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 Awdeley’s Fraternitye of Vacabondes, Harman’s Caueat, Haben’s Sermon,
 &c.; Edited by Edward Viles and Frederick James Furnivall; Authored by
 John Awdeley (flourished 1559–1577), Thomas Harman (active 1567), and
 Parson Haben (or Hyberdyne). Published in 1869 for the Early English
 Text Society, by Humphrey Milford, Oxford University Press.




 Awdeley’s

 Fraternitye of Vacabondes,

 Harman’s Caueat,

 Haben’s Sermon, &c.

 ――――

 Early English Text Society.

 Extra Series. No. IX.

 1869.




 The Fraternitye of Vacabondes

 BY JOHN AWDELEY

 (LICENSED IN 1560–1, IMPRINTED THEN, AND IN 1565)

 FROM THE EDITION OF 1575 IN THE BODLEIAN LIBRARY.

 ――――

 A Caueat or Warening for Commen Cursetors
 vulgarely called Vagabones

 BY THOMAS HARMAN ESQUIERE,

 FROM THE 3RD EDITION OF 1567, BELONGING TO HENRY HUTH, ESQ.

 COLLATED WITH THE 2ND EDITION OF 1567 IN THE BODLEIAN
 LIBRARY, OXFORD, AND WITH THE REPRINT OF THE
 4TH EDITION OF 1573.

 ――――

 A Sermon in Praise of Thieves and Thievery

 BY PARSON HABEN OR HYBERDYNE,

 FROM THE LANSDOWNE MS. 98, AND COTTON VESP. A. 25.

 ――――

 THOSE PARTS OF
 The Groundworke of Conny-catching (ed. 1592)
 THAT DIFFER FROM _HARMAN’S CAUEAT_.

 ――――

 EDITED BY
 EDWARD VILES & F. J. FURNIVALL.

 ――――

 LONDON:

 PUBLISHED FOR THE EARLY ENGLISH TEXT SOCIETY

 BY HUMPHREY MILFORD, OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS

 AMEN HOUSE, E.C. 4

 [_Reprinted 1898, 1937._]




 Extra Series, IX.

 ――――

 PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED
 BUNGAY, SUFFOLK.




CONTENTS.


                                                                    PAGE

 Preface                                                               i

 AWDELEY’S _Fraternitye_, not plagiarized from, but
 published ‘a fewe yeares’ before, Harman’s _Caueat_                   i

 HARMAN’S _Caueat_: two states of the 2nd edition. The
 latter, now called the 3rd edition, is reprinted here                iv

 Piraters from Harman: Bynnyman, and G. Dewes                         vi

 Short account of Thomas Harman                                      vii

 HARRISON’S quotation of Harman, and his account of
 English Vagabonds, and the punishments for them                      xi

 _The Groundworke of Conny-catching_ is a reprint of
 Harman’s _Caueat_, with an Introduction                             xiv

 DEKKER’S _Belman of London_: its borrowings from Harman             xiv

 S. ROWLANDS’S _Martin Mark-all_ shows up Dekker, and has
 new Cant words                                                      xvi

 DEKKER’S _Lanthorn and Candle-light_ borrows from
 Harman: Canting Song from it                                        xix

 _The Caterpillers of this Nation anatomized_                        xxi

 _A Warning for Housebreakers_                                       xxi

 _Street Robberies consider’d_                                      xxii

 Parson HABEN’S or HYBERDYNE’S _Sermon in Praise of
 Thieves and Thievery_                                              xxiv

 Shares in the present work                                         xxiv


 1. Awdeley’s Fraternitye of Vacabondes, _with_ the .xxv.
 Orders of Knaues (p. 12–16)                                        1–16

 2. Harman’s Caueat or Warrening for Commen
 Cvrsetors vulgarely called Vagabones                              17–91

 3. Parson Haben’s (or Hyberdyne’s) Sermon in Praise of
 Thieves and Thievery                                              92–95

 4. The Groundwork of Conny-catching: those parts that are
 not reprinted from Harman’s _Caueat_                             96–103

 5. Index                                                        104–111

{i}




PREFACE.


If the ways and slang of Vagabonds and Beggars interested Martin Luther
enough to make him write a preface to the _Liber Vagatorum_[1] in
1528, two of the ungodly may be excused for caring, in 1869, for the
old Rogues of their English land, and for putting together three of
the earliest tracts about them. Moreover, these tracts are part of the
illustrative matter that we want round our great book on Elizabethan
England, Harrison’s _Description of Britain_, and the chief of them is
quoted by the excellent parson who wrote that book.

The first of these three tracts, Awdeley’s _Fraternitye of Vacabondes_,
has been treated by many hasty bibliographers, who can never have taken
the trouble to read the first three leaves of Harman’s book, as later
than, and a mere pilfering from, Harman’s _Caueat_. No such accusation,
however, did Harman himself bring against the worthy printer-author
(herein like printer-author Crowley, though he was preacher too,) who
preceded him. In his Epistle dedicatory to the Countes of Shrewsbury,
p. 20, below, Harman, after speaking of ‘these wyly wanderers,’
vagabonds, says in 1566 or 1567,

 There was _a fewe yeares since_ a small bréefe setforth of some zelous
 man to his countrey,—of whom I knowe not,—that made a lytle shewe of
 there names and vsage, and gaue a glymsinge lyghte, not sufficient to
 perswade of their peuishe peltinge and pickinge practyses, but well
 worthy of prayse.

   [Footnote 1: _Liber Vagatorum: Der Betler Orden_: First printed
   about 1514. Its first section gives a special account of the several
   orders of the ‘Fraternity of Vagabonds;’ the 2nd, sundry _notabilia_
   relating to them; the 3rd consists of a ‘Rotwelsche Vocabulary,’
   or ‘Canting Dictionary.’ See a long notice in the Wiemarisches
   Jahrbuch, vol. 10; 1856. _Hotten’s Slang Dictionary_: Bibliography.]

{ii}

This description of the ‘small bréefe,’ and the ‘lytle shewe’ of the
‘names and vsage,’ exactly suits Awdeley’s tract; and the ‘fewe yeares
since’ also suits the date of what may be safely assumed to be the
first edition of the _Fraternitye_, by John Awdeley or John Sampson, or
Sampson Awdeley,—for by all these names, says Mr Payne Collier, was our
one man known:—

 It may be disputed whether this printer’s name were really Sampson,
 or Awdeley: he was made free of the Stationers’ Company as Sampson,
 and so he is most frequently termed towards the commencement of the
 Register; but he certainly wrote and printed his name Awdeley or
 Awdelay; now and then it stands in the Register ‘Sampson Awdeley.’ It
 is the more important to settle the point, because . . . he was not
 only a printer, but a versifier,[2] and ought to have been included by
 Ritson in his _Bibliographica Poetica_. (Registers of the Stationers’
 Company, A.D. 1848, vol. i. p. 23.)

These verses of Awdeley’s, or Sampson’s, no doubt led to his ‘small
bréefe’ being entered in the Stationers’ Register as a ‘ballett’:

 “1560–1. Rd. of John Sampson, for his lycense for pryntinge of a
 ballett called the description of vakaboundes . . . . iiij^d.

 “[This entry seems to refer to an early edition of a very curious
 work, printed again by Sampson, alias Awdeley, in 1565, when it
 bore the following title, ‘The fraternitie of vacabondes, as well
 of rufling vacabones as of beggerly, [3]†as well of women as of men,
 †and as well of gyrles as of boyes, with their proper names and
 qualityes. Also the xxv. orders of knaves, otherwise called a quartten
 of knawes. Confirmed this yere by Cocke Lorel.’ The edition without
 date mentioned by Dibdin (iv. 564) may have been that of the entry.
 Another impression by Awdeley, dated 1575 [which we reprint] is
 reviewed in the _British Bibliographer_, ii. 12, where it is asserted
 (as is very probable, though we are without distinct evidence of
 the fact) that the printer was the compiler of the book, and he
 certainly introduces it by three six-line stanzas. If this work came
 out originally in 1561, according to the entry, there is no doubt
 that it was the precursor of a very singular series of tracts on the
 same subject, which will be noticed in their proper places.]”—J. P.
 Collier, _Registers_, i. 42.

   [Footnote 2: See the back of his title-page, p. 2, below.]

   [Footnote 3: †–† _as well_ and _and as well_ not in the title of the
   1575 edition.]

As above said, I take Harman’s ‘fewe yeares’—in 1566 or 7—to point to
the 1561 edition of Awdeley, and not the 1565 ed. And as to Awdeley’s
authorship,—what can be more express than his own words, {iii} p.
2, below, that what the Vagabond caught at a Session confest as to
‘both names and states of most and least of this their Vacabondes
brotherhood,’ _that_,—‘at the request of a worshipful man, I [‘The
Printer,’ that is, John Awdeley] have set it forth as well as I can.’

But if a doubt on Awdeley’s priority to Harman exists in any reader’s
mind, let him consider this second reference by Harman to Awdeley
(p. 60, below), not noticed by the bibliographers: “For-as-much as
these two names, a Iarkeman and a Patrico, bée in _the old briefe
of vacabonds_, and set forth as two kyndes of euil doers, you shall
vnderstande that a Iarkeman hath his name of a _Iarke, which is a seale
in their Language_, as one should _make writinges and set seales for
lycences_ and pasporte,” and then turn to Awdeley’s _Fraternitye of
Vacabondes_, and there see, at page 5, below:

 ¶ A IACK MAN.

 A Iackeman is he that can write and reade, and sometime speake latin.
 He vseth _to make counterfaite licences_ which they call Gybes,
 _and sets to Seales, in their language called Iarkes_. (See also ‘A
 Whipiacke,’ p. 4.)

Let the reader then compare Harman’s own description of a _Patrico_, p.
60, with that in ‘the old _Briefe of Vacabonds_,’ Awdeley, p. 6:

           Awdeley.                               Harman.
       ¶ A PATRIARKE CO.                    there is a PATRICO . . .
 A Patriarke Co doth _make mariages_,   whiche in their language is a
   & that is _vntill death                priest, that should _make
   depart_ the maried folke.              mariages tyll death dyd depart_.

And surely no doubt on the point will remain in his mind, though, if
needed, a few more confirmations could be got, as

          Awdeley (p. 4).                    Harman (p. 44).
          ¶ A PALLIARD.                       ¶ A Pallyard.
 A Palliard is he that goeth in a   These Palliardes . . go with patched
   patched cloke, and hys Doxy        clokes, and haue their Morts with
   goeth in like apparell.            them.

We may conclude, then, certainly, that Awdeley did not plagiarize
Harman; and probably, that he first published his _Fraternitye_ in
1561. The tract is a mere sketch, as compared with Harman’s _Caueat_,
though in its descriptions (p. 6–11) of ‘A Curtesy Man,’ {iv} ‘A
Cheatour or Fingerer,’ and ‘A Ring-Faller’ (one of whom tried his
tricks on me in Gower-street about ten days ago), it gives as full
a picture as Harman does of the general run of his characters. The
edition of 1575 being the only one accessible to us, our trusty Oxford
copier, Mr George Parker, has read the proofs with the copy in the
Bodleian.

Let no one bring a charge of plagiarizing Awdeley, against Harman, for
the latter, as has been shown, referred fairly to Awdeley’s ‘_small
breefe_’ or ‘_old briefe of vacabonds_’ and wrote his own “bolde
Beggars booke” (p. 91) from his own long experience with them.

――――

Harman’s _Caueat_ is too well-known and widely valued a book to
need description or eulogy here. It is _the_ standard work on its
subject,—‘these rowsey, ragged, rabblement of rakehelles’ (p. 19)—and
has been largely plundered by divers literary cadgers. No copy of the
first edition seems to be known to bibliographers. It was published in
1566 or 1567,—probably the latter year,[4]—and must (I conclude) have
contained less than the second, as in that’s ‘Harman to the Reader,’ p.
28, below, he says ‘well good reader, I meane not to be tedyous vnto
the, but haue added fyue or sixe more tales, because some of them weare
doune whyle my booke was fyrste in the presse.’ He speaks again of his
first edition at p. 44, below, ‘I had the best geldinge stolen oute of
my pasture, that I had amongst others, whyle this boke was _first a
printynge_;’ and also at p. 51, below, ‘Apon Alhol enday in the morning
last anno domini 1566, or my booke was halfe printed, I meane _the
first impression_.’ All Hallows’ or All Saints’ Day is November 1.

   [Footnote 4: Compare the anecdote, p. 66, 68, ‘the _last_ sommer,
   Anno Domini, 1566.’]

The edition called the second[5], also bearing date in 1567, is known
to us in two states, the latter of which I have called the third
edition. The first state of the second edition is shown by the Bodleian
copy, which is ‘Augmented and inlarged by the fyrst author here of,’
and has, besides smaller differences specified in the footnotes in
our pages, this great difference, that the arrangement of ‘The Names
of {v} the Vpright Men, Roges, and Pallyards’ is not alphabetical, by
the first letter of the Christian names, as in the second state of the
second edition (which I call the third edition), but higgledy-piggledy,
or, at least, without attention to the succession of initials either of
Christian or Sur-names, thus, though in three columns:

¶ VPRIGHT MEN.

 Richard Brymmysh.
 John Myllar.
 Wel arayd Richard.
 John Walchman.
 Wyllia_m_ Chamborne.
 Bryan Medcalfe.
 Robert Gerse.
 Gryffen.
 Richard Barton.
 John Braye.
 Thomas Cutter.
 Dowzabell skylfull in fence.
 [&c.]

¶ ROGES.

 Harry Walles with the little mouth.
 John Waren.
 Richard Brewton.
 Thomas Paske.
 George Belbarby.
 Humfrey Warde.
 Lytle Robyn.
 Lytle Dycke.
 Richard Iones.
 Lambart Rose.
 Harry Mason.
 Thomas Smithe with the skal skyn.
 [&c.]

¶ PALLYARDS.

 Nycholas Newton carieth a fayned lycence.
 Bashforde.
 Robart Lackley.
 Wylliam Thomas.
 Edward Heyward, hath his Morte following hym Whiche fayneth y^e crank.
 Preston.
 Robart Canloke.
 [&c.]

This alone settles the priority of the Bodley edition, as no printer,
having an index alphabetical, would go and muddle it all again, even
for a lark. Moreover, the other collations confirm this priority. The
colophon of the Bodley edition is dated A. D. 1567, ‘the eight of
January;’ and therefore A. D. 1567–8.

   [Footnote 5: ‘now at this seconde Impression,’ p. 27; ‘Whyle this
   second Impression was in printinge,’ p. 87.]

The second state of the second edition—which state I call the third
edition—is shown by the copy which Mr Henry Huth has, with his
never-failing generosity, lent us to copy and print from. It omits
‘the eight of January,’ from the colophon, and has ‘Anno Domini 1567’
only. Like the 2nd edition (or 2 A), this 3rd edition (or 2 B) has
the statement on p. 87, below: ‘Whyle this second {vi} Impression
was in printinge, it fortuned that Nycholas Blunte, who called hym
selfe Nycholan Gennyns, a counterefet Cranke, that is spoken of in
this booke, was fonde begging in the whyte fryers on Newe yeares day
last past, Anno domini .1567, and commytted vnto a offescer, who
caried hym vnto the depetye of the ward, which co_m_mytted hym vnto
the counter;’ and this brings both the 2nd and 3rd editions (or 2 A
and 2 B) to the year 1568, modern style. The 4th edition, so far as I
know, was published in 1573, and was reprinted by Machell Stace (says
Bohn’s Lowndes) in 1814. From that reprint Mr W. M. Wood has made a
collation of words, not letters, for us with the 3rd edition. The
chief difference of the 4th edition is its extension of the story of
the ‘dyssembling Cranke,’ Nycholas Genings, and ‘the Printar of this
booke’ Wylliam Gryffith (p. 53–6, below), which extension is given in
the footnotes to pages 56 and 57 of our edition. We were obliged to
reprint this from Stace’s reprint of 1814, as our searchers could not
find a copy of the 4th edition of 1573 in either the British Museum,
the Bodleian, or the Cambridge University Library.

Thus much about our present edition. I now hark back to the first,
and the piracies of it or the later editions, mentioned in Mr J. P.
Collier’s _Registers of the Stationers’ Company_, i. 155–6, 166.

 “1566–7 Rd. of William Greffeth, for his lycense for printinge of
 a boke intituled a Caviat for commen Corsetors, vulgarly called
 Vagabons, by Thomas Harman . . . iiij^d.

 “[No edition of Harman’s ‘Caveat or Warning for common Cursetors,’ of
 the date of 1566, is known, although it is erroneously mentioned in
 the introductory matter to the reprint in 1814, from H. Middleton’s
 impression of 1573. It was the forerunner of various later works
 of the same kind, some of which were plundered from it without
 acknowledgment, and attributed to the celebrated Robert Greene.
 Copies of two editions in 1567, by Griffith, are extant, and, in all
 probability, it was the first time it appeared in print: Griffith
 entered it at Stationers’ Hall, as above, in 1566, in order that
 he might publish it in 1567. Harman’s work was preceded by several
 ballads relating to vagabonds, the earliest of which is entered on p.
 42 [Awdeley, p. ii. above]. On a subsequent page (166) is inserted a
 curious entry regarding ‘the boke of Rogges,’ or Rogues.]

 “1566–7. For Takynge of Fynes as foloweth. Rd. of Henry {vii}
 Bynnyman, for his fyne for undermy[n]dinge and procurynge, as moche
 as in hym ded lye, a Copye from wylliam greffeth, called the boke of
 Rogges . . . iij^s.

 “[This was certainly Harman’s ‘Caveat or Warning for Common
 Cursetors’; and here we see Bynneman fined for endeavouring to
 _undermine_ Griffith by procuring the copy of the work, in order that
 Bynneman might print and publish it instead of Griffith, his rival in
 business. The next item may show that Gerard Dewes had also printed
 the book, no doubt without license, but the memorandum was crossed out
 in the register.]

 “Also, there doth remayne in the handes of Mr Tottle and Mr Gonneld,
 then wardens, the somme of iij^{li}. vij^s. viij^d., wherto was
 Recevyd of garrad dewes for pryntinge of the boke of Rogges in a^o
 1567 . . . ij^{li}. vj^s. viij^d.

 “[All tends to prove the desire of stationers to obtain some share of
 the profits of a work, which, as we have already shown, was so well
 received, that Griffith published two editions of it in 1567.]”

The fact is, the book was so interesting that it made its readers
thieves, as ‘Jack Sheppard’ has done in later days. The very woodcutter
cheated Harman of the hind legs of the horse on his title, prigged two
of his prauncer’s props (p. 42).

To know the keen inquiring Social Reformer, Thomas Harman, the
reader must go to his book. He lived in the country (p. 34, foot),
in [Crayford] Kent (p. 30, p. 35), near a heath (p. 35), near Lady
Elizabeth Shrewsbury’s parish (p. 19), not far from London (p. 30,
p. 35); ‘he lodged at the White Friars within the cloister’ (p. 51),
seemingly while he was having his book printed (p. 53), and had his
servant there with him (_ib._); ‘he knew London well’ (p. 54, &c.); and
in Kent ‘beinge placed as a poore gentleman,’ he had in 1567, ‘kepte
a house these twenty yeares, where vnto pouerty dayely hath and doth
repayre,’ and where, being kept at home ‘through sickenes, he talked
dayly with many of these wyly wanderars, as well men and wemmen, as
boyes and gyrles,’ whose tricks he has so pleasantly set down for us.
He did not, though, confine his intercourse with vagabonds to talking,
for he says of some, p. 48,

 ¶ Some tyme they counterfet the seale of the Admiraltie. I haue diuers
 tymes taken a waye from them their lycences of both sortes, {viii}
 wyth suche money as they haue gathered, and haue confiscated the same
 to the pouerty nigh adioyninge to me. p. 51–6.

Our author also practically exposed these tricks, as witness his
hunting out the Cranke, Nycholas Genings, and his securing the
vagabond’s 13⁠_s._ and 4⁠_d._ for the poor of Newington parish, p.
51–6, his making the deaf and dumb beggar hear and speak, p. 58–9 (and
securing his money too for the poor). But he fed deserving beggars, see
p. 66, p. 20.

Though Harman tells us ‘Eloquence haue I none, I neuer was acquaynted
with the Muses, I neuer tasted of Helycon’ (p. 27–8), yet he could
write verses—though awfully bad ones: see them at pages 50 and 89–91,
below, perhaps too at p. 26[6];—he knew Latin—see his comment on
Cursetors and Vagabone, p. 27; his _una voce_, p. 43; perhaps his
‘Argus eyes,’ p. 54; his _omnia venalia Rome_, p. 60; his _homo_, p.
73; he quotes St Augustine (and the Bible), p. 24; &c.;—he studied
the old Statutes of the Realm (p. 27); he liked proverbs (see the
Index); he was once ‘in commission of the peace,’ as he says, and
judged malefactors, p. 60, though he evidently was not a Justice when
he wrote his book; he was a ‘gentleman,’ says Harrison (see p. xii.
below); ‘a Iustice of Peace in Kent,[7] in Queene Marie’s daies,’ says
Samuel Rowlands;[8] he bore arms (of heraldry), and had them duly
stamped on his pewter dishes (p. 35); he had at least one old ‘tennant
who customably a greate tyme went twise in the weeke to London, (over
Blacke Heathe) eyther wyth fruite or with pescoddes’ (p. 30); he
hospitably asked his visitors to dinner (p. 45); he had horses in his
pasture,[9] the best gelding of which the Pryggers of Prauncers prigged
(p. 44); he had an unchaste cow that went to bull every month (p. 67,
if his ownership is not chaff here); he had in his ‘well-house on
the backe side of {ix} his house, a great cawdron of copper’ which
the beggars stole (p. 34–5); he couldn’t keep his linen on his hedges
or in his rooms, or his pigs and poultry from the thieves (p. 21); he
hated the ‘rascal rabblement’ of them (p. 21), and ‘the wicked parsons
that keepe typlinge Houses in all shires, where they haue succour and
reliefe’; and, like a wise and practical man, he set himself to find
out and expose all their ‘vndecent, dolefull [guileful] dealing, and
execrable exercyses’ (p. 21) to the end that they might be stopt, and
sin and wickedness might not so much abound, and thus ‘this Famous
Empyre be in more welth, and better florysh, to the inestymable joye
and comfort’ of his great Queen, Elizabeth, and the ‘vnspeakable
. . reliefe and quietnes of minde, of all her faythfull Commons and
Subiectes.’ The right end, and the right way to it. We’ve some like you
still, Thomas Harman, in our Victorian time. May their number grow!

   [Footnote 6: Mr J. P. Collier (_Bibliographical Catalogue_, i. 365)
   has little doubt that the verses at the back of the title-page of
   Harman’s _Caveat_ were part of “a ballad intituled a description
   of the nature of a birchen broom” entered at Stationers’ Hall to
   William Griffith, the first printer of the _Caveat_.]

   [Footnote 7: Cp. Kente, p. 37, 43, 48, 61, 63, 66, 68, 77, &c.
   Moreover, the way in which he, like a Norfolk or Suffolk man, speaks
   of _shires_, points to a liver in a non -_shire_.]

   [Footnote 8: In _Martin Mark-all, Beadle of Bridewell_, 1610, quoted
   below, at p. xvii.]

   [Footnote 9: Compare his ‘ride to Dartforde to speake with a priest
   there,’ p. 57.]

Thus much about Harman we learn from his book and his literary
contemporaries and successors. If we now turn to the historian of his
county, Hasted, we find further interesting details about our author:
1, that he lived in Crayford parish, next to Erith, the Countess of
Shrewsbury’s parish; 2, that he inherited the estates of Ellam, and
Maystreet, and the manor of Mayton or Maxton; 3, that he was the
grandson of Henry Harman, Clerk of the Crown, who had for his arms
‘Argent, a chevron between 3 scalps sable,’ which were no doubt those
stampt on our Thomas’s pewter dishes; 4, that he had a ‘descendant,’—a
son, I presume—who inherited his lands, and three daughters, one of
whom, Bridget, married Henry Binneman—? not the printer, about 1565–85
A.D., p. vi–vii, above.

Hasted in his description of the parish of Crayford, speaking of Ellam,
a place in the parish, says:—

  “In the 16th year of K. Henry VII. John Ellam alienated it (the
 seat of Ellam) to Henry Harman, who was then Clerk of the Crown,[10]
 and {x} who likewise purchased an estate called Maystreet here, of
 Cowley and Bulbeck, of Bulbeck-street in this parish, in the 20th
 year of King Edward IV.[11] On his decease, William Harman, his son,
 possessed both these estates.[12] On his decease they descended to
 Thomas Harman, esq., his son; who, among others, procured his lands
 to be disgavelled, by the act of the 2 & 3 Edw. VI.[13] He married
 Millicent, one of the daughters of Nicholas Leigh, of Addington, in
 the county of Surry, esq.[14] His descendant, William Harman, sold
 both these places in the reign of K. James I. to Robert Draper,
 esqr.”—_History of Kent_, vol. i. p. 209.

   [Footnote 10: “John Harman, Esquyer, one of the gentilmen hushers
   of the Chambre of our soverayn Lady the Quene, and the excellent
   Lady Dame Dorothye Gwydott, widow, late of the town of Southampton,
   married Dec. 21, 1557.” (Extract from the register of the parish of
   Stratford Bow, given in p. 499, vol iii. of Lysons’s _Environs of
   London_.)]

   [Footnote 11: Philipott, p. 108. Henry Harman bore for his
   arms—Argent, a chevron between 3 scalps sable.]

   [Footnote 12: Of whose daughters, Mary married John, eldest son of
   Wm. Lovelace, of Hever in Kingsdown, in this county; and Elizabeth
   married John Lennard, Prothonotary, and afterwards _Custos Brevium_
   of the Common Pleas. See Chevening.]

   [Footnote 13: See Robinson’s Gavelkind, p. 300.]

   [Footnote 14: She was of consanguinity to Abp. Chicheley. _Stemm.
   Chich._ No. 106. Thomas Harman had three daughters: Anne, who
   married Wm. Draper, of Erith, and lies buried there; Mary, who
   married Thomas Harrys; and Bridget, who was the wife of Henry
   Binneman. _Ibid._]

The manor of Maxton, in the parish of Hougham “passed to Hobday, and
thence to Harman, of Crayford; from which name it was sold by Thomas
Harman to Sir James Hales. . . . . William Harman held the manor of
Mayton, alias Maxton, with its appurtenances, of the Lord Cheney, as of
his manor of Chilham, by Knight’s service. Thomas Harman was his son
and heir: Rot. Esch. 2 Edw. VI.”—Hasted’s _History of Kent_, vi. p. 47.

“It is laid down as a rule, that nothing but an act of parliament can
change the nature of gavelkind lands; and this has occasioned several
[acts], for the purpose of disgavelling the possessions of divers
gentlemen in this county. . . . . One out of several statutes made for
this purpose is the 3rd of Edw. VI.”—Hasted’s _History of Kent_, vol.
i. p. cxliii.

And in the list of names given,—taken from Robinson’s
_Gavelkind_—twelfth from the bottom stands that of THOMAS HARMAN.

 Of Thomas Harman’s aunt, Mary, Mrs William Lovelace, we find: “John
 Lovelace, esq., and William Lovelace, his brother, possessed this
 manor and seat (Bayford-Castle) between them; the latter of whom
 resided at Bayford, where he died in the 2nd year of K. Edward VI.,
 leaving issue by Mary his wife, daughter of William Harman, of
 Crayford, seven sons. . . . ”—Hasted’s _History of Kent_, vol. ii. p.
 612.

The rectory of the parish of Deal was bestowed by the Archbishop on
Roger Harman in 1544 (_Hasted_, vol. iv. p. 171).

Harman-street is the name of a farm in the parish of Ash (_Hasted_,
vol. iii. p. 691). {xi}

The excellent parson, William Harrison, in his ‘Description of
England,’ prefixed to Holinshed’s Chronicles (edit. 1586), quotes
Harman fairly enough in his chapter “Of prouision made for the poore,”
Book II, chap. 10.[15] And as he gives a statement of the sharp
punishment enacted for idle rogues and vagabonds by the Statutes of
Elizabeth, I take a long extract from his said chapter. After speaking
of those who are made ‘beggers through other mens occasion,’ and
denouncing the grasping landlords ‘who make them so, and wipe manie
out of their occupiengs,’ Harrison goes on to those who are beggars
‘through their owne default’ (p. 183, last line of col. 1, ed. 1586):

 “Such as are idle beggers through their owne default are of two sorts,
 and continue their estates either by casuall or meere voluntarie
 meanes: those that are such by casuall means [16]†are in the
 beginning† iustlie to be referred either to the first or second sort
 of poore †afore mentioned†; but, degenerating into the thriftlesse
 sort, they doo what they can to continue their miserie; and, with such
 impediments as they haue, to straie and wander about, as creatures
 abhorring all labour and euerie honest excercise. Certes, I call these
 casuall meanes, not in respect of the originall of their pouertie,
 but of the continuance of the same, from whence they will not be
 deliuered, such[17] is their owne vngratious lewdnesse and froward
 disposition. The voluntarie meanes proceed from outward causes, as by
 making of corosiues, and applieng the same to the more fleshie parts
 of their bodies; and also laieng of ratsbane, sperewort, crowfoot,
 and such like vnto their whole members, thereby to raise pitifull[18]
 and odious sores, and mooue †the harts of† the goers by such places
 where they lie, to [19]‡yerne at‡ their miserie, and therevpon† bestow
 large almesse vpon them.[20] How artificiallie they beg, what forcible
 speech, and how they select and choose out words of vehemencie,
 whereby they doo in maner coniure or adiure the goer by to pitie
 their cases, I passe ouer to remember, as iudging the name of God
 and Christ to be more conuersant in the mouths of none, and yet the
 presence of the heuenlie maiestie further off from no men than from
 this vngratious companie. Which maketh me to thinke, that punishment
 is farre meeter for them than liberalitie or almesse, and sith Christ
 willeth vs cheeflie to haue a regard to himselfe and his poore members.

 “Vnto this nest is another sort to be referred, more sturdie than the
 rest, which, hauing sound and perfect lims, doo yet, notwithstanding
 {xii} sometime counterfeit the possession of all sorts of diseases.
 Diuerse times in their apparell also[21] they will be like seruing men
 or laborers: oftentimes they can plaie the mariners, and seeke for
 ships which they neuer lost.[22] But, in fine, they are all theeues
 and caterpillers in the commonwealth, and, by the word of God not
 permitted to eat, sith they doo but licke the sweat from the true
 laborers’ browes, _and_ beereue the godlie poore of that which is
 due vnto them, to mainteine their excesse, consuming the charitie of
 well-disposed people bestowed vpon them, after a most wicked[23] _and_
 detestable maner.

 “It is not yet full threescore [24] yeares since this trade began:
 but how it hath prospered since that time, it is easie to iudge; for
 they are now supposed, of one sex and another, to amount vnto aboue
 10,000 persons, as I haue heard reported. Moreouer, in counterfeiting
 the Egyptian roges, they haue deuised a language among themselues,
 which they name _Canting_ (but other pedlers French)—a speach compact
 thirtie yeares since of English, and a great number of od words of
 their owne deuising, without all order or reason: and yet such is
 it as none but themselues are able to vnderstand. The first deuiser
 thereof was hanged by the necke,—a iust reward, no doubt, for his
 deserts, and a [Sidenote: Thomas Harman.] common end to all of that
 profession. A gentleman, also, of late hath taken great paines to
 search out the secret practises of this vngratious rabble. And among
 other things he setteth downe and describeth [25]§three _and_ twentie§
 sorts of them, whose names it shall not be amisse to remember, wherby
 ech one may [26]*take occasion to read and know as also by his
 industrie* what wicked people they are, and what villanie remaineth in
 them.

 “The seuerall disorders and degrees amongst our idle vagabonds:—

 1. Rufflers.
 2. Vprightmen.
 3. Hookers or Anglers.
 4. Roges.
 5. Wild Roges.
 6. Priggers of Prancers.
 7. Palliards.
 8. Fraters.
 9. Abrams.
 10. Freshwater mariners, or Whipiacks.
 11. Dummerers.
 12. Drunken tinkers.
 13. Swadders, or Pedlers.
 14. Iarkemen, or Patricoes.

 Of Women kinde—

 1. Demanders for glimmar, or fire.
 2. Baudie Baskets.
 3. Mortes.
 4. Autem mortes.
 5. Walking mortes.
 6. Doxes.
 7. Delles.
 8. Kinching Mortes.
 9. Kinching cooes.[27]

{xiii}

 “The punishment that is ordeined for this kind of people is verie
 sharpe, and yet it can not restreine them from their gadding:
 wherefore the end must needs be martiall law, to be exercised vpon
 them as vpon theeues, robbers, despisers of all lawes, and enimies to
 the commonwealth _and_ welfare of the land. What notable roberies,
 pilferies, murders, rapes, and stealings of yoong[28] children,
 [29]††burning, breaking and disfiguring their lims to make them
 pitifull in the sight of the people,†† I need not to rehearse; but for
 their idle roging about the countrie, the law ordeineth this maner of
 correction. The roge being apprehended, committed to prison, and tried
 in the next assises (whether they be of gaole deliuerie or sessions
 of the peace) if he happen to be conuicted for a vagabond either
 by inquest of office, or the testimonie of two honest and credible
 witnesses vpon their oths, he is then immediatlie adiudged to be
 greeuouslie whipped and burned through the gristle of the right eare,
 with an hot iron of the compasse of an inch about, as a manifestation
 of his wicked life, and due punishment receiued for the same. And this
 iudgement is to be executed vpon him, except some honest person woorth
 fiue pounds in the queene’s books in goods, or twentie shillings in
 lands, or some rich housholder to be allowed by the iustices, will
 be bound in recognisance to reteine him in his seruice for one whole
 yeare. If he be taken the second time, and proued to haue forsaken
 his said seruice, he shall then be whipped againe, bored likewise
 through the other eare and set to seruice: from whence if he depart
 before a yeare be expired, and happen afterward to be attached
 againe, he is condemned to suffer paines of death as a fellon (except
 before excepted) without benefit of clergie or sanctuarie, as by the
 statute dooth appeare. Among roges and idle persons finallie, we find
 to be comprised all proctors that go vp and downe with counterfeit
 licences, coosiners, and such as gad about the countrie, vsing
 vnlawfull games, practisers of physiognomie, and palmestrie, tellers
 of fortunes, fensers, plaiers,[30] minstrels, jugglers, pedlers,
 tinkers, pretensed[31] schollers, shipmen, prisoners gathering for
 fees, and others, so oft as they be taken without sufficient licence.
 From [32]‡‡among which companie our bearewards are not excepted, and
 iust cause: for I haue read that they haue either voluntarilie, or
 for want of power to master their sauage beasts, beene occasion of
 the death and deuoration of manie children in sundrie countries by
 which they haue passed, whose parents neuer knew what was become of
 them. And for that cause there is _and_ haue beene manie sharpe lawes
 made for bearwards in Germanie, wherof you may read in other. But to
 our roges.‡‡ Each one also that harboreth or aideth them with meat or
 monie, is taxed and compelled to fine with the queene’s maiestie for
 euerie time that he dooth so succour them, as it {xiv} shall please
 the iustices of peace to assigne, so that the taxation exceed not
 twentie shillings, as I haue beene informed. And thus much of the
 poore, _and_ such prouision as is appointed for them within the realme
 of England.”

   [Footnote 15: In the first edition of Holinshed (1577) this chapter
   is the 5th in Book III. of Harrison’s _Description_.]

   [Footnote 16: †–† Not in ed. 1577.]

   [Footnote 17: _thorow_ in ed. 1577.]

   [Footnote 18: _piteous_ in ed. 1577.]

   [Footnote 19: ‡–‡ _lament_ in ed. 1577.]

   [Footnote 20: The remainder of this paragraph is not in ed. 1577.]

   [Footnote 21: Not in ed. 1577.]

   [Footnote 22: Compare _Harman_, p. 48.]

   [Footnote 23: The 1577 ed. inserts _horrible_.]

