester, ed. 1771, p. 53.
P. 140.—Of the Canon and his man. Note.
"When King James came into England, coming to Boughton, hee was feasted by Sir Edward Montague, and his six sonnes brought upp the six first dishes; three of them after were lords, and three more knights, Sir Walter Montague, Sir Sydney, and Sir Charles, whose daughter Lady Hatton is."—Ward's Diary, ed. Severn, p. 170-1.
P. 143. For at this foul araye.—So, in the Child of Bristow, an early metrical legend, we read:—
"When the burges the child gan se,
He seid then, benedicite,
Sone, what araye is this?"
Some later writers thought it necessary to use this word with a qualifying adjective, as shrewd array, &c. thus, in fact, reducing it to something like its ordinary and modern signification.
P. 148, note. 1. See Pepys' Diary, 6th ed. I. 29. "They brought me a draft of their drink in a brown bowl, tipt with silver, which I drank off, and at the bottom was a picture of the Virgin with the child in her arms, done in silver."—27th Feb. 1659-60. See also Brydges' British Bibliographer, vol. ii. p. 109.
THE END.