= But tell on your tale
concerning
the booke.
Erasmus
=Pam. = Certes thou speakest like a wittie wench; wherefore I intende
to followe thy counsayle.
=Ma. = You shall not repent you thereof, but how he sirha there is now
fallen into my minde a doubt, which vexeth mée sore.
=Pam. = Away with all such doubtes for Gods sake.
=Ma. = Why will you haue me marry my selfe to a dead man.
=Pam. = Not so, for I will reuiue againe.
=Maria. = Now, loe you haue voided this doubt, fare yee well my
_Pamphile_.
=Pam. = See you I pray that I may so doe.
=Ma. = I pray God giue you a good night, why fetch you such a sighe
man?
=Pam. = A good night say you? I woulde to God you would vouchsafe to
giue me that, which you wishe mee.
=Ma. = Soft and faire, I pray you your haruest is as yet but in the
greene blade.
=Pam. = Shall I haue nothing of yours wyth me at my departure.
=Ma. = Take this Pomander to chéere your harte wyth.
=Pam. = Yet giue me a kisse withal I pray thee.
=Ma. = I would kéepe my virginitie whole, and vndefiled for you.
=Pam. = Why doth a kisse take ought away from your virginitie?
=Ma. = Would you thinke it well done that I shoulde be frée of kisses
vnto other men.
=Pam. = Nay marrie I would haue my kisses spared for my selfe.
=Ma. = I keepe them for you then. And yet there is an other thing in
y^e way, which maketh me that I dare not at thys time giue you a
kisse.
=Pam. = What is that.
=Ma. = You saye that your soule is alreadie gone well néere altogither
into my body, and a very small parte thereof taryeth behinde in your
owne, so that I feare in time of a kisse, that which remayneth might
happen to sterte out after it, & then were you altogither without a
soule. Haue you therefore my right hande in token of mutuall loue, and
so fare you well. Go you earnestly about your matters. And I for my
part in the meane while, shall pray vnto Christ, that the thing which
you do, may be vnto the ioy and felicitie of vs both. Amen
[Illustration]
* * * * *
Of the yong man and the
_euill disposed woman_.
=Lucrecia. = =Sophronius. =
Iesu mercy my olde louing Frynde _Sophronius_, are you at length come
againe vnto vs? nowe mee thinkes you haue beene awaye euen a worlde
space, Truelye at the first blushe I scarce knewe you.
=Sophronius. = And why so myne olde acquanintaunce _Lucres_?
=Lucres. = Why so? bicause at your departing you had no berd at al,
now you become a handsome beardling. But what is the matter my sweete
harte: for me thinks you are waxed more sterne and graue countenaunced
then to fore you had wont.
=Sophronius. = I would gladly talke with you friendlye in some place
aparte from all companye.
=Lucres. = Why are we not here alone (my luste? )
=Sophronius. = No, let vs go our selues into some place yet more secret
and priuie.
=Lu. = Be it so, let vs go into my inwarde chamber, if ought you list
to doe.
=Sophronius. = Yet mee thinketh this place is not close & secret
ynough.
=Lucres. = Why? whence comes this new shamefastnesse vpon you. I haue a
Closet wherein I lay vp my Iewels and array, a place so darke that
vnneth the one of vs shall see the other.
=So. = Looke round about it, if there be any crany or rifte.
=Lu. = Here is not a cranye nor rifte to be seene.
=So. = Is there no body neere that mought listen and here vs?
=Lu. = No verily not a flie (my ioy) why doubt you? Why go you not
about your purpose?
=So. = Shall wee here beguile the eies of God?
=Lu. = Not so, for he seeth thorow all things?
=So. = Or shall wee be out of the sight of his Aungels?
=Lu. = Neyther, for no bodie can hide him out of their sight.
=So. = How happeneth it then, that we be not ashamed to doe that before
the eies of God, and in the presence of his holy Aungels, which wee
woulde be ashamed to doe in the syght of men?
=Lu. = What a strange thing is this, came you hither to preache? put
yee on, one of Saint Francis cowles, and get ye vp into the Pulpit,
and let vs heare you there my yong Beardling.
=So. = Neither would I thinke it much so to doe, if by that meane I
might call you backe from thys kind of life, not only most foule &
shameful, but also most miserable.
=Lu. = And why so good sir? I must get my liuing one way or other,
euery man liueth and is maintained by his craft, & science, this is
our trade our lands and reuenues.
=So. = I would to God (good friende _Lucres_) that you, voyding for a
while this dronkennesse of the mynde, coulde finde in your heart
rightly to ponder and consider with me, the thing as it is.
=Lu. = Keepe your sermond till an other time, nowe let vs take our
pleasure (my good friende _Sophronie_).
=So. = All that you doe, you doe it for lucre and gaines I am sure.
=Lu. = Therin you haue gone nere the marke.
=So. = Well, you shall loose no parte of that, which you make your
accompt vppon, I will giue you euen foure times as much onely, to lend
me your attentiue care.
=Lu. = Say on then euen what you please.
=So. = First aunswere me to this. Haue you any that beareth you euill
wil?
=Lu. = Mo then one.
=So. = And are there not some againe, whome you hate likewise?
=Lu. = Euen as they deserue at my hande.
=So. = Now if it lay in thee to pleasure them wouldest thou in faith
do it?
=Lu. = Nay sooner woulde I giue them their bane.
=So. = Verie well, consider now, consider I saye whither ought thou
mayest doe to them more pleasaunt and better lyked, then to let them
see thee leade this maner of lyfe, so shamefull and wretched. On the
other side, what canst thou do more to the griefe and misliking of
them, which be thy verye friendes in deede?
=Lu. = Such was my lot, and destinie.
=So. = Moreouer, that which is compted to be the most harde, and heauie
happe of those which are cast out into Ilands, or banished vnto the
people most inhumaine and barbarous, the same haue you of your owne
free will, and election, taken vnto your selfe.
=Lu. = And what is that?
=So. = Hast not thou of thine accorde renounced & forsaken all naturall
affections and loues, your father, mother, brethren, sistrene, aunt,
great aunt, & whomsoeuer beside nature hath linked vnto thee for they
in verye deede, are full euill ashamed of thee, and thou darest not
once come into their sight.
=Lu. = Naye marrye, mee thinkes I haue luckilye chaunged myne affectes,
in that for a few louers, nowe I haue won me verie many, among whome
you are one, whome I haue accompted off as my naturall brother.
=So. = Let passe this light accustomed talke, & way the matter as it
is, in earnest. And first beleeue mee this (my _Lucres_) shee that
hath so many louers, hath no loue at all. They that resort vnto thee,
doe not take thee for their loue, but rather for their luste, see
howe thou hast debased thy selfe wretched Woman. Christ helde thee so
deere, that hee vouchsafed to redeeme thee with his most precious
bloud, to the ende, thou mightest partake with him in his heauenlye
kingdome. And thou makest thy selfe a cõmon Gonge, or muckhill
wherevnto fowle and filthy, scalde, and scuruie, doth at their
pleasure resort, to shake off their filth and corruption. That if thou
be yet free and not infected wyth that lothsome kinde of leprie,
commonly called the french pockes, assure thy selfe thou cannot long
be wythout it. Which if it chaunce thee to haue, what in more
miserable and wretched case then thou, yea, though other things were
as thou wouldst wish (I meane) thy substance and fame, what shalt thou
then be, but a lump of quick carraine: you thought it a great matter
to be obedient vnto your mother, now you liue in seruitude, vnder a
filthie bawde. It went to your heart to heare the good aduertisements
of your father, here you must often tymes take in good parte, euen the
stripes of dronkardes, and madbraines, you coulde awaye with no maner
of worke, when you were with your friendes, to helpe towardes your
lyuing, but in this place what trouble, what continuall watcking are
you faine to sustaine?
=Lu. = From whence (and God will) coms this new prating preacher.
=So. = Now I praye thee, haue this also in thy minde. The flower of
beautie, which is the baite that allureth men to loue thee, in shorte
time it shall fade, and decaye. And what shalt thou then doe, vnhappie
creature, what donghill shall be more vile, and vnregarded than thou
then? than loe, thou shalt of an hoore, become a bawde, yet euery one
of you commeth not vnto that promotion, but if that befalleth thee,
what is more abhominable, or nerer reprocheth euen to the wicked
occupacion of the deuill.
=Lu. = Truth it is in good faith, _Sophronie_ in a maner all that you
haue hitherto sayde. But howe commeth this newe holinesse vpon you,
who were wont to be amongst all the little goods, yet one of the
least, for no man repaired hither, eyther oftener or at more vntimely
howres, than your self? I heare say you haue beene at Roome latelie.
=So. = I haue so in deede.
=Lucres. = Why men are wont to come from thence worse than they went
thither. How happeneth the contrarie to you?
=So. = I will tell you, bycause I went not to Rome, with that minde,
and after that sort, other commonlie goe to Rome, euen of set purpose
to retourne woorse, & so doing they want none occasions when they come
there, to be as they purposed. But I went thither in the companie of
an honest vertuous man, by whose aduise, in steede of a bibbing
bottel, I caried with me, a handsome little booke the new testament of
_Erasmus_ translation.
=Lu. = Of _Erasmus_? And they saye he is an heretike and an halfe.
=So. = Why hath the name of that man come hither also?
=Lu. = None more famous with vs.
=So. = Haue you euer seene his persone?
=Lu. = Neuer, but in good fayth I woulde I might, bycause I haue hearde
so much euill of hym.
=So. = Perhaps of them that be euill themselues.
=Lu. = Nay truely, euen of reuerend personages.
=So. = What be they.
=Lucres. = I may not tell you that.
=So. = And why so I pray.
=Lu. = Bicause if you should blab it out, and it come vnto their eares,
I should loose no small part of my lyuing.
=So. = Feare thou not, thou shalt speake it to a stone.
=Lu. = Harken hither in thine eare thẽ.
=So. = A fonde wench, what needeth it to lay mine eare to thine, seing
we be alone? except it were that God shoulde not heare it. Oh lyuing
God, I see thou art a religious whore, thou doest thy charity vpon
Mendicants.
[Sidenote: _Mendicant Friers. _]
=Lu. = Well, I get more by these Mendicants & simple beggers, than by
you riche folke.
=So. = So I thinke, they spoyle and prowle from honest matrones to cast
at whores tayles.
=Lu.
= But tell on your tale concerning the booke.
=So. = I will so doe, and better it is. Therein Paule taught me a
lessõ, who being indued with the spirite of truth could not lie, that
neyther whores, nor whore haunters shall inherite the kingdome of
heauen. When I had reade this, I beganne to consider with my selfe in
this wise. It is a small thinge, which I looke to be heire of by my
father, and yet neuerthelesse rather I had to shake hands with all
wanton women, then to be set beside that inheritance, how muche more
then doth it sit me on, to beware y^e my father in heaue doth not
disinherite me of that far more excellent inheritance, for against
mine earthly father, which goeth about to disinherite me, or to cast
me off, the ciuill lawes doe offer a remedie, but if God list to cast
of, or disinherite, there is no helpe at all. Wherevpon, I foorthwith
vtterlie forefended my selfe, the vse and familiaritie of all euill
disposed women.
=Lu. = That is if you be able to lyue chaste.
=So. = It is a good parte of the vertue of continencie, hartilie to
couit and desire the same, if it will not so bee, well, the vttermost
remedie is to take a Wife. When I was come to Rome, I powred out the
hole sincke of my conscience into the bosome of a certayne Frier
penitentiarie, who with many words, right wiselye exhorted mee to
puritie, and cleannesse of minde and bodye, and vnto the deuout
reading of holie scripture, with oft prayer & sobernesse of life, for
my penaunce he enioyned me naught else, but that I shoulde kneele on
my knees before the high alter, and say y^e Psalme _Miserere mei
deus_. And if I had mony to giue in almoys vnto some poore bodie a
_Carolyne_. And wheras I meruayled much, that for so many times, as I
hadde confessed my selfe to haue played the brothell, he layed vppon
me so small a penaunce, hee aunswered me right pleasauntlye thus.
Sonne (quoth he) if thou truely repent, if thou change thy
conuersation, I passe not on thy penance, but if thou proceed stil
therin, thy very lust it self shal at the length bring thee to paine
and penaunce ynough I warrant thee, though the Priest appointeth thee
none, for example loke vpon my selfe, whome thou seest now, bleare
eyed, palsey shaken, and crooked, and in time paste I was euen such a
one as thou declarest thy selfe to be. Thus loe haue I learned to
leaue it.
=Lu. = Why then for ought that I can see I haue loste my _Sophronius_.
=So. = Nay rather thou hast him safe, for before he was in deede loste,
as one which neyther loued thee nor hymselfe. He now loueth thee with
a true loue, and thirsteth thy saluation.
=Lu. = What aduise you me then to doe, friende _Sophronius_?
=So. = As soone as possible you may to withdrawe your selfe from this
kinde of lyfe, you are yet but a girle (to speake off) and the spot of
your misdemeanour maye be washed away. Either take an husband (so
doing we wyll contribute some thing to preferre you) eyther else get
you into some godly Colledge or Monestery which receyueth those that
haue done amisse, vpon promise of amendment, or at the leastwyse
departing from this place, betake your selfe into the seruice of some
vertuous and well disposed Matrone. And to which of these you liste to
enclyne your minde, I offer you my friendly helpe and furtheraunce.
=Lu. = Now I besech you with all my hart _Sophronie_ looke about &
prouide for me, I will follow your counsayle.
=So. = But in the meane while conuey your selfe from out of this place.
=Lu. = Alack so sone,
=So. = Why not, rather this day than to morrow? namely since lingering
it is damage, and delay is daungerous.
=Lu. = Whether should I then repaire, where should I stay my selfe?
=So. = You shall packe vp all your apparell and Iewels, & deliuer it
vnto me in the euening, my seruaunt shall closelye carrie it, vnto a
faithfull honest Matrone. And within a while after, I will leade you
out, as it were to walke with me and you shal secretly abide in that
Matrons house, at my charge, vntill I prouide for you: And that time
shall not bee long.
=Lu. = Be it so my _Sophronius_, I betake my selfe wholy vnto you.
=So. = For so doing here-after, you shall haue ioy.
_FINIS. _
¶ One dialogue, or Colloquye of Erasmus (entituled
Diuersoria) Translated oute of Latten
into Englyshe: And Imprinted, to
the ende that the Judgem[~e]t
of the Learned maye be hadde
before the Translator pro-
cede in the reste.
E. H.
[Illustration]
¶ Imprinted at London in Fleetstreete, at the
signe of the Faucon by William Griffyth,
and are to be solde at his shop
in S. Dunstons Churchyard
in the west.
1566
* * * * *
¶ The Translator to the indifferent reader.
If I were throughlye perswaded (g[~e]tle reader) y^t mine attempt of the
learned were in all points allowed and the order in my translation
correspondent thereunto, I woulde at this present proceede in mine
enterprise, with entent by gods helpe to finishe the translation of the
whole boke: But because I am vnlearned & therfore must not be mine owne
iudge therein, I geue the here a tast of my store for proofe of mine
abilitie: desiring the at the least wise not to be offended at the same so
boldly attemted and simplye perfourmed. For sithe mine entent is good, & my
good wil not small I dare at this present yelde it to thy curtesye. Fare
wel.
¶ Thine in will (though not in power) E. H.
* * * * *
_Diuersoria. _
¶ The speakers.
_Bertulphe. _ _William. _
Why haue men taken suche pleasure and felicity (I pray you) in tariynge ii.
or iii. dayes at Lions together, when they trauaile through the contrey? if
I fall to trauailinge once, be fore suche time as I be come vnto my
iourneyes ende, me thinks I am neuer at quiet in my mind.
William.
¶ Say ye so indeede? And I put you out of doubt, I wonder howe men can bee
withdrawen thence againe after they be once come thether.
Bertulphe.
¶ Yea doe? And how so I pray you?
William.
¶ Mary sir because that is the verye place from whence Ulisses companions
coulde in no wise be gotten by perswasion. There are the sweet Mermaides
(that are spoken of) I warrant ye. Assuredlie, no man is better vsed at
home at his own house then a guest is entertained there in a common Inne.
Bertulphe.
¶ Why? What is their order and vsage there?
William.