   [Footnote 24: The 1577 ed. reads _fifty_.]

   [Footnote 25: §–§ The 1577 ed. reads 22, which is evidently an
   error.]

   [Footnote 26: *–* For these words the 1577 ed. reads _gather_.]

   [Footnote 27: The above list is taken from the titles of the
   chapters in Harman’s _Caueat_.]

   [Footnote 28: Not in the 1577 ed.]

   [Footnote 29: ††–†† These words are substituted for _which they
   disfigure to begg withal_ in the 1577 ed.]

   [Footnote 30: The 1577 ed. inserts _bearwards_.]

   [Footnote 31: Not in 1577 ed.]

   [Footnote 32: ‡‡–‡‡ These three sentences are not in 1577 ed.]

Among the users of Harman’s book, the chief and coolest was the
author of _The groundworke of Conny-catching_, 1592, who wrote a few
introductory pages, and then quietly reprinted almost all Harman’s
book with an ‘I leaue you now vnto those which by Maister Harman are
discouered’ (p. 103, below). By this time Harman was no doubt dead.—Who
will search for his Will in the Wills Office?—Though Samuel Rowlands
was alive, he did not show up this early appropriator of Harman’s work
as he did a later one. As a kind of Supplement to the _Caueat_, I
have added, as the 4th tract in the present volume, such parts of the
_Groundworke of Conny-catching_ as are not reprinted from Harman. The
_Groundworke_ has been attributed to Robert Greene, but on no evidence
(I believe) except Greene’s having written a book in three Parts on
Conny-catching, 1591–2, and ‘A Disputation betweene a Hee Conny-catcher
and a Shee Conny-catcher, whether a Theafe or a Whore is most hvrtfull
in Cousonage to the Common-wealth,’ 1592.[33] Hearne’s copy of the
_Groundworke_ is bound up in the 2nd vol. of Greene’s Works, among
George III.’s books in the British Museum, as if it really was Greene’s.

Another pilferer from Harman was Thomas Dekker, in his _Belman of
London_, 1608, of which three editions were published in the same year
(_Hazlitt_). But Samuel Rowlands found him out and showed him up. From
the fifth edition of the Belman, the earliest that our copier, Mr W. M.
Wood, could find in the British Museum, he has drawn up the following
account of the book:

 _The Belman of London. Bringing to Light the most notorious Villanies
 that are now practiced in the Kingdome. Profitable for Gentlemen,
 Lawyers, Merchants, Citizens, Farmers, Masters of Housholds, and all
 sorts of Servants to mark, and delightfull for all Men to Reade._

 Lege, Perlege, Relege.

 _The fift Impression, with new additions. Printed at London by Miles
 Flesher._ 1640. {xv}

   [Footnote 33: Hazlitt’s _Hand Book_, p. 241.]

On the back of the title-page, after the table of contents, the eleven
following ‘secret villanies’ are described, severally, as

 “Cheating Law.
  Vincent’s Law.
  Curbing Law.
  Lifting Law.
  Sacking Law.
  Bernard’s Lawe.
  The black Art.
  Prigging Law.
  High Law.
  Frigging Law.
  Five Iumpes at Leape-frog.”

After a short description of the four ages of the world, there is an
account of a feast, at which were present all kinds of vagabonds.
Dekker was conveyed, by ‘an old nimble-tong’d beldam, who seemed to
haue the command of the place,’ to an upper loft, ‘where, vnseene, I
might, through a wooden Latice that had prospect of the dining roome,
both see and heare all that was to be done or spoken.’

 ‘The whole assembly being thus gathered together, one, amongest the
 rest, who tooke vpon him a Seniority ouer the rest, charged euery man
 to answer to his name, to see if the Iury were full:—the Bill by which
 hee meant to call them beeing a double Iug of ale (that had the spirit
 of _Aquavitæ_ in it, it smelt so strong), and that hee held in his
 hand. Another, standing by, with a toast, nutmeg, and ginger, ready
 to cry _Vous avez_ as they were cald, and all that were in the roome
 hauing single pots by the eares, which, like Pistols, were charged to
 goe off so soone as euer they heard their names. This Ceremony beeing
 set abroach, an Oyes was made. But he that was Rector Chory (the
 Captain of the Tatterdemalions) spying one to march vnder his Colours,
 that had neuer before serued in those lowsie warres, paused awhile
 (after hee had taken his first draught, to tast the dexterity of the
 liquor), and then began, Iustice-like, to examine this yonger brother
 vpon interrogatories.’

This yonger brother is afterwards ‘stalled to the rogue;’ and the
‘Rector Chory[34]’ instructs him in his duties, and tells him the names
and degrees of the fraternity of vagabonds. Then comes the feast, after
which, ‘one who tooke vpon him to be speaker to the whole house,’
began, as was the custom of their meeting, ‘to make an oration in
praise of Beggery, and of those that professe the trade,’ which done,
all the company departed, leaving the ‘old beldam’ and Dekker the only
occupants of the room.

   [Footnote 34: Leader of the Choir, Captain of the Company.]

 ‘The spirit of her owne mault walkt in her brain-pan, so that, what
 with the sweetnes of gaines which shee had gotten by her Marchant
 {xvi} Venturers, and what with the fumes of drinke, which set her
 tongue in going, I found her apt for talke; and, taking hold of this
 opportunity, after some intreaty to discouer to mee what these vpright
 men, rufflers and the rest were, with their seuerall qualities and
 manners of life, Thus shee began.’

And what she tells Dekker is taken, all of it, from Harman’s book.

Afterwards come accounts of the five ‘Laws’ and five jumps at leap-frog
mentioned on the back of the title-page, and which is quoted above, p.
xv.

Lastly ‘A short Discourse of Canting,’ which is, entirely, taken from
Harman, pages 84–87, below.

As I have said before, Dekker was shown up for his pilferings
from Harman by Samuel Rowlands, who must, says Mr Collier in his
Bibliographical Catalogue, have published his _Martin Mark-all, Beadle
of Bridewell_, in or before 1609,—though no edition is known to us
before 1610,—because Dekker in an address ‘To my owne Nation’ in his
_Lanthorne and Candle-light_, which was published in 1609, refers
to Rowlands as a ‘Beadle of Bridewell.’ ‘You shall know him,’ (says
Dekker, speaking of a rival author, [that is, Samuel Rowlands] whom
he calls ‘a Usurper’) ‘by his Habiliments, for (by the furniture he
weares) hee will bee taken for _a Beadle of Bridewell_.’ That this
‘Usurper’ was Rowlands, we know by the latter’s saying in _Martin
Mark-all_, leaf E, i back, ‘although he (the Bel-man, that is, Dekker)
is bold to call me an _vsurper_; for so he doth in his last round.’

Well, from this treatise of Rowlands’, Mr Wood has made the following
extracts relating to Dekker and Harman, together with Rowlands’s own
list of slang words not in Dekker or Harman, and ‘the errour in his
[Dekker’s] words, and true englishing of the same:’

 _Martin Mark-all, Beadle of Bridewell; his defence and Answere to
 the Belman of London, Discouering the long-concealed Originall and
 Regiment of Rogues, when they first began to take head, and how they
 haue succeeded one the other successiuely vnto the sixe and twentieth
 yeare of King Henry the eight, gathered out of the Chronicle of
 Crackeropes, and (as they terme it) the Legend of Lossels. By S[amuel]
 R[owlands]._ {xvii}

 Orderunt peccare boni virtutis amore,
 Orderunt peccare mali formidine pœnæ.

 London
 _Printed for Iohn Budge and Richard Bonian._ 1610.

 ‘Martin Mark-all, his Apologie to the Bel-man of London. There hath
 been of late dayes great paines taken on the part of the good old
 Bel-man of London, in discouering, as hee thinks, a new-found Nation
 and People. Let it be so for this time: hereupon much adoe was made
 in setting forth their liues, order of liuing, method of speech, and
 vsuall meetings, with diuers other things thereunto appertaining.
 These volumes and papers, now spread euerie where, so that euerie
 Iacke-boy now can say as well as the proudest of that fraternitie,
 “will you wapp for a wyn, or tranie for a make?” The gentle Company
 of Cursitours began now to stirre, and looke about them; and hauing
 gathered together a Conuocation of Canting Caterpillars, as wel in
 the North parts at the Diuels arse apeake,[35] as in the South, they
 diligently enquired, and straight search was made, whether any had
 reuolted from that faithles fellowship. Herupon euery one gaue his
 verdict: some supposed that it might be some one that, hauing ventured
 to farre beyond wit and good taking heede, was fallen into the hands
 of the Magistrate, and carried to the trayning Cheates, where, in shew
 of a penitent heart, and remoarse of his good time ill spent, turned
 the cocke, and let out all: others thought it might be some spie-knaue
 that, hauing little to doe, tooke vpon him the habite and forme of
 an Hermite; and so, by dayly commercing and discoursing, learned in
 time the mysterie and knowlege of this ignoble profession: and others,
 because it smelt of a study, deemed it to be some of their owne
 companie, that had been at some free-schoole, and belike, because hee
 would be handsome against a good time, tooke pen and inke, and wrote
 of that subiect; thus, _Tot homines, tot sententiæ_, so many men, so
 many mindes. And all because the spightfull Poet would not set too his
 name. At last vp starts an old Cacodemicall Academicke with his frize
 bonnet, and giues them al to know, that this invectiue was set foorth,
 made, and printed Fortie yeeres agoe. And being then called, ‘A caueat
 for Cursitors,’ is now newly printed, and termed, ‘The Bel-man of
 London,’ made at first by one Master Harman, a Iustice of Peace in
 Kent, in Queene Marie’s daies,—he being then about ten yeeres of age.’
 Sign. A. 2.

   [Footnote 35: Where at this day the Rogues of the North part, once
   euerie three yeeres, assemble in the night, because they will not be
   seene and espied; being a place, to those that know it, verie fit
   for that purpos,—it being hollow, and made spacious vnder ground;
   at first, by estimation, halfe a mile in compasse; but it hath such
   turnings and roundings in it, that a man may easily be lost if hee
   enter not with a guide.]

‘They (the vagabonds) haue a language among themselues, composed
of _omnium gatherum_; a glimering whereof, one of late daies hath
endeuoured to manifest, as farre as his Authour is pleased to be an
{xviii} intelligencer. The substance whereof he leaueth for those
that will dilate thereof; enough for him to haue the praise, other
the paines, notwithstanding _Harman’s_ ghost continually clogging his
conscience with _Sic Vos non Vobis_.’—Sign. C. 3 back.[36]

   [Footnote 36: Of the above passages, Dekker speaks in the following
   manner:—“There is an Vsurper, that of late hath taken vpon him the
   name of the Belman; but being not able to maintaine that title, hee
   doth now call himselfe the Bel-mans brother; his ambition is (rather
   out of vaine-glory then the true courage of an experienced Souldier)
   to haue the leading of the Van; but it shall be honor good enough
   for him (if not too good) to come vp with the Rere. You shall know
   him by his Habiliments, for (by the furniture he weares) he will
   be taken for a _Beadle of Bridewell_. It is thought he is rather a
   Newter then a friend to the cause: and therefore the Bel-man doth
   here openly protest that hee comes into the field as no fellow in
   armes with him.”—_O per se O_ (1612 edit.), sign. A. 2.]

‘Because the Bel-man entreateth any that is more rich in canting, to
lend him better or more with variety, he will repay his loue double,
I haue thought good, not only to shew his errour in some places in
setting downe olde wordes vsed fortie yeeres agoe, before he was
borne, for wordes that are vsed in these dayes (although he is bold to
call me an vsurper (for so he doth in his last round), and not able
to maintayne the title, but haue enlarged his Dictionary (or _Master
Harman’s_) with such wordes as I thinke hee neuer heard of (and yet
in vse too); but not out of vaine glorie, as his ambition is, but,
indeede, as an experienced souldier that hath deerely paid for it: and
therefore it shall be honour good enough for him (if not too good) to
come vp with the Reare (I doe but shoote your owne arrow back againe),
and not to haue the leading of the Van as he meanes to doe, although
small credite in the end will redound to eyther. You shall know the
wordes not set in eyther his Dictionaries by this marke §: and for
shewing the errour in his words, and true englishing of the same and
other, this marke ¶ shall serue

§ Abram, madde

§ He maunds Abram, he begs as a madde man

¶ Bung, is now vsed for a pocket, heretofore for a purse

§ Budge a beake, runne away

§ A Bite, secreta mulierum

§ Crackmans, the hedge

§ To Castell, to see or looke

§ A Roome Cuttle, a sword

§ A Cuttle bung, a knife to cut a purse

§ Chepemans, Cheape-side market

¶ Chates, the Gallowes: here he mistakes both the simple word, because
he so found it printed, not knowing the true originall thereof, and
also in the compound; as for _Chates_, it should be _Cheates_, which
word is vsed generally for things, as _Tip me that Cheate_, Giue me
that thing: so that if you will make a word for the Gallous, you must
put thereto this word _treyning_, which signifies {xix} hanging; and
so _treyning cheate_ is as much to say, hanging things, or the Gallous,
and not _Chates_.

§ A fflicke, a Theefe

§ Famblers, a paire of Gloues

§ Greenemans, the fields

§ Gilkes for the gigger, false keyes for the doore or picklockes

§ Gracemans, Gratious streete market

§ Iockam, a man’s yard

§ Ian, a purse

§ Iere, a turd

§ Lugges, eares

§ Loges, a passe or warrant

§ A Feager of Loges, one that beggeth with false passes or counterfeit
writings

§ Numans, Newgate Market

¶ Nigling, company keeping with a woman: this word is not vsed now, but
_wapping_, and thereof comes the name _wapping morts_, whoores.

§ To plant, to hide

¶ Smellar, a garden; not smelling cheate, for that’s a Nosegay

§ Spreader, butter

§ Whittington, Newgate.

“And thus haue I runne ouer the Canter’s Dictionary; to speake more at
large would aske more time then I haue allotted me; yet in this short
time that I haue, I meane to sing song for song with the Belman, ere I
wholly leaue him.” [Here follow three Canting Songs.] Sign. E 1, back—E
4.

“And thus hath the Belman, through his pitifull ambition, caused
me to write that I would not: And whereas he disclaims the name of
Brotherhood, I here vtterly renounce him & his fellowship, as not
desirous to be rosolued of anything he professeth on this subiect,
knowing my selfe to be as fully instructed herein as euer he
was.”—Sign. F.

In the second Part of his _Belman of London_, namely, his _Lanthorne
and Candle-light_, 1609, Dekker printed a Dictionary of Canting, which
is only a reprint of Harman’s (p. 82–4, below). A few extracts from
this _Lanthorne_ are subjoined:

 _Canting._

 “This word _canting_ seemes to bee deriued from the latine _verbe
 canto_, which signifies in English, to sing, or to make a sound
 with words,—that is to say, to speake. And very aptly may _canting_
 take his deriuation, a _cantando_, from singing, because, amongst
 these beggerly consorts that can play vpon no better instruments,
 the language of _canting_ is a kind of musicke; and he that
 in such assemblies can _cant_ {xx} best, is counted the best
 Musitian.”—_Dekker’s Lanthorne and Candle-light_, B. 4. back.

  _Specimen of “Canting rithmes.”_

 “Enough—with bowsy Coue maund Nace,
  Tour the Patring Coue in the Darkeman Case,
  Docked the Dell, for a Coper meke
  His wach shall feng a Prounces Nab-chete,
  Cyarum, by Salmon, and thou shalt pek my Iere
  In thy Gan, for my watch it is nace gere,
  For the bene bowse my watch hath a win, &c.”
                                  _Dekker’s Lanthorne_, &c., C. 1. back.

A specimen of “Canting prose,” with translation, is given on the same
page.

Dekker’s dictionary of Canting, given in _Lanthorne and Candle-light_,
is the same as that of Harman.

     “A Canting Song.

 The Ruffin cly the nab of the Harman beck,
 If we mawn’d Pannam, lap or Ruff-peck,
 Or poplars of yarum: he cuts, bing to the Ruffmans,
 Or els he sweares by the light-mans,
 To put our stamps in the Harmans,
 The ruffian cly the ghost of the Harman beck,
 If we heaue a booth we cly the Ierke.
 If we niggle, or mill a bowsing Ken
 Or nip a boung that has but a win
 Or dup the giger of a Gentry cofe’s ken,
 To the quier cuffing we bing,
 And then to the quier Ken, to scowre the Cramp ring,
 And then to the Trin’de on the chates, in the lightmans
 The Bube _and_ Ruffian cly the Harman beck _and_ harmans

      Thus Englished.

 The Diuell take the Constable’s head,
 If we beg Bacon, Butter-milke, or bread,
 Or Pottage, to the hedge he bids vs hie
 Or sweares (by this light) i’ th’ stocks we shall lie.
 The Deuill haunt the Constable’s ghoast
 If we rob but a Booth, we are whip’d at a poast.
 If an ale-house we rob, or be tane with a whore,
 Or cut a purse that has inst a penny, and no more,
 Or come but stealing in at a Gentleman’s dore
 To the Iustice straight we goe,
 And then to the Iayle to be shakled: And so {xxi}
 To be hang’d on the gallowes i’ th’ day time: the pox
 And the Deuill take the Constable and his stocks.”
                                                     _Ibid._ C. 3. back.

Richard Head (says Mr Hotten), in his _English Rogue, described in the
Life of Meriton Latroon, a Witty Extravagant_, 4 vols. 12mo., 1671–80,
gave “a glossary of Cant words ‘used by the Gipsies’; but it was only
a reprint of what Decker had given sixty years before,” and therefore
merely taken from Harman too. ‘The Bibliography of Slang, Cant, and
Vulgar Language’ has been given so fully at the end of Mr Hotten’s
Slang Dictionary, that I excuse myself from pursuing the subject
farther. I only add here Mr Wood’s extracts from four of the treatises
on this subject not noticed by Mr Hotten in the 1864 edition of his
Dictionary, but contained (with others) in a most curious volume in
the British Museum, labelled _Practice of Robbers_,—Press Mark 518. h.
2.,—as also some of the slang words in these little books not given by
Harman[37]:

 1. _The Catterpillers of this Nation anatomized, in a brief yet
 notable Discovery of House-breakers, Pick-pockets, &c. Together with
 the Life of a penitent High-way-man, discovering the Mystery of that
 Infernal Society. To which is added, the Manner of Hectoring and
 trapanning, as it is acted in and about the City of London. London,
 Printed for M. H. at the Princes Armes, in Chancery-lane._ 1659.

 Ken = miller, house-breaker
 lowre, or mint = wealth or money
 Gigers jacked = locked doors
 Tilers, or Cloyers, equivalent to shoplifters
 Joseph, a cloak
 Bung-nibber, or Cutpurse = a pickpocket.

 ――――

 2. _A Warning for Housekeepers; or, A discovery of all sorts of
 thieves and Robbers which go under these titles, viz.—The Gilter, the
 Mill, the Glasier, Budg and Snudg, File-lifter, Tongue-padder, The
 private Theif. With Directions how to prevent them, Also an exact
 description of every one of their Practices. Written by one who was a
 Prisoner in Newgate. Printed for T. Newton_, 1676.

 Glasiers, thieves who enter houses, thro’ windows, first remouing a
 pane of glass (p. 4). {xxii}

 The following is a Budg and Snudg song:—

 “The Budge it is a delicate trade,
  And a delicate trade of fame;
  For when that we have bit the bloe,
  We carry away the game:
  But if the cully nap us,
  And the lurres from us take,
  O then they rub us to the whitt,
  And it is hardly worth a make.
  But when that we come to the whitt
  Our Darbies to behold,
  And for to take our penitency,
  And boose the water cold.
  But when that we come out agen,
  As we walk along the street,
  We bite the Culley of his cole,
  But we are rubbed unto the whitt.
  And when that we come to the whitt,
  For garnish they do cry,
  Mary, faugh, you son of a wh――
  Ye shall have it by and by.
  But when that we come to Tyburn,
  For going upon the budge,
  There stands Jack Catch, that son of a w――
  That owes us all a grudge
  And when that he hath noosed us
  And our friends tips him no cole
  O then he throws us in the cart
  And tumbles us into the hole.”—(pp. 5, 6.)

   [Footnote 37: We quote from four out of the five tracts contained in
   the volume. The title of the tract we do not quote is ‘_Hanging not
   Punishment enough_,’ etc., London, 1701.]

On the last page of this short tract (which consists of eight pages) we
are promised:

 “In the next Part you shall have a fuller description.”

 ――――

 3. _Street Robberies consider’d; The reason of their being so
 frequent, with probable means to prevent ’em: To which is added three
 short Treatises_—1. _A Warning for Travellers_; 2. _Observations on
 House-breakers_; 3. _A Caveat for Shopkeepers. London, J. Roberts._ [no
 date] _Written by a converted Thief._

_Shepherd_ is mentioned in this book as being a clever prison breaker
(p. 6). There is a long list of slang words in this tract. The
following are only a few of them:

  Abram, Naked
  Betty, a Picklock
  Bubble-Buff, Bailiff
  Bube, Pox
  Chive, a Knife
  Clapper dudgeon, a beggar born
  Collar the Cole, Lay hold on the money {xxiii}
  Cull, a silly fellow
  Dads, an old man
  Darbies, Iron
  Diddle, Geneva
  Earnest, share
  Elf, little
  Fencer, receiver of stolen goods
  Fib, to beat
  Fog, smoke
  Gage, Exciseman
  Gilt, a Picklock
  Grub, Provender
  Hic, booby
  Hog, a shilling
  Hum, strong
  Jem, Ring
  Jet, Lawyer
  Kick, Sixpence
  Kin, a thief
  Kit, Dancing-master
  Lap, Spoon-meat
  Latch, let in
  Leake, Welshman
  Leap, all safe
  Mauks, a whore
  Mill, to beat
  Mish, a smock
  Mundungus, sad stuff
  Nan, a maid of the house
  Nap, an arrest
  Nimming, stealing
  Oss Chives, Bone-handled knives
  Otter, a sailor
  Peter, Portmantua
  Plant the Whids, take care what you say
  Popps, Pistols
  Rubbs, hard shifts
  Rumbo Ken, Pawn-brokers
  Rum Mort, fine Woman
  Smable, taken
  Smeer, a painter
  Snafflers, Highwaymen
  Snic, to cut
  Tattle, watch
  Tic, trust
  Tip, give
  Tit, a horse
  Tom Pat, a parson
  Tout, take heed
  Tripe, the belly
  Web, cloth
  Wobble, to boil
  Yam, to eat
  Yelp, a crier
  Yest, a day ago
  Zad, crooked
  Znees, Frost
  Zouch, an ungenteel man
  &c., a Bookseller

 “The King of the Night, as the Constables please to term themselves,
 should be a little more active in their employment; but all their
 business is to get to a watch house and guzzle, till their time of
 going home comes.” (p. 60.)

 “A small bell to Window Shutters would be of admirable use to prevent
 Housebreakers.” (p. 70.)

 ――――

 4. _A true discovery of the Conduct of Receivers and Thief-Takers, in
 and about the City of London_, &c., &c. _London_, 1718.

This pamphlet is “design’d as preparatory to a larger Treatise, wherein
shall be propos’d Methods to extirpate and suppress for the future such
villanous Practices.” It is by “Charles Hitchin, one of the Marshals of
the City of London.”

I now take leave of Harman, with a warm commendation of him to the
reader. {xxiv}

――――

The third piece in the present volume is a larky Sermon in praise of
Thieves and Thievery, the title of which (p. 93, below) happened to
catch my eye when I was turning over the Cotton Catalogue, and which
was printed here, as well from its suiting the subject, as from a
pleasant recollection of a gallop some 30 years ago in a four-horse
coach across Harford-Bridge-Flat, where Parson Haben (or Hyberdyne),
who is said to have preached the Sermon, was no doubt robbed. My
respected friend Goody-goody declares the sermon to be ‘dreadfully
irreverent;’ but one needn’t mind him. An earlier copy than the Cotton
one turned up among the Lansdowne MSS, and as it differed a good deal
from the Cotton text, it has been printed opposite to that.

Of the fourth piece in this little volume, _The Groundworke of
Conny-catching_, less its reprint from Harman, I have spoken above, at
p. xiv. There was no good in printing the whole of it, as we should
then have had Harman twice over.

――――

The growth of the present Text was on this wise: Mr Viles suggested a
reprint of Stace’s reprint of Harman in 1573, after it had been read
with the original, and collated with the earlier editions. The first
edition I could not find, but ascertained, with some trouble, and
through Mr H. C. Hazlitt, where the second and third editions were, and
borrowed the 3rd of its ever-generous owner, Mr Henry Huth. Then Mr
Hazlitt told me of Awdeley, which he thought was borrowed from Harman.
However, Harman’s own words soon settled that point; and Awdeley had to
precede Harman. Then the real bagger from Harman, the _Groundworke_,
had to be added, after the Parson’s Sermon. Mr Viles read the proofs
and revises of Harman with the original: Mr Wood and I have made the
Index; and I, because Mr Viles is more desperately busy than myself,
have written the Preface.

The extracts from Mr J. P. Collier must be taken for what they are
worth. I have not had time to verify them; but assume them to be
correct, and not ingeniously or unreasonably altered from their
originals, like Mr Collier’s print of Henslowe’s Memorial, of which
{xxv} Dr Ingleby complains,[38] and like his notorious Alleyn
letter. If some one only would follow Mr Collier through all his
work—pending his hoped-for Retractations,—and assure us that the two
pieces above-named, and the Perkins Folio, are the only things we need
reject, such some-one would render a great service to all literary
antiquarians, and enable them to do justice to the wonderful diligence,
knowledge, and acumen, of the veteran pioneer in their path. Certainly,
in most of the small finds which we workers at this Text thought we
had made, we afterwards found we had been anticipated by Mr Collier’s
_Registers of the Stationers’ Company_, or _Bibliographical Catalogue_,
and that the facts were there rightly stated. {xxvi} That there is
pure metal in Mr Collier’s work, and a good deal of it, few will doubt;
but the dross needs refining out. I hope that the first step in the
process may be the printing of the whole of the Stationers’ Registers
from their start to 1700 at least, by the Camden Society,—within
whose range this work well lies,—or by the new Harleian or some other
Society. It ought not to be left to the ‘Early English Text’ to do some
20 years hence.

 F. J. FURNIVALL.

 _29 Nov., 1869._

   [Footnote 38: To obviate the possibility of mistake in the lection
   of this curious document, Mr E. W. Ashbee has, at my request, and by
   permission of the Governors of Dulwich College (where the paper is
   preserved), furnished me with an exact fac-simile of it, worked off
   on somewhat similar paper. By means of this fac-simile my readers
   may readily assure themselves that in no part of the memorial is
   Lodge called a “player;” indeed he is not called “Thos. Lodge,” and
   it is only an inference, an unavoidable conclusion, that the Lodge
   here spoken of is Thomas Lodge, the dramatist. Mr Collier, however,
   professes to find that he is there called “Thos. Lodge,” and that it
   [the Memorial] contains this remarkable grammatical inversion;

    “and haveinge some knowledge and acquaintaunce of him as a player,
    requested me to be his baile,”

   which is evidently intended to mean, _as I had some knowledge and
   acquaintance of Lodge as a player, he requested me to be his baile_.
   But in this place the original paper reads thus,

    “and havinge of me some knowledge and acquaintnunce requested me to
    be his bayle,”

   meaning, of course, _Lodge, having some knowledge and acquaintance
   of me, requested me to be his bail_.

   The interpolation of the five words needed to corroborate Mr
   Collier’s explanation of the misquoted passage from Gosson, and the
   omission of two other words inconsistent with that interpolation,
   may be thought to exhibit some little ingenuity; it was, however,
   a feat which could have cost him no great pains. But the labour
   of recasting the orthography of the memorial must have been
   considerable; while it is difficult to imagine a rational motive to
   account for such labour being incurred. To expand the abbreviations
   and modernize the orthography might have been expedient, as it would
   have been easy. But, in the name of reason, what is the gain of
   writing _wheare_ and _theare_ for “where” and “there;” _cleere_,
   _yeeld_, and _meerly_ for “clere,” “yealde,” and “merely;” _verie_,
   _anie_, _laie_, _waie_, _paie_, _yssue_, and _pryvily_, for “very,”
   “any,” “lay,” “way,” “pay,” “issue,” and “privylie;” _sondrie_,
   _begon_, and _doen_ for “sundrie,” “began,” and “don;” and
   _thintent_, _thaction_, and _thacceptaunce_ for “the intent,” “the
   action,” and “the acceptaunce”?—p. 11 of Dr C. M. Ingleby’s ‘_Was
   Thomas Lodge an Actor? An Exposition touching the Social Status of
   the Playwright in the time of Queen Elisabeth_.’ Printed for the
   Author by R. Barrett and Sons, 13 Mark Lane, 1868. 2⁠_s._ 6⁠_d._]

 P.S. For a curious Ballad describing beggars’ tricks in the 17th
 century, say about 1650, see the Roxburghe Collection, i. 42–3, and
 the Ballad Society’s reprint, now in the press for 1869, i. 137–41,
 ‘_The cunning Northerne Beggar_’: 1. he shams lame; 2. he pretends to
 be a poor soldier; 3. a sailor; 4. cripple; 5. diseased; 6. festered
 all over, and face daubed with blood; 7. blind; 8. has had his house
 burnt.

――――


NOTES.

 p. vii. ix, p. 19, 20. _Elizabeth, Countess of Shrewsbury, and her
 parish._ The manor of Erith was granted to Elizabeth, Countess of
 Shrewsbury, by Henry VIII. in the 36th year of his reign, A.D. 1544–5.
 The Countess died in 1567, and was buried in the parish church of
 Erith. “The manor of Eryth becoming part of the royal revenue,
 continued in the crown till K. Henry VIII. in his 36th year, granted
 it in fee to Elizabeth, relict of George, Earl of Shrewsbury, by the
 description of the _manor, of Eryth, alias Lysnes_, with all its
 members and appurts., and also all that wood, called Somersden, lying
 in Eryth, containing 30 acres; and a wood, called Ludwood, there,
 containing 50 acres; and a wood, called Fridayes-hole, by estimation,
 20 acres, to hold of the King _in capite_ by knight’s service.[39]
 She was the second wife of George, Earl of {xxvii} Shrewsbury, Knight
 of the Garter,[40] who died July 26, anno 33 K. Henry VIII.,[41] by
 whom she had issue one son, John, who died young; and Anne, married
 to Peter Compton, son and heir of Sir Wm. Compton, Knt., who died
 in the 35th year of K. Henry VIII., under age, as will be mentioned
 hereafter. Elizabeth, Countess of Shrewsbury, in Easter Term, in
 the 4th year of Q. Elizabeth, levied a fine of this manor, with the
 passage over the Thames; and dying in the tenth year of that reign,
 anno 1567,[42] lies buried under a sumptuous tomb, in this church.
 Before her death this manor, &c., seem to have been settled on her
 only daughter Anne, then wife of Wm. Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, and
 widow of Peter Compton, as before related, who was in possession of
 it, with the passage over the Thames, anno 9 Q. Elizabeth.”—Hasted’s
 _History of Kent_, vol. i. p. 196.

 p. ix. In Lambarde’s _Perambulation of Kent_ (edit. 1826), p. 66, he
 mentions “Thomas Harman” as being one of the “Kentish writers.”

 Lambarde, in the same volume, p. 60, also mentions “Abacuk Harman” as
 being the name of one “of suche of the nobilitie and gentrie, as the
 Heralds recorded in their visitation in 1574.”

 There is nothing about Harman in Mr Sandys’s book on Gavelkind, &c.,
 _Consuetudines Cantiæ_. To future inquirers perhaps the following book
 may be of use:

 “_Bibliotheca Cantiana_: A Bibliographical Account of what has been
 published on the History, Topography, Antiquities, Customs, and Family
 History of the County of Kent.” By John Russell Smith.

 p. 1, 12. _The xxv. Orders of Knaues._—Mr Collier gives an entry in
 the Stationers’ Registers in 1585–6: “Edward White. Rd. of him, for
 printinge xxij^{tl} ballades at iiij^d a peece—vij^s iiij^d, and
 xiiij. more at ij^d a peece ij^s iiij^d . . . . . . . . . . . . . ix^s
 viij^d” And No. 23 is “The xxv^{tle} orders of knaves.”—_Stat. Reg._
 ii. 207.

 p. 22. _The last Duke of Buckingham was beheaded._—Edward Stafford,
 third Duke of Buckingham, one of Henry VIII’s and Wolsey’s victims,
 was beheaded on Tower Hill, May 17, 1521, for ‘imagining’ the king’s
 death. (‘The murnynge of Edward Duke of Buckyngham’ was one of certain
 ‘ballettes’ licensed to Mr John Wallye and Mrs Toye in 1557–8, says
 Mr J. P. Collier, _Stat. Reg._ i. 4.) His father (Henry Stafford)
 before him suffered the same fate in 1483, having been betrayed by
 his servant Bannister after his unsuccessful rising in Brecon.—_Percy
 Folio Ballads_, ii. 253. {xxviii}

 p. 23. _Egiptians._ The Statute 22 Hen. VIII. c. 10 is _An Acte
 concernyng Egypsyans_. After enumerating the frauds committed by
 the “outlandysshe people callynge themselfes Egyptians,” the first
 section provides that they shall be punished by Imprisonment and
 loss of goods, and be deprived of the benefit of 8 Hen. VI. c. 29.
 “de medietate linguæ.” The second section is a proclamation for the
 departure from the realm of all such Egyptians. The third provides
 that stolen goods shall be restored to their owners: and the fourth,
 that one moiety of the goods seized from the Egyptians shall be given
 to the seizer.

 p. 48, l. 5. _The Lord Sturtons man; and when he was executed._
 Charles Stourton, 7th Baron, 1548–1557:—“Which Charles, with the help
 of four of his own servants in his own house, committed a shameful
 murther upon one Hargill, and his son, with whom he had been long
 at variance, and buried their Carcasses 50 foot deep in the earth,
 thinking thereby to prevent the discovery; but it coming afterwards to
 light, he had sentence of death passed upon him, which he suffer’d at
 Salisbury, the 6th of March, Anno 1557, 4 Phil. & Mary, by an Halter
 of Silk, in respect of his quality.”—_The Peerage of England_, vol.
 ii. p. 24 (Lond., 1710).

 p. 77. _Saint Quinten’s._ Saint Quinten was invoked against coughs,
 says Brand, ed. Ellis, 1841, i. 196.

 p. 77. _The Three Cranes in the Vintry._ “Then the Three Cranes’ lane,
 so called, not only of _a sign of three cranes at a tavern door_, but
 rather of three strong cranes of timber placed on the Vintry wharf by
 the Thames side, to crane up wines there, as is afore showed. This
 lane was of old time, to wit, the 9th of Richard II., called The
 Painted Tavern lane, of the tavern being painted.”—Stow’s _Survey of
 London_, ed. by Thoms, p. 90.

 “The Three Cranes was formerly a favourite London sign. With the usual
 jocularity of our forefathers, an opportunity for punning could not
 be passed; so, instead of the three cranes, which in the vintry used
 to lift the barrels of wine, three birds were represented. The Three
 Cranes in Thames Street, or in the vicinity, was a famous tavern as
 early as the reign of James I. It was one of the taverns frequented by
 the wits in Ben Jonson’s time. In one of his plays he says:—

 ‘A pox o’ these pretenders! to wit, your _Three Cranes_, Mitre and
 Mermaid men! not a corn of true salt, not a grain of right mustard
 among them all!’—_Bartholomew Fair_, act i. sc. 1.

 “On the 23rd of January, 1661/2 Pepys suffered a strong mortification
 of the flesh in having to dine at this tavern with some poor
 relations. The sufferings of the snobbish secretary must have been
 intense:—

 ‘By invitation to my uncle Fenner’s, and where I found his new wife,
 a _pitiful, old, ugly, ill-bred_ woman in a hatt, a mid-wife. Here
 were many of his, and as many of her, relations, _sorry, mean people_;
 and after choosing our gloves, we all went over to the Three Cranes
 Taverne: {xxvix} and though the best room of the house, in such a
 narrow dogghole we were crammed, and I believe we were near 40, that
 it made me loath my company and victuals, and a very poor dinner it
 was too.’

 “Opposite this tavern people generally left their boats to shoot
 the bridge, walking round to Billingsgate, where they would reenter
 them.”—Hotten’s _History of Signboards_, p. 204.

 p. 77. _Saynt Iulyans in Thystellworth parish._ ‘Thistleworth, see
 Isleworth,’ says Walker’s Gazetteer, ed. 1801. That there might well
 have been a St Julyan’s Inn there we learn from the following extract:

 “St. Julian, the patron of travellers, wandering minstrels,
 boatmen,[43] &c., was a very common inn sign, because he was supposed
 to provide good lodgings for such persons. Hence two St Julian’s
 crosses, in saltier, are in chief of the innholders’ arms, and
 the old motto was:—‘When I was harbourless, ye lodged me.’ This
 benevolent attention to travellers procured him the epithet of ‘the
 good herbergeor,’ and in France ‘_bon herbet_.’ His legend in a MS.,
 Bodleian, 1596, fol. 4, alludes to this:—

 ‘Therfore yet to this day, thei that over lond wende,
  They biddeth Seint Julian, anon, that gode herborw he hem sende;
  And Seint Julianes Pater Noster ofte seggeth also
  For his faders soule, and his moderes, that he hem bring therto.’

 And in ‘_Le dit de s Heureux_,’ an old French fabliau:—

 ‘Tu as dit la patenotre
  Saint Julian à cest matin,
  Soit en Roumans, soit en Latin;
  Or tu seras bien ostilé.’

 In mediæval French, _L’hotel Saint Julien_ was synonymous with good
 cheer.

 ‘―Sommes tuit vostre.
  Par Saint Pierre le bon Apostre,
  L’ostel aurez Saint Julien,’

 says Mabile to her feigned uncle in the fabliau of ‘_Boivin de
 Provins_;’ and a similar idea appears in ‘Cocke Lorell’s bote,’ where
 the crew, after the entertainment with the ‘relygyous women’ from the
 Stews’ Bank, at Colman’s Hatch,

 ‘Blessyd theyr shyppe when they had done,
  And dranke about a _Saint Julyan’s_ tonne.’
                              Hotten’s _History of Signboards_,” p. 283.

 “Isleworth in Queen Elizabeth’s time was commonly in conversation,
 {xxx} and sometimes in records, called Thistleworth.”—Lysons’
 _Environs of London_, vol. iii. p. 79.

 p. 77. _Rothered_: ? Rotherhithe.

 p. 77. _The Kynges Barne_, betwene Detforde and Rothered, can hardly
 be the great hall of Eltham palace. Lysons (_Environs of London_, iv.
 p. 399) in 1796, says the hall was then used as a barn; and in vol.
 vi. of the _Archæologia_, p. 367, it is called “King John’s Barn.”

 p. 77. _Ketbroke._ Kidbrooke is marked in large letters on the east
 of Blackheath on the mordern Ordnance-map; and on the road from
 Blackheath to Eltham are the villages or hamlets of Upper Kidbrooke
 and Lower Kidbrooke.

 “Kedbrooke lies adjoining to Charlton, on the south side of the London
 Road, a small distance from Blackheath. It was antiently written
 Cicebroc, and was once a parish of itself, though now (1778 A.D.) it
 is esteemed as an appendage to that of Charlton.”—Hasted’s _History of
 Kent_, vol. i. p. 40.

 p. 100. _Sturbridge Fair._ Stourbridge, or Sturbich, the name of a
 common field, extending between Chesterton and Cambridge, near the
 little brook Sture, for about half a mile square, is noted for its
 fair, which is kept annually on September 19th, and continues a
 fortnight. It is surpassed by few fairs in Great Britain, or even in
 Europe, for traffic, though of late it is much lessened. The booths
 are placed in rows like streets, by the name[s] of which they are
 called, as Cheapside, &c., and are filled with all sorts of trades.
 The Duddery, an area of 80 or 100 yards square, resembles Blackwell
 Hall. Large commissions are negotiated here for all parts of England
 in _cheese_, woolen goods, wool, leather, hops, upholsterers’ and
 ironmongers’ ware, &c. &c. Sometimes 50 hackney coaches from London,
 ply morning and night, to and from Cambridge, as well as all the towns
 round, and the very barns and stables are turned into inns for the
 accommodation of the poorer people. After the wholesale business is
 over, the country gentry generally flock in, laying out their money in
 stage-plays, taverns, music-houses, toys, puppet-shows, &c., and the
 whole concludes with a day for the sale of horses. This fair is under
 the jurisdiction of the University of Cambridge.—_Walker’s Gazetteer_,
 ed. 1801. See Index to Brand’s _Antiquities_.

   [Footnote 39: Rot. Esch. ejus an, pt. 6.]

   [Footnote 40: This lady was one of the daughters and co-heirs of
   Sir Richard Walden, of this parish, Knt., and the Lady Margaret his
   wife, who both lie buried in this church [of Erith]. He was, as I
   take it, made Knight of the Bath in the 17th year of K. Henry VII.,
   his estate being then certified to be 40⁠_l._ per annum, being the
   son of Richard Walden, esq. Sir Richard and Elizabeth his wife both
   lie buried here. _MSS. Dering._]

   [Footnote 41: Dugd. Bar. vol. i. p. 332.]

   [Footnote 42: Harman’s dedication of his book to her was no doubt
   written in 1566, and his 2nd edition, in both states, published
   before the Countess’s death.]

   [Footnote 43: Of pilgrims, and of whoremongers, say Brand and Sir
   H. Ellis (referring to the _Hist. des Troubadours_, tom. i. p. 11,)
   in _Brand’s Antiquities_, ed. 1841, i. 202. Chaucer makes him the
   patron of hospitality, saying of the Frankeleyn, in the Prologue
   to the _Canterbury Tales_, “Seynt Iulian he was in his contre.” Mr
   Hazlitt, in his new edition of Brand, i. 303, notes that as early
   as the _Ancren Riwle_, ab. 1220 A.D., we have ‘Surely they (the
   pilgrims) find St. Julian’s inn, which wayfaring men diligently
   seek.’]

{1}




 _THE
 Fraternitye of Vacabondes._

 As wel of ruflyng Vacabondes, as of beggerly, of
 women as of men, of Gyrles as of Boyes,

 with

 _their proper names and qualities_.

 With a description of the crafty company of

 Cousoners and Shifters.

 ¶ Wherunto also is adioyned

 the .xxv. Orders of Knaues,

 otherwyse called

 a Quartern of Knaues.

 _Confirmed for euer by Cocke Lorell._


 ( * )


 ¶ The Vprightman speaketh.

 ¶ Our Brotherhood[44] of Vacabondes,
     If you would know where dwell:
   In graues end Barge which syldome standes,
     The talke wyll shew ryght well.


 ¶ Cocke Lorell aunswereth.

 ¶ Some orders of my Knaues also
     In that Barge shall ye fynde:
   For no where shall ye walke I trow,
     But ye shall see their kynde.

 ¶ Imprinted at London by Iohn Awdeley, dwellyng in little
 Britayne streete without Aldersgate.
 1575.

   [Footnote 44: _Orig._ Brothethood.]

{2}


[Sidenote: [leaf 1⁠_b_.]]

¶ _The Printer to the Reader._

 ++THis brotherhood of Vacabondes,
     To shew that there be such in deede
 Both Iustices and men of Landes,
 Wyll testifye it if it neede.
     For at a Sessions as they sat,
     By chaunce a Vacabond was got.

 ¶ Who promysde if they would him spare,
 And keepe his name from knowledge then:
 He would as straunge a thing declare,
 As euer they knew synce they were men.
   But if my fellowes do know (sayd he)
   That thus I dyd, they would kyll me.

 ¶ They graunting him this his request,
 He dyd declare as here is read,
 Both names and states of most and least,
 Of this their Vacabondes brotherhood.
   Which at the request of a worshipful ma_n_
   I haue set it forth as well as I can.

FINIS.

{3}


 [Sidenote: [leaf 2]]

 ¶ _The_

 Fraternitye of Vacabondes

 both rufling and beggerly,

 Men and women, Boyes and Gyrles,

 wyth

 their proper names and qualities.

 Whereunto are adioyned

 the company of Cousoners and Shifters.


¶ AN ABRAHAM MAN.

++AN Abraham man is he that walketh bare armed, and bare legged, and
fayneth hym selfe mad, and caryeth a packe of wool, or a stycke with
baken on it, or such lyke toy, and nameth himselfe poore Tom.


¶ A RUFFELER.

A Ruffeler goeth wyth a weapon to seeke seruice, saying he hath bene
a Seruitor in the wars, and beggeth for his reliefe. But his chiefest
trade is to robbe poore wayfaring men and market women.


¶ A PRYGMAN.

A Prygman goeth with a stycke in hys hand like an idle person. His
propertye is to steale cloathes of the hedge, which they call storing
of the Rogeman: or els filtch Poultry, carying them to the Alehouse,
whych they call the Bowsyng In, & ther syt playing at cardes and dice,
tyl that is spent which they haue so fylched. {4}


¶ A WHIPIACKE.

A Whypiacke is one, that by coulor of a counterfaite Lisence (which
they call a Gybe, and the seales they cal Iarckes) doth vse to beg lyke
a Maryner, But hys chiefest trade is to rob Bowthes in a Faire, or to
pilfer ware fro_m_ staules, which they cal heauing of the Bowth.


¶ A FRATER.

A Frater goeth wyth a like Lisence to beg for some Spittlehouse or
Hospital. Their pray is co_m_monly vpo_n_ [leaf 2⁠_b_.] poore women as
they go and come to the Markets.


¶ A QUIRE BIRD.

A Quire bird is one that came lately out of prison, & goeth to seeke
seruice. He is co_m_monly a stealer of Horses, which they terme a
Priggar of Paulfreys.


¶ AN VPRIGHT MAN.

An Vpright man is one that goeth wyth the trunchion of a staffe, which
staffe they cal a Filtchma_n_. This man is of so much authority, that
meeting with any of his profession, he may cal them to accompt, &
co_m_maund a share or snap vnto him selfe, of al that they haue gained
by their trade in one moneth. And if he doo them wrong, they haue no
remedy agaynst hym, no though he beate them, as he vseth co_m_monly to
do. He may also co_m_maund any of their women, which they cal Doxies,
to serue his turne. He hath y_e_ chiefe place at any market walke, &
other assembles, & is not of any be co_n_troled.


¶ A CURTALL.

A Curtall is much like to the Vpright man, but hys authority is not
fully so great. He vseth commonly to go with a short cloke, like to
grey Friers, & his woman with him in like liuery, which he calleth his
Altham if she be hys wyfe, & if she be his harlot, she is called hys
Doxy.


¶ A PALLIARD.

A Palliard is he that goeth in a patched cloke, and hys Doxy goeth in
like apparell. {5}


¶ AN IRISHE TOYLE.

An Irishe toyle is he that carieth his ware in hys wallet, as laces,
pins, poyntes, and such like. He vseth to shew no wares vntill he haue
his almes. And if the good man and wyfe be not in the way, he procureth
of the ch[i]lldre_n_ or seruants a fleece of wool, or the worth of
xij.d. of some other thing, for a peniworth of his wares.

[Sidenote: [leaf 3.]]


¶ A IACK MAN.

A Iackeman is he that can write and reade, and somtime speake latin. He
vseth to make counterfaite licences which they call Gybes, and sets to
Seales, in their language called Iarkes.


¶ A SWYGMAN.

A Swygman goeth with a Pedlers pack.


¶ A WASHMAN.

A Washman is called a Palliard, but not of the right making. He vseth
to lye in the hye way with lame or sore legs or armes to beg. These
me_n_ y_e_ right Pilliards wil often times spoile, but they dare not
co_m_playn. They be bitten with Spickworts, & somtime with rats bane.


¶ A TINKARD.

A Tinkard leaueth his bag a sweating at the Alehouse, which they terme
their Bowsing In, and in the meane season goeth abrode a begging.


¶ A WYLDE ROGE.

A wilde Roge is he that hath no abiding place but by his coulour of
going abrode to beg, is commonly to seeke some kinsman of his, and all
that be of hys corporation be properly called Roges.


¶ A KITCHEN CO.

A Kitchin Co is called an ydle runagate Boy.


¶ A KITCHEN MORTES.

A Kitchin Mortes is a Gyrle, she is brought at her full age to the
Vpryght man to be broken, and so she is called a Doxy, vntil she come
to y_e_ honor of an Altham. {6}


¶ DOXIES.

Note especially all which go abroade working laces and shirt stringes,
they name them Doxies.


¶ A PATRIARKE CO.

A Patriarke Co doth make mariages, & that is vntill [leaf 3⁠_b_.] death
depart the maried folke, which is after this sort: When they come to
a dead Horse or any dead Catell, then they shake hands and so depart
euery one of them a seuerall way.

――――


¶ THE COMPANY OF COUSONERS AND SHIFTERS.


¶ A CURTESY MAN.

A Curtesy man is one that walketh about the back lanes in London in the
day time, and sometime in the broade streetes in the night season, and
when he meeteth some handsome yong man clenly apareled, or some other
honest Citizen, he maketh humble salutatio_n_s and low curtesy, and
sheweth him that he hath a worde or two to speake with his mastership.
This child can behaue him selfe manerly, for he wyll desire him that he
talketh withall, to take the vpper hand, and shew him much reuerence,
and at last like his familier acquaintaunce will put on his cap, and
walke syde by syde, and talke on this fashion: Oh syr, you seeme to be
a man, and one that fauoureth men, and therefore I am the more bolder
to breake my mind vnto your good maistership. Thus it is syr, ther
is a certaine of vs (though I say it both taule and handsome men of
theyr hands) which haue come lately from the wars, and as God knoweth
haue nothing to take to, being both maisterles and moniles, & knowing
no way wherby to yerne one peny. And further, wher as we haue bene
welthely brought vp, and we also haue beene had in good estimatio_n_,
we are a shamed now to declare our misery, and to fall a crauing as
common Beggers, and as for to steale and robbe, (God is our record) it
striketh vs to [leaf 4] the hart, to thinke of such a mischiefe, that
euer any handsome man should fall into such a {7} daunger for thys
worldly trash. Which if we had to suffise our want and necessity, we
should neuer seeke thus shamefastly to craue on such good pityfull men
as you seeme to be, neither yet so daungerously to hasarde our liues
for so vyle a thing. Therefore good syr, as you seeme to be a handsome
man your selfe, and also such a one as pitieth the miserable case of
handsome men, as now your eyes and countenaunce sheweth to haue some
pity vppon this my miserable complainte: So in Gods cause I require
your maistershyp, & in the behalfe of my poore afflicted fellowes,
which though here in sight they cry not with me to you, yet wheresouer
they bee, I am sure they cry vnto God to moue the heartes of some good
men to shew forth their liberality in this behalfe. All which & I with
them craue now the same request at your good masterships hand. With
these or such like words he frameth his talke. Now if the party (which
he thus talketh withall) profereth hym a peny or .ii.d. he taketh it,
but verye scornfully, and at last speaketh on this sorte: Well syr,
your good will is not to be refused. But yet you shall vnderstand (good
syr) that this is nothing for them, for whom I do thus shamefastly
entreate. Alas syr, it is not a groate or .xii.d. I speake for, being
such a company of Seruiters as wee haue bene: yet neuertheles God
forbid I should not receiue your ge_n_tle offer at this time, hoping
hereafter through your good motions to some such lyke good gentleman
as you be, that I, or some of my fellowes in my place, shall finde
the more liberality. These kind of ydle Vacabondes wyll go commonly
well appareled, without [leaf 4 _b_.] any weapon, and in place where
they meete together, as at their hosteryes or other places, they wyll
beare the port of ryght good gentlemen, & some are the more trusted,
but co_m_monly thei pay them w_i_t_h_ stealing a paire of sheetes, or
Couerlet, & so take their farewell earely in the morning, before the
mayster or dame be sturring.


¶ A CHEATOUR OR FINGERER.

These commonly be such kinde of idle Vacabondes as scarcely a man
shall discerne, they go so gorgeously, sometime with waiting men, and
sometime without. Their trade is to walke in such places, where as
gentelmen & other worshipfull Citizens do resorte, as at {8} Poules,
or at Christes Hospital, & somtime at y_e_ Royal exchaunge. These haue
very many acquaintaunces, yea, and for the most part will acquaint them
selues with euery man, and fayne a society, in one place or other.
But chiefly they wil seeke their acquaintaunce of such (which they
haue learned by diligent enquiring where they resort) as haue receyued
some porcioun of money of their friends, as yong Gentlemen which are
sent to London to study the lawes, or els some yong Marchant man or
other kynde of Occupier, whose friendes hath geuen them a stock of
mony[45] to occupy withall. When they haue thus found out such a pray,
they will find the meanes by theyr familiarity, as very curteously
to bid him to breakefast at one place or other, where they are best
acquainted, and closely amonge themselues wil appoint one of their
Fraternity, which they call a Fyngerer, an olde beaten childe, not
onely in such deceites, but also such a one as by his age is painted
out with gray heares, wrinkled face, crooked back, and most commonly
lame, as it might seeme with age, [leaf 5] yea and such a one as to
shew a simplicity, shal weare a homely cloke and hat scarce worth .vi.
d. This nimble fingred knight (being appointed to this place) co_m_meth
in as one not knowen of these Cheatours, but as vnwares shal sit down
at the end of the bord where they syt, & call for his peny pot of
wine, or a pinte of Ale, as the place serueth. Thus sitting as it were
alone, mumblyng on a crust, or some such thing, these other yonckers
wil finde some kind of mery talke with him, some times questioning
wher he dwelleth, & sometimes enquiring what trade he vseth, which
co_m_monly he telleth them he vseth husbandry: & talking thus merely,
at last they aske him, how sayest thou, Father, wylt thou play for thy
breakfast with one of vs, that we may haue some pastime as we syt?
Thys olde Karle makyng it straunge at the first saith: My maysters,
ich am an old man, and halfe blinde, and can skyl of very few games,
yet for that you seeme to be such good Gentelmen, as to profer to play
for that of which you had no part, but onely I my selfe, and therefore
of right ich am worthy to pay for it, I shal with al my hart fulfyl
your request. And so falleth to play, somtime at Cardes, & sometime
at dice. Which through his cou_n_terfait simplicity {9} in the play
somtimes ouer counteth himself, or playeth somtimes against his wyl,
so as he would not, & then counterfaiteth to be angry, and falleth to
swearing, & so leesing that, profereth to play for a shillyng or two.
The other therat hauing good sport, seming to mocke him, falleth againe
to play, and so by their legerdemane, & cou_n_terfaiting, winneth ech
of them a shilling or twain, & at last whispereth the yong man in the
eare to play with hym also, that ech one might haue a fling at him.
[leaf 5⁠_b_.] This yong ma_n_ for company falleth againe to play also
with the sayd Fyngerer, and winneth as the other did which when he had
loste a noble or .vi. s. maketh as though he had lost al his mony, and
falleth a intreating for parte thereof againe to bring him home, which
the other knowing his mind and intent, stoutely denieth and iesteth, &
scoffeth at him. This Fingerer seeming then to be in a rage, desireth
the_m_ as they are true gentlemen, to tarry till he fetcheth more
store of money, or els to point some place where they may meete. They
seeming greedy hereof, promiseth faithfully and clappeth handes so to
meete. They thus ticklyng the young man in the eare, willeth him to
make as much money as he can, and they wil make as much as they can,
and co_n_sent as though they wil play booty against him. But in the
ende they so vse the matter, that both the young man leeseth his part,
and, as it seemeth to him, they leesing theirs also, and so maketh as
though they would fal together by the eares with this fingerer, which
by one wyle or other at last conueyeth him selfe away, & they as it
were raging lyke mad bedlams, one runneth one way, an other an other
way, leauing the loser indeede all alone. Thus these Cheatours at
their accustomed hosteries meete closely together, and there receiue
ech one his part of this their vile spoyle. Of this fraternity there
be that be called helpers, which commonly haunt tauernes or alehouses,
and co_m_meth in as men not acquainted with none in the companye,
but spying them at any game, wil byd them God spede and God be at
their game, and will so place him selfe that he will shew his fellow
by sygnes and tokens, without speech commonly, but sometime with far
fetched [leaf 6] wordes, what cardes he hath in his hand, and how he
may play against him. And those betwene the_m_ both getteth money out
of the others purse.

   [Footnote 45: _Orig._ mony.]

{10}


¶ A RING FALLER.

A Ryng faller is he that getteth fayre copper rings, some made like
signets, & some after other fashio_n_s, very faire gylded, & walketh
vp and down the streetes, til he spieth some man of the country, or
some other simple body whom he thinketh he may deceaue, and so goeth a
lyttle before him or them, and letteth fall one of these ringes, which
when the party that commeth after spieth and taketh it vp, he hauing an
eye backward, crieth halfe part, the party that taketh it vp, thinking
it to be of great value, profereth him some money for his part, which
he not fully denieth, but willeth him to come into some alehouse or
tauerne, and there they will common vpon the matter. Which when they
come in, and are set in some solitary place (as commonly they call for
such a place) there he desireth the party that found the ring to shew
it him. When he seeth it, he falleth a entreating the party that found
it, and desireth him to take money for his part, and telleth him that
if euer he may do him any frendship hereafter he shal commaund him,
for he maketh as though he were very desirous to haue it. The symple
man seeing him so importune vpon it, thinketh the ring to bee of great
valure, and so is the more lother to part from it. At last this ring
faller asketh him what he will geue him for his part, for, saith he,
seeing you wyl not let me haue the ring, alowe me my part, and take
you the ring. The other asketh what he counteth the ring to be worth,
he answereth, v. or vi. pound. No, saith he, it is not so much worth.
[leaf 6 _b_.] Well (saith this Ringfaller) let me haue it, and I wyll
alow you .xl. s. for your part. The other party standyng in a doubt,
and looking on the ryng, asketh if he wyll geue the money out of hand.
The other answereth, he hath not so much ready mony about him, but he
wil go fetch so much for him, if he wil go with him. The other that
found the ring, thinking he meaneth truly, beginneth to profer him .xx.
s. for his part, sometymes more, or les, which he verye scornfullye
refuseth at the first, and styl entreateth that he might haue the ring,
which maketh the other more fonder of it, and desireth him to take the
money for his part, & so profereth him money. This ring faller seing
y^e mony, maketh it very strau_n_ge, and first questioneth with him
wher he dwelleth, and asketh him {11} what is his name, & telleth him
that he semeth to be an honest man, and therfore he wil do somwhat
for friendships sake, hoping to haue as friendly a pleasure at his
hand hereafter, and so profereth hym for .x. s. more he should haue
the ryng. At last, with entreatye on both partes, he geueth the Ring
faller the money, and so departeth, thinkyng he hath gotten a very
great Iewell. These kynde of deceyuing Vacabondes haue other practises
with their rings, as somtimes to come to buy wares of mens Prentesies,
and somtimes of their Maisters, and when he hath agreed of the price,
he sayth he hath not so much money about him, but pulleth of one of
these rings of from his fyngers, and profereth to leaue it in pawne,
tyl his Maister or his friendes hath sene it, so promising to bring the
money, the seller thinking he meaneth truly, letteth him go, and neuer
seeth him after, tyll perhaps at Tyburne or at such lyke place. Ther is
another kinde of [leaf 7] these Ring choppers, which co_m_monly cary
about them a faire gold ring in deede, and these haue other counterfait
rings made so lyke this gold ring, as ye shal not perceiue the
contrary, tyl it be brought to y^e touchstone. This child wyl come to
borow mony of the right gold ring, the party mistrusting the Ring not
to be good, goeth to the Goldsmith with the partye that hath the ryng,
and tryeth it whether it be good golde, and also wayeth it to know how
much it is worth. The Goldsmith tryeth it to be good gold, and also to
haue hys ful weight like gold, and warenteth the party which shall lend
the money that the ring is worth so much money according to the waight,
this yoncker comming home with the party which shall lend the money,
and hauing the gold ring againe, putteth vp the gold ring, and pulleth
out a counterfaite ring very like the same, & so deliuereth it to the
party which lendeth the money, they thinking it to be the same which
they tryed, and so deliuereth the money or sometimes wares, and thus
vily be deceiued.

{12}


 ¶ _THE_

 .XXV. Orders of Knaues,

 _otherwise called_

 a quarterne of Knaues,

 _confirmed for euer by Cocke Lorell_.


1 TROLL AND TROLL BY.

++TRoll and Trol by, is he that setteth naught by no man, nor no man
by him. This is he that would beare rule in a place, and hath none
authority nor thanke, & at last is thrust out of the doore like a knaue.


2 TROLL WITH.

Troll with is he _tha_t no man shall know the seruaunt from y^e
Maister. This knaue with his cap on his head [leaf 7 _b_.] lyke Capon
hardy, wyll syt downe by his Maister, or els go cheeke by cheeke with
him in the streete.


3 TROLL HAZARD OF TRACE.

Troll hazard of trace is he that goeth behynde his Maister as far as
he may see hym. Such knaues commonly vse to buy Spice-cakes, Apples,
or other trifles, and doo eate them as they go in the streetes lyke
vacabond Boyes. {13}


4 TROLL HAZARD OF TRITRACE.

Troll hazard of tritrace, is he that goeth gaping after his Master,
looking to and fro tyl he haue lost him. This knaue goeth gasyng about
lyke a foole at euery toy, and then seeketh in euery house lyke a
Maisterles dog, and when his Maister nedeth him, he is to seeke.


5 CHAFE LITTER.

Chafe Litter is he that wyll plucke vp the Fether-bed or Matrice,
and pysse in the bedstraw, and wyl neuer ryse vncalled. This knaue
berayeth many tymes in the corners of his Maisters chamber, or other
places inconuenient, and maketh cleane hys shooes with the couerlet or
curtaines.


6 OBLOQUIUM.

Obloquium is hee that wyll take a tale out of his Maisters mouth and
tell it him selfe. He of right may be called a malapart knaue.


7 RINCE PYTCHER.

Rince Pytcher is he that will drinke out his thrift at the ale or wine,
and be oft times dronke. This is a licoryce knaue that will swill his
Maisters drink, and brybe his meate that is kept for him.


8 JEFFREY GODS FO.

Jeffery Gods Fo is he, that wil sweare & maintaine [leaf 8] othes.
This is such a lying knaue that none wil beleue him, for the more he
sweareth, y_e_ les he is to be beleued.


9 NICHOL HARTLES.

Nichol Hartles is he, that when he should do ought for his Maister hys
hart faileth him. This is a Trewand knaue that faineth himselfe sicke
when he should woorke.


10 SIMON SOONE AGON.

Simon soone agon is he, that when his Mayster hath any thing to do, he
wil hide him out of the way. This is a loytring knaue that wil hide him
in a corner and sleepe or els run away. {14}


11 GRENE WINCHARD.

Greene Winchard is he, that when his hose is broken and hange out at
his shoes, he will put them into his shooes againe with a stick, but
he wyll not amend them. This is a slouthfull knaue, that had leauer go
lyke a begger then cleanly.


12 PROCTOUR.

Proctour is he, that will tary long, and bring a lye, when his Maister
sendeth him on his errand. This is a stibber gibber Knaue, that doth
fayne tales.


13 COMMITOUR OF TIDINGES.

Commitour of Tidings is he, that is ready to bring his Maister Nouels
and tidinges, whether they be true or false. This is a tale bearer
knaue, that wyll report words spoken in his Maisters presence.


14 GYLE HATHER.

Gyle Hather is he, that wyll stand by his Maister when he is at dinner,
and byd him beware that he eate no raw meate, because he would eate it
himselfe. This is a pickthanke knaue, that would make his Maister [leaf
8 _b_.] beleue that the Cowe is woode.


15 BAWDE PHISICKE.

Bawde Phisicke, is he that is a Cocke, when his Maysters meate is euyll
dressed, and he challenging him therefore, he wyl say he wyll eate
the rawest morsel thereof him selfe. This is a sausye knaue, that wyl
contrary his Mayster alway.


16 MOUNCH PRESENT.

Mounch present is he that is a great gentleman, for when his Mayster
sendeth him with a present, he wil take a tast thereof by the waye.
This is a bold knaue, that sometyme will eate the best and leaue the
worst for his Mayster. {15}


17 COLE PROPHET.

Cole Prophet is he, that when his Maister sendeth him on his errand,
he wyl tel his answer therof to his Maister or he depart from hym.
This tittiuell knaue commonly maketh the worst of the best betwene hys
Maister and his friende.


18 CORY FAUELL.

Cory fauell is he, that wyl lye in his bed, and cory the bed bordes
in which hee lyeth in steede of his horse. This slouthfull knaue wyll
buskill and scratch when he is called in the morning, for any hast.


19 DYNG THRIFT.

Dyng thrift is he, that wil make his Maisters horse eate pies and rybs
of beefe, and drinke ale and wyne. Such false knaues oft tymes, wil
sell their Maisters meate to their owne profit.


20 ESEN DROPPERS.

Esen Droppers bene they, that stand vnder mens wales or windowes, or in
any other place, to heare the [leaf 9] secretes of a mans house. These
misdeming knaues wyl stand in corners to heare if they be euill spoken
of, or waite a shrewd turne.


21 CHOPLOGYKE.

Choplogyke, is he that when his mayster rebuketh him of hys fault he
wyll geue hym .xx. wordes for one, els byd the deuils Pater noster in
silence. This proude prating knaue wyll maintaine his naughtines when
he is rebuked for them.


22 VNTHRIFTE.

Vnthrift, is he that wil not put his wearing clothes to washing, nor
black his owne shoes, nor amend his his (_sic_) own wearing clothes.
This rechles knaue wyl alway be lousy: and say that hee hath no more
shift of clothes, and slaunder his Maister.


23 VNGRACIOUS.

Vngracious, is he _tha_t by his own will, will heare no maner of
seruice, without he be compelled therunto by his rulers. This Knaue
{16} wil sit at the alehouse drinking or playing at dice, or at other
games at seruice tyme.


24 NUNQUAM.

Nunquam, is he that when his Maister sendeth him on his errand he wil
not come againe of an hour or two where he might haue done it in halfe
an houre or lesse. This knaue will go about his owne errand or pastime
and saith he cannot speede at the first.


25 INGRATUS.

Ingratus, is he that when one doth all that he can for him, he will
scant geue him a good report for his labour. This knaue is so ingrate
or vnkind, _tha_t he considreth not his frend fro_m_ his fo, & wil
requit euil for good & being put most in trust, wil sonest deceiue his
maister.

_FINIS._


 [Sidenote: [leaf 9 _b_.]]

  Imprinted at London by
  Iohn Awdely dwelling
  in little Britaine streete
  without Aldersgate.

[Illustration]

[Original in Bodleian Library, 4º. R. 21. Art. Seld.]

{17}




 A Caueat or Warening,
 FOR COMMEN CVRSE-
 TORS VVLGARELY CALLED
 Vagabones, set forth by Thomas Harman,
 Esquiere, for the vtilite and proffyt of his naturall
 Cuntrey. Augmented and inlarged by the fyrst author here of.

 _Anno Domini. M.D.LXVII._

 ¶ _Vewed, examined, and allowed, according vnto the
 Queenes Maiestyes Iniunctions._

 [Illustration]

 ¶ Imprinted at London, in Fletestrete, at the signe of the
 Falcon, by _Wylliam Gryffith_, and are to be sold at his shoppe in
 Saynt Dunstones Churche yarde, in the West.
 Anno Domini. 1567.

 [The Bodley edition of 1567 omits ‘or Warening’ in line 1, and
 ‘Anno Domini. 1567.’ at foot; and substitutes ‘Newly Augmented and
 Imprinted’ for ‘Augmented . . . here of’, line 6.]

                               2

{19}

[Headnote: THE EPISTLE.]

 [Sidenote: [leaf 2]]

 ¶ To the ryght honorable and my singular good Lady, Elizabeth Countes
 of Shrewsbury, Thomas Harman wisheth all ioye and perfite felicitie,
 here and in the worlde to come.