¶ Some woman or other did alwayes attende vpon the table to cheere the
company with pleasaunt talke and prety conceites. And I tell you the women
are meruailous bewtiful and wel fauoured there. Firste of all the good wife
of the house came & welcomed vs, praying vs all there to bee merye, and to
take well in woorthe suche poore cheere as shee hadde prouided: when shee
was gone, in commeth her Daughter (beeinge a verye proper woman) and tooke
her roome: also whose behauioure and tongue were so pleasaunt and
delectable, that she was able to make euen the grimme Sire Cato to bee
merye and laugh, and besyde that they doe not talke wyth theyr guestes as
with men whome they neuer sawe before, but euen so famylyarlye and
freendlye, as if they were menne that were of their olde acquaintaunce.
Bertulphe.
¶ Yea, thys is the ciuilytye of Fraunce in deede.
William.
¶ And because the Mother and the Daughter coulde not bee alwayes in the
waye (for that they muste goe aboute theyr houssholde businesse, and
welcome their other guestes in other places) a pretye little minion Girle
stode forthe there by and by (hauinge learned her liripuppe and lesson
alreadye in all pointes I warraunte you) to make all the pastime that
mighte be possible, and to aunswere (at omnia quare) all such as shoulde be
busye to talke and dally with her, So shee didde prolonge or vpholde the
Enterlude, till the goodwifes Daughter came vnto vs againe. For as for the
mother she was somewhat striken in yeres.
Bertulphe.
¶ Yea but tell vs what good cheere yee had there (I praye you) for a manne
cannot fill his bellye with pleasaunte talke you knowe well inoughe.
William.
¶ I promise you faithfullye wee had notable good chere there, in so much
that I wonder how they can entertaine their guestes so good cheape as they
doe. And then when our table was tak[~e] vp, they fedde oure mindes wyth
their merye deuises, leaste wee shoulde thinke the time werysome. Me
thought I was euen at home at mine owne house, and not a trauayler abroade
in a straunge co[~u]try.
Bertulphe.
¶ And what was the facion in your bed chambers there?
William.
¶ Why? some wenches went in euerye corner giggelinge there, playing the
wantons, and dalying with vs, of their owne motion they would aske whether
we had any foule gere to washe or no. That they washed and brought vs
cleane againe, what should I make a longe proces or circumstance, we sawe
nothinge els there but wenches and wemen sauinge in the stable. And yet
many times they would fetche their vagaries in thether also. When the
guestes be going awaye, they embrace them, and take their leaue sweetlye
with suche kindnes and curtesye, as if they were all brethern, or (at
least) nighe a kinne the one to the other.
Bertulphe.
¶ This behauiour doth well beseme Frenchmen peraduenture, how be it the
fashions of Duche lande[1] shall go for my monye when all is done, which
are altogether manlike.
William.
¶ Yt was neuer my chaunce to see the Contreye yet: and therfore I pray you
take so muche paine as to tell in what sorte they entertaine a straunger
with them.
Bertulphe.
¶ I am not sure whether it be so in euerye place or no, but I will not
sticke to reherse that whiche I haue sene with mine owne eyes. There no man
biddeth him welcome that comes, lest they shuld seme to go about to procure
a guest. And that of all sauces, they accompt a dishonest and beggarly
thing, and vnmete for their demurenes & grauetie. After you haue stoode
cryinge oute at the doore a good while, at the length some one or other
pereth out his hed at the stoue[2] window like as a snaile should pepe out
of his shell: for they liue ther in stoues, til the somer be almoste in the
Tropick of Cancer. Then must you aske of him, whether you may haue a
lodging there or no? yf he do not geue a contrary beck with his hed, you
may perceiue, that you shall haue entertainment. To those whiche aske where
aboutes the stable standes, he pointes vnto it with the wagging of his
hand. There maye you vse youre horse after your own diet, for no seruaunt
of the house shall once lay handes vnto it to help you. But if it bee an
Inne some what occupied or haunted, th[~e] the seruaunt sheweth there which
is the stable, & telleth you also a place where your horse shal stãd, full
vnhansomely for that purpose god knoweth for they reserue the better romes
for the after commers, specially for the noble men, yf you finde any fault
with any thinge, by an by they snub you with this: Sir, if mine Inne please
you not, goe seeke an other elsewhere in the name of god in cities, it is
longe ere they wil bring you hay forthe for your horse, and when they do
bring it, it is after a niuer facion[3] I warraunt you, and yet will they
aske asmuch mony of you for it (in a maner) as if it were Otes. After your
horse is once dressed you come with all your cariage into the stoue with
Bootes, Male, or Packe, and with Dirte, Bag and Baggage and all. Euery man
is vsed to this generally.