++AS of Auncient and longe tyme there hath bene, and is now at this
present, many good, godly, profitable lawes and actes made and
setforthe in this most noble and floryshynge realme, for the reliefe,
succour, comforte, and sustentacion of the poore, nedy, impotent, and
myserable creatures beinge and inhabiting in all parts of the same;
So is there (ryghte honorable and myne especyall good Lady) most
holsom estatutes, ordinances, and necessary lawes, made, setforth, and
publisshed, for the extreme punishement of all vagarantes and sturdy
vacabons, as passeth throughe and by all parts of this famous yle, most
idelly and wyckedly: and I wel, by good experience, vnderstandinge and
consideringe your most tender, pytyfull, gentle, and noble nature,—not
onelye hauinge a vygelant and mercifull eye to your poore, indygente,
and feable parishnores; yea, not onely in the parishe where your honour
moste happely doth dwell, but also in others inuyroninge or nighe
adioyning to the same; As also aboundantly powringe out dayely your
ardent and bountifull charytie vppon all such as commeth for reliefe
vnto your luckly gates,—

 I thought it good, necessary, and my bounden dutye, to acquaynte your
 goodnes with the abhominable, wycked, and detestable behauor of all
 these rowsey, ragged rabblement of rakehelles, that—vnder the pretence
 of great misery, dyseases, and other innumerable calamites {20} whiche
 they fayne—through great hipocrisie do wyn and gayne great almes in
 all places where they wyly wander, to the vtter deludinge of the good
 geuers, deceauinge and impouerishing of all such poore housholders,
 both sicke and sore, as nether can or maye walke abroad for reliefe and
 comforte (where, in dede, most mercy is to be shewed). And for that I
 (most honorable Lady), beinge placed as a poore gentleman, haue kepte
 a house these twenty yeares, where vnto pouerty dayely hath and doth
 repayre, not without some reliefe, as my poore callinge and habylytie
 maye and doth extende: I haue of late yeares gathered a great suspition
 that all should not be well, and, as the prouerbe saythe, “sume thinge
 lurke and laye hyd that dyd not playnely apeare;” for I, hauinge more
 occation, throughe sickenes, to tary and remayne at home then I haue
 bene acustomed, do, by my there abyding, talke [46]and confere dayly
 with many of these wyly wanderars of both sortes, as well men and
 wemmen, as boyes and gyrles, by whom I haue [leaf 2, back] gathered and
 vnderstande their depe dissimulation and detestable dealynge, beinge
 maruelous suttle and craftye in there kynde, for not one amongst twenty
 wyll discouer, eyther declare there scelorous secretes: yet with fayre
 flatteringe wordes, money, and good chere, I haue attained to the typ
 by such as the meanest of the_m_ hath wandred these xiii. yeares, and
 most xvi. and some twenty and upward,[47] and not withoute faythfull
 promesse made vnto them neuer to discouer their names or any thinge
 they shewed me; for they would all saye, yf the vpright men should
 vnderstand thereof, they should not be only greuouslye beaten, but
 put in daunger of their lyues, by the sayd vpright men. There was a
 fewe yeares since a small bréefe setforth of some zelous man to his
 countrey, of whom I knowe not, that made a lytle shewe of there names
 and vsage, and gaue a glymsinge lyghte, not sufficient to perswade of
 their peuishe peltinge and pickinge[48] practyses, but well worthy
 of prayse. But (good madame), with nolesse trauell then good wyll, I
 haue repayred and rygged the Shyp of knowledge, and haue hoyssed vp
 the sayles of good fortune, that {21} she maye safely passe aboute
 and through all partes of this noble realme, and there make porte sale
 of her wyshed wares, to the confusion of their drowsey demener and
 vnlawfull language, pylfring pycking, wily wanderinge, and lykinge
 lechery, of all these rablement of rascales that raunges about al
 _th_e costes of the same, So _tha_t their vndecent, dolefull dealing
 and execrable exercyses may apere to all as it were in a glasse, that
 therby the Iusticers _and_ Shréeues may in their circutes be more
 vygelant to punishe these malefactores, and the Counstables, Bayliffes,
 and bosholders,[49] settinge asyde all feare, slouth, _and_ pytie, may
 be more circomspect in executing the charg geuen them by the aforesayd
 Iusticers. Then wyll no more this rascall rablement raunge about the
 countrey. Then greater reliefe may be shewed to _th_e pouerty of eche
 parishe. Then shall we kepe our Horses in our pastures vnstolen. Then
 our lynnen clothes shall and maye lye safelye one our hedges vntouched.
 Then shall we not have our clothes and lynnen hoked out at our wyndowes
 as well by day as by night. Then shall we not haue our houses broken vp
 in the night, as of late one of my nyghtbors had and two great buckes
 of clothes stolen out, and most of the same fyne Lynnen. Then shall
 we safely kepe our pigges and poultrey from pylfring. Then shall we
 surely passe by [50]_th_e hygh waies leading to markets _and_ fayres
 vnharmed. Then shall our Shopes and bothes be vnpycked _and_ spoyled.
 Then shall these vncomly companies be dispersed and set to labour
 for their lyuinge, or hastely hang for [leaf 3] their demerites.
 Then shall it incourrage a great number of gentle men and others,
 seing this securitie, to set vp houses and kepe hospitalytie in the
 countrey, to the comfort of their nighboures, releife of the poore,
 and to the amendement of the common welth. Then shall not sinne and
 wickednes so much abound among vs. Then wil gods wrath be much _th_e
 more pacified towards vs. Then shall we not tast of so many and sondry
 plages, as now dayely raigneth ouer vs. And then shall this Famous
 Empyre be in more welth _and_ better florysh, to the inestymable ioye
 _and_ comfort of the Quenes most excelent maiestye, whom god of his
 {22} infinyte goodnes, to his great glory, long and many yeares make
 most prosperously to raygne ouer vs, to the great Felycitye of all the
 Peres and Nobles, and to the vnspeakable ioye, releife, and quietnes of
 minde, of all her faythfull Commons _and_ Subiectes. Now, me thinketh,
 I se how these peuysh, peruerse, and pestile_n_t people begyn to freat,
 fume, sweare, and stare at this my booke, their lyfe being layd open
 and aparantly paynted out, that their confusion and end draweth one a
 pase. Where as in dede, if it be well waied, it is set forth for their
 synguler profyt and co_m_moditie, for the sure safegard of their lyues
 here in this world, that they shorten not the same before[51] their
 time, and that by their true labour and good lyfe, in the world to com
 they may saue their Soules, that Christ, the second person in [the]
 Trinytie, hath so derely bought w_i_t_h_ his most precious bloud: so
 that hereby I shall do them more good then they could haue deuised
 for them selues. For behold, their lyfe being so manyfest wycked and
 so aparantlye knowen, The honorable wyl abhore them, The worshipfull
 wyll reiecte them, The yemen wyll sharpely tawnte them, The Husband
 men vtterly defye them, The laboryng men bluntly chyde them, The wemen
 with a loud exclamation[52] wonder at them, And all Children with
 clappinge handes crye out at them. I manye times musing with my selfe
 at these mischeuous misliuers, merueled when they toke their oryginall
 _and_ beginning; how long they haue exercised their execrable wandring
 about. I thought it méete to confer with a very old man that I was well
 acquaynted with, whose wyt _and_ memory is meruelous for his yeares,
 beinge about the age of fourescore, what he knewe when he was yonge of
 these lousey leuterars. And he shewed me, that when he was yonge he
 wayted vpon a man of much worshyp in Kent, who died immediatly after
 the last Duke of Buckingham was beheaded: at his buryall there was
 such a number of beggers, besides poore housholders dwelling there
 abouts, that vnneth they mighte lye or stande aboute the House: then
 was there [leaf 3, back] prepared for them a great and a large barne,
 and a great fat oxe sod out in Furmenty for them, with bread _and_
 drinke aboundantly to furnesh out the premisses; and euery person had
 two pence, for such was the {23} dole. When Night approched, _th_e
 pore housholdere repaired home to their houses: the other wayfaring
 bold beggers remained alnight in _th_e barne; and the same barne being
 serched with light in the night by this old man (and then yonge),
 with[53] others, they tolde seuen score persons of men, euery of them
 hauing his woma_n_, except it were two wemen that lay alone to gether
 for some especyall cause. Thus hauing their makes to make mery withall,
 the buriall was turned to bousing _and_ belly chere, morning to myrth,
 fasting to feasting, prayer to pastyme _and_ pressing of papes, and
 lamenting to Lechery. So that it may apere this vncomly company hath
 had a long continuance, but then nothinge geuen so much to pylferinge,
 pyckinge, and spoyling; and, as far as I can learne or vnderstand by
 the examination of a number of them, their languag—which they terme
 peddelars Frenche or Canting—began but within these xxx. yeeres,[54]
 lytle aboue; and that the first inuenter therof was hanged, all saue
 the head; for that is the fynall end of them all, or els to dye of
 some filthy and horyble diseases: but much harme is don in the meane
 space by their continuance, as some x., xii., and xvi. yeares before
 they be consumed, and the number of them doth dayly renew. I hope their
 synne is now at the hyghest; and that as short and as spedy a redresse
 wylbe for these, as hath bene of late yeres for _th_e wretched, wily,
 wandering vagabonds calling and naming them selues Egiptians, depely
 dissembling and long hyding _and_ couering their depe, decetfull
 practises,—feding the rude common people, wholy addicted and geuen to
 nouelties, toyes, and new inuentions,—delyting them with the strangenes
 of the attyre of their heades, and practising paulmistrie to such as
 would know their fortunes: And, to be short, all theues and hores (as
 I may well wryt),—as some haue had true experience, a number can well
 wytnes, and a great sorte hath well felte it. And now (thankes bée to
 god), throughe wholsome lawes, and the due execution thereof, all be
 dispersed, banished,[55] _and_ the memory of them cleane extynguished;
 that when they bée once named here after, our Chyldren wyll muche
 meruell what kynd of people they were: and so, I trust, shal shortly
 happen of these. {24} For what thinge doth chiefely cause these rowsey
 rakehelles thus to continue and dayly increase? Surely a number of
 wicked parsons that kéepe typlinge Houses in all shires, where they
 haue succour and reliefe; and what so euer they bring, they are sure to
 receaue money for [leaf 4] the same, for they sell good penyworthes.
 The byers haue _th_e greatest gayne; yea, yf they haue nether money nor
 ware, they wylbe trusted; their credite is much. I haue taken a note
 of a good many of them, _and_ wil send their names and dwelling-places
 to such Iusticers as dwelleth nere or next vnto them, that they by
 their good wisdomes may displace the same, and auctoryse such as haue
 honesty. I wyl not blot my boke with their names, because they be
 resident. But as for this fletinge Fellowshyp, I haue truly setforth
 the most part of them that be doers at this present, with their names
 that they be knowene by. Also, I haue placed in the end therof their
 leud language, calling the same pedlers French or Canting. And now shal
 I end my prologue, makinge true declaration (right honorable Lady) as
 they shal fall in order of their vntymelye tryfelinge time, leud lyfe,
 and pernitious practises, trusting that the same shall neyther trouble
 or abash your most tender, tymerous, and pytifull Nature, to thinke the
 smal mede should growe vnto you for such Almes so geuen. For god, our
 marcifull and most louing father, well knoweth your hartes and good
 intent,—the geuer neuer wanteth his reward, according to the sayinge of
 Saynt Augustyn: as there is (neyther shalbe) any synne vnpunished, euen
 so shall there not be eny good dede vnrewarded. But how comfortably
 speaketh Christ our Sauiour vnto vs in his gospel (“geue ye, and it
 shalbe geuen you againe”): behold farther, good Madam, that for a cup
 of colde water, Christ hath promised a good reward. Now saynt Austen
 properly declareth why Christ speaketh of colde water, because the
 poorest man that is shall not excuse him selfe from that cherytable
 warke, least he would, parauenture, saye that he hath neyther wood,
 pot, nor pan to warme any water with. Se, farther, what god speaketh
 in the mouth of his prophet, Esaye, “breake thy bread to him that is
 a hongred;” he sayth not geue him a hole lofe, for paraduenture the
 poore man hath it not to geue, then let him geue a pece. This much
 is sayd because the poore that hath it should not {25}
 be excused: now how much more then the riche? Thus you se, good
 madam, for your treasure here dispersed, where nede and lacke
 is, it shalbe heaped vp aboundantly for you in heauen,
 where neither rust or moth shall corupt or destroy
 the same. Vnto which tryumphant place, after
 many good, happy, and fortunat yeres pros-
 perouslye here dispended, you maye for
 euer and euer there most ioyfully
 remayne. A men.

¶¶ _FINIS_

{26}

[Illustration]

 Thre things to be noted all in their kynde
 A staff, a béesom, and wyth, that wyll wynde

 ¶ A béesome of byrche, for babes very feete,[56]
     A longe lastinge lybbet for loubbers as méete
   A wyth to wynde vp, that these wyll not kéepe
     Bynde all up in one, and vse it to swéepe

[This page is printed at the back of the title page in Bodley edition.]

   [Footnote 46: leaf 2 _b_. Bodley edition (B).]

   [Footnote 47: The severe Act against vagrants, Ed. VI., c. 3, was
   passed in 1548, only 19 years before the date of this 2nd edition.]

   [Footnote 48: The 1573 edition reads _pynking_.]

   [Footnote 49: So printed in both 1567 editions. 1573 reads
   _housholders_; but _Borsholders_ is doubtless meant.]

   [Footnote 50: leaf 3. B.]

   [Footnote 51: Printed “_brfore_”]

   [Footnote 52: _reclamation._ B.]

   [Footnote 53: The 1573 edition reads _and_]

   [Footnote 54: The 1573 edition here inserts the word _or_]

   [Footnote 55: _vanished._ B.]

   [Footnote 56: _fyt._ B.]

{27}

[Headnote: HARMON. TO THE READER.]

[Sidenote: [leaf 5]]


¶ THE EPISTLE TO THE READER.

++AL though, good Reader, I wright in plain termes—and not so playnly
as truely—concerning the matter, meaning honestly to all men, and wyshe
them as much good as to myne owne harte; yet, as there hathe bene, so
there is nowe, and hereafter wylbe, curyous heds to finde faultes:
wherefore I thought it necessary, now at this seconde Impression, to
acquaynt _th_e with a great faulte, as some takethe it, but none[57]
as I meane it, callinge these Vagabonds Cursetors in the intytelynge
of my booke, as runneres or rangers aboute the countrey, deriued
of this Laten word (_Curro_): neither do I wryght it Cooresetores,
with a duble[58] oo; or Cowresetors, with a w, which hath an other
signification: is there no deuersite betwen a gardein and a garden,
maynteynaunce _and_ maintenance, Streytes and stretes? those that haue
vnderstanding knowe there is a great dyfference: who is so ignorant
by these dayes as knoweth not the meaning of a vagabone? and yf an
ydell leuterar should be so called of eny man, would not he thi_n_k
it bothe odyous and reprochefull? wyll he not shonne the name? ye,
and where as he maye and dare, w_i_t_h_ bent browes, wyll reueng that
name of Ingnomy: yet this playne name vagabone is deryued, as others
be, of Laten wordes, and now vse makes it commen to al men; but let vs
loke back four .C. yeres sithens, _and_ let vs se whether this playn
word vagabon was vsed or no. I beleue not, and why? because I rede of
no such name in the old estatutes of this realme, vnles it be in the
margente of the booke, or in the Table, which in the collection and
pryntinge was set in; but these were then the co_m_men names of these
leud leuterars, Faytores, Robardesmen, Drawlatches, _and_ valyant
beggares. Yf I should haue vsed suche wordes, or the same order of
wryting, as this realme vsed in Kynge Henry the thyrd or Edward _th_e
fyrstes tyme, oh, what a grose, barberous fellow [leaf 5, back] haue we
here! his wryting is both homely and darke, that wee had nede to haue
an interpretar: yet then it was verye well, and in short season a great
change we see . well, this delycat age shall haue his tyme on the {28}
other syde. Eloquence haue I none; I neuer was acquaynted with the
muses; I neuer tasted of Helycon. But accordinge to my playne order, I
haue setforth this worke, symplye and truelye, with such vsual words
and termes as is among vs wel known and frequented. So that as _th_e
prouerbe saythe, “all though truth be blamed, it shal neuer be shamed.”
well, good reader, I meane not to be tedyous vnto the, but haue added
fyue or sixe more tales, because some of them weare donn whyle my booke
was fyrste in the presse; and as I truste I haue deserued no rebuke
for my good wyll, euen so I desyre no prayse for my payne, cost, and
trauell. But faithfullye for the proffyt and benyfyt of my countrey I
haue don it, that the whole body of the Realme may se and vnderstand
their leud lyfe and pernitious practisses, that all maye spedelye helpe
to amend that is amysse. Amen saye all with me.

   [Footnote 57: The 1573 ed. reads _not_.]

   [Footnote 58: This word is omitted in the 1573 ed.]

Finis

{29}

[Sidenote: [leaf 6]]


¶ A RUFFLER. Ca. 1.[59]

++THE Rufflar, because he is first in degre of this odious order: And
is so called in a statute made for the punishment of Vacabonds, In
the xxvij. yeare of Kyng Henry the eight, late of most famous memory:
Hée shall be first placed, as the worthiest of this vnruly rablement.
And he is so called when he goeth first abroad; eyther he hath serued
in the warres, or els he hath bene a seruinge man; and, weary of well
doing, shakinge of all payne, doth chuse him this ydle lyfe, and
wretchedly wanders aboute the most shyres of this realme. And with
stout audacyte, [60] demaundeth where he thinketh hée maye be bolde,
and circomspecte ynough, as he sethe cause to aske charitie, rufully
and lamentably, that it would make a flyntey hart to relent, and pytie
his miserable estate, howe he hath bene maymed and broused in the
warres; _and_, parauenture, some wyll shew you some outward wounde,
whiche he gotte at some dronken fraye, eyther haltinge of some preuye
wounde festred with a fylthy firy flankard. For be well assured that
the hardist souldiers be eyther slayne or maymed, eyther and[61] they
escape all hassardes, and retourne home agayne, if they bée without
reliefe of their friends, they wyl surely desperatly robbe and steale,
and[62] eyther shortlye be hanged or miserably dye in pryson; for they
be so much ashamed and disdayne to beg or aske charity, that rather
they wyll as desperatlye fight for to lyue and mayntayne them selues,
as manfully and valyantly they ventred them selues in the Prynces
quarell. Now these Rufflars, the out castes of seruing men, when
begginge or crauinge fayles, then they pycke and pylfer, from other
inferiour beggeres that they méete by the waye, as Roages, Pallyardes,
Mortes, and Doxes. Yea, if they méete with a woman alone ridinge to
the market, eyther olde man or boye, that hée well knoweth wyll not
resiste, such they filche and spoyle. These rufflars, after a yeare or
two at the farthest, become vpryght men, vnlesse they be preuented by
twind hempe. {30}

   [Footnote 59: The chapters are not noted in the Bodley ed.]

   [Footnote 60: The 1573 ed. here inserts the word _he_]

   [Footnote 61: 1573 reads _if_]

   [Footnote 62: 1573 has _or_]

++{ I had of late yeares an old man to my tennant, who customably a
greate tyme went twise in the wéeke to London, eyther } wyth fruite
or with pescodes, when tyme serued therefore. And as he was comminge
homewarde on blacke heathe, at the end thereof next to shotars hyl,
he ouer tooke two rufflars, the one manerly wayting on the other, as
one had ben the maister, _and_ the other the man or seruant, [leaf 6,
back] caryinge his maisteres cloke. this olde man was verye glad that
hee might haue their company ouer the hyl, because that day he had
made a good market; for hée had seuen shyllinges in his purse, and a
nolde angell, which this poore man had thought had not bene in his
purse, for hée wylled his wyfe ouer night to take out the same angell,
and laye it vp vntyll his comminge home agayne. And he verely thought
that his wyfe had so don, whiche in dede for got to do it. Thus after
salutations had, this maister rufflar entered into co_m_munication with
this simple olde man, who, ridinge softlye beside them, commoned of
many matters. Thus fedinge this old man with pleasaunt talke, vntyll
they weare one the toppe of the hyll, where these rufflares might
well beholde the coaste about them cleare, Quiclye stepes vnto this
poore man, and taketh holde of his horse brydell, and leadeth him in
to the wode, and demaundeth of him what and how much money he had in
his purse. “Now, by my troth,” quoth this old man; “you are a merrye
gentle man. I knowe you meane not to take a waye anye thinge from me,
but rather to geue me some if I shoulde aske it of you.” By and by,
this seruant thiefe casteth the cloke that he caried on his arme about
this poore mans face, that he should not marke or vew them, with sharpe
words to delyuer quicly that he had, and to confesse truly what was
in his purse. This poore man, then all abashed, yelded, and confessed
that he had but iust seuen shyllinges in his purse; and the trouth is
he knew of no more. This old angell was falen out of a lytle purse
into the botome of a great purse. Now, this seuen shyllings in whyte
money they quickly founde, thinkinge in dede that there had bene no
more; yet farther groping and searchinge, found this old angell. And
with great admiration, this gentleman thyefe begane to blesse hym,
sayinge, “good lorde, what a worlde is this! howe maye” (quoth hée)
“a man beleue {31} or truste in the same? se you not” (quoth he) “this
old knaue tolde me that he had but seuen shyllings, and here is more
by an angell: what an old knaue and a false knaue haue we here!” quoth
this rufflar; “oure lorde haue mercy on vs, wyll this worlde neuer be
better?”—and there with went their waye. And lefte the olde man in the
wood, doinge him no more harme. But sorowfully sighinge, this olde
man, returning home, declared his misaduenture, with all the words and
circumstaunces aboue shewed. Wherat, for the tyme was great laughing,
and this poore man for his losses among his louing neighboures well
considered in the end.


¶ A VPRIGHT MAN. Ca. 2.

[Sidenote: [leaf 7]]

++A Vpright[63] man, the second in secte of this vnsemely sorte, must
be next placed, of these rainginge rablement of rascales; some be
seruing men, artificers, and laboryng men traded vp in husbandry. These
not mindinge to get their lyuinge with the swete of their face, but
casting of all payne, wyll wander, after their wycked maner, through
the most shyres of this realm,—

++{ As Sommerset shyre, Wylshire, Barke shyre, Oxforde shyre,
Harfordeshyre, Myddilsex, Essex, Suffolke, Northfolke, Sussex, }
Surrye, and Kent, as the cheyfe and best shyres of reliefe. Yea, not
with out punishment by stockes, whyppinges, and imprisonment, in most
of these places aboue sayde. Yet, not with standinge they haue so
good lykinge in their lewed, lecherous loyteringe, that full quiclye
all their punishmentes is[64] for gotten. And repentaunce is neuer
thought vpon vntyll they clyme thrée tres with a ladder. These vnrewly
rascales, in their roylynge, disperse them selues into seuerall
companyes, as occation serueth, sometyme more and somtyme lesse. As,
if they repayre to a poore husbandmans house, hée wyll go a lone, or
one with him, and stoutely demaund his charytie, eyther shewing how he
hath serued in the warres, and their maymed, eyther that he sekethe
seruice, and saythe that he woulde be glad to take payne for hys
lyuinge, althoughe he meaneth nothinge lesse. {32} Yf he be offered
any meate or drynke, he vtterlye refusethe scornefully, and wyll nought
but money; and yf he espye yong pyges or pultry, he well noteth the
place, and they the next night, or shortly after, hée wyll be sure to
haue some of them, whyche they brynge to their stawlinge kens, which is
their typplyng houses, as well knowen to them, according to the olde
prouerbe, “as the begger knowes his dishe.” For you must vnderstand,
euery Typplyng ale house wyll neyther receiue them or their wares,
but some certayne houses in euery shyre, especially for that purpose,
where they shalbe better welcome to them then honester men. For by such
haue they most gayne, and shalbe conuayde eyther into some loft out of
the waye, or other secret corner not commen to any other; and thether
repayre, at accustomed tymes, their harlots, whiche they terme Mortes
and Doxes,—not with emty hands; for they be as skilfull in picking,
riffling, _and_ filching as the vpright men, and nothing inferior to
them in all kind of wyckednes, as in other places hereafter they shalbe
touched. At these foresayde peltinge, peuish places and vnmannerly
metinges, O! how the pottes walke about! their talki_n_g tounges talke
at large. They bowle and bowse one to another, and for the tyme bousing
belly chere. And after there ruysting recreation, [leaf 7, back] yf
there be not rome ynough in the house, they haue cleane strawe in some
barne or backehouse nere adioyning, where they couch comly to gether,
and[65] it were dogge and byche; and he that is hardyste maye haue his
choyse, vnlesse for a lytle good maner; some wyll take there owne that
they haue made promyse vnto, vntyll they be out of sight, and then,
according to the old adage, “out of minde.” Yet these vpright men stand
so much vpon their reputation, as they wyl in no case haue their wemen
walke with them, but seperat them selues for a tyme, a moneth or more.
And mete at fayres, or great markets, where they mete to pylfer and
steale from staules, shoppes, or bothes. At these fayres the vpryght
men vse commonly to lye _and_ lingar in hye wayes by lanes, some prety
way or distaunce from _th_e place, by which wayes they be assured that
compeny passeth styll two and fro. And ther they[66] wyll demaund,
with cap in hand and comly curtesy, the deuotion and charity of _th_e
people. They {33} haue ben much lately whipped at fayrs. Yf they aske
at a stout yemans or farmars house his charity, they wyll goe strong as
thre or foure in a company. Where for feare more then good wyll, they
often haue reliefe. they syldome or neuer passe by a Iustices house,
but haue by wayes, vnlesse he dwell alone, and but weakely manned;
thether wyll they also go strong, after a slye, suttle sorte, as with
their armes bounde vp with kercher or lyste, hauinge wrapte about
the same filthy clothes, either their legges in such maner bewrapped
halting down right. Not vnprouided of good codg[e]ls, which they cary
to sustayne them, and, as they fayne, to kéepe gogges[67] from them,
when they come to such good gentlemens houses. Yf any searche be
made or they suspected for pylfring clothes of hedgges, or breaking
of houses, which they commonly do when the owners bée eyther at the
market, church, or other wayes occupyed aboute their busines,—eyther
robbe some sely man or woman by the hye waye, as many tymes they
do,—Then they hygh them into wodes, great thickets, and other ruffe
corners, where they lye lurkinge thre or foure dayes to gether, and
haue meate and drinke brought them by theyre Mortes, and Doxes;
and whyle they thus lye hydden in couert, in the night they be not
idle,—nether, as _th_e common saying is, “well occupyed;” for then, as
the wyly foxe, crepinge out of his den, seketh his praye for pultery,
so do these for lynnen and any thinge els worth money, that lyeth about
or near a house. As somtyme a whole bucke of clothes caryed awaye at a
tyme. When they haue a greatter booty then they maye cary awaye quickly
to their stawling kendes, as is aboue sayd, They wyll hyde the same
for a thre dayes in some thicke couert, and [leaf 8] in the night time
carye the same, lyke good water Spanlles, to their foresayd houses.
To whom they wyll discouer where or in what places they had the same,
where the markes shalbe pycked out cleane, _and_ conuayed craftely
fare of, to sell. If the man or woman of the house want money the_m_
selues. [68]If these vpright men haue nether money nor wares, at these
houses they shalbe trusted for their vitales, and it amount to twentye
or thirty shyllings. Yea, if it fortune any of these vpright men to
be taken, either suspected, or charged with fellony or petye {34}
brybrye, don at such a tyme or such a place, he wyll saye he was in
his hostes house. And if the man or wyfe of that house be examined by
an officer, they boldelye vouche, that the[y] lodged him suche a tyme,
whereby the truth cannot appeare. And if they chaunce to be retained
into seruice, through their lamentable words, with any welthy man,
They wyll tary but a smale tyme, either robbing his maister or som
of his fellowes. And some of them vseth this polocye, that although
they trauayle into al these shyres, aboue said, yet wyl they haue good
credite, espiciallye in one shyre, where at diuers good farmars houses
they be wel knowen, where they worke a moneth in a place or more, and
wyll for that time behaue them selues very honestly _and_ paynfully;
And maye at any tyme, for their good vsage, haue worke of them; and to
these at a ded lyft, or last refuge, they maye safely repayre vnto and
be welcom, When in other places, for a knacke of knauery that they haue
playd, thei dare not tary. These vpright men wil sildom or neuer want;
for what is gotten by anye Mort, or Doxe, if it please him, hée doth
comaunde the same. And if he mete any begger, whether he be sturdye
or impotent, he wyll demaund of him, whether euer he was stalled to
the roge or no. If he saye he was, he wyll know of whom, and his name
_tha_t stalled hym. And if he be not learnedly able to shewe him the
whole circumstaunce thereof, he wyll spoyle him of his money, either of
his best garment, if it be worth any money, and haue him to the bowsing
ken, Which is to some typpling house next adioyninge; and laieth their
to gage the best thing that he hath for twenty pence or two shyllinges:
this man obeyeth for feare of beating. Then doth this vpright man call
for a gage of bowse, whiche is a quarte pot of drinke, and powres the
same vpon his peld pate, adding these words:—“I. G. P. do stalle thée
W. T. to the Roge, and that from hence forth it shall be lawefull for
the to Cant”—that is, to aske or begge—“for thy liuing in al places.”
Here you se _tha_t the vpright man is of great auctorite. For all
sortes of beggers are obedient to his hests, and surmounteth all others
in pylfring and stealinge. ¶ I lately had standinge in my [leaf 8,
back] well house, which standeth on the backeside of my house, a great
cawdron of copper, beinge then full of water, hauinge in the same halfe
a doson {35} of pewter dyshes, well marked, and stamped w_i_t_h_ the
connizance of my armes, whiche being well noted when they were taken
out, were set a side, the water powred out, and my caudren taken awaye,
being of such bygnes that one man, vnlesse he were of great strength,
was not able far to cary the same. Not withstandinge, the same was one
night within this two yeares conuayed more then half a myle from my
house, into a commen or heth, And ther bestowed in a great firbushe. I
then immediatly the next day sent one of my men to London, and there
gaue warning in Sothwarke, kent strete, and Barmesey stréete, to all
the Tynckars there dwelling,—That if any such Caudron came thether
to be sold, the bringar therof should be stayed, and promised twenty
shyllings for a reward. I gaue also intelligence to the water men that
kept the ferres, that no such vessel should be ether conuayd to London
or into essex, promysing the lyke reward, to haue vnderstanding therof.
This my doing was well vnderstand in many places about, and that the
feare of espyinge so troubled _th_e conscience of the stealer, that my
caudoren laye vntouched in the thicke firbushe more then halfe a yeare
after, which, by a great chaunce, was found by hunteres for conneys;
for one chaunced to runne into the same bushe where my caudren was, and
being perceaued, one thrust his staffe into the same bushe, and hyt my
caudren a great blowe, the sound whereof dyd cause the man to thinke
and hope that there was some great treasure hidden, wherby he thought
to be the better whyle he lyued. And in farther searching he found my
caudren; so had I the same agayne vnloked for.

   [Footnote 63: Printed “_vpreght_.” _vpright_ in Bodley ed.]

   [Footnote 64: 1573, _be_]

   [Footnote 65: 1573, _as_]

   [Footnote 66: _the._ B.]

   [Footnote 67: _dogges._ B.]

   [Footnote 68: 1573 inserts _and_]


¶ A HOKER, OR ANGGLEAR. Cap. 3.

++THese hokers, or Angglers, be peryllous and most wicked knaues, and
be deryued or procede forth from the vpright men; they commenly go in
frese ierkynes and gally slopes, poynted benethe the kne; these when
they practise there pylfringe, it is all by night; for, as they walke
a day times from house to house, to demaund charite, they vigelantly
marke where or in what place they maye attayne to there praye, casting
there eyes vp to euery wyndow, well noting what they se their, whether
apparell or linnen, hanginge nere vnto the sayde wyndowes, and that
wyll they {36} be sure to haue _th_e next night folowing; for they
customably carry with them a staffe of v. or vi. foote long, in which,
within one ynch of _th_e tope therof, ys a lytle hole bored through,
[leaf 9] in which hole they putte an yron hoke, and with the same they
wyll pluck vnto them quickly any thing _tha_t they may reche ther with,
which hoke in the day tyme they couertly cary about them, and is neuer
sene or taken out till they come to the place where they worke there
fete: such haue I sene at my house, and haue oft talked with them
and haue handled ther staues, not then vnderstanding to what vse or
inte_n_t they serued, although I hadde and perceiued, by there talke
and behauiour, great lykelyhode of euyll suspition in them: they wyl
ether leane vppon there staffe, to hyde the hole thereof, when they
talke with you, or holde their hande vpon the hole; and what stuffe,
either wollen or lynnen, they thus hoke out, they neuer carye the same
forth with to their staulyng kens, but hides the same a iij. daies
in some secret corner, _and_ after conuayes the same to their houses
abouesaid, where their host or hostys geueth them money for the same,
but halfe the value that it is worth, or els their doxes shall a farre
of sell the same at the like houses. I was credebly informed that a
hoker came to a farmers house in the ded of the night, and putting
back a drawe window of a low cha_m_ber, the bed standing hard by the
sayd wyndow, in which laye three parsones (a man and two bygge boyes),
this hoker with his staffe plucked of their garme_n_ts which lay vpon
them to kepe them warme, with the couerlet and shete, and lefte them
lying a slepe naked sauing there shertes, and had a way all clene, and
neuer could vnderstande where it became. I verely suppose that when
they wer wel waked with cold, they suerly thought that Robin goodfelow
(accordin̄⁠ge to the old saying) had bene with them that night.


¶ A ROGE. Cap. 4.

++A Roge is neither so stoute or hardy as the vpright man. Many of
them will go fayntly and looke piteously when they sée, either méete
any person, hauing a kercher, as white as my shooes, tyed about their
head, with a short staffe in their hand, haltinge, although they nede
not, requiring almes of such as they {37} méete, or to what house
they shal com. But you may easely perceiue by their colour _tha_t thei
cary both health and hipocrisie about them, wherby they get gaine,
when others want that cannot fayne and dissemble. Others therebee that
walke sturdely about _th_e cou_n_trey, _and_ faineth to seke a brother
or kinsman of his, dwelling within som part of _th_e shire;—ether that
he hath a letter to deliuer to som honest housholder, dwelling out of
an other Shyre, and will shewe you the same fayre sealed, with the
superscription to [leaf 9, back] the partye he speaketh of, because
you shall not thinke him to runne idelly about the countrey;—either
haue they this shyfte, they wyll cary a cirtificate or pasport about
them from som Iusticer of the peace, with his hand and seale vnto the
same, howe hée hath bene whipped and punished for a vacabonde according
to the lawes of this realme, and that he muste returne to .T., where
he was borne or last dwelt, by a certayne daye lymited in the same,
whiche shalbe a good longe daye. And all this fayned, bycause without
feare they woulde wyckedly wander, and wyll renue the same where or
when it pleasethe them; for they haue of their affinity that can wryte
and read. These also wyll picke and steale as the vpright men, and
hath their women and metinges at places apoynted, and nothinge to them
inferiour in all kynde of knauery. There bée of these Roges Curtales,
wearinge shorte clokes, that wyll chaunge their aparell, as occation
seruethe. And their end is eyther hanginge, whiche they call trininge
in their language, or die miserably of the pockes.

¶ There was not long sithens two Roges that alwaies did associate them
selues together, _and_ would neuer seperat them selues, vnles it were
for some especiall causes, for they were sworn brothers, _and_ were
both of one age, and much like of favour: these two, trauelinge into
east kent, resorted vnto an ale house there,[69] being weried with
traueling, saluting with short curtisey, when they came into the house,
such as thei sawe sitting there, in whiche company was the parson of
the parish; and callinge for a pot of the best ale, sat downe at the
tables ende: the lykor liked them so well, that they had pot vpon pot,
and sometyme, for a lytle good maner, would drinke and offer the cup
to such as they best fancied; and to be short, they sat {38} out al
the company, for eche man departed home aboute their busines. When they
had well refreshed them selues, then these rowsy roges requested the
good man of the house wyth his wyfe to sit downe and drinke with them,
of whome they inquired what priest the same was, and where he dwelt:
then they fayninge that they had an vncle a priest, and that he should
dwel in these partes, which by all presumptions it should be he, and
that they came of purpose to speake with hym, but because they had not
sene hym sithens they were sixe yeares olde, they durst not be bold
to take acquayntance of him vntyl they were farther instructed of the
truth, and began to inquier of his name, and how longe he had dwelt
there, and how farre his house was of from _th_e place they were in:
the good wyfe of the house, thynkinge them honest men without disceit,
because they so farre enquyred of their kinseman, was but of a good
zelous naturall intent, shewed them cherefully that hee [leaf 10]
was an honest man _and_ welbeloued in the parish, and of good welth,
_and_ had ben there resident xv. years at the least; “but,” saith
she, “are you both brothers?” “yea, surely,” said they, “we haue bene
both in one belly, _and_ were twinnes.” “Mercy, god!” q_uoth_ this
folish woman; “it may wel be, for ye be not much vnlike,”—and wente
vnto her hall windowe, callinge these yong men vnto her, and loking
out therat,[70] pointed with her fingar _and_ shewed them the house
standing alone, no house nere the same by almoste a quarter of a myle;
“that,” sayd[71] she, “is your vncles house.” “Nay,” saith one of
them, “he is not onely my vncle, but also my godfather.” “It may well
be,” q_uoth_ she, “nature wyll bind him to be the better vnto you.”
“Well,” q_uoth_ they, “we be weary, and meane not to trouble our vncle
to-night; but to-morowe, god willinge, we wyll sée him and do our
duty: but, I pray you, doth our vncle occupy husbandry? what company
hath he in his house.” “Alas!” saith she, “but one old woman _and_ a
boy, he hath no occupying at al: tushe,” q_uoth_ this good wyfe, “you
be mad men; go to him this night, for hée hath better lodging for you
then I haue, _and_ yet I speake folishly against my[72] own profit,
for by your taring[73] here I should gaine _th_e more by you.” “Now,
by my troth,” q_uoth_ one of them, “we thanke {39} you, good hostes,
for your holsome councell, and we meane to do as you wyll vs: we wyl
pause a whyle, and by that tyme it wylbe almost night; _and_ I praye
you geue vs a reckeninge,”—so, manerly paying for that they toke, bad
their hoste and hostes farewell with takinge leaue of the cup, marched
merelye out of the dores towardes this parsones house, vewed the same
well rounde about, and passed by two bowshotes of into a younge wodde,
where they laye consultinge what they shoulde do vntyll midnight.
Quoth one of them, of sharper wyt and subtyller then the other, to hys
fellowe, “thou seest that this house is stone walled about, and that
we cannot well breake in, in any parte thereof; thou seest also that
the windowes be thicke of mullions, that ther is no kreping in betwene:
wherefore we must of necessytie vse some policye when strength wil not
serue. I haue a horse locke here about me,” saith he; “and this I hope
shall serue oure turne.” So when it was aboute xii. of the clocke, they
came to the house and lurked nere vnto his chamber wyndowe: the dog of
the house barked a good, that with they[74] noise, this priest waketh
out of his sléepe, and began to cough and hem: then one of these roges
stepes forth nerer the window _and_ maketh a ruful _and_ pityful noise,
requiring for Christ sake[75] some reliefe, that was both hongry and
thirstye, and was like to ly with out the dores all nighte and starue
for colde, vnles he were releued by him with some small pece of money.
“Where dwellest thou?” quoth this parson. “Alas! sir,” saithe this
roge, “I haue smal [leaf 10, back] dwelling, and haue com out of my
way; and I should now,” saith he, “go to any towne nowe at this time
of night, they woulde set me in the stockes and punishe me.” “Well,”
quoth this pitifull parson, “away from my house, either lye in some
of my out houses vntyll the morning, and holde, here is a couple of
pence for thée.” “A god rewarde you,” quoth this roge; “and in heauen
may you finde it.” The parson openeth his wyndowe, and thrusteth out
his arme to geue his almes to this Roge that came whining to receiue
it, and quickly taketh holde of his hand, and calleth his fellowe to
him, whiche was redye at hande with the horse locke, and clappeth the
same about the wrest of his arme, that the mullions standing so close
together for strength, that for his {40} life he could not plucke in
his arme againe, and made him beleue, vnles he would at the least geue
them .iii. li., they woulde smite of his arme from the body. So that
this poore parson, in feare to lose his hand, called vp his olde woman
that lay in the loft ouer him, and wylled her to take out all the money
he had, which was iiij. markes, which he saide was all the money in
his house, for he had lent vi. li. to one of his neighbours not iiij
daies before. “Wel,” q_uoth_ they, “master parson, if you haue no more,
vpon this condicion we wil take of the locke, that you will drinke
.xij. pence for our sakes to-morow at the alehouse wher we found you,
and thank the good wife for the good chere she made vs.” He promised
faithfully that he would so do; so they toke of the locke, and went
their way so farre ere it was daye, that the parson coulde neuer haue
any vnderstanding more of them. Now this parson, sorowfully slumbering
that night betwene feare and hope, thought it was but folly to make two
sorrowes of one; he vsed contentacion for his remedy, not forgetting in
the morning to performe his promise, but went betims to his neighbour
that kept tiplinge, and asked angerly where the same two men were
that dranke with her yester daye. “Which two men?” q_uoth_ this good
wife. “The straungers that came in when I was at your house wyth my
neighbores yesterday.” “What! your neuewes?” q_uoth_ she. “My neuewes?”
q_uoth_ this parson; “I trowe thou art mad.” “Nay, by god!” q_uoth_
this good[76] wife, “as sober as you; for they tolde me faithfully
that you were their vncle: but, in fayth, are you not so in dede? for,
by my trouth, they are strau[n]gers to me. I neuer saw them before.”
“O, out vpon them!” q_uoth_ the parson; “they be false theues, and
this night thei compelled me to geue them al the money in my house.”
“Benedicite!” q_uoth_ this good wife, “_and_ haue they so in dede? as
I shall aunswere before god, one of them told me besides that you were
godfather to him, and that he trusted to haue your blessinge before
he departed.” “What! did he?” quoth this parson; “a halter blesse him
for [leaf 11] me!” “Me thinketh, by the masse, by your countenance you
loked so wildly when you came in,” quoth this good wife, “that somthing
was amis.” “I vse not to gest,” {41} quoth this parson, “when I speake
so earnestly.” “Why, all your sorrowes goe with it,” quoth this good
wife, “and sitte downe here, and I will fil a freshe pot of ale shall
make you mery agayne.” “Yea,” saith this parson, “fill in, _and_ geue
me some meat; for they made me sweare and promise them faithfully that
I shoulde drinke xii. pence with you this day.” “What! dyd they?” quoth
she; “now, by the mary masse, they be mery knaues. I warraunt you they
meane to bye no land with your money; but how could they come into you
in the night, your dores being shut fast? your house is very stronge.”
Then this prason[77] shewed her all the hole circumstance, how he gaue
them his almes oute at the wyndowe, they[78] made such lamentable
crye that it pytied him at the hart; for he sawe but one when he put
oute his hand at the windowe. “Be ruled by me,” quoth this good wyfe.
“Wherin?” quoth this parson. “By my troth, neuer speake more of it:
when they shal vnderstand of it in the parish, they wyll but laugh you
to skorne.” [79]†“Why, then,” quoth this parson, “the deuyll goe with
it,”—and their an end.†

   [Footnote 69: 1573 omits.]

   [Footnote 70: 1573 omits.]

   [Footnote 71: _saith._ B.]

   [Footnote 72: 1573, _myne_.]

   [Footnote 73: _tarying._ B.]

   [Footnote 74: So printed. Bodley ed. has _the_]

   [Footnote 75: _sakes._ B.]

   [Footnote 76: Omitted in 1573.]

   [Footnote 77: so printed.]

   [Footnote 78: _the._ B.]

   [Footnote 79: †–† Why . . . . . . . . . end. B. omits.]


¶ A WYLDE ROGE. Cap. 5.

++A Wilde Roge is he that is borne a Roge: he is a more subtil and
more geuen by nature to all kinde of knauery then the other, as
beastely begotten in barne or bushes, and from his infancye traded vp
in trechery; yea, and before ripenes of yeares doth permyt, wallowinge
in lewde lechery, but that is counted amongest them no sin. For this
is their custome, that when they mete in barne at night, euery one
getteth a make[80] to lye wythall, _and_ their chaunce to be twentye in
a companye, as their is sometyme more and sometyme lesse: for to one
man that goeth abroad, there are at the least two women, which neuer
make it straunge when they be called, although she neuer knewe him
before. Then when the day doth appeare, he rouses him vp, and shakes
his eares, and awaye wanderinge where he may gette oughte to the hurte
of others. Yet before he skyppeth oute of hys couche and departeth from
his darling, if he like her well, he will apoint her where to mete
shortlye {42} after, with a warninge to worke warely for some chetes,
that their meting might be the merier.

¶ Not long sithens, a wild roge chau_n_ced to mete a pore neighbour of
mine, who for honesty _and_ good natur surmou_n_teth many. This poore
man, riding homeward from London, where he had made his market, this
[leaf 11, back] roge demaunded a peny for gods sake, to kepe him a
true man. This simple man, beholding him wel, and sawe he was of taule
personage with a good quarter staffe in his hand, it much pitied him,
as he sayd, to se him want; for he was well able to serue his prince in
the wars. Thus, being moued with pytie, and[81] loked in his pursse to
finde out a penye; and in loking for the same, he plucked oute viii.
shyllinges in whyte money, and raked therin to finde a single peny;
and at the last findinge one, doth offer the same to this wylde roge:
but he, seinge so much mony in this simple mans hand, being striken to
the hart with a couetous desire, bid him forth wyth delyuer al that he
had, or els he woulde with his staffe beat out his braynes. For it was
not a penye would now quench his thirst, [82]‡seing so much as he dyd‡:
thus, swallowinge his spittell gredely downe, spoyled this poore man
of al _th_e money that he had, and lept ouer the hedge into a thicke
wode, and went his waye as merely as this good simple man came home
sorowfully. I once rebuking a wyld roge because he went idelly about,
he shewed me that he was a begger by enheritance—his Grandfather was a
begger, his father was one, and he must nedes be one by good reason.

   [Footnote 80: 1573 reads _mate_]

   [Footnote 81: omitted in 1573.]

   [Footnote 82: ‡–‡ seing . . . . . . . dyd. B. omits.]


¶ A PRYGGER OF PRAUNCERS. Cap. 6.

++A Prigger of Prauncers be horse stealers; for to prigge signifieth in
their language to steale, _and_ a Prauncer is a horse: so beinge put
together, the matter is[83] playne. These go commonly in Ierkins of
leatherr, or of white frese, _and_ carry litle wands in their hands,
and will walke through grounds and pastures, to search and se horses
meete for their purpose. And if thei chau_n_ce to be met and asked by
the owners of the grounde what they make there, they fayne strayghte
that they haue loste their waye, and {43} desyre to be enstructed
the beste waye to such a place. These will also repayre to gentlemens
houses and aske their charitye, and wyll offer their seruice. And if
you aske them what they can do, they wyll saye that they can kepe two
or thre Geldinges, and waite vppon a Gentleman. These haue also their
women, that walkinge from them in other places, marke where and what
they sée abroade, and sheweth these Priggars therof when they meete,
which is with in a wéeke or two. And loke, where they steale any
thinge, they conuay _th_e same at the least thre score miles of or more.

¶ There was a Gentleman, a verye friende of myne, rydyng from London
homewarde into Kente, hauinge with in thrée myles of his house
busynesse, alyghted of his horse, and his man also, in a pretye [leaf
12] vyllage, where diueres houses were, and looked aboute hym where
he myghte haue a conuenient person to walke his horse, because hee
would speake w_i_t_h_ a Farmer that dwelt on the backe side of the
sayde village, lytle aboue a quarter of a myle from the place where he
lighted, and had his man to waight vpon him, as it was mete for his
callinge: espying a Pryggar there standing, thinking the same to dwell
there, charging this prity prigginge person to walke his horse well,
and that they might not stande styll for takyng of colde, and at his
returne (which he saide should not be longe) he would geue hym a peny
to drinke, and so wente aboute his busines. This peltynge Priggar,
proude of his praye, walkethe his horse[84] vp and downe tyll he sawe
the Gentleman out of sighte, and leapes him into the saddell, and
awaye he goeth a mayne. This Gentleman returninge, and findinge not
his horses, sent his man to the one end of the vyllage, and he went
himselfe vnto the other ende, and enquired as he went for his horses
that were walked, and began some what to suspecte, because neither he
nor his man could se nor find him. Then this Gentleman deligentlye
enquired of thre or foure towne dwellers there whether any such person,
declaring his stature,[85] age, apparell, with so many linaments of
his body as he could call to remembraunce. And, “vna voce,” all sayde
that no such man dwelt in their streate, neither in the parish, that
they knewe of; but some did wel remember that such a one they saw
there lyrkinge and {44} huggeringe two houres before the Gentleman
came thether, and a straunger to them. “I had thoughte,” quoth this
Gentleman, “he had here dwelled,”—and marched home manerly in his
botes: farre from the place he dwelt not. I suppose at his comming home
he sente suche wayes as he suspected or thought méete to searche for
this Prigger, but hetherto he neuer harde any tydinges agayne of his
palfreys.—I had the best geldinge stolen oute of my pasture that I had
amongst others whyle this boke was first a printinge.

   [Footnote 83: 1573, _was_]

   [Footnote 84: _horses._ B.]

   [Footnote 85: Printed _statute_]


¶ A PALLYARD. Cap. 7.

++THese Palliardes be called also Clapperdogens: these go with patched
clokes, _and_ haue their Morts with them, which they cal wiues; and if
he goe to one house, to aske his almes, his wife shall goe to a nother:
for what they get (as bread, chéese, malte, and woll) they sell the
same for redy money; for so they get more and if they went together.
Although they be thus[86] deuided in the daie, yet they mete iompe at
night. Yf they chaunce to come to some gentylmans house standinge [leaf
12, back] a lone, and be demaunded whether they be man and wyfe, _and_
if he perceaue that any doubteth thereof, he sheweth them a Testimonial
with the ministers name, and others of the same parishe (naminge a
parishe in some shere fare distant from the place where he sheweth the
same). This writing he carieth to salue that sore. Ther be many Irishe
men that goe about with cou_n_terfeate licenses; and if they perceiue
you wil straytly examen them, they will immediatly saye they can speake
no Englishe.

¶ Farther, vnderstand for trouth that the worst and wickedst of
all this beastly generation are scarse comparable to these prating
Pallyardes. All for _th_e most parte of these wil either lay to their
legs an herb called Sperewort, eyther Arsnicke, which is called
Ratesbane. The nature of this Spereworte wyll rayse a great blister in
a night vpon the soundest part of his body; and if the same be taken
away, it wyl dry vp againe and no harme. But this Arsnicke will so
poyson the same legge or sore, that it will euer after be incurable:
this do they for gaine and to be pitied. The most of these that walke
about be Walchmen.

   [Footnote 86: Printed _this_]

{45}


¶ A FRATER. Cap. 8.

++SOme of these Fraters will cary blacke boxes at their gyrdel, wher
in they haue a briefe of the Queenes maiesties letters patentes, geuen
to suche[87] poore spitlehouse for the reliefe of _th_e poore there,
whiche briefe is a coppie of the letters patentes, _and_ vtterly
fained, if it be in paper or in[88] parchment without the great seale.
Also, if the same brief be in printe,[89] it is also of auctoritie.
For the Printers wil sée _and_ wel vndersta_n_d, before it come in
presse, that the same is lawfull. Also, I am credibly informed that
the chiefe Proctors of manye of these houses, that seldome trauel
abroad the_m_ selues, but haue their factors to gather for the_m_,
which looke very slenderly to the impotent and miserable creatures
committed to their charge, _and_ die for want of cherishing; wheras
they _and_ their wiues are wel cra_m_med _and_ clothed, _and_ will haue
of the best. And the founders of euery such house, or the chiefe of
the parishe wher they be, woulde better sée vnto these Proctors, that
they might do their duty, they should be wel spoken of here, and in
the world to come abou_n_dantly therefore rewarded. I had of late an
honest man, and of good wealthe, repayred to my house to common wyth
me aboute certeyne affaires. I inuited the same to dinner, and dinner
beinge done, I demaunded of hym some newes of these[90] parties were
hee dwelte. “Thankes be to God, syr,” (saith he); “all is well _and_
good now.” “Now!” (quoth I) “this same ‘nowe’ [leaf 13] declareth
_tha_t some things of late hath not bene wel.” “Yes, syr,” (q_uoth_
he) “the[91] matter is not great. I had thought I should haue bene wel
beaten within this seuenth night.” “How so?” (quoth I). “Mary, syr,”
sayd he, “I am Counstable for fault of a better, and was commaunded
by the Iusticer to watch. The watch being set, I toke an honest man,
one of my neighbors, with me, and went vp to the ende of the towne as
far as the spittle house, at which house I heard a great noyse, and,
drawing nere, stode close vnder the wall, and this was at one of the
clocke after midnight.” {46} Where he harde swearinge, pratinge, and
wagers laying, and the pot apase walkinge, and xl. pence gaged vpon a
matche of wrastling, pitching of the barre, and casting of the sledge.
And out they goe, in a fustian fume, into the backe syde, where was a
great Axiltrye,[92] and there fell to pitching of the barre, being thre
to thre. The Moone dyd shine bright, the Counstable with his neighboure
myght see and beholde all that was done. And howe the wyfe of the house
was rostinge of a Pyg, whyle her gestes were in their matche. At the
laste they coulde not agree vpon a caste, and fell at wordes, and from
wordes to blowes. The Counstable with his[93] fellowe runnes vnto them,
to parte them, and in the partinge lyckes a drye blowe or two. Then
the noyse increased; the Counstable woulde haue had them to[94] the
stockes. The wyfe of the house runnes out with her goodman to intreat
the Counstable for her gestes, and leaues the Pyg at the fyre alone.
In commeth two or thrée of the next neighboures, beinge waked wyth
this noise, and into the house they come, and fynde none therein, but
the Pygge well rosted, and carieth the same awaye wyth them, spyte and
all, with suche breade and drinke also as stoode vpon the table. When
the goodman and the goodwyfe of the house hadde intreated and pacified
the Counstable, shewinge vnto him that they were Proctors and Factores
all of Spyttell houses, and that they taryed there but to breake theyr
fast, and woulde ryde awaye immediatelye after, for they had farre to
goe, and therefore mente to ryde so earlye. And comminge into their
house agayne, fyndinge the Pygge wyth bread and drincke all gonne, made
a greate exclamation, for they knewe not who had the same.

¶ The Counstable returning and hearinge the lamentable wordes of the
good wyfe, howe she had lost both meate and drinke, and sawe it was
so in deede, hée laughed in his sleue, and commaunded her to dresse
no more at vnlawfull houres for any gestes. For hée thought it better
bestowed vppon those smell feastes his poore {47} neighboures then
vppon suche sturdye Lubbares. The nexte mornynge betymes the [leaf 13,
back] spitte and pottes were sette at the Spittle house doore for the
owner. Thus were these Factours begyled of theyr breakefast, and one
of them hadde well beaten an other; “And, by my trouth,” (quoth thys
Counstable) “I was gladde when I was well ryd of them.” “Why,” quoth
I, “coulde the[y] caste the barre and sledge well?” “I wyll tell you,
syr,” (quoth hée) “you knowe there hath bene manye games this Sommer.
I thinke verely, that if some of these Lubbars had bene there, and
practysed amongest others, I beleue they woulde haue carryed awaye the
beste games. For they were so stronge and sturdye, that I was not able
to stande in their handes.” “Well” (quoth I) “at these games you speake
of, both legges and armes bée tryed.” “Yea,” quoth this offycer, “they
bée wycked men. I haue séene some of them sithens wyth cloutes bounde
aboute theyr legges, and haltynge wyth their staffe in their handes.
Wherefore some of theym, by GOD, bée nought all.”

   [Footnote 87: B. inserts _a_]

   [Footnote 88: B. omits _in_]

   [Footnote 89: Probably the reason why “in print” came to be
   considered synonymous with “correct.” See 2 Gent. of Verona, act ii.
   sc. 1, 175.]

   [Footnote 90: _those._ B.]

   [Footnote 91: B. omits _the_]

   [Footnote 92:

     Castyng_e_ of axtre & eke of ston,
     Sofere hem þere to vse non;
     Bal, and barres, and suche play,
     Out of chycheȝorde put a-way.—
                             Myrc, p. 11, l. 334–7 (E. E. T. Soc. 1868)]

   [Footnote 93: Printed _hts_]

   [Footnote 94: _to to._ B.]


¶ A ABRAHAM MAN. Cap. 9.

++THese Abrahom men be those that fayne themselues to haue beene mad,
and haue bene kept eyther in Bethelem or in some other pryson a good
tyme, _and_ not one amongst twenty that euer came in pryson for any
such cause: yet wyll they saye howe pitiously and most extreamely
they haue bene beaten, and dealt with all. Some of these be merye and
verye pleasant, they wyll daunce and sing; some others be as colde and
reasonable to talke wyth all. These begge money; eyther when they come
at Farmours howses they wyll demaunde Baken, eyther chéese, or wooll,
or any thinge that is worthe money. And if they espye small company
within, they wyll with fierce countenau_n_ce demau_n_d some what. Where
for feare the maydes wyll geue theym largely to be ryd of theym.

++{ ¶ If they maye conuenyently come by any cheate, they wyl picke
and steale, as the v[p]right man or Roge, poultrey or } lynnen. And
all wemen that wander bée at their commaundemente. Of all that euer I
saw of this kynde, one naminge him selfe Stradlynge is the craftiest
and moste dyssemblyngest Knaue. {48} Hée is able wyth hys tounge and
vsage to deceaue and abuse the wysest man that is. And surely for the
proporcion of his body, with euery member there vnto appertayninge, it
cannot be a mended. But as the prouerbe is “God hath done his part.”
Thys Stradlyng sayth he was the Lord Sturtons man; and when he was
executed, for very pensiuenes of mynde, [leaf 14] he fell out of his
wytte, and so continued a yeare after and more; and that with the very
gréefe and feare, he was taken wyth a marueilous palsey, that both head
and handes wyll shake when he talketh, with anye and that a pase or
fast, where by he is much pytied, and getteth greately. And if I had
not demaunded of others, bothe men and women, that commonly walketh
as he doth, and knowen by them his déepe dissimylation, I neuer hadde
vnderstand the same. And thus I end wyth these kynde of vacabondes.


¶ A FRESHE WATER MARINER OR WHIPIACKE. Cap. 10.

++THese Freshwater Mariners, their shipes were drowned in the playne
of Salisbery. These kynde of Caterpillers counterfet great losses on
the sea; these bée some Western men, and most bée Irishe men. These
wyll runne about the countrey wyth a counterfet lycence, fayninge
either shypwracke, or spoyled by Pyrates, neare the coaste of Cornwall
or Deuonshyre, and set a lande at some hauen towne there, hauynge a
large and formall wrytinge, as is aboue sayd, with the names and seales
of suche men of worshyppe, at the leaste foure or fiue, as dwelleth
neare or next to the place where they fayne their landinge. And neare
to those shieres wyll they not begge, vntyll they come into Wylshyre,
Hamshyre, Barkeshyre, Oxfordshyre, Harfordshyre, Middelsex, and so[95]
to London, and downe by the ryuer to séeke for their shyppe and goods
that they neuer hade: then passe they through Surrey, Sossex, by the
sea costes, and so into Kent, demaunding almes to bring them home to
their country.

¶ Some tyme they counterfet the seale of the Admiraltie. I haue diuers
tymes taken a waye from them their lycences, of both sortes, wyth
suche money as they haue gathered, and haue confiscated the same to
the pouerty nigh adioyninge to me. And they wyll not {49} beelonge
with out another. For at anye good towne they wyll renewe the same.
Once wyth muche threatninge and faire promises, I required to knowe of
one companye who made their lycence. And they sweare that they bought
the same at Portsmouth, of a Mariner there, and it cost them[96] two
shillinges; with such warrantes to be so good and efectuall, that if
any of the best men of lawe, or learned, aboute London, should peruse
the same, they weare able to fynde no faute there with, but would
assuredly allow the same.

   [Footnote 95: Omitted in 1573.]

   [Footnote 96: _him_ (_sic_). B.]

{50}

[Headnote: HARMON. N. BLUNT, N. GENYNGES.]

[Sidenote: [leaf 14, back][97]]

 [Illustration: A vpright man
   Nicolas Blunt.
   The coūterfet Cranke
   Nicolas Genynges]

   These two pyctures, lyuely set out,
 One bodye and soule, god send him more grace.
   This mounstrous desembelar, a Cranke all about.
 Vncomly couetinge, of eche to imbrace,
   Money or wares, as he made his race.
 And sometyme a marynar, and a saruinge man,
   Or els an artificer, as he would fayne than.
 Such shyftes he vsed, beinge well tryed,
   A bandoninge labour, tyll he was espyed.
 Conding punishment, for his dissimulation,
   He sewerly receaued with much declination[98]

   [Footnote 97: This page is not in Bodley ed.]

   [Footnote 98: 1573 reads _exclamation_]

{51}

[Sidenote: [leaf 15]]


¶ A COUNTERFET CRANKE. Cap. 11.

++THese that do counterfet the Cranke be yong knaues and yonge harlots,
that depely dissemble the falling sicknes. For the Cranke in their
language is the falling euyll. I haue séene some of these with fayre
writinges testimoniall, with the names and seales of some men of
worshyp in Shropshyre, and in other Shieres farre of, that I haue well
knowne, and haue taken the same from them. Many of these do go without
writinges, and wyll go halfe naked, and looke most pitiously. And if
any clothes be geuen them, the[y][99] immediatly sell the same, for
weare it they wyll not, because they would bée the more pitied, and
weare fylthy clothes on their heades, and neuer go without a péece of
whyte sope about them, which, if they sée cause or present gains, they
wyll priuely conuey the same into their mouth, and so worke the same
there, that they wyll fome as it were a Boore, _and_ maruelously for a
tyme torment them selues; and thus deceiue they the common people, and
gayne much. These haue commonly their harlots as the other.

Apon Alhollenday in the morning last Anno domini. 1566, or my[100]
booke was halfe printed, I meane the first impression, there came
earely in the morninge a Counterfet Cranke vnder my lodgynge at the
whyte Fryares, wythin the cloyster, in a lyttle yard or coorte, where
aboutes laye two or thre great Ladyes, beyng without the lyberties of
London, where by he hoped for the greatter gayne; this Cranke there
lamentably lamentinge and pitefully crying to be releued, declared to
dyuers their hys paynfull and miserable dysease. I being rysen and not
halfe ready, harde his dolfull wordes and rufull mornings, hering him
name the falling sicknes, thought assuredlye to my selfe that hée was a
depe desemblar; so, comminge out at a sodayne, and beholdinge his vgly
and yrksome attyre, hys lothsome and horyble countinance, it made me in
a meruelous parplexite what to thinke of hym, whether it were fayned
or trouth,—for after this manner went he: he was naked from the wast
vpward, sauyng he had a old Ierken[101] of leather patched, and that
was lose[102] about hym, that all his bodye laye out bare; a filthy
foule cloth he ware on his head, {52} being cut for the purpose,
hauing a narowe place to put out his face, with a bauer made to trusse
vp his beard, and a stryng that tyed the same downe close aboute his
necke; with an olde felt hat which he styll caried in his hande to
receaue the charytye and deuotion of the people, for that woulde he
hold out from hym; hauyng hys face, from the eyes downe ward, all smerd
with freshe bloud, [leaf 15, back] as thoughe he had new falen, and byn
tormented wyth his paynefull panges,—his Ierken beinge all be rayde
with durte and myre, and hys hatte and hosen also, as thoughe hée hadde
wallowed in the myre: sewerly the sighte was monstrous and terreble.
I called hym vnto me, and demaunded of hym what he ayled. “A, good
maister,” quoth he, “I haue the greuous and paynefull dyseas called
the falynge syckenes.” “Why,” quoth I, “howe commeth thy Ierken, hose,
and hat so be rayd with durte and myre, and thy skyn also?” “A, good
master, I fell downe on the backesyde here in the fowle lane harde by
the watersyde; and there I laye all most all night, and haue bled all
most all the bloude owte in my bodye.” It raynde that morninge very
fast; and whyle I was thus talkinge with hym, a honest poore woman
that dwelt thereby brought hym a fayre lynnen cloth, and byd hym wype
his face therewyth; and there beinge a tobbe standing full of rayne
water, offered to geue hym some in a dishe that he might make hym
selfe cleane: hée refuseth[103] the same. “Why dost thou so?” quoth I.
“A, syr,” sayth he, “yf I shoulde washe my selfe, I shoulde fall to
bléedinge a freshe againe, and then I should not stop my selfe:” these
wordes made me the more to suspecte hym.

Then I asked of hym where he was borne, what is name was, how longe
he had this dysease, and what tyme he had ben here about London, and
in what place. “Syr,” saythe he, “I was borne at Leycestar, my name
is Nycholas Genings,[104] and I haue had this falling sycknes viij.
yeares, and I can get no remedy for the same; for I haue it by kinde,
my father had it and my friendes before me; and I haue byne these two
yeares here about London, and a yeare and a halfe in bethelem.” “Why,
wast thou out of thy wyttes?” quoth I. “Ye, syr, that I was.”

   [Footnote 99: _they._ B.]

   [Footnote 100: _my my._ B.]

   [Footnote 101: _gyrken_ (_et seqq._). B.]

   [Footnote 102: _loose._ B.]

   [Footnote 103: _refused._ B.]

   [Footnote 104: _Gennins._ B.]

{53}

“What is the Kepars name of the house?” “Hys name is,” quoth hée, “Iohn
Smith.” “Then,” quoth I, “hée must vnderstande of thy dysease; yf thou
hadest the same for the tyme thou wast there, he knoweth it well.” “Ye,
not onely he, but all the house bée syde,” quoth this Cranke; “for I
came thens but within this fortnight.” I had stande so longe reasoning
the matter wyth him that I was a cold, and went into my chamber and
made me ready, and commaunded my seruant to repayre to bethelem, and
bringe me true worde from the keper there whether anye suche man hath
byn with him as a prisoner hauinge the dysease aforesayd, and gaue
hym a note of his name and the kepars also: my seruant, retorninge to
my lodginge, dyd assure me that neither was there euer anye such man
there, nether yet anye keper of any suche name; but hée that was there
keper, he sent me hys name in writing, afferming that hee letteth no
man depart from hym vnlesse he be fet a waye by [leaf 16] hys fréendes,
and that none that came from hym beggeth aboute the Citye. Then I sent
for the Printar of this booke, and shewed hym of this dyssembling
Cranke, and how I had sent to Bethelem to vnderstand the trouth[105],
and what aunsweare I receaued againe, requiringe hym that I might haue
some seruant of his to watche him faithfully that daye, that I might
vnderstand trustely to what place he woulde repaire at night vnto,
and thether I promised to goe my selfe to sée their order, and that
I woulde haue hym to associate me thether: hée gladly graunted to
my request, and sent two boyes, that both diligently and vygelantly
accomplisht the charge geuen them, and found the same Cranke aboute the
Temple, where about the most parte of the daye hée begged, vnlesse it
weare about xii. of the clocke he wente on the backesyde of Clementes
Ine without Temple barre: there is a lane that goeth into the Feldes;
there hee renewed his face againe wyth freshe bloud, which he caried
about hym in a bladder, and dawbed on freshe dyrte vpon his Ierken,
hat, and hoson.

¶ And so came backe agayne vnto the Temple, and sometyme to the
Watersyde, and begged of all that passed bye: the boyes behelde howe
some gaue grotes, some syxe pens, some gaue more; {54} for hée looked
so ougleie and yrksomlye, that euerye one pytied his miserable case
that beehelde hym. To bee shorte, there he passed all the daye tyll
night approched; and when it began to bée some what dark, he went to
the water syde and toke a Skoller,[106] and was sette ouer the Water
into Saincte Georges feldes, contrarye to my expectatian; for I had
thought he woulde haue gonne into Holborne or to Saynt Gylles in the
felde; but these boyes, with Argues and Lynces eyes, set sewre watche
vppon him, and the one tooke a bote and followed him, and the other
went backe to tell his maister.

   [Footnote 105: _trough._ B.]

   [Footnote 106: 1573 reads _skolloer_]

The boye that so folowed hym by Water, had no money to pay for his Bote
hyre, but layde his Penner and his Ynkhorne to gage for a penny; and
by that tyme the boye was sette ouer, his Maister, wyth all celeryte,
hadde taken a Bote and followed hym apase: now hadde they styll a
syght of the Cranke, wych crossed ouer the felddes towardes Newyngton,
and thether he went, and by that tyme they came thether it was very
darke: the Prynter hadde there no acquaintance, nether any kynde of
weapon about hym, nether knewe he[107] how farre the Cranke woulde
goe, becawse hee then suspected that they dogged hym of purposse; he
there stayed hym, and called for the Counstable, whyche came forthe
dylygentelye to inquyre what the matter was: thys zelous Pryntar
charged thys offycer [leaf 16, back] wyth hym as a malefactor and a
dessemblinge vagabonde—the Counstable woulde haue layde him all night
in the Cage that stode in the streate. “Naye,” saythe this pitifull
Prynter, “I praye you haue him into your house; for this is lyke to be
a cold nyght, and he is naked: you kepe a vytellinge house; let him
be well cherished this night, for he is well hable to paye for the
same. I knowe well his gaynes hath byn great to day, and your house
is a sufficient pryson for the tyme, and we wil there serche hym.”
The Counstable agreed there vnto: they had him in, and caused him to
washe him selfe: that donne, they demaunded what money he had about
hym. Sayth this Cranke, “So God helpe me, I haue but xii. pence,” and
plucked oute the same of a lytle pursse. “Why, haue you no more?” quoth
they. “No,” sayth this Cranke, “as God shall saue my soule at the day
of iudgement.” “We must se more,” quoth they,{55} and began to stryp
hym. Then he plucked out a nother purse, wherin was xi. pens. “Toushe,”
sayth[108] thys Prynter, “I must see more.” Saythe this Cranke, “I
pray God I bée dampned both body[109] and soule yf I haue anye more.”
“No,” sayth thys Prynter, “thou false knaue, here is my boye that dyd
watche thée all this daye, and sawe when such men gaue the péeses of
sixe pens, grotes, and other money; and yet thou hast shewed vs none
but small money.” When thys Cranke hard this, and the boye vowinge it
to his face, he relented, and plucked out another pursse, where in was
eyght shyllings and od money; so had they in the hole _tha_t he had
begged that day xiij. shillings iii. [110]§pens halfepeny§. Then they
strypt him starke naked, and as many as sawe him sayd they neuer sawe
hansommer man, wyth a yellowe flexen beard[111], and fayre skynned,
withoute anye spot or greffe. Then the good wyfe of the house fet her
goodmans[112] olde clocke, _and_ caused the same to be cast about him,
because the sight shoulde not abash her shamefast maydens, nether loth
her squaymysh sight.

   [Footnote 107: Omitted in 1573 edit.]

++{ Thus he set[113] downe at the Chemnes end, and called for a potte
of Béere, and dranke of a quarte at a draft, and } called for another,
and so the thyrde, that one had bene sufficient for any resonable
man, the Drynke was so stronge.[114] I my selfe, the next morninge,
tasted thereof; but let the reader iudge what and howe much he would
haue dronke and he had bene out of feare. Then when they had thus
wrong water out of a flint in spoyli_n_g him of his euyl gotten goods,
his passi_n_g pens[115], _and_ fleting trashe, The printer with this
offecer were in gealy gealowsit[116], and deuised to search a barne
for some roges and vpright men, a quarter of a myle from the house,
that stode a lone in the fieldes, and wente out about their busines,
leauing this cranke alone with his wyfe and maydens: this crafty
Cra_n_ke, espying al gon, requested _th_e good wife that [leaf 17] hee
might goe out on the backesyde to make water, and to exonerate his
paunche: she bad hym drawe the lache of the dore and goe out, neither
thinkinge or mistrusting he {56} would haue gon awaye naked; but, to
conclude, when hee was out, he cast awaye the cloke, and, as naked
as euer he was borne, he ran away, [117]*that he could[118] neuer be
hard of [119]†againe.* Now† the next morning betimes, I went vnto
Newington, to vndersta_n_d what was done, because I had word or it was
day that there my printer was; and at my comming thether, I hard the
hole circumstaunce, as I aboue haue wrytten; and I, seing the matter
so fall out, tooke order with the chiefe of the parish that this xiij.
shyllings _and_ iij. [120]‡pens halfpeny‡ might the next daye be
equally distributed, by their good discrecions, to the pouertie of the
same parishe,[121] and so it was done.

   [Footnote 108: _sayih_ (_sic_). B.]

   [Footnote 109: printed _dody_]

   [Footnote 110: §–§ _d. ob._ B.]

   [Footnote 111: _bede._ B.]

   [Footnote 112: _mans._ B.]

   [Footnote 113: 1573 inserts _him_; _sette hym_. B.]

   [Footnote 114: 1573 inserts _that_]

   [Footnote 115: _pence._ B.]

   [Footnote 116: The 1573 edition reads _ioly ioylitie; gelowsy_. B.]

   [Footnote 117: *–* The 1573 edition finishes the sentence
   thus:—“ouer the fields to his own house, as hée afterwards said.”]

   [Footnote 118: _woulde._ B.]

   [Footnote 119: †–† _again til now._ B.]

   [Footnote 120: ‡–‡ _d. ob._ B.]