William.
¶ In Fraunce they haue certaine chaumbers for the nonce, where guests may
put of their clothes may wipe or make clean th[~e] selues, may warme them
selues: yea may take their ease to, if they bee so disposed.
Bertulphe.
¶ Yea, but here is no suche facions I tel you. In the stoue, you pul of
youre Bootes, you pull on youre Shooes, you chaunge youre Shirt if you bee
so minded, you hange vp youre clothes all weate, with raine harde by the
Chimney, and to make youre selfe drye doe stande by the same your selfe,
you haue also water sette readye for your handes, which moste commonly is
so clenlye, that you muste after seeke other water, to washe of that water
againe.
William.
¶ I commende them as menne not corrupted with to much finenesse or
daintinesse.
Bertulphe.
¶ Thoughe it be youre chaunce to come thether about iiii. of the clocke at
afternoone, yet shall you not go to supper for all that vntill it be nine
of the clocke at night, and sometime not before tenne.
William.
¶ How so?
Bertulphe.
¶ They make nothinge ready til they see all their guestes come in, that
they may serue them all vnder one without more adoe.
William.
¶ These men seeke the neerest way to woorke, I see wel.
Bertulphe.
¶ You say true in deede: They doe so, and therfore often times there come
all into one Stooue, lxxx. or xC. Footemen, Horsemen, Marchauntmen,
Mariners, Carters, Plowemen, Children, Wemen, hole and sicke.
William.
¶ Marye this is a communitye of lyfe in deede.
Bertulphe.
¶ One kembes his head there. An other doth rubbe of his sweat there. An
other maketh cleane his startops[4] or bootes there. An other belcks out
hys Garlicke there. What needes manye wordes? There is as muche mingle
mangle of parsons there, as was in the old time at the Towre of Babell. And
if they chaunce to see a straunger amonge them, whiche in his apparell
semeth somewhat braue, galaunt and gentlemanlike, they all stand prying
vpon him with their eyes, gasing and gapinge as if some straunge beaste
were brought them out of Aphrick, in so much as after they are once set,
they be eye him stil an end and neuer looke of, as men forgetting th[~e]
selues that they be now at supper.
William.
¶ At Rome, at Parise, and at Venice, no mã maketh any such wonderment at
all.
Bertulphe.
¶ Nowe it is a sore matter I tell you to call for ought there al this
while: when it is farre night and they looke for no more guestes at that
time, then commeth forthe an olde stager of the house, with a gray beard, a
polled hed, a frowning co[~u]tenaunce, clad in il fauored apparaile.
William.
¶ Yea mary suche fellowes as these you speak of, should fill the Cardinals
cups at Rome.
Bertulphe.
¶ He casting his eyes about, reckeneth vnto him selfe howe manye therebe in
the stoue at all, the moe he seeth there, the greater he maketh his fire,
though the sonne beside doth greatly annoy with his perching heat. Among
them, this is accoumpted the principallest pointe of good entertainment, if
they all sweat like Bulles, that they doe euen drop again. But if one not
vsed to this choking and smotheringe ayre, should chaunce to open but a
chinke of the window to keepe him self from stifeling, he should by and by
haue this saied vnto him: Shut it I pray you, if you aunswere that you
canne not abide it, ye haue this in your nose for your labor, why? then go
seeke you an other Inne, on gods name.
William.
¶ But me thinkes there can be no greater daunger for health, then that so
many should drawe in and out all one vapour: specially when the body is in
a sweat, and in this same place to eat meate together, and to tarye
together a great while in company, for now I wil not speak of belchinges
that sauour of garlick, nor of fistinge, or fisseling[5] nor of stinking
breths, many there be (I tel you) that haue priuy diseases, and euery
desease hath his proper infection. And surely the moste of th[~e] haue the
spanishe scabbe, or as some terme it the frenche pockes: thoughe now adaies
one nation hathe it commonlye asmuche as an other. I suppose (I tel you)
that there is as great ieobardye in companyinge with these as it is with
lepers, and nowe gesse you howe muche difference is betwene this and the
pestilence?
Bertulphe.