   [Footnote 121: The 1573 edition continues thus:—“wherof this crafty
   Cranke had part him selfe, for he had both house and wife in the
   same parishe, as after you shall heare. But this lewde lewterar
   could not laye his bones to labour, hauing got once the tast of
   this lewd lasy lyfe, for al this fayr admonition, but deuised other
   suttel sleights to maintaine his ydell liuing, and so craftely
   clothed him selfe in mariners apparel, and associated him self with
   an other of his companions: they hauing both mariners apparel, went
   abroad to aske charity of _th_e people, fayning they hadde loste
   their shippe with all their goods by casualty on the seas, wherewith
   they gayned much. This crafty Cranke, fearinge to be mistrusted,
   fell to another kinde of begging, as bad or worse, and apparelled
   himselfe very well with a fayre black fréese cote, a new payre of
   whyte hose, a fyne felt hat on his head, a shert of flaunders worke
   esteemed to be worth xvi. shillings; and vpon newe yeares day came
   againe into the whyt Fryers to beg: the printer, hauing occasion
   to go that ways, not thinking of this Cranke, by chaunce met with
   him, who asked his charitie for Gods sake. The printer, vewing him
   well, did mistrust him to be the counterfet Cranke which deceuied
   him vpon Alhollen daye at night, demaunded of whence he was and what
   was his name, ‘Forsoth,’ saith he, ‘my name is Nicolas Genings, and
   I came from Lecester to séeke worke, and I am a hat-maker by my
   occupation, and all my money is spent, and if I coulde get money to
   paye for my lodging this night, I would seke work to morowe amongst
   the hatters.’ The printer perceiuing his depe dissimulation, putting
   his hand into his purse, seeming to giue him some money, and with
   fayre allusions brought him into the stréete, where he charged the
   constable with him, affirminge him to be the counterfet Cranke
   that ranne away vpon Alholon daye last. The constable being very
   loth to medle with him, but the printer knowing him and his depe
   disceit, desyred he mought be brought before the debutie of the
   ward, which straight was accomplished, which whe_n_ he came before
   the debuty, he demaunded of him of whence he was and what was his
   name; he answered as before he did vnto _th_e printer: the debutie
   asked the printer what he woulde laye vnto hys charge; he answered
   and aleged him to be a vagabond and depe deceyuer of the people,
   and the counterfet Crank that ran away vpon Alhallon day last from
   the constable of Newington and him, and requested him earnestly
   to send him to ward: the debuty thinking him to be deceiued, but
   neuerthelesse laid his co_m_maundement vpon him, so that the printer
   should beare his charges if he could not iustifie it; he agréed
   thereunto. And so he and the constable went to cary him to the
   Counter; and as they were going vnder Ludgate, this crafty Cranke
   toke his héeles and ran down the hill as fast as he could dryve,
   the constable and the printer after him as fast as they coulde; but
   the printer of _th_e twayn being lighter of fote, ouertoke him at
   fleete bridge, and with strong hand caried him to the counter, and
   safely deliuered him. In _th_e morow _th_e printer sent his boy that
   stripped him vpon Alhalon day at night to view him, because he would
   be sure, which boy knew him very well: this Crank confessed unto
   the debuty, _tha_t he had hosted the night before in Kent stréet in
   Southwarke, at the sign of the Cock, which thing to be true, the
   printer sente to know, and found him a lyer; but further inquiring,
   at length found out his habitation, dwelling in maister Hilles
   rentes, hauinge a pretye house, well stuffed, with a fayre ioyne
   table, and a fayre cubbard garnished with peuter, hauing an old
   auncient woman to his wyfe. The printer being sure therof, repaired
   vnto the Counter, and rebuked him for his beastly behaviour, and
   told him of his false fayning, willed him to confesse it, and
   aske forgivenes: he perceyued him to know his depe dissimulation,
   relented, and confessed all his disceit; and so remayning in the
   counter thrée dayes, was removed to Brydwel, where he was strypt
   starke naked, and his ougly attyre put vpo_n_ him before the
   maisters thereof, who wondered greatly at his dissimulation: for
   which offence he stode vpon the pillery in Cheapsyde, both in his
   ougly and handsome attyre. And after that went in the myll whyle his
   ougly picture was a drawing; and then was whypped at a cartes tayle
   through London, and his displayd banner caried before him vnto his
   own dore, and so backe to Brydewell again, and there remayned for a
   tyme, and at length let at libertie, on that condicio_n_ he would
   proue an honest man, and labour truly to get his liuing. And his
   picture remayneth in Bridewell for a monyment.”—See, also, _post_,
   p. 89.]

{57}


¶ A DOMMERAR. Cap. 12.

++THese Dommerars are leud and most subtyll people: the moste part of
these are Walch men, and wyll neuer speake, vnlesse they haue extreame
punishment, but wyll gape, and with a maruelous force wyll hold downe
their toungs doubled, groning for your charyty, and holding vp their
handes full pitiously, so that with their déepe dissimulation they get
very much. There are of these many, _and_ but one that I vnderstand
of hath lost his toung in dede. Hauing on a time occasion to ride to
Dartforde, to speake with a priest there, who maketh all kinde of
conserues very well, and vseth stilling of waters; And repayringe to
his house, I founde a Dommerar at his doore, and the priest him selfe
perusinge his[122] lycence, vnder the seales and hands of certayne
worshypfull men, had[123] thought the same to be good and effectuall.
I taking the same writing, and {58} reading it ouer, and noting the
seales, founde one of the seales like vnto a seale that I had aboute
me, which seale I bought besides Charing crosse, that I was out of
doubte it was none of those Gentlemens seales that had sub[s]cribed.
And hauing vnderstanding before of their peuish practises, made me to
conceaue that all was forged and nought. I made the more hast home;
for well I wyst that he would and must of force passe through the
parysh where I dwelt; for there was no other waye for hym. And comminge
homewarde, I found them in the towne, accordinge to my expectation,
where they were staid; for there was a Pallyarde associate with the
Dommerar and partaker of his gaynes, whyche Pallyarde I sawe not at
Dartford. The stayers of them was a gentleman called[124] _Chayne_, and
a seruant of my Lord Kéepers, cald _Wostestowe_, which was [leaf 17,
back] the chiefe causer of the staying of them, being a Surgien, _and_
cunning in his science, had séene the lyke practises, and, as he sayde,
hadde caused one to speake afore that was dome[125]. It was my chaunce
to come at the begynning of the matter. “Syr,” (quoth this Surgien)
“I am bold here to vtter some part of my cunning. I trust” (quoth he)
“you shall se a myracle wrought anon. For I once” (quoth he) “made a
dumme man to speake.” Quoth I, “you are wel met, and somwhat you haue
preuented me; for I had thought to haue done no lesse or they hadde
passed this towne. For I well knowe their writing is fayned, and they
depe dissemblers.” The Surgien made hym gape, _and_ we could sée but
halfe a toung. I required the Surgien to put hys fynger in his mouth,
_and_ to pull out his toung, and so he dyd, not withstanding he held
strongly a prety whyle; at the length he pluckt out the same, to the
great admiration of many that stode by. Yet when we sawe his tounge,
hée would neither speake nor yet could heare. Quoth I to the Surgien,
“knit two of his fyngers to gether, and thrust a stycke betwene them,
and rubbe the same vp and downe a lytle whyle, and for my lyfe hée
speaketh by and by.” “Sir,” quoth this Surgien, “I praye you let me
practise and[126] other waye.” I was well contented to sée the same.
He had him into a house, and tyed a halter aboute the wrestes of his
handes, and hoysed him vp ouer a beame, and {59} there dyd let him
hang a good while: at _th_e length, for very paine he required for Gods
sake to let him down. So he that was both deafe and dume coulde in
short tyme both heare and speake. Then I tooke that money I could find
in his pursse, and distributed the same to the poore people dwelling
there, whiche was xv. pence halfepeny, being all that we coulde finde.
That done, and this merry myracle madly made, I sent them with my
seruaunt to the next Iusticer, where they preached on the Pyllery for
want of a Pulpet, and were well whypped, and none dyd bewayle them.

   [Footnote 122: _of his._ B.]

   [Footnote 123: _which priest had._ B.]

   [Footnote 124: _cal-_ (_sic_). B.]

   [Footnote 125: _dumme._ B.]

   [Footnote 126: So printed. _an._ B.]

[Headnote: HARMON. A PRYGGE.]


¶ A DRONKEN TINCKAR. Cap. 13.

++THese dronken Tynckers, called also Prygges, be beastly people, _and_
these yong knaues be _th_e wurst. These neuer go w_i_t_h_ out their
Doxes, and yf their women haue anye thing about them, as apparell or
lynnen, that is worth the selling, they laye the same to gage, or sell
it out right, for bene bowse at their bowsing ken. And full sone wyll
they bée wearye of them, and haue a newe. When they happen one woorke
at any good house, their Doxes lynger alofe, and tarry for them in
some corner; and yf he taryeth longe from her, then she knoweth [leaf
18] he hath worke, and walketh neare, and sitteth downe by him. For
besydes money, he looketh for meate and drinke for doinge his dame
pleasure. For yf she haue thrée or foure holes in a pan, hee wyll make
as many more for spedy gaine. And if he se any old ketle, chafer, or
pewter dish abroad in the yard where he worketh, hée quicklye snappeth
the same vp, and in to the booget it goeth round. Thus they lyue with
deceite.

++{ I was crediblye informed, by such as could well tell, that one of
these tipling Tinckers w_i_t_h_ his dogge robbed by the } high way
iiij. Pallyards and two Roges, six persons together, and tooke from
them aboue foure pound in ready money, _and_ hide him after in a thicke
woode a daye or two, and so escaped vntaken. Thus with picking and
stealing, mingled with a lytle worke for a coulour, they passe their
time. {60}


¶ A SWADDER, OR PEDLER. Cap. 14.

++THese Swadders and Pedlers bee not all euyll, but of an indifferent
behauiour. These stand in great awe of the vpright men, for they haue
often both wares and money of them. But for as much as they séeke gayne
vnlawfully against the lawes and statutes of this noble realme, they
are well worthy to be registred among the number of vacabonds; and
vndoubtedly I haue hadde some of them brought before me, when I was in
commission of the peace, as malefactors, for bryberinge and stealinge.
And nowe of late it is a greate practes of the vpright man, when he
hath gotten a botye, to bestowe the same vpon a packefull of wares,
and so goeth a time for his pleasure, because he would lyue with out
suspition.


¶ A IARKE MAN, AND A PATRICO. Cap. 15.

++FOR as much as these two names, a Iarkeman and a Patrico, bée in the
old briefe of vacabonds, and set forth as two kyndes of euil doers, you
shall vnderstande that a Iarkeman hathe his name of a Iarke, which is
a seale in their Language, as one should make writinges and set seales
for lycences and pasporte[127]. And for trouth there is none that goeth
aboute the countrey of them that can eyther wryte so good and fayre
a hand, either indite so learnedly, as I haue sene _and_ handeled a
number of them: but haue the same made in good townes where they come,
as what can not be hadde for money, as the prouerbe sayth (“_Omnia
venalia Rome_”), and manye hath confessed the same to me. [leaf 18,
back] Now, also, there is a Patrico, and not a Patriarcho[128], whiche
in their language is a priest that should make mariages tyll death dyd
depart; but they haue none such, I am well assured; for I put you out
of doubt that not one amo[n]gest a hundreth of them are maried, for
they take lechery for no sinne, but naturall fellowshyp and good lyking
loue: so that I wyll not blot my boke with these two that be not.

   [Footnote 127: _pasportes._ B.]

   [Footnote 128: _Patriarch._ B.]

{61}


¶ A DEMAUNDER FOR GLYMMAR. Cap. 16.

++THese Demaunders for glymmar be for the moste parte wemen; for
glymmar, in their language, is fyre. These goe with fayned[129]
lycences and counterfayted wrytings, hauing the hands and seales of
suche gentlemen as dwelleth nere to the place where they fayne them
selues to haue bene burnt, and their goods consumed with fyre. They
wyll most lamentable[130] demaunde your charitie, _and_ wyll quicklye
shed salte teares, they be so tender harted. They wyll neuer begge in
that Shiere where their losses (as they say) was. Some of these goe
with slates at their backes, which is a shéete to lye in a nightes. The
vpright men be very familiare with these kynde of wemen, and one of
them helpes an other.

¶ A Demaunder for glymmar came vnto a good towne in Kente, to aske
the charitie of the people, hauinge a fayned lycens aboute her that
declared her misfortune by fyre, donne in Somerset shyre, walkinge with
a wallet on her shoulders, where in shée put the deuotion of suche as
hadde no money to geue her; that is to saye, Malte, woll, baken, bread,
and cheese; and alwayes, as the same was full, so was it redye money
to her, when she emptyed the same, where so euer shee trauelede: thys
harlot was, as they terme it, snowte fayre, and had an vpright man or
two alwayes attendinge on her watche (whyche is on her parson), and yet
so circumspecte, that they woulde neuer bee séene in her company in
any good towne, vnlesse it were in smale vyllages where typling houses
weare, eyther trauelinge to gether by the hygh wayes; but _th_e troth
is, by report, she would wekely be worth vi. or seuen shyllinges with
her begging and bycherye. This glimmering Morte, repayringe to an Ine
in _th_e sayde towne where dwelt a wydow of fyftie wynter olde of good
welth; but she had an vnthryftye sonne, whom she vsed as a chamberlaine
to attend gestes when they repared to her house: this amerous man,
be holdinge with ardante eyes thys[131] glymmeringe glauncer, was
presentlye pyteouslye persed to the hart, and lewdlye longed to bée
clothed vnder her lyuerye; and bestowinge [leaf 19] a {62} fewe
fonde wordes with her, vnderstode strayte that she woulde be easlye
perswaded to lykinge lechery, and as a man mased, mused howe to attayne
to his purpose, for[132] he hadde no money. Yet consideringe wyth hym
selfe that wares woulde bée welcome where money wanted, hée went with
a wannion to his mothers chamber, and there sekinge aboute for odde
endes, at length founde a lytle whystell of syluer that his mother dyd
vse customablye to weare on, and had forgot the same for haste that
morninge, and offeres the same closely to this manerly marian, that yf
she would mete hym on the backesyde of the towne and curteously kys
him with out constraynt, she shoulde bée mystres thereof, and it weare
much better. “Well,” sayth she, “you are a wanton;” and beholdinge
the whystell, was farther in loue there with then rauysht wyth his
person, and agred to mete him presently, and to accomplyshe his fonde
fancy:—to be short, and not tedyous, a quarter of a myle from the
towne, he merely toke measure of her vnder a bawdye bushe; so she gaue
hym that she had not, and he receiued that he coulde not; and taking
leue of eche other with a curteous kysse, she plesantly passed forth
one her iornaye, _and_ this vntoward lycorous chamberlayne repayred
home warde. But or these two tortylles tooke there leue, the good wyfe
myssed her whystell, and sent one of her maydenes in to her chamber
for the same, and being long sawght for, none coulde be founde; her
mystres hering that, diligent search was made for the same; and that it
was taken awaye, began to suspecte her vnblessed babe, and demaunded
of her maydens whether none of them sawe her sonne in her chamber that
morning, and one of them aunswered that she sawe him not there, but
comming from thens: then had she ynough, for well she wyste that he had
the same, and sent for him, but he could not be founde. Then she caused
her hosteler, in whome she had better affyaunce in for his trouth,—and
yet not one amongst twenty of them but haue well left there honesty,
(As I here a great sorte saye)—to come vnto her, whiche attended to
knowe her pleasure. “Goe, seke out,” saythe she, “my vntowarde sonne,
and byd hym come speake with me.” “I sawe him go out,” saythe he,
“halfe an houre {63} sithens one the backesyde. I hadde thought you
hadde sent him of your arrante.” “I sent him not,” quoth she; “goe,
loke him out.”

   [Footnote 129: _faynen._ B.]

   [Footnote 130: _lamentably._ B.]

   [Footnote 131: _beholding this._ B.]

   [Footnote 132: _but._ B.]

¶ This hollowe hosteler toke his staffe in his necke, and trodged out
apase that waye he sawe him before go, and had some vnderstanding, by
one of the maydens, that his mistres had her whistell stolen _and_
suspected her sonne; and he had not gone farre but that he espyed him
comming homeward alone, and, meting him, axed where he had ben. [leaf
19, back] “Where haue I bene?” q_uoth_ he, and began to smyle. “Now, by
the mas, thou hast bene at some baudy banquet.” “Thou hast euen tolde
trouth,” q_uoth_ thys chamberlayne. “Sewerly,” q_uoth_ this hosteler,
“thou haddest the same woman that begged at our house to day, for _th_e
harmes she had by fyre: where is she?” q_uoth_ he. “She is almost a
myle by this tyme,” q_uoth_ this chamberlayne. “Where is my mystres
whystell?” quoth this hosteler; “for I am well assured that thou
haddest it, and I feare me thou hast geuen it to that harlot.” “Why! is
it myssed?” quoth this chamberlayne. “Yea,” q_uoth_ this hosteler, and
shewed him all the hole circumstaunce, what was both sayde and thought
on him for the thing. “Well, I wyl tell the,” quoth this Chamberlayne.
“I wylbe playne with the. I had it in dede, and haue geue_n_ the same
to this woman, and I praye the make the best of it, and helpe nowe
to excuse the matter, and yet surely and thou wouldest take so much
payne for me as to ouer take her, (for she goeth but softly, and is
not yet farre of) and take the same from her, and I am euer thyne
assured fréende.” “Why, then, go with me,” quoth this hostler. “Nay, in
faythe,” quoth this Chamberlayne; “what is frear then gift? and I hadde
prety pastime for the same.” “Hadest thou so?” quoth this hosteler;
“nowe, by the masse, and I wyll haue some to, or I wyll lye in the
duste or I come agayne.” Passing with hast to ouer take this paramoure,
within a myle fro_m_ _th_e place where he departed he ouertoke her,
hauing an vpright man in her company, a stronge and a sturdye vacabond:
some what amased was this hosteler to se one familiarly in her company,
for he had well hopped to haue had some delycate dalyance, as his
fellowe hadde; but, seinge the matter so fallout, and being of {64}
good corage, and thinking to him selfe that one true man was better
then two false knaues, and being on the high way, thought vpon helpe,
if nede had bene, by such as had passed to and fro, Demaunded fersely
the whistell that she had euyn nowe of his fellowe. “Why, husband,”
quoth she, “can you suffer this wretche to slaunder your wyfe?” “A
vaunt verlet,” quoth this vpright man, and letes dryue with all his
force at this hosteler, and after halfe[133] a dosen blowes, he
strycks his staffe out of his hande, and as this hosteler stept backe
to haue taken vp his staffe agayne, his glymmeringe Morte flinges a
great stone at him, and strake him one the heade that downe hee fales,
wyth the bloud about his eares, and whyle hée laye this amased, the
vpright man snatches awaye his pursse, where in hée hadde money of his
mystresses as well as of his owne, and there let him lye, and went a
waye with spede that they were neuer harde of more. When this drye
beaten hosteler was come to him selfe, hée fayntlye wandereth home, and
crepethe in to hys couche, and restes [leaf 20] his ydle heade: his
mystres harde that hée was come in, and layde him downe on his beade,
repayred straight vnto him, and aske hym what he ayled, and what the
cause was of his so sudden lying one his bed. “What is the cause?”
quoth this hosteler; “your whystell, your whistel,”—speaking the same
pyteouslye thre or foure tymes. “Why, fole,” quoth his mystrisse, “take
no care for that, for I doe not greatly waye it; it was worth but thrée
shyllinges foure pens.” “I would it had bene burnt for foure yeares
agon.” “I praye the why so,” quoth his mystres; “I think thou art mad.”
“Nay, not yet,” quoth this hosteler, “but I haue bene madly handlyd.”
“Why, what is the matter?” quoth his mystres, and was more desirous to
know the case. “_And_ you wyl for geue my fellowe and me, I wyll shewe
you, or els I wyll neuer doe it.” Shée made hym presently faithfull
promisse that shée woulde. “Then,” saythe hee, “sende for your sonne
home agayne, whyche is ashamed to loke you in the face.” “I agre there
to,” sayth shée. “Well, then,” quoth this hosteler, “youre sonne hathe
geuen the same Morte that begged here, for the burninge of her house,
a whystell, and you haue geuen her v. shyllinges in money, {65} and I
haue geuen her ten shyllinges of my owne.” “Why, howe so?” quoth she.
Then he sadly shewed her of his myshap, with all the circumstaunce that
you haue harde before, and howe hys pursse was taken awaye, and xv.
shyllinges in the same, where of v. shyllinges was her money and x.
shyllinges his owne money. “Is this true?” quoth his mystres. “I, by my
trouth,” quoth this hosteler, “and nothing greues me so much, neyther
my beating, neither the losse of my money, as doth my euell _and_
wreched lucke.” “Why, what is the matter?” quoth his mystres. “Your
sonne,” saythe this hosteler, “had some chere and pastyme for that
whystell, for he laye with her, and I haue bene well beaten, and haue
had my pursse taken from me, and you knowe your sonne is merrye and
pleasaunt, and can kepe no great councell; and then shall I bemocked
_and_ loughed to skorne in all places when they shall here howe I haue
bene serued.” “Nowe, out vpon you knaues both,” quoth his mystres, and
laughes oute the matter; for she well sawe it would not other wyse
preuayle.

   [Footnote 133: Omitted in 1573]


¶ A BAWDY BASKET. Cap. 17.

++THese Bawdy baskets be also wemen, and go with baskets and
Capcases on their armes, where in they haue laces, pynnes, nedles,
white ynkell, and round sylke gyrdles of al coulours. These wyl bye
co_n_neyski_n_s,[134] _and_ steale line_n_ clothes of on hedges. And
for their trifles they wil procure of mayden seruaunts, whe_n_ [leaf
20, back] their mystres or dame is oute of the waye, either some good
peece of béefe, baken, or chéese, that shalbe worth xij. pens, for
ii. pens of their toyes. And as they walke by the waye, they often
gaine some money wyth their instrument, by such as they sodaynely mete
withall. The vpright men haue good acquayntance with these, and will
helpe and relieue them when they want. Thus they trade their lyues in
lewed lothsome lechery. Amongest them all is but one honest woman, and
she is of good yeares; her name is Ione Messenger. I haue had good
proofe of her, as I haue learned by the true report of diuers.

   [Footnote 134: Rabbitskins]

{66}

++{ There came to my gate the last sommer, Anno Domini .1566, a very
miserable man, and much deformed, as burnt in the } face, blere eyde,
and lame of one of his legges that he went with a crouche. I axed
him wher he was borne, and where he dwelt last, and shewed him that
thether he must repaire and be releued, and not to range aboute the
countrey; and seing some cause of cherytie, I caused him to haue meate
and drinke, and when he had dronke, I demaunded of him whether he was
neuer spoyled of the vpright man or Roge. “Yes, that I haue,” quoth
he, “and not this seuen yeres, for so long I haue gon abroad, I had
not so much taken from me, and so euyll handeled, as I was w_i_t_h_in
these iiij. dayes.” “Why, how so?” quoth I. “In good fayth, sir,” quoth
hée, “I chaunced to méete with one of these bawdy baskets which had an
vpright man in her company, and as I would haue passed quietly by her,
‘man,’ sayth she vnto vnto her make, ‘do you not se this ylfauored,
windshake_n_ knaue?’ ‘Yes,’ quoth the vpright man; ‘what saye you to
him?’ ‘this knaue[135] oweth me ii. shyllings for wares that[136] he
had of me, halfe a yere a go, I think it well.’ Sayth this vpright
man, ‘syra,’ sayth he, ‘paye your dets.’ Sayth this poore man, ‘I owe
her none, nether dyd I euer bargane with her for any thinge, and as
this[137] aduysed I neuer sawe her before in all my lyfe.’ ‘Mercy,
god!’ quoth she, ‘what a lyinge knaue is this, and he wil not paye you,
husband, beat him suerly,’ and the vpright man gaue me thre or foure
blowes on my backe and shoulders, and would haue beat me worsse and I
had not geuen hym all the money in my pursse, and in good fayth, for
very feare, I was fayne to geue him xiiij. pens, which was all the
money that I had. ‘Why,’ sayth this bawdy basket, ‘hast thou no more?
then thou owest me ten pens styll; and, be well assured that I wyll
bée payde the next tyme I méete with thée.’ And so they let me passe
by them. I praye god saue and blesse me, and al other in my case, from
such wycked persons,” quoth this poore man. “Why, whether went they
then?” quoth I. “Into east Kent, for I mete with them on thyssyde of
Rochester. I haue dyuers tymes bene attemted, but {67} I neuer loste
[leaf 21] much before. I thanke god, there came styll company by a fore
this vnhappy time.” “Well,” quoth I, “thanke God of all, and repaire
home into thy natyue countrey.”

   [Footnote 135: B. inserts _sayth she_.]

   [Footnote 136: Omitted in 1573.]

   [Footnote 137: 1573 reads _I am_]


¶ A AUTEM MORT. Cap. 18.

++THese Autem Mortes be maried wemen, as there be but a fewe. For Autem
in their Language is a Churche; so she is a wyfe maried at the Church,
and they be as chaste as a Cowe I haue, _tha_t goeth to Bull euery
moone, with what Bull she careth not. These walke most times from their
husbands companye a moneth and more to gether, being asociate with
another as honest as her selfe. These wyll pylfar clothes of hedges:
some of them go with children of ten or xii. yeares of age; yf tyme and
place serue for their purpose, they wyll send them into some house, at
the window, to steale and robbe, which they call in their language,
Milling of the ken; and wil go w_i_t_h_ wallets on their shoulders,
and slates at their backes. There is one of these Autem Mortes, she is
now a widow, of fyfty yeres old; her name is Alice Milson: she goeth
about with a couple of great boyes, the yongest of them is fast vpon
xx. yeares of age; and these two do lye with her euery night, and she
lyeth in the middes: she sayth that they be her children, that beteled
be babes borne of such abhominable bellye.


¶ A WALKING MORT. Cap. 19.

++THese walkinge Mortes bee not maryed: these for their vnhappye yeares
doth go as a Autem Morte, and wyll saye their husbandes died eyther at
Newhauen, Ireland, or in some seruice of the Prince. These make laces
vpon staues, _and_ purses, that they cary in their hands, and whyte
vallance for beddes. Manye of these hath hadde and haue chyldren: when
these get ought, either with begging, bychery, or brybery, as money or
apparell, they are quickly shaken out of all by the vpright men, that
they are in a maruelous feare to cary any thinge aboute them that is
of any valure. Where fore, this pollicye they vse, they leaue their
money now with one and then with a nother trustye housholders, eyther
with the good man or good wyfe, some tyme in one shiere, and then in
another, as they {68} trauell: this haue I knowne, _tha_t iiij. or
v. shyllinges, yea x. shyllinges, lefte in a place, and the same wyll
they come for againe within one quarter of a yeare, or some tyme not in
halfe a yeare; and all this is to lytle purpose, for all their peuyshe
[leaf 21, back] pollycy; for when they bye them lynnen or garmentse, it
is taken awaye from them, and worsse geuen them, or none at all.

¶ The last Sommer, Anno domini .1566, being in familiare talke with a
walking Mort that came to my gate, I learned by her what I could, and
I thought I had gathered as much for my purpose as I desired. I began
to rebuke her for her leud lyfe and beastly behauor, declaring to her
what punishment was prepared and heaped vp for her in the world to
come for her fylthy lyuinge and wretched conuersation. “God helpe,”
q_uoth_ she, “how should I lyue? none wyll take me into seruice; but I
labour in haruest time honestly.” “I thinke but a whyle with honestie,”
q_uoth_ I. “Shall I tell you,” q_uoth_ she, “the best of vs all may be
amended; but yet, I thanke god, I dyd one good dede within this twelue
mo_n_thes.” “Wherein?” q_uoth_ I. Sayth she, “I woulde not haue it
spoken of agayne.” “Yf it be méete and necessary,” q_uo_d I, “it shall
lye vnder my feete.” “What meane you by that?” quoth she. “I meane,”
q_uo_d I, “to hide the same, and neuer to discouer it to any.” “Well,”
q_uoth_ she, and began to laugh as much as she could, and sweare by the
masse that if I disclosed the same to any, she woulde neuer more[138]
tell me any thinge. “The last sommer,” q_uoth_ she, “I was greate with
chylde, and I traueled into east kent by the sea coste, for I lusted
meruelously after oysters and muskels[139], and gathered many, and in
_th_e place where I found them, I opened them and eate them styll: at
the last, in seking more, I reached after one, and stept into a hole,
and fel in into the wast, and their dyd stycke, and I had bene drowned
if the tide had come, and espyinge a man a good waye of, I cried as
much as I could for helpe. I was alone, he hard me, and repaired as
fast to me as he might, and finding me their fast stycking, I required
for gods sake his helpe; and whether it was with stryuinge and forcing
my selfe out, or for ioye I had of his comminge to me, I had a great
couller in my face, and loked red and well {69} coullered. And, to be
playne with you, hée lyked me so well (as he sayd) that I should there
lye styll, and I would not graunt him, that he might lye with me. And,
by my trouth, I wist not what to answeare, I was in such a perplexite;
for I knew the man well: he had a very honest woman to his wyfe, and
was of some welth; and, one the other syde, if I weare not holpe out,
I should there haue perished, and I graunted hym that I would obeye to
his wyll: then he plucked me out. And because there was no conuenient
place nere hande, I required hym that I might go washe my selfe, and
make me somewhat clenly, and I would come to his house and lodge all
night in his barne, whether he mighte repaire to me, and accomplyshe
hys desire, ‘but let it not be,’ quoth she,[140] ‘before nine of the
clocke at nyghte [leaf 22] for then there wylbe small styrring. And
I may repaire to the towne,’ q_uoth_ she,[141] ‘to warme and drye my
selfe’; for this was about two of the clocke in the after none. ‘Do
so,’ quoth hée; ‘for I must be busie to looke oute my cattell here by
before I can come home.’ So I went awaye from hym, and glad was I.”
“And why so?” quoth I. “Because,” quoth she, “his wyfe, my good dame,
is my very fréend, and I am much beholdinge to her. And she hath donne
me so much good or this, that I weare loth nowe to harme her any waye.”
“Why,” quoth I, “what and it hadde béene any other man, and not your
good dames husbande?” “The matter had bene the lesse,” quoth shée.
“Tell me, I pray the,” quoth I, “who was the father of thy chylde?” She
stodyd a whyle, and sayde that it hadde a father. “But what was hée?”
quoth I. “Nowe, by my trouth, I knowe not,” quoth shée; “you brynge
me out of my matter so, you do.” “Well, saye on,” quoth I. “Then I
departed strayght to the towne, and came to my dames house, And shewed
her of my mysfortune, also of her husbands vsage, in all pointes, and
that I showed her the same for good wyll, and byde her take better
héede to her husbande, and to her selfe: so shée gaue me great thankes,
and made me good chéere, and byd me in anye case that I should be redye
at the barne at that tyme and houre we had apoynted; ‘for I knowe
well,’ quoth this good wyfe, ‘my husband wyll not breake wyth the. And
one thinge I warne[142] the, that thou {70} geue me a watche worde
a loud when hée goeth aboute to haue his pleasure of the, and that
shall[143] bée “fye, for shame, fye,” and I wyll bée harde by you wyth
helpe. But I charge the kéepe thys secret vntyll all bee fynesed; and
holde,’ saythe thys good wyfe, ‘here is one of my peticotes I geue
thée.’ ‘I thanke you, good dame,’ quoth I, ‘and I warrante you I wyll
bée true and trustye vnto you.’ So my dame lefte me settinge by a good
fyre with meate and drynke; and wyth the oysters I broughte with me, I
hadde greate cheere: shée wente strayght and repaired vnto her gossypes
dwelling there by; and, as I dyd after vnderstande, she made her mone
to them, what a naughtye, lewed, lecherous husbande shée hadde, and
howe that she coulde not haue hys companye for harlotes, and that she
was in feare to take some fylthy dysease of hym, he was so commen a
man, hauinge lytle respecte whome he hadde to do with all; ‘and,’ quoth
she, ‘nowe here is one at my house, a poore woman that goeth aboute
the countrey that he woulde haue hadde to doe withall; wherefore, good
neyghboures and louinge gossypes, as you loue me, and as you would haue
helpe at my hand another tyme, deuyse some remedy to make my husband a
good man, _tha_t I may lyue in some suerty without disease, and that
hée may saue his soule that God so derelye [leaf 22, back] bought.’
After shée hadde tolde her tale, they caste their persinge eyes all
vpon her, but one stoute dame amongst the rest had these wordes—‘As
your pacient bearinge of troubles, your honest behauiour among vs your
neyghbours, your tender and pytifull hart to the poore of the parysh,
doth moue vs to lament your case, so the vnsatiable carnalite of your
faithelesse husbande doth instigate and styre vs to deuyse and inuent
some spéedy redresse for your ease[144] and the amendement of hys
lyfe. Wherefore, this is my councell and you wyll bée aduertysed by
me; for[145] I saye to you all, vnlesse it be this good wyfe, who is
chéefely touched in this matter, I haue the nexte cause; for hée was in
hande wyth me not longe a goe, and companye had not bene present, which
was by a meruelous chaunce, he hadde, I thinke, forced me. For often
hée hath bene tempering[146] with me, and yet haue I sharpely sayde him
{71} naye: therefore, let vs assemble secretly into the place where hée
hathe apuynted to méete thys gyllot that is at your house, and lyrke
preuelye in some corner tyll hée begyn to goe aboute his busines. And
then me thought I harde you saye euen nowe that you had a watche word,
at which word we wyll all stepforth, being fiue of vs besydes you, for
you shalbe none because it is your husbande, but gette you to bed at
your accustomed houre. And we wyll cary eche of vs[147] good byrchen
rodde in our lappes, and we will all be muffeled for knowing, and se
that you goe home and acquaynt that walking Morte with the matter; for
we must haue her helpe to hold, for alwaies foure must hold and two
lay one.’ ‘Alas!’ sayth this good wyfe, ‘he is to stronge for you all.
I would be loth, for my sake you should receaue harme at his hande.’
‘feare you not,’ q_uoth_ these stout wemen, ‘let her not geue the watch
word vntyl his hosen be abaut his legges. And I trowe we all wylbe with
him to bring before he shall haue leasure to plucke them vp againe.’
They all with on voyce ag[r]ed to the matter, that the way she had
deuised was the best: so this good wife repaired home; but before she
departed from her gossypes, she shewed them at what houre they should
preuely come in on _th_e backsid, _and_ where to tary their good our:
so by _th_e time she came in, it was all most night, and found the
walking Morte still setting by the fyre, and declared to her all this
new deuyse aboue sayd, which promised faythfully to full fyll to her
small powre as much as they hadde deuysed: within a quarter of an
oure after, in co_m_meth the good man, who said that he was about his
cattell. “Why, what haue we here, wyfe, setting by the fyre? _and_ yf
she haue eate and dronke, send her into the barne to her lodging for
this night, for she troubeleth the house.” “Euen as you wyll husbande,”
sayth his wyfe; “you knowe she commeth once in two yeres into these
[leaf 23] quarters. Awaye,” saythe this good wyfe, “to your lodginge.”
“Yes, good dame,” sayth she, “as fast as I can:” thus, by loking
one[148] on the other, eche knewe others mynde, and so departed to her
comely couche: the good man of the house shrodge hym for Ioye, thinking
to hym selfe, I wyll make some pastyme with you anone. And calling to
his wyfe for hys sopper, set {72} him downe, and was very plesant,
and dranke to his wyfe, _and_ fell to his mammerings, and mounched a
pace, nothing vnderstanding of the bancquet that[149] was a preparing
for him after sopper, _and_ according to the prouerbe, that swete
meate wyll haue sowre sawce: thus, whe_n_ he was well refreshed, his
sprietes being reuyued, entred into familiare talke with his wife, of
many matters, how well he had spent that daye to both there proffytes,
sayinge some of his cattell[150] were lyke to haue bene drowned in the
dyches, dryuinge others of his neyghbours cattell out that were in
his pastures, _and_ mending his fences that were broken downe. Thus
profitably he had consumed the daye, nothinge talking of his helping
out of the walkinge Morte out of the myre, nether of his request nor
yet of her[151] promisse. Thus feding her w_i_t_h_ frendly fantacyes,
consumed two houres and more. Then fayninge howe hée would se in what
case his horse were in and howe they were dressed, Repaired couertly
into the barne, where as his frée[n]dlye foes lyrked preuely, vnlesse
it were this manerly Morte, that comly couched on a bottell of strawe.
“What, are you come?” q_uoth_ she; “by the masse, I would not for a
hundreth pound that my dame should knowe that you were here, eyther any
els of your house.” “No, I warrant the,” sayth this good man, “they be
all safe and fast ynough at their woorke, and I wylbe at mine anon.”
And laye downe by her, and strayght would haue had to do w_i_t_h_ her.
“Nay, fye,” sayth she, “I lyke not this order: if ye lye with me, you
shall surely vntrus you _and_ put downe your hosen, for that way is
most easiest and best.” “Sayest thou so?” quoth he, “now, by my trouth
agred.” And when he had vntrussed him selfe and put downe, he began
to assalt the vnsatiable[152] fort “Why,” quoth she, that was with
out shame, sauinge for her promes, “And are you not ashamed?” “neuer
a whyte,” sayth he, “lye downe quickely.” “Now, fye, for shame, fye,”
sayth shée a loude, whyche was the watche word. At the which word,
these fyue furious, sturdy, muffeled gossypes flynges oute, and takes
sure holde of this be trayed parson, sone[153] pluckinge his hosen
downe lower, and byndinge the same fast about his féete; {73} then
byndinge his handes, and knitting a hande charcher about his eyes, that
he shoulde not sée; and when they had made hym sure and fast, Then they
layd him one vntyll they weare windles. “Be good,” sayth this Morte,
“vnto my maister, for the passion of God,” [leaf 23, back] and layd
on as fast as the rest, and styll seased not to crye vpon them to bée
mercyfull vnto hym, and yet layde on a pace; and when they had well
beaten hym, that the bloud braste plentifullye oute in most places,
they let hym lye styll bounde. With this exhortation, that he shoulde
from that tyme forth knowe his wyfe from other mens, and that this
punishment was but a flebyting in respect of that which should followe,
yf he amended not his manners. Thus leuynge hym blustering, blowing,
and fominge for payne, and malyncolye that hée neither might or coulde
be reuenged of them, they vanyshed awaye, and hadde thys Morte with
them, and safely conuayde her out of the towne: sone after co_m_meth
into the barne one of the good mans boyes, to fet some haye for his
horse. And fyndinge his maister lyinge faste bounde and greuouslye
beaten with rodes, was sodenly abashed and woulde haue runne out agayne
to haue called for helpe; but his maister bed hym come vnto hym and
vnbynd hym; “and make no wordes,” quoth he, “of this. I wylbe reuenged
well inoughe;” yet not with standinge, after better aduyse, the matter
beinge vnhonest, he thought it meter to let the same passe, and,
not, as the prouerbe saythe, to awake the sleping dogge. “And, by my
trouth,” quoth this walkinge Morte, “I come nowe from that place, and
was neuer there sythens this parte was playde, whiche is some what more
then a yeare. And I here a very good reporte of hym now, that he loueth
his wyfe well, and vseth hym selfe verye honestlye; and was not this a
good acte? nowe, howe saye you?” “It was pretely handeled,” quoth I,
“and is here all?” “Yea,” quoth she, “here is the ende.”

   [Footnote 138: Omitted in 1573.]

   [Footnote 139: _mussels._ B.]

   [Footnote 140: _he_, ed. 1573.]

   [Footnote 141: _I_, ed. 1573.]

   [Footnote 142: _warrant._ B.]

   [Footnote 143: _should._ B.]

   [Footnote 144: 1573 reads _case_]

   [Footnote 145: Omitted in 1573.]

   [Footnote 146: 1573 reads _tempting_]

   [Footnote 147: B. inserts _a_]

   [Footnote 148: _won._ B.]

   [Footnote 149: B. omits _that_]

   [Footnote 150: B. inserts _that_]

   [Footnote 151: 1573 reads _his_]

   [Footnote 152: B. reads _vnsanable_, or _vnsauable_]

   [Footnote 153: 1573 reads _some_]


¶ A DOXE. Cap. 20.

++THese Doxes be broken and spoyled of their maydenhead by the vpright
men, and then they haue their name of Doxes, and not afore. And
afterwarde she is commen and indifferent for any that wyll vse her, as
_homo_ is a commen name to all men. Such {74} as be fayre and some
what handsome, kepe company with the walkinge Mortes, and are redye
alwayes for the vpright men, and are cheifely mayntayned by them, for
others shalbe spoyled for their sakes: the other, inferior, sort wyll
resorte to noble mens places, and gentlemens houses, standing at the
gate, eyther lurkinge on the backesyde about backe houses, eyther in
hedge rowes, or some other thycket, expectinge their praye, which
is for the vncomely company of some curteous gest, of whome they be
refreshed with meate and some money, where eschaunge is made, ware
for ware: this bread and meate they vse to carrye in their [leaf 24]
greate hosen; so that these beastlye brybinge[154] bréeches serue manye
tymes for bawdye purposes. I chaunced, not longe sithens, familiarly
to commen with a Doxe that came to my gate, and surelye a pleasant
harlot, and not so pleasant as wytty, and not so wytty as voyd of all
grace and goodnes. I founde, by her talke, that shée hadde passed her
tyme lewdlye eyghttene yeares in walkinge aboute. I thoughte this a
necessary instrument to attayne some knowledge by; and before I woulde
grope her mynde, I made her both to eate and drynke well; that done,
I made her faythfull promisse to geue her some money, yf she would
open and dyscouer to me such questions as I woulde demaunde of her,
and neuer to bée wraye her, neither to disclose her name. “And you
shoulde,” sayth she, “I were vndon:” “feare not that,” quoth I; “but,
I praye the,” quoth I, “say nothing but trouth.” “I wyll not,” sayth
shée. “Then, fyrste tell me,” quoth I, “how many vpright men and Roges
dost thou knowe, or hast thou knowne and byn conuersaunt with, and
what their names be?” She paused a whyle, and sayd, “why do you aske
me, or wherefore?” “For nothinge els,” as I sayde, “but that I woulde
knowe them when they came to my gate.” “Nowe, by my trouth” (quoth she)
“then are yea neuer the neare, for all myne acquayntaunce, for the
moste parte, are deade.” “Dead!” quoth I, “howe dyed they, for wante
of cherishinge, or of paynefull diseases?” Then she sighed, and sayde
they were hanged. “What, all?” quoth I, “and so manye walke abroade,
as I dayelye see?” “By my trouth,” quoth she, “I {75} knowe not paste
six or seuen by their names,” and named the same to me. “When were
they hanged?” quoth I. “Some seuen yeares a gone, some thrée yeares,
and some w_i_t_h_in this fortnight,” and declared the place where
they weare executed, which I knewe well to bée true, by the report of
others. “Why” (quoth I) “dyd not this sorrowfull and fearefull sight
much greue the, and for thy tyme longe and euyll spent?” “I was sory,”
quoth shée, “by the Masse; for some of them were good louing men. For
I lackt not when they had it, and they wanted not when I had it, and
diuers of them I neuer dyd forsake, vntyll the Gallowes departed vs.”
“O, mercyfull God!” quoth I, and began to blesse me. “Why blesse ye?”
quoth she. “Alas! good gentleman, euery one muste haue a lyuinge.”
Other matters I talked of; but this nowe maye suffice to shewe the
Reader, as it weare in a glasse, the bolde beastly lyfe of these Doxes.
For suche as hath gone anye tyme abroade, wyll neuer forsake their
trade, to dye therefore. I haue hadde good profe thereof. There is one,
a notorious harlot, of this affinitye, called Besse Bottomelye; she
hath but one hande, and she hath murthered two children at the least.

   [Footnote 154: _bryberinge._ B.]

[Sidenote: [leaf 24, back]]


¶ A DELL. Cap. 21.

++A Dell is a yonge wenche, able for generation, and not yet knowen or
broken by the vpright man. These go abroade yong, eyther by the death
of their parentes, and no bodye to looke vnto them, or els by some
sharpe mystres that they serue, do runne away out of seruice; eyther
she is naturally borne one, and then she is a wyld Dell: these are
broken verye yonge; when they haue béene lyen with all by the vpright
man, then they be Doxes, and no Dels. These wylde dels, beinge traded
vp with their monstrous mothers, must of necessytie be as euill, or
worsse, then their parents, for neither we gather grapes from gréene
bryars, neither fygs from Thystels. But such buds, such blosoms, such
euyll sede sowen, wel worsse beinge growen. {76}


¶ A KYNCHIN MORTE. Cap. 22.

++A Kynching Morte is a lytle Gyrle: the Mortes their mothers carries
them at their backes in their slates, whiche is their shetes, and
bryngs them vp sauagely[155], tyll they growe to be rype, and soone
rype, soone rotten.


¶ A KYNCHEN CO. Cap. 23.

++A Kynchen Co is a young boye, traden vp to suche peuishe purposes as
you haue harde of other young ympes before, that when he groweth vnto
yeres, he is better to hang then to drawe forth.


¶ THEIR VSAGE IN THE NIGHT. Cap. 24.

++NOw I thinke it not vnnecessary to make the Reader vnderstand how
and in what maner they lodge a nights in barnes or backe houses,
and of their vsage there, for asmuch as I haue acquaynted them with
their order and practises a day times. The arche and chiefe walkers
that hath walked a long time, whose experience is great, because of
their continuinge practise, I meane all Mortes and Doxes, for their
handsomnes and diligence for making of their couches. The men neuer
trouble them selues with _tha_t thing, but takes the same to be the
dutye of _th_e wyfe. And she shuffels vp a quayntitye of strawe or
haye into some pretye carner of the barne [leaf 25] where she maye
conuenientlye lye, and well shakethe the same, makinge the heade some
what hye, and dryues the same vpon the sydes and fete lyke abed: then
she layeth her wallet, or some other lytle pack of ragges or scrype
vnder her heade in the strawe, to beare vp the same, and layethe her
petycote or cloke vpon and ouer the strawe, so made lyke a bedde, and
that serueth for the blancket. Then she layeth her slate, which is her
sheete, vpon that; and she haue no shéete, as fewe of them goe without,
then she spreddeth some large cloutes or rags ouer the same, and maketh
her ready, and layeth her drouselye downe. Many wyll plucke of their
smockes, and laye the same vpon them in stede of their vpper shéete,
and all her other pelte and {77} trashe vpon her also; and many lyeth
in their smockes. And if the rest of her clothes in colde weather be
not sufficient to kepe her warme, then she taketh strawe or haye to
performe the matter. The other sorte, that haue not slates, but toumble
downe and couche a hogshead in their clothes, these bée styll lousye,
and shall neuer be with out vermyn, vnlesse they put of theire clothes,
and lye as is a boue sayde. If the vpright man come in where they lye,
he hath his choyse, and crepeth in close by his Doxe: the Roge hath
his leauings. If the Morts or Doxes lye or be lodged in some Farmers
barne, and the dore be ether locked or made fast to them, then wyl
not the vpright man presse to come in, Vnles it be in barnes and oute
houses standinge alone, or some distance from houses, which be commonly
knowne to them, As saint Quintens, thrée Cranes of the vintrey, Saynt
Tybbes, and Knapsbery. These foure be with in one myle compasse neare
vnto London. Then haue you iiij. more in Middlesex, drawe the pudding
out of the fyre in Harrow on the hyll parish, _th_e Crose Keyes in
Cranford[156] parish, Saynt Iulyans in Thystell worth parish, the house
of pyty in Northhall parysh. These are their chiefe houses neare about
London, where commonly they resorte vnto for Lodginge, and maye repaire
thether freelye at all tymes. Sometyme shall come in some Roge, some
pyckinge knaue, a nymble Prygge; he walketh in softly a nightes, when
they be at their rest, and plucketh of as many garmentes as be ought
worth that he maye come by, and worth money, and maye easely cary the
same, and runneth a waye with the same with great seleritye, and maketh
porte sale at some conuenient place of theirs, that some be soone ready
in the morning, for want of their Casters _and_ Togema_n_s. Where in
stéede of blessinge is cursing; in place of praying, pestelent prating
with odious othes _and_ terrible threatninges. The vpright men haue
geuen all these nycke names to the places aboue sayde. Y[e]t haue [leaf
25, back] we two notable places in Kent, not fare from London: the one
is betwene Detforde and Rothered, called the Kynges barne, standing
alone, that they haunt commonly; the other is Ketbroke, standinge by
blacke heath, halfe a myle from anye house. There wyll they boldlye
drawe the latche of the doore, and {78} go in when the good man with
hys famyly be at supper, and syt downe without leaue, and eate and
drinke with them, and either lye in the hall by the fyre all night, or
in _th_e barne, if there be no rome in the house for them. If the doore
be eyther bolted or lockt, if it be not opened vnto them when they wyl,
they wyl breake the same open to his farther cost. And in this barne
sometyme do lye xl. vpright men with their Doxes together at one time.
And this must the poore Farmer suffer, or els they threaten him to
burne him, and all that he hath.

   [Footnote 155: B. reads _safely_]

   [Footnote 156: 1573 reads _Crayford_.]

――――


THE NAMES OF THE VPRIGHT MEN, ROGES, AND PALLYARDS.

++HEre followeth the vnrulye rablement of rascals, and the moste
notoryous and wyckedst walkers that are lyuinge nowe at this present,
with their true names as they be called and knowne by. And although
I set and place here but thre orders, yet, good Reader, vnderstand
that all the others aboue named are deriued and come out from the
vpright men and Roges. Concerning the number of Mortes and Doxes, it is
superfluous to wryte of them. I could well haue don it, but the number
of them is great, and woulde aske a large volume.


 ¶ UPRIGHT MEN.


 A.[157]

 Antony Heymer.
 Antony Iackeson.


 B.

 Burfet.
 Bryan medcalfe.


 C.

 Core the Cuckold.
 Chrystouer Cooke.


 D.

 Dowzabell skylfull in fence.
 Dauid Coke.
 Dycke Glouer.
 Dycke Abrystowe.
 Dauid Edwardes.
 Dauid Holand.
 Dauid Iones.


 E.

 Edmund Dun, a singing man.
 Edward Skiner, _alias_ Ned Skinner.
 Edward Browne.


 F.

 Follentine Hylles.
 Fardinando angell.
 Fraunces Dawghton. {79}


 G.

 Gryffin.
 Great Iohn Graye.
 George Marrinar.
 George Hutchinson.


 H.

 Hary Hylles, alias Harry godepar.
 [leaf 26] Harry Agglyntine.
 Harry Smyth, he driueleth whe_n_ he speaketh.
 Harry Ionson.


 I.

 Iames Barnard.
 Iohn Myllar.
 Iohn Walchman.
 Iohn Iones.
 Iohn Teddar.
 Iohn Braye.
 Iohn Cutter.
 Iohn Bell.
 Iohn Stephens.
 Iohn Graye.
 Iohn Whyte.
 Iohn Rewe.
 Iohn Mores.
 Iohn a Farnando.
 Iohn Newman.
 Iohn Wyn, _alias_ Wylliams.
 Iohn a Pycons.
 Iohn Tomas.
 Iohn Arter.
 Iohn Palmer, _alias_ Tod.
 Iohn Geffrey.
 Iohn Goddard.
 Iohn Graye the lytle.
 Iohn Graye the great.
 Iohn Wylliams the Longer.
 Iohn Horwood, a maker of wels; he wyll take halfe his bargayne in hand,
      _and_ when hée hath wrought ii. or iii. daies, he runneth away
      with his earnest.
 Iohn Peter.
 Iohn Porter.
 Iohn Appowes.
 Iohn Arter.
 Iohn Bates.
 Iohn Comes.
 Iohn Chyles, _alias_ great Chyles.
 Iohn Leuet; he maketh tappes and fausets.
 Iohn Louedall, a maister of fence.
 Iohn Louedale.
 Iohn Mekes.
 Iohn Appowell.
 Iohn Chappell.
 Iohn Gryffen.
 Iohn Mason.
 Iohn Humfrey, with the lame hand.
 Iohn Stradling, with the shaking head.
 Iohn Franke.
 Iohn Baker.
 Iohn Bascafeld.


 K.


 L.

 Lennard Iust.
 Long Gréene.
 Laurence Ladd.
 Laurence Marshall.


 M.


 N.

 Nicolas Wilson.
 Ned Barington.
 Ned Wetherdon.
 Ned holmes.


 O.


 P.

 Phyllype Gréene.


 Q.


 R.

 Robart Grauener.
 Robart Gerse.
 Robart Kynge.
 Robart Egerton.
 Robart Bell, brother to Iohn Bell.
 Robart Maple.
 Robart Langton.
 Robyn Bell.
 Robyn Toppe.
 Robart Brownswerd, he werith his here long.
 Robart Curtes.
 Rychard Brymmysh.
 Rychard Iustyce.
 Rychard Barton. {80}
 Rychard Constance.
 Rychard Thomas.
 Rychard Cadman.
 Rychard Scategood.
 Rychard Apryce.
 Rychard Walker.
 Rychard Coper.


 S.

 Steuen Neuet.


 T.

 Thomas Bulloke. [leaf 26, back]
 Thomas Cutter.
 Thomas Garret.
 Thomas Newton.
 Thomas Web.
 Thomas Graye, his toes be gonne.
 Tom Bodel.
 Thomas Wast.
 Thomas Dawson _alias_ Thomas Iacklin.
 Thomas Basset.
 Thomas Marchant.
 Thomas Web.
 Thomas Awefeld.
 Thomas Gybbins.
 Thomas Lacon.
 Thomas Bate.
 Thomas Allen.


 V.


 W.

 Welarayd Richard.
 Wyllia_m_ Chamborne.
 Wylliam Pannell.
 Wylliam Morgan.
 Wylliam Belson.
 Wylliam Ebes.
 Wylliam Garret.
 Wylliam Robynson.
 Wylliam Vmberuile.
 Wylliam Dauids.
 Wyll Pen.
 Wylliam Iones.
 Wyll Powell.
 Wylliam Clarke.
 Water Wirall.
 Wylliam Browne.
 Water Martyne.[158]
 Wylliam Grace.
 Wylliam Pyckering.


 ROGES.


 A.

 Arche Dowglas, a Scot.


 B.

 Blacke Dycke.


 C.


 D.

 Dycke Durram.
 Dauid Dew neuet, a counterfet Cranke.


 E.

 Edward Ellys.
 Edward Anseley.


 F.


 G.

 George Belberby.
 Goodman.
 Gerard Gybbin, a counterfet Cranke.


 H.

 Hary Walles, with the lytle mouth.
 Humfrey ward.
 Harry Mason.


 I.

 Iohn Warren.
 Iohn Donne, with one legge.
 Iohn Elson.
 Iohn Raynoles, Irysh man.
 Iohn Harrys.
 Iames Monkaster, a counterfet Cranke.
 Iohn Dewe.
 Iohn Crew, with one arme.
 Iohn Browne, great stamerar.


 L.

 Lytle Dycke.
 Lytle Robyn.
 Lambart Rose. {81}


 M.

 More, burnt in the hand.[159]


 N.

 Nicholas Adames, a great stamerar.[160]
 Nycholas Crispyn.
 Nycholas Blunt _alias_ Nycholas Gennings, a counterfet Cranke.
 Nycholas Lynch.


 R.

 Rychard Brewton.
 Rychard Horwod, well nere lxxx. yeares olde; he wyll byte a vi. peny
      nayle a sonder w_i_t_h_ his téeth, and a bawdye [leaf 27] dronkard.
 Richard Crane; he carieth a Kynchne Co at his backe.
 Rychard Iones.
 Raffe Ketley.
 Robert Harrison.


 S.

 Simon Kynge.


 T.

 Thomas Paske.
 [161]§Thomas Bere.
 Thomas Shawnean, Irish man.
 Thomas Smith, w_i_t_h_ the skald skyn.§


 W.

 Wylliam Carew.
 Wylliam wastfield.
 Wylson.
 Wylliam Gynkes, with a whyte bearde, a lusty and stronge man; he
      runneth about the countrey to séeke worke, with a byg boy, his
      sonne carying his toles as a dawber or playsterer, but lytle worke
      serueth him.


 ¶ PALLYARDS.


 B.

 Bashford.


 D.

 Dycke Sehan Irish.
 Dauid Powell.
 Dauid Iones, a counterfet Crank.

 E.

 Edward Heyward, hath his Morte following him, which fained the Cranke.
 Edward Lewes, a dummerer.


 H.

 Hugh Iones.


 I.

 Iohn Perse,[162] a counterfet Cranke.
 Iohn dauids.
 Iohn Harrison.
 Iohn Carew.
 Iames Lane, with one eye, Irish.
 Iohn Fysher.
 Iohn Dewe.
 Iohn Gylford, Irish, w_i_t_h_ a counterfet lisence.


 L.

 Laurence with the great legge.


 N.

 Nycholas Newton, carieth a fained lisence.
 Nicholas Decase. {82}


 P.

 Prestoue.


 R.

 Robart Lackley.
 Robart Canloke.
 Richard Hylton, caryeth ii. Kynchen mortes about him.
 Richard Thomas.


 S.

 Soth gard.
 Swanders.


 T.

 Thomas Edwards.
 Thomas Dauids.
 Wylliam Thomas.
 Wylliam Coper with the Harelyp.
 Wyll Pettyt, beareth a Kinche_n_ mort at his back.
 Wylliam Bowmer.

   [Footnote 157: The arrangement in Bodley ed. is not alphabetical.]

   [Footnote 158: Omitted in 1573 edit.]

   [Footnote 159: Omitted in 1573 ed.]

   [Footnote 160: Last three words omitted in 1573 ed.]

   [Footnote 161: §–§ The 1573 ed. arranges these names in the
   following order:—
     Thomas Béere. Irish man.
     Thomas Smith with the skalde skin.
     Thomas Shawneam.]

   [Footnote 162: The 1573 ed. reads _Persk_]

There is aboue an hundreth of Irish men and women that wander about to
begge for their lyuing, that hath come ouer within these two yeares.
They saye the[y] haue béene burned and spoyled by the Earle of Desmond,
and report well of the Earle of Vrmond.

¶ All these aboue wryten for the most part walke about Essex,
Myddlesex, Sussex, Surrey, and Kent. Then let the reader iudge what
number walkes in other Shieres, I feare me to great a number, if they
be well vnderstande.

[Headnote: HARMON. PEDDELARS FRENCHE.]

[Sidenote: [leaf 27, back]]


[163]*Here followyth their pelting speche.*

++HEre I set before the good Reader the leud, lousey language of these
lewtering Luskes _and_ lasy Lorrels, where with they bye and sell the
common people as they pas through the countrey. Whych language they
terme Peddelars Frenche, a vnknowen toung onely, but to these bold,
beastly, bawdy Beggers, and vaine Vacabondes, being halfe myngled with
Englyshe, when it is famyliarlye talked, and fyrste placinge thinges by
their proper names as an Introduction to this peuyshe spéeche.

 Nab,
   a head.

 Nabchet,
   a hat or cap.

 Glasyers,
   eyes.

 a smelling chete,
   a nose.

 gan,
   a mouth.

 a pratling chete,
   a tounge.

 Crashing chetes,
   téeth.

 Hearing chetes,
   eares.

 fambles,
   handes.

 a fambling chete,
   a rynge on thy hand.

 quaromes,
   a body.

 prat,
   a buttocke.

 stampes,
   legges.

 a caster,
   a cloke.

 a togeman,
   a cote. {83}

 a commission,
   a shierte.

 drawers,
   hosen.

 stampers,
   shooes.

 a mofling chete,
   a napkyn.

 a belly chete,
   an apern.

 dudes,
   clothes.

 a lag of dudes,
   a bucke of clothes.

 a slate or slates,
   a shéete or shetes.

 lybbege,
   a bed.

 bunge,
   a pursse.

 lowre,
   monye.

 mynt,
   golde.

 a bord,
   a shylling.

 halfe a borde,
   sixe pence.

 flagg,
   a groate.

 a wyn,
   a penny.

 a make,
   a halfepeny.

 bowse,
   drynke.

 bene,
   good.

 benshyp,
   very good.

 quier,
   nought.

 a gage,
   a quarte pot.

 a skew,
   a cuppe.

 pannam,[164]
   bread.

 cassan,
   chéese.

 yaram,[165]
   mylke.

 lap,
   butter milke or whey.

 [leaf 28] pek,
   meate.

 poppelars,
   porrage.

 ruff pek,
   baken.

 a grunting chete or a patricos kynchen,
   a pyg.

 a cakling chete,
   a cocke or capon.

 a margery prater,
   a hen.

 a Roger or tyb of the buttery,
   a Goose.

 a quakinge chete or a red shanke,
   a drake or ducke.

 grannam,
   corne.

 a lowhinge chete,
   a Cowe.

 a bletinge chete,
   a calf a or shéepe.

 a prauncer,
   a horse.

 autem,
   a church.

 Salomon,
   a alter or masse.

 patrico,
   a priest.

 nosegent,
   a Nunne.

 a gybe,
   a writinge.

 a Iarke,
   a seale.

 a ken,
   a house.

 a staulinge ken,
   a house that wyll receaue stolen ware.

 a bousing ken,
   a ale house.

 a Lypken,
   a house to lye in.

 a Lybbege,
   a bedde.

 glymmar,
   fyre.

 Rome bouse,
   wyne.

 lage,
   water.

 a skypper,
   a barne.

 strommell,
   strawe.

 a gentry cofes ken,
   A noble or gentlemans house.

 a gygger,
   a doore. {84}

 bufe,
   a dogge.

 the lightmans,
   the daye.

 the darkemans,
   the nyght.

 Rome vyle,
   London.

 dewse a vyle,
   the countrey.

 Rome mort,
   the Quene.

 a gentry cofe,
   a noble or gentlema_n_.

 a gentry morte,
   A noble or gentle woman.

 the quyer cuffyn,[166]
   the Iusticer of peace.

 the harman beck,
   the Counstable.

 the harmans,
   the stockes.

 Quyerkyn,
   a pryson house.

 Quier crampringes,
   boltes or fetters.

 tryninge,
   hanginge.

 chattes,
   the gallowes.

 the hygh pad,
   the hygh waye.

 the ruffmans,
   the wodes or bushes.

 a smellinge chete,
   a garden or orchard.

 crassinge chetes,
   apels, peares, or anye other frute.

 to fylche, to beate, to stryke, to robbe.[167]

 to nyp a boung,
   to cut a pursse.

 To skower the cramprings, [leaf 28, back]
   to weare boltes or fetters.

 to heue a bough,
   to robbe or rifle a boeweth.

 to cly the gerke,
   to be whypped.

 to cutte benle,[168]
   to speake gently.

 to cutte bene whydds,
   to speake or geue good wordes.

 to cutte quyre whyddes,
   to geue euell wordes or euell language.

 to cutte,
   to saye.

 to towre,
   to sée.

 to bowse,
   to drynke.

 to maunde,
   to aske or requyre.

 to stall,
   to make or ordaine.

 to cante,
   to speake.

 to myll a ken,
   to robbe a house.

 to prygge,
   to ryde.

 to dup the gyger,
   to open the doore.

 to couch a hogshead,
   to lye downe and sléepe.

 to nygle,
   to haue to do with a woman carnally.

 stow you,
   holde your peace.

 bynge a waste,
   go you hence.

 to the ruffian,
   to the deuell.

 the ruffian cly the,
   the deuyll take thée.

   [Footnote 163: *–* B. omits.]

   [Footnote 164: The 1578 ed. reads _Yannam_]

   [Footnote 165: B. reads _yarum_. The 1578 ed. reads _Param_]

   [Footnote 166: _custyn._ B.]

   [Footnote 167: For these two lines printed in small type, the 1573
   edition reads,

     To fylche
       to robbe]

   [Footnote 168: _benie._ B.]


¶ The vpright Cofe canteth to the Roge.[169]

 The vpright man speaketh to the Roge.

VPRIGHTMAN.[170]

Bene Lightmans to thy quarromes, in what lipken hast thou lypped in
this darkemans, whether in a lybbege or in the strummell? {85}

 God morrowe to thy body, in what house hast thou lyne in all night,
 whether in a bed, or in the strawe?

ROGE.

I couched a hogshead in a Skypper this darkemans.

 I layd[171] me downe to sléepe in a barne this night.

VPRIGHT MAN.[172]

I towre the strummel trine vpon thy nabchet[173] _and_ Togman.

 I sée the strawe hang vpon thy cap and coate.

ROGE.

I saye by the Salomon I will lage it of with a gage of benebouse; then
cut to my nose watch.

 I sweare by the masse[174], I wull washe it of with a quart of good
 drynke; [leaf 29][175] then saye to me what thou wylt.

MAN. Why, hast thou any lowre in thy bonge to bouse?

 Why, hast thou any money in thy purse to drinke?

ROGE. But a flagge, a wyn, and a make.

 But a grot, a penny, and a halfe penny.

MAN. Why, where is the kene that hath the bene bouse?

 where is the house that hath good drinke?

ROGE. A bene mort hereby at the signe of the prauncer.

 A good wyfe here by at the signe of the hors.

MAN. I cutt it is quyer buose, I bousd a flagge the laste dark mans.

 I saye it is small and naughtye drynke. I dranke a groate there the
 last night.

ROGE. But bouse there a bord, _and_ thou shalt haue beneship.

 But drinke there a shyllinge, and thou shalt haue very good.

Tower ye yander is the kene, dup the gygger, and maund that is bene
shyp.

 Se you, yonder is the house, open the doore, and aske for the best.
 {86}

MAN. This bouse is as benshyp[176] as rome bouse.

 This drinke is as good as wyne.

Now I tower that bene bouse makes nase nabes.

 Now I se that good drinke makes a dronken heade.

Maunde of this morte what bene pecke is in her ken.

 Aske of this wyfe what good meate shee hath in her house.

ROGE. She hath a Cacling chete, a grunting chete, ruff Pecke, cassan,
and popplarr of yarum.

 She hath a hen, a pyg, baken, chese and mylke porrage.

MAN. That is beneshyp to our watche.

 That is very good for vs.

Now we haue well bousd, let vs strike some chete.

 Nowe we haue well dronke, let us steale some thinge.

Yonder dwelleth a quyere cuffen, it were beneship to myll hym.

 Yonder dwelleth a hoggeshe and choyrlyshe man, it were very well donne
 to robbe him.

ROGE. Nowe bynge we a waste to the hygh pad, the ruffmanes is by.

 Naye, let vs go hence to the hygh waye, the wodes is at hand.

MAN. So may we happen on the Harmanes, and cly the Iarke, or to the
quyerken and skower quyaer cramprings, and so to tryning on the chates.

 [leaf 29, back] So we maye chaunce to set in the stockes, eyther
 be whypped, eyther had to prison house, and there be shackled with
 bolttes and fetters, and then to hange on the gallowes.

Gerry gan, the ruffian clye thee.

 A torde in thy mouth, the deuyll take thee.

MAN. What, stowe your bene, cofe, and cut benat whydds, and byng we to
rome vyle, to nyp a bong; so shall we haue lowre for the bousing ken,
and when we byng back to the deuseauyel, we wyll fylche some duddes of
the Ruffemans, or myll the ken for a lagge of dudes.

 What, holde your peace, good fellowe, and speake better wordes, and
 go we to London, to cut a purse; then shal we haue money for the ale
 house, and {87} when wee come backe agayne into the country, wee wyll
 steale some lynnen clothes of one[177] hedges, or robbe some house for
 a bucke of clothes.

   [Footnote 169: _Roger._ B.]

   [Footnote 170: _man._ B.]

   [Footnote 171: _laye._ B.]

   [Footnote 172: B. omits _vpright_.]

   [Footnote 173: _nabches._ B.]

   [Footnote 174: _masst._ B.]

   [Footnote 175: This leaf is supplied in MS. in Mr Huth’s edition.]

   [Footnote 176: _good_ in the 1573 ed.]

   [Footnote 177: The 1573 ed. has _some_]

¶ By this lytle ye maye holy and fully vnderstande their vntowarde
talke and pelting speache, mynglede without measure; and as they
haue begonne of late to deuyse some new termes for certien thinges,
so wyll they in tyme alter this, and deuyse as euyll or worsse. This
language nowe beinge knowen and spred abroade, yet one thinge more I
wyll ad vnto, not meaninge to Englyshe the same, because I learned the
same[178] of a shameles Doxe, but for the phrase of speche I set it
forth onely.

There was a proude patrico and a nosegent, he tooke his Iockam in
his famble, and a wappinge he went, he dokte the Dell, hee pryge to
praunce, he byngd a waste into the darke mans, he fylcht the Cofe, with
out any fylch man.

[Headnote: HARMON. NYCHOLAS BLUNTE’S TRICKS.]


++WHyle this second Impression was in printinge, it fortuned that
Nycholas Blunte, who called hym selfe Nycholan Gennyns, a counterefet
Cranke, that is spoken of in this booke, was fonde begging in the whyte
fryers on Newe yeares day last past, Anno domini .1567, and commytted
vnto a offescer, who caried hym vnto the depetye of the ward, which
co_m_mytted hym vnto the counter; _and_ as the counstable and a nother
would haue caried hym thether, This counterfet Cranke ran awaye, but
one lyghter of fote then the other ouer toke hym, _and_ so leading him
to the counter, where he remayned three days, _and_ from thence to
Brydewell, where before the maister[179] he had his dysgysed aparell
put vpon hym, which was monstrous to beholde, And after stode in
Chepesyde w_i_t_h_ _th_e same apparil on a scafold.[180]

   [Footnote 178: Instead of “the same,” the 1573 ed. reads _that_]

   [Footnote 179: _maisters._ B.]

   [Footnote 180: This paragraph is omitted in the ed. of 1573; but see
   note, _ante_, p. 56.]

[Sidenote: [leaf 30]]

 A Stockes to staye sure, and safely detayne,
   Lasy lewd Leutterers, that lawes do offend,
 Impudent persons, thus punished with payne,
   Hardlye for all this, do meane to amende.

{88}

[Headnote: HARMON. THE STOCKES.]

[Illustration]

   Fetters or shackles serue to make fast,
 Male malefactours, that on myschiefe do muse,
   Vntyll the learned lawes do quite or do cast,
 Such suttile searchers, as all euyll do vse.

[Illustration]

{89}

[Headnote: HARMON. THE ROGE’S END.]

[Sidenote: [lf 30, bk]]

 ++{    A whyp is a whysker, that wyll wrest out blood,
      Of backe and of body, beaten right well. }
        Of all the other it doth the most good,
      Experience techeth, and they can well tell.

[Illustration]

[Illustration]

   ¶ O dolefull daye! nowe death draweth nere,
 Hys bytter styng doth pearce me to the harte. {90}
   I take my leaue of all that be here,
 Nowe piteously playing this tragicall parte.
   Neither stripes nor teachinges in tyme could conuert,
 wherefore an ensample let me to you be,
   And all that be present, nowe praye you for me.

[Illustration]

[Headnote: HARMON. THE COUNTERFET CRANKE.]

 [181]¶ This counterfet Cranke, nowe vew and beholde,
   Placed in pyllory, as all maye well se:
 This was he, as you haue hard the tale tolde,
   before recorded with great suttylte,
 Ibused manye with his inpiete,
   his lothsome attyre, in most vgly manner,
 was through London caried with dysplayd banner.[182]

   [Footnote 181: B. omits this stanza and has inserted the following
   lines under the cut.

   THis is the fygure of the counterfet Cranke, that is spoken of
   in this boke of Roges, called Nycholas Blunt other wyse Nycholas
   Gennyngs. His tale is in the xvii. lefe [pp. 55–6] of this booke,
   which doth showe vnto all that reades it, woundrous suttell and
   crafty deseit donne of _and_ by him.]

   [Footnote 182: This verse is omitted in the edition of 1573; also
   the wood-cut preceding it.]

{91}

[Headnote: HARMON. CONCLUSION.]

 ☞ Thus I conclude my bolde Beggars booke,
 That all estates most playnely maye see,
 As in a glasse well pollyshed to looke,
 Their double demeaner in eche degree.
 Their lyues, their language, their names as they be,
 That with this warning their myndes may be warmed,
 To amend their mysdeedes, and so lyue vnharmed.


FINIS.


¶ Imprinted at London, in Fletestrete, at the signe of the Faulcon by
Wylliam gryffith. Anno Domni. 1567.[183]

   [Footnote 183: B. adds ‘the eight of January’. (This would make the
   year 1568 according to the modern reckoning. Harman’s ‘New Yeares
   day last past, Anno domini 1567’, p. 86, must also be 1567/8.)]

{92}




A Sermon in Praise of Thieves and Thievery.

――――

[_Lansdowne MS. 98, leaf 210._]


 A sermon made by P_ar_son Haben vppon a mold hill at Hartely Row,[184]
 at the Comaundment of vij. theves, whoe, after they had robbed him,
 Comaunded him to Preache before them.

I Marvell that eu_er_ye man will seme to dispraise theverye, and thinke
the doers thereof worthye of Death, when it is a thinge that Cometh
nere vnto vertve, and is vsed of all men, of all sort_es_ and in all
countryes, and soe comaunded and allowed of god himselfe which thinge,
because I cannot soe sapiently shewe vnto you a[185] soe shorte a tyme
and in soe shorte a place, I shall desire you, gentle theves, to take
in good p_ar_te this thinge that at this tyme Cometh to minde, not
misdoubtinge but you of yo_ur_ good knowledge are able to ad more vnto
the same then this which I at this tyme shall shewe vnto you. ffirst,
fortitude and stoutnes, Courage, and boldnes of stomacke, is Compted
of some a vertue; which beinge graunted, Whoe is he then that will
not Iudge theves vertuous, most stoute, most hardye? I most, withoute
feare. As for stealinge, that is a thinge vsuall:—whoe stealeth
not? ffor not only you that haue besett me, but many other in many
places. Men, Woemen, _and_ Children, Riche and poore, are dailye of
that facultye, As the hange {94} man of Tiborne can testifye. That
it is allowed of god himselfe, it is euident in many storyes of the
Scriptures. And if you liste to looke in the whole Course of the bible,
you shall finde that theves haue bin belovid of god. ffor Iacobe, when
he Came oute of Mesopotamia, did steale his vncles lambes; the same
Iacobe stale his brother Esawes blessinge; and that god saide, “I haue
chosen Iacob and refused Esawe.” The Children of Isarell, when they
came oute of Egippe, didd steale the Egippsians Iewells and ring_es_,
and god comaunded the[m] soe to doe. David, in the dayes of Ahemel[e]ch
the preiste, came into the temple and stole awaye the shewe bread; And
yet god saide, “this is a man accordinge to myne owne harte.” Alsoe
Christe himsellfe, when he was here vppon earth, did take an asse, a
Colte, which was none of his owne. And you knowe that god saide, “this
is my now_n_e sone, in whome I delighte.”