¶ Tushe man they bee stoute fellowes: they doe scorne theise thinges, and
make as it were no accompt of them.
William.
¶ But yet they are stout with hazardinge of many a mannes helth I tell you
plainely.
Bertulphe.
¶ Why? What should a man do? They haue thus vsed them selues euermore, and
it is a token of constancy and stabilitie neuer to varye or geue ouer that
whiche they haue once taken in hand.
William.
¶ But aboue twentye yeeres agone, there was nothinge more vsed amonge the
Brabanders, then the common Bathes. And now adaies, the same are laied a
side euery where: for this stra[~u]g scabbe (I speake of) hathe taught men
to come no more thether.
Bertulphe.
¶ But go toe? Harken to the rest of my tale that is behind. That grim
bearded Ganimede coms to vs afterwardes againe, and layeth as many tables
as he then thinkes will serue for the nomber of his guestes, But Lord, what
baggage are the table clothes? if you saw them I dare say you would think
them h[~e]pen cloths, that are taken from the sailes of ships: they be so
course, for he hath apointed that viii. guests shall sit at one table at
the least. Nowe those that are acquainted with the facion of the country,
doe sit downe euery man, where he listeth him selfe, for there is no
diuersitie or cursye I tell you there, betweene the poore man and the
riche, betweene the Master and his seruaunt. They are all one. One as good
as an other, there is heere (as they say) no difference betwene the
shepherd and his dog.
William.
¶ Yea marye: this is the olde facion when all is done, that Tiranny hath
now abolished and put away from amõg vs: I think Christ liued iump[6] after
this maner on the earth when he was here conuersaunt with his Apostles.
Bertulphe.
¶ After they be all set, in commeth the frowning minion againe, and once
more falleth to recken what company he hathe there: by and by retourning he
layeth euery one a trenchar, and a spone of the same siluer: and then after
that, hee setteth downe a drinkinge glasse and within a while bringes in
bread which euery manne (at leysure) chippeth and pareth for him selfe,
whiles the potage is a sethinge. They sit mopinge after thys manner,
otherwhiles a whole houre together, ere they can get any thinge to eate.
William.
¶ Why? Doe none of the guestes call earnestlye vpon them to haue in the
Supper all this while?
Bertulphe.
¶ No, none of them all that knowes the Facion of the countrye. At the laste
they are serued with Wyne: but youe woulde wonder to see what small geare
it is, Scoolemen or Sophisters shoulde drinke none other by myne aduise,
because it is so thinne and tarte: how bee it if a guest shoulde chaunce
(beside his shotte) to offer Monye to one, and desyre him to gette some
better Wyne thenne that some other where, because he lykes it not: they
firste make as though they hearde him not: but yet they bee eye hym with
suche a bigge an frowning countenaunce as if the Deuyl should loke ouer
LINCOLN (as they doe saye) If you will not linne[7] callinge vppon them,
thenne they make youe this aunswere. So many EARLES and MARQUESES, haue
lodged here in our house, & yet the time is yet to come, that euer they
founde any fault with our wine. And therefore if ye fancy it not, get ye
packing in the name of God, and seeke an other Inne where ye liste. For
they accompt great men and noble men for men onely in their contrye I tell
you, setting their armes abroade in euery corner of their house for a
shewe. Now by this time they are serued with a soupe, to alay and pacify
their pore hongry and crookling stomackes, well nigh loste for meat, hard
at the heeles of that comes forthe the dishes with greate ceremonie, pompe
or solemnitie. For the firste course they haue soppes or slices of bread,
soaked in fleshe brothe, or if it be a fishe day, in the broth of pulce.
Then nexte they haue an other brothe: and after that they are serued wyth
fleshe twise sod[8], or fishe twise het. And yet, after this, they haue
potage once againe, immediatly after, they haue some stiffer meate til
suche time as they world beinge well amended with them, they set roste on
the table, or sodde[8] freshe fishe, whiche a man can not all together
mislike. But when it comes to that once they make spare and whip it away at
a sodaine I warraunt you, they facion out euery thinge in his dew time &
place. And as the players of Enterludes or comedies, are wonte in their
Scenes, to entermedle theyr Chories, so doe these Duche men serue forthe to
their guests, Soppes and Potage enterchañgeably or by course.