Thus maye you see that most of all god delighteth in theves. I marvell,
therefore, that men can despise yo_ur_ lives, when that you are in
all poynts almost like vnto Christe; for Christ hade noe dwellinge
place,—noe more haue you. Christe, therefore, at the laste, was laide
waite for in all places,—and soe are you. Christe alsoe at the laste
was called for,—and soe shall you be. He was condemned,—soe shall you
be. Christe was hanged,—soe shall you be. He descended into hell,—so
shall you. But in one pointe you differ. He assendid into heaven,—soe
shall you never, without gods mercye, Which god graunte for his mercyes
sake! Toe whome, with the so_n_ne and the holye goste, be all hono_ur_
and glory for euer and euer. Amen!

 After this good sermon ended, which Edefied them soe muche, Theye hadd
 soe muche Compassion on him, That they gave him all his mony agayne,
 and vij s more for his sermon.

   [Footnote 184: MS Rew. Hartley Row is on the South-Western road past
   Bagshot. The stretch of flat land there was the galloping place for
   coaches that had to make up time.]

   [Footnote 185: _in_]

{93}


A Sermon in Praise of Thieves and Thievery.

[_MS. Cott. Vesp._ A xxv. _leaf 53_]

 A sermoɳ of p_ar_son Hyberdyne w_hi_ch he made att the co_m_mandemente
 of certen theves, aft_er_ thay had Robbed hym, besyd_es_ hartlerowe,
 in hamshyer, in the feld_es_, ther standinge vpo_n_ a hy[l~l] where as
 a wynde myll had bene, in the p_re_sens of the theves _tha_t robbed
 hy_m_, as followithe.

 the s_er_mon as followethe

I greatly merve[l~l] _tha_t any man wy[l~l] p_re_sume to dysprase
theverie, _and_ thynke the dooer_es_ therof to be woorthy of deathe,
consyderinge itt is a thynge that cu_m_ithe nere vnto vertue, beinge
vsed of many in a[l~l] contries, And co_m_mendid _and_ allowed of god
hym selfe; the w_hi_ch, thinge, by-cause I cannot co_m_pendiously shew
vnto yow at soo shorte a warnynge _and_ in soo sharpe a wether, I
sha[l~l] desyer yow, gentle audiens of theves, to take in good p_ar_te
thes thyng_es_ that at thys tyme cu_m_ythe to my mynde, not mysdowtynge
but _tha_t yow of yowre good knowledge are able to add mutch more
vnto ytt the_n_ this w_hi_ch I sha[l~l] nowe vtter vnto yow. ffyrst,
fortitude, _and_ stowtnes of corage, _and_ also bowldnes of minde, is
co_m_mendyd of su_m_e men to be a vertue; w_hi_ch, beinge grawnted, who
is yt then _tha_t wy[l~l] not iudge theves to be v_er_tused? for thay
be of a[l~l] men moste stowte _and_ hardy, _and_ moste w_i_t_h_owte
feare; for thevery is a thynge moste vsua[l~l] emonge a[l~l] men, for
not only yow that be here p_re_sente, but many other in dyu_er_se
plac_es_, bothe men _and_ wemen _and_ chyldren, rytche and poore, are
dayly of thys facultye, {95} as the hangman of tyboorne can testyfye:
and that yt is allowed of god hym selfe, as it is euydente in many
storayes of [the] scriptur_es_; for yf yow looke in the hole cowrse
of the byble, yow shall fynde that theves haue bene beloued of gode;
for Iacobe, whan he came owte of Mesopotamia, dyd steale his vncle
labanes kydd_es_; the same Iacobe also dyd steale his brothe[r] Esaues
blessynge; _and_ yett god sayde, “I haue chosen Iacobe _and_ refused
Esau.” The chyldren of ysrae[l~l], wha_n_ they came owte of Egypte,
dyd steale the egiptians iewell_es_ of sylu_er_ and gowlde, as god
co_m_mawnded them soo to doo. Davyd, in the days of Abiather the hygh
preste, did cu_m_e into _th_e temple _and_ dyd steale the hallowed
breede; _and_ yet god saide, “Dauid is a man̄ euen after myne owne
harte.” Chryste hym selfe, whan he was here on the arthe, did take
an asse _and_ a cowlte _tha_t was none of hys; _and_ yow knowe that
god said of hym, “this is my beloued soone, in whome I delighte.”
thus yow may see that god delightithe in theves. but moste of a[l~l]
I marve[l~l] _tha_t men can dispyse yow theves, where as in a[l~l]
poynt_es_ almoste yow be lyke vnto christe hym selfe: for chryste had
noo dwellynge place; noo more haue yow. christe wente frome towne to
towne; _and_ soo doo yow. christe was hated of a[l~l] men, sauynge
of his freend_es_; and soo are yow. christe was laid waite vpon in
many plac_es_; _and_ soo are yow. chryste at the lengthe was cawght;
_and_ soo sha[l~l] yow bee. he was browght before the iudges; _and_
soo sha[l~l] yow bee. he was accused; _and_ soo sha[l~l] yow bee. he
was condempned; _and_ soo sha[l~l] yow bee. he was hanged; _and_ so
sha[l~l] yow bee. he wente downe into he[l~l]; _and_ soo sha[l~l]
yow dooe. mary! in this one thynge yow dyffer frome hym, for he rose
agayne _and_ assendid into heauen; _and_ soo sha[l~l] yow neuer dooe,
w_i_t_h_owte god_es_ greate mercy, w_hi_ch gode grawnte yow! to whome
w_i_t_h_ the father, _and_ the soone, _and_ the hooly ghoste, be a[l~l]
honore and glorye, for eu_er_ and eu_er_. Amen!


Thus his s_er_mon beinge endyd, they gaue hy_m_ his money agayne that
thay tooke frome hym, _and_ ij^s to drynke for hys s_er_mon.


finis.

{96} [Blank Page]

{97}




 [_The parts added to_ HARMAN’S CAUEAT _to make_]
 THE
 Groundworke of Conny-catching;
 the manner of their Pedlers-French, and the meanes
 _to vnderstand the same, with the cunning slights_
 of the Counterfeit Cranke.
 Therein are handled the practises of the _Visiter_,
 the Fetches
 _of the_ Shifter _and_ Rufflar, _the deceits of their_ Doxes, _the deuises_
 of Priggers, _the names of the base loytering Losels, and_
 _the meanes of euery_ Blacke-Art-mans _shifts, with_
 _the reproofe of all their diuellish_
 practises.
 _Done by a Justice of Peace of great authoritie, who hath_
 _had the examining of diuers of them._

[Illustration]

 _Printed at London by_ Iohn Danter _for_ William Barley, _and are to
 be sold at his shop at the vpper end of Gratious streete,
 ouer against Leaden-hall_, 1592.

                               7

{98} [Blank Page]

{99}

[Headnote: THE GROUNDWORKE OF CONNY-CATCHING.]

[Sidenote: [leaf 2]]

To the gentle Readers health.

Gentle reader, as there hath beene diuers bookes set forth, as warnings
for all men to shun the craftie coossening sleights of these both men
and women that haue tearmed themselues Conny-catchers; so amongst the
rest, bestow the reading ouer of this booke, wherin thou shalt find
the ground-worke of Conny-catching, with the manner of their canting
speech, how they call all things in their language, the horrible
coossening of all these loose varlots, and the names of them in their
seuerall degrees,

  _First,_ _The Visiter._
  2. _The Shifter._
  3. _The Rufflar._
  4. _The Rogue._
  5. _The wild Rogue._
  6. _A prigger of Prauncers._
  7. _A Pallyard._
  8. _A Frater._
  9. _An Abraham man._
 10. _A freshwater Marriner, or Whipiacke._
 11. _A counterfait Cranke._
 12. _A Dommerar._
 13. _A Dronken Tinkar._
 14. _A Swadder, or Pedler._
 15. _A Iarkeman & Patrico._
 16. _A demander for glimmar._
 17. _The baudy Basket._
 18. _An Autem Mort._
 19. _A walking Mort._
 20. _A Doxe._
 21. _A Dell._
 22. _Kinchin Mort._
 23. _A Kinchin Co._

All these playing their coossenings in their kinde are here set downe,
which neuer yet were disclosed in anie booke of Conny-catching. {100}

[Headnote: SHIFTERS AT INNS.]

[Sidenote: [leaf 2, back]]

 A new kind of shifting sleight, practised at this day by
 _some of this Cony-catching crue, in Innes or vitualling
 houses, but especially in Faires or Markets_,
 which came to my hands since the imprinting of the rest.

Whereas of late diuers coossening deuises and deuilish deceites haue
beene discouered, wherby great inconueniences haue beene eschewed,
which otherwise might haue beene the vtter ouerthrowe of diuers
honest men of all degrees, I thought this, amongst the rest, not the
least worthie of noting, especially of those that trade to Faires and
Markets, that therby being warned, they may likewise be armed, both to
see the deceit, and shun the daunger. These shifters will come vnto an
Inne or vittailing house, that is most vsed in the towne, and walke vp
and downe; and if there come any gentleman or other, to lay vp either
cloke, sword, or any other thing woorth the hauing, then one of this
crue taketh the marks of the thing, or at least the token the partie
giueth them: anone, after he is gone, he likewise goeth forth, and
with a great countenance commeth in againe to the mayde or seruant,
calling for what another left: if they doubt to deliuer it, then hee
frets, and calles them at his pleasure, and tels them the markes and
tokens: hauing thus done, hee blames their forgetfulnes, and giues them
a couple of pence to buy them pinnes, bidding them fetch it straight,
and know him better the next time, wherewith they are pleasd, and
he possest of his pray. Thus one gotte a bagge of Cheese the last
Sturbridge Faire; for in such places (as a reclaimd fellow of that crue
confessed) they make an ordinary practise of the same.

 [_The Pedler’s French_ follows, taken word for word from Harman’s
 book, p. 82–7 above.]

[Sidenote: [leaf 5]]

THE VISITER.

An honest youth, not many yeares since, seruant in this City, had
leaue of his master at whitsontide to see his friends, who dwelt some
fifty miles from London. It hapned at a Country wake, his mother and
hee came acquainted with a precise scholler, that, vnder colour of
strickt life, hath bin reputed for that hee is not: hee is well {101}
knowen in Paules Churchyard, and hath beene lately a visiting in
Essex; for so he presumes to tearme his cosening walks: and therefore
wee will call him here a Visiter. This honest seeming man must needes
(sith his iourney lay to London) stay at the yong mans mothers all the
holy daies: where as on his desert hee was kindly vsed; at length,
the young man, hauing receiued his mother’s blessing, with other his
friendes giftes, amounting to some ten poundes, was to this hypocrite
as to a faithful guide committed, and toward London they ride: by the
way this Visiter discourses how excellent insight he had in Magick,
to recouer by Art anything lost or stolne. Well, to sant Albons they
reach; there they sup together, and, after the carowsing of some quarts
of wine, they go to bed, where they kindly sleepe,—the Visiter slily,
but the young man soundly. Short tale to make—out of his bed-fellow’s
sleeue this Visiter conuaid his twenty Angels, besides some other od
siluer, hid it closely, and so fell to his rest. Morning comes—vp
gets this couple—immediately the money was mist, much adoo was made;
the Chamberlaine with sundry other seruants examined; and so hot the
contention, that the good man, for the discharge of his house, was
sending for a Constable to haue them both first searcht, his seruants
Chests after. In the meane time the Visiter cals the yong man aside,
and bids him neuer grieue, but take horse; and he warrants him, ere
they be three miles out of towne, to helpe him to his money by Art,
saying:—“In these Innes ye see how we shall be out-faced, and, beeing
vnknowne, how euer we be wrongd, get little remedy.” The yong man,
in good hope, desired him to pay the reckoning, which done, together
they ride. Being some two miles from the towne, they ride out of the
ordinary way: there he tels this youth how vnwilling hee was to enter
into the action, but that it was lost in his company, and so forth.
Well, a Circle was made, wondrous words were vsed, many muttrings made:
at length hee cries out,—“vnder a greene turfe, by the East side of an
Oake; goe thither, goe thither.” This thrice he cryed so ragingly, as
the yuong man gest him mad, and was with feare almost beside himself.
At length, pausing, quoth this Visiter, “heard ye nothing cry?” “Cry!”
said the yong man, “yes; [leaf 5, back] you cride so as, for twise ten
pound, I would not heare ye {102} again.” “Then,” quoth he, “’tis all
well, if ye remember the words.” The yong man repeated them. With that
this shifter said, “Go to the furthest Oke in the high-way towards S.
Albons, and vnder a greene turfe, on the hither side, lyes your mony,
and a note of his name that stole it. Hence I cannot stirre till you
returne; neyther may either of our horses be vntide for that time:
runne yee must not, but keepe an ordinary pace.” Away goes the yong man
gingerly; and, being out of sight, this copesmate takes his cloke-bag,
wherein was a faire sute of apparel, and, setting spurres to his horse,
was, ere the Nouice returned, ridde cleane out of his view. The yong
man, seeing himselfe so coossened, made patience his best remedie,
tooke his horse, and came to London, where yet it was neuer his lucke
to meet this visiter.

[Headnote: A SHIFTER DESCRIBED.]


A SHIFTER.

A Shifter, not long since, going ordinarily booted, got leaue of a
Carrier to ride on his owne hackney a little way from London, who,
comming to the Inne where the Carier that night should lodge, honestly
set vp the horse, and entred the hal, where were at one table some
three and thirty clothiers, all returning to their seuerall countries.
Vsing, as he could, his curtesie, and being Gentleman-like attirde,
he was at all their instance placed at the vpper end by the hostesse.
After hee had a while eaten, he fel to discourse with such pleasance,
that all the table were greatly delighted therewith. In the midst of
supper enters a noise of musitions, who with their instruments added a
double delight. For them hee requested his hostesse to laye a shoulder
of mutton and a couple of capons to the fire, for which he would pay,
_and_ then mooued in their behalfe to gather. Among them a noble was
made, which he fingring, was well blest; for before he had not a
crosse, yet he promist to make it vp an angel. To be short, in comes
the reckoning, which (by reason of the fine fare _and_ excesse of wine)
amounted to each mans halfe crown. Then hee requested his hostesse to
prouide so many possets of sacke, as would furnish the table, which he
would bestow on the Gentlemen to requite their extraordinary costs:
_and_ iestingly askt if she would {103} make him her deputie to
gather the reckoning; she graunted, and he did so: and on a sodaine,
(faining to hasten his hostesse with the possets) he tooke his cloke,
and, finding fit time, hee slipt out of doores, leauing the guestes
and their hostesse to a new reckoning, _and_ the musitians to a good
supper, but they paid for the sauce. This iest some vntruly attribute
to a man of excellent parts about London, but he is slandered: the
party that performed it hath scarce any good qualitie to liue. Of these
sort I could set downe a great number, but I leaue you now vnto those
which by Maister Harman are discouered.

 [Then follows Harman’s book, commencing with a Ruffelar, p. 29. The
 woodcut of Nicolas Blunt and Nicolas Geninges (p. 50, above) is given,
 and another one representing the Cranke after he was stripped and
 washed. The volume ends with the chapter “Their vsage in the night,”
 p. 76–8 above,—the woodcuts and verses at the end of Harman’s book
 being omitted in the present _Groundworke of Conny-catching_. The last
 words in the latter are, “And this must the poore Farmer suffer, or
 els they threaten to burne him, and all that he hath.”]

{104}




INDEX.


  Abraham men, those who feign madness, 3; one of them, named
    Stradlynge, ‘the craftiest and moste dyssemblyngest knaue,’ 47

  Altham, a curtall’s wife, 4

  Arsenick, to make sores with, 44

  associate, accompany, 53

  Autem, a church, 67, 83

  ― Mortes, description of, 67; as chaste as Harman’s ‘Cowe,’ 67

  Awdeley, Iohn, a printer, 1

  Awdeley’s _Vacabondes_; Harman’s references to, 20, 60

  Axiltrye, casting of the, 46


  baken, bacon, 3

  baudy banquet, whoring, 63

  bauer, ? band, 52

  Bawd Phisicke, a cook, 14

  Bawdy baskets, description of, 65; a story of one who, with an
    upright man, spoiled a poor beggar of his money, 66

  beggar by inheritance, 42

  belly chere, food, 32

  belly chete, an apron, 83

  benat, better, 86

  bene, good, 83

  bene bowse, good drink, 59

  beneship, very well, 86

  benshyp, very good, 83, 86

  beray, dung, 13; dirty, 52

  beteled, ? (_betelled_ is deceived), 67

  Bethlem Hospital, 52, 53

  Blackheath, 77

  bletinge chete, a calf or sheep, 83

  Blunt, Nicolas, an upright man, 50, 87

  bong, purse, 84, 86

  booget, a bag, 59

  bord, a shilling, 83

  ―, half a, sixpence, 83

  borsholders, 21, _n._, superior constables. See Halliwell’s
    _Glossary_.

  bottell, bundle, truss, 72

  Bottomelye, Besse, a harlot, 75

  bousing ken, an ale-house, 83

  bowle, drink bowls of liquor, 32

  bowse, drink, 32, 83; _v._ to drink, 84

  braste, burst, 73

  Bridewell, 57, 87

  broused, bruised, 29

  bryberinge, stealing, 60

  Buckes, baskets, 21

  Buckingham, Duke of, beheaded, 22

  bufe, a dog, 84

  bung, a purse, 83, 84, 86

  buskill, ? bustle, wriggle, 15

  bychery, 67

  bycherye, whoring, 61

  byd, pray, 15

  byng a waste, go you hence, 84


  cakling chete, a cock, or capon, 83

  can skyl, know, 8

  cante, to speak, 84

  Canting, the language of vagabonds, 23; list of words, 82–4; specimen
    of, 84–6

  Capcases, covers for caps, small bandboxes, 65

  Capon hardy, 12. For ‘capron hardy,’ ‘a notable whipster or twigger,’
    a bold or saucy young scamp. (See the Index to Caxton’s _Book of
    Curtesye_, E. E. T. Soc., p. 54.)

  cassan, cheese, 83

  caster, a cloak, 82

  casting of the sledge, 46

  Caueat, a warning, 17

  Chafe litter, the knave, described, 13

  chafer, heating dish, 59

  Charing Cross, 58

  chattes, the gallows, 84, 86

  Chayne, a gentleman, 58

  Cheapside, 57, 87

  Cheatours, card-sharpers enticing young men to their hosteries, win
    their money and depart, 7

  cheeke by cheeke (now ‘by jowl’), 12

  chete, animal, 83, col. 2, foot

  chetes, things, 42

  Choplogyke, description of, 15

  Christ, like a thief, 94, 95

  Christes Hospital, 8

  Clapperdogens, 44. _See_ Palliards.

  Clement’s Inn, 53

  clocke, a cloak, 55

  clyme three tres with a ladder, to ascend the gallows, 31

  cly the gerke, to be whipped, 84

  Cole, false, 15. (See Mr R. Morris in _Notes and Queries_, Oct.,
    1869, on _Colfox_, &c.)

  Cole Prophet, description of, 15

  commission, a shirt, 83

  Commitour of Tidings, a tell-tale, 14

  common, commune, 45

  conneys, rabbits, 35

  conneyskins, rabbitskins, 65

  connizance, cognizance, 35

  Cornwall, 48

  Cory fauell, a knave, described, 16

  couch a hogshead, lie down and sleep, 77, 84

  Counterfet Crankes, description of, 51; story of one that Harman
    watched, 51; how he was dressed, 51; his refusal to wash when
    bidden, 52; gives the name of Genings, 52; said he had been in
    Bethlehem Hospital, 52, which Harman found to be a lie, 53; in the
    middle of the day he goes into the fields and renews the blood
    on his face, 53; what money he received, 53; at night he goes to
    Newington, where he is given in charge, 54; the amount of his
    gains, 55; his escape, 55; his recapture, 56, _n._; his punishment,
    57, _n._

  Cousoners, cheaters, 1

  Crashing chetes, teeth, 82

  crassinge chetes, apples, pears, or any other fruit, 84

  Cross Keys Inn in Cranford (Middlesex) or Crayford (Kent), 77

  cuffen, fellow, 86. _See_ Quyer.

  Cursetors, 17; explanation of, 27

  Curtal, 37

  Curtall, one who is next in authority to an upright man, 4

  Curtesy man, described, 6

  cutte, to say, 84

  cutte bene whydds, speak or give good words, 84

  cutte benle, speak gently, 84

  cutte quyre whyddes, give evil words or evil language, 84


  darkemans, night, 84

  Dartford, 58

  David, a thief, 94, 95

  ded lyft, a; last refuge, 34

  Dells, rogues’ virgins, described, 75

  Demaunder for glymmar, description of, 61; story of one who behaved
    courteously to one man and uncourteously to another, 61–65

  Deptford, 77

  Desmond, Earl of, 82

  Devil’s Pater noster, 15

  Devonshire, 48

  dewse a vyle, the country, 84, 86

  Dialogue, between upright man and rogue, 84–87

  dokte, fornicated with, 87

  Dommerar, description of, 57; of one who was made to speak, and
    afterwards punished on the pillory, 58, 59

  doson, dozen, 34

  Doxes, description of, 4, 6, 73

  Draw-the-pudding-out-of-the-fire; a beggars’ inn at
    Harrow-on-the-Hill, 77

  drawers, hosen, 83

  Drawlatches, a class of beggars, 27

  Dronken Tinckar, description of, 59

  drouselye, drowsily, 76

  dudes, cloths, 83

  dup the gyger, open the door, 84

  Dyng-thrift, description of, 15


  Egiptians, description of, 23

  Esau, a thief, 94, 95

  Esaye, Isaiah, 24

  Esen Droppers, eaves-droppers, 15

  exonerate, empty (one’s belly), 55


  factors, tax-gatherers, 45

  fambles, hands, 82; famble, 87

  fambling chete, ring on the hand, 82

  Faytores, a class of beggars, 27

  ferres, 35, ferries

  Filtchman, the truncheon of a staff, 4

  Fingerers, 7–9. _See_ Cheatours.

  for knowing; against, to prevent, being recognized, 71

  flagg, a groat, 83, 85

  flebytinge, 73

  fletinge Fellowshyp, the company of vagabonds, 24

  Frater, one who goes with a licence to beg for some Spittlehouse or
    Hospital, but who usually robs poor women, 4; description of, 45

  Freshwater Mariner, description of, 48

  Furmenty, 22

  fustian fume, 46

  fylche, to beat, to rob, 84

  fylthy firy flankard, 29

  fynesed, finished, 70

  Fyngerer, 8, 9


  gage, a quart pot, 83

  ― of bowse, a quart of drink, 34

  gally slopes, breeches, 35

  gan, a mouth, 82

  gealy gealowsit, good fellowship, 55

  gentry cofes ken, a noble or gentleman’s house, 83

  gentry morte, a noble or gentlewoman, 84

  Genynges, Nicolas, a counterfeit cranke, 50, 87

  gestes, guests, 61

  Glasyers, eyes, 82

  glimmeringe morte, a woman who travels the country begging, saying
    her goods have been burnt, 61

  glymmar, fire, 61, 83

  grannam, corn, 83

  Grauesend barge, a resort of vagabonds and knaves, 1

  graunt, agree, 53

  greffe, grief, 55

  Grene Winchard, description of a, 14

  _Groundworke of Conny-catching_, 97

  grunting chete, or patricos kynchen, a pig, 83

  Gryffith, Wylliam, a printer, 17

  Gybe, a licence, 4; a writing, 83

  gygger, a door, 83, 85

  Gyle Hather, description of, 14

  gyllot, a whore, 71


  Haben, a witty parson, 92

  hande charcher, handkerchief, 72

  Harman beck, constable, 84

  Harman, Thomas, his _Caveat_, 17–91; epistle to the reader, 27; his
    old tenant, 30; his copper cauldron stolen, 35; recovered, 35;
    notice to tinkers of the loss of his cauldron, 35; his gelding
    stolen, 44; in commission of the peace, 60; paid for beggars’
    secrets, 74

  Harmans, the stocks, 84

  Harrow-on-the-Hill, inn at, 77

  Hartley Row in Hampshire, 92, 93

  Hearing chetes, ears, 82

  heauing of the bowth, robbing the booth, 4

  Helpers of rogues, 9

  Helycon, 28

  heue a bough, rob a booth, 84

  Hill’s, Mr, Rents, 57

  _him_ redundant: leapes him, 43, l. 24

  Hoker, or Angglear, description of, 35; anecdote of one who took the
    clothes of the bed in which 3 men were sleeping, without awaking
    them, 36

  Holborn, 54

  hollowe hosteler, 63

  horse locke, 39

  hosen, breeches, 71, 72

  hosted, lodged, 57, _n._

  hosteries, card-sharpers’ resorts, 9

  House of Pity, inn in Northall, 77

  hoyssed, hoisted, 20

  huggeringe, loitering, 43

  Hyberdyne, a parson, 93

  hygh, hie, 33

  hygh pad, highway, 84


  Jacob, a thief, 94, 95

  Iarckeman, a maker of counterfeit licences, 5, 60

  Iarckes, seals, 4

  Iarke, a seal, 83

  ich, I, 8

  Jeffrey Gods Fo, a liar, 13

  Ingratus, an ungrateful knave, 16

  in printe, meaning ‘correct,’ 45

  Iockam, yard, penis, 87

  iompe, jump, plump, exactly, 44

  Irishe toyle, a beggar, 5

  Irish rogues, 44, 48

  Isleworth (Thystellworth), St Julian’s, a beggars’ inn at, 77

  Iusticers, Justices, 21


  Karle, a knave, 8

  ken, a house, 83, 84, 86

  Kent, a man of worship in, death of, 22

  Kent, mentioned, 37, 43, 48, 61, 63, 66, 68, 77

  Kent St, Southwark, 57

  Ketbroke, a beggars’ inn, near Blackheath, 77

  kinde, nature, 52

  Kitchen Co, a boy, 5, 76

  ― Morte, a girl, 5, 76

  Knapsbery (inn near London), 77

  Knaues, 25 orders of, 1

  ―, quartern of, 1

  Kynges barne, beggars’ inn in Kent, 77


  lage, water, 83

  lag of dudes, a bucke of clothes, 83

  lap, butter, milk, or whey, 83

  lasy Lorrels, 82

  lecherous husband cured, 68–73

  Leicester, 56

  lewed lecherous loyteringe, 31

  lewtering Luskes, 82

  licoryce knaue, a drunkard, 13

  lightmans, day, 84

  (Lincoln’s Inn) Fields, 53

  London, 30, 42, 49

  lousey leuterars, vagabonds, 22

  lowhinge chete, a cow, 83

  lowre, money, 83, 85, 86

  Lubbares, lubbers, 47

  luckly, lucky, 19

  Ludgate, 57

  lybbege, a bed, 83

  lybbet, a stick, 26

  lykinge, lustful, 21

  Lynx eyes, 54. (See Index to Hampole’s _Pricke of Conscience_.)

  Lypken, a house to lie in, 83


  make, halfpenny, 83

  make (think) it strange, 41

  makes, mates, 23

  mammerings, mumblings, 72

  manerly marian, 62

  margery prater, a hen, 83

  Mariner, one at Portsmouth the maker of counterfeit licences for
    Freshwater mariners, 49

  matche of wrastlinge, 46

  maunde, ask or require, 84, 85

  Messenger, Ione, an honest bawdy basket, 65

  Milling of the ken, sending children into houses to rob, 67

  mofling chete, a napkin, 83

  mounched, eat, 72

  mounch-present, one who, being sent by his master with a present,
    must taste of it himself, 14

  myll a ken, rob a house, 84

  mynt, gold, 83


  Nab, a head, 82, 86

  Nabchet, a hat or cap, 82

  nase, drunken, 86

  Newhaven, 67

  Newington, 54, 56

  Nichol Hartles, a coward, 13

  Northall, beggars’ inn at, 77

  nosegent, a nun, 83

  nouels, news, 14

  Nunquam, a loitering servant, 16

  nygle, haue to do with a woman carnally, 84

  nyp a boung, to cut a purse, 84


  Obloquium, a malapert knave, 13

  occupying, holding of land, 38

  of, off, 39

  oysters of East Kent, 68


  Palliards, description of, 4, 44; doings of, 44; list of names of,
    81, 82

  pannam, bread, 83

  Param, milk, 83, _n._

  patrico, a priest, 6, 60

  paulmistrie, fortune-telling, 23

  pecke, meat, 86

  peddelars Frenche. _See_ Canting.

  pek, meat, 83

  peld pate, head uncovered, 34

  pelte, clothes, 76

  peltinge, ? paltry, contemptible, 20

  Penner, a pen-case, 54

  pens, pence, 55

  pickthanke knaue, 14

  pillory in Cheapside, 57

  pitching of the barre, 46

  pity: it pytied him at the hart, 41

  poppelars, porridge, 83

  porte sale, ? quick sale, 77

  Portsmouth, 49

  Poules, St Paul’s, 8

  prat, a buttocke, 82

  prating knaue, 15

  pratling chete, a tongue, 82

  prauncer, a horse, 83

  Prigger of Paulfreys, a stealer of horses, 4

  Proctour, a liar, 14; keeper of a spittlehouse, 45

  PROVERBS:
    although Truth be blamed, it shall never be shamed, 28
    as the begger knowes his dishe, 32
    don’t wake the sleeping dog, 73
    God hath done his part, 48
    out of sight, out of minde, 32
    swete meate wyll haue sowre sawce, 72

  prygge, to ride, 84

  Prygger of Prauncers, description of, 42; a story of a gentleman
    who lost his horse by giving it in charge for a short time to a
    ‘priggar,’ 43

  Prygges, tinkers, 59

  Prygman, one who steals clothes off hedges, and a robber of poultry, 3


  quakinge chete, or red shanke, a drake or duck, 83

  quaromes, a body, 82

  Queen Elizabeth, 21

  quier, nought, 83

  Quier crampringes, bolts or fetters, 84, 86

  Quire bird, one lately come out of prison, 4

  quyer cuffyn, justice of the peace, 84, 86

  Quyerkyn, prison house, 84, 86


  rabblement, 19

  rakehelles, 19

  Ratsbane, 44

  rechles, reckless, 15

  rifflinge, 32

  Rince pytcher, a drunkard, 13

  Ring chopper, description of, 11

  ― faller, description of, 10

  Robardesmen, robbers, 27. See William of Nassington’s description of
    them quoted in _Notes & Queries_ by F. J. F., 1869; and _The Vision
    of Piers Plowman_, ed. Wright, ii. 506, 521.

  Robin goodfelow, 36

  Rochester, 66

  Rogeman, a receiver of stolen clothes, 3

  Roger, or tyb of the buttery, a goose, 83

  Roges, description of, 36; subject to beastly diseases, 37; list of
    names of, 80, 81

  Rogues, a story of two, who made the acquaintance of a parson at an
    ale-house, and afterwards went to his house and robbed him, 37

  Rome bouse, wine, 83

  Rome mort, the Queen, 84

  Rome vyle, London, 84

  Rothered in Kent, 77

  rowsey, ? rough, or frowzy, 19

  Royal Exchange, 8

  roylynge, travelling, 31

  ruffe, rough, 33

  Ruffeler, a robber of ‘wayfaring men and market women,’ 3, 29; a
    story of one who robbed an old man, a tenant of Harman’s, on
    Blackheath, 30

  ruffian cly the, devil take thee, 84

  ruffian, to the, 84, to the devil

  ruffmans, woods or bushes, 84

  ruff pek, bacon, 83

  ruysting, roystering, 32


  Salomon, an altar, or mass, 83

  sawght, sought, 62

  Saynt Augustyn, 24

  scelorous, wicked, 20

  sewerly, surely, 50

  Shifters, 1

  shotars hyl, Shooter’s Hill, 30

  Shreeues, sheriffs, 21

  Shrewd turne, ? sharp handling, hard usage, 15

  Shrewsbury, Elizabeth Countess of, Harman’s dedication to, 19

  shrodge, shrugged, hugged, 71

  Simon soone agon, a loitering knave, 13

  skew, a cup, 83

  Skoller, a waterman (and his boat), 54

  skower the cramprings, wear bolts or fetters, 84

  skypper, a barn, 83

  slates, sheets to lie in, 61, 76, 77, 83

  small breefe, old briefe of vacabonds, meaning Awdeley’s book, 20

  smell feastes, 46

  smelling chete, a nose, 82; a garden or orchard, 84

  snowte fayre, fair-faced, 61

  sod, boiled, 22

  Somersetshire, 61

  soup, chewed, to produce foaming at the mouth, 51

  Spanlles, spaniel-dogs, 33

  Spearwort, 44

  Spice-cakes, 12

  spitlehouse, 45; row in a, 45; the constable wants to take in custody
    the roysterers, 46; the good wife of the house intreats him for
    her guests, and while so doing the next door neighbours enter the
    kitchen, and steal the supper that she was preparing, 46

  squaymysh, squeamish, 55

  St. George’s Fields, 54

  St. Giles’s in the Fields, 54

  St. Julian’s (inn in Thystellworth; Isleworth), 77

  St. Quinten’s (inn near London), 77

  St. Tybbe’s (inn near London), 77

  stall, to make or ordain, 84

  stalling to the rogue, ceremony of, 34

  stampers, shoes, 83

  stampes, legs, 82

  Statutes, i. Edw. VI. c. iii, p. 20, _n._; xxvii. Hen. VIII. for
    punishment of vagabonds, 29

  staulinge ken, a house that will receive stolen wares, 32, 83

  stibber gibber knaue, a liar, 14

  stow you, hold your peace, 84

  Stradlynge, an Abraham man, 47

  strommell, straw, 83

  Sturton, Lord, 48

  summer-games, 47

  surgeon, who strung up the dumb rogue, 58–9

  Swadders and Pedlers, description of, 60

  Swygman, a pedlar, 5


  tempering, tampering, 70

  Temple Bar, 53

  ‘Thank God of all,’ 67 (cp. Shakspere’s ‘Thank God you are rid of a
    knave.’ _Much Ado_, iii. 3.)

  the, thee, 55

  Thieves, a sermon in praise of, 92

  ‘Three trees,’ the gallows, 31

  tickle in the ear, gammon, 9

  Tinkard, a beggar, 5

  tiplinge[house], an ale-house, 40

  tittiuell knaue, a tale-bearer, 15

  togeman, a coat, 77, 82

  tortylles, turtle-doves, lovers, 62

  towre, see, 84, 85

  trashe, goods, 77

  trininge, hanging, the end of roges, 37, 84

  Troll and troll by, a knave, described, 12

  Troll Hazard of Trace, a knave, 12

  Troll Hazard of tritrace, a knave,13

  Troll with, a knave, 12

  Truth, proverb as to, 28

  tryninge, hanging, 84

  twin’d hempe, rope and gallows, 29 (cp. Bulleyn in _The Babees Book_,
    p. 240–3)

  _Two Gent. of Verona_, 45

  Tynckars, Harman sends notice of the stealing of his cauldron to the,
    35

  typ, secret, 20

  typlinge houses, alehouses, 24


  Vacabonde—one being caught, and brought before the justices of the
    peace, promised to tell them the names and degrees of his fellows,
    on condition that he escaped punishment, which being granted, he
    fulfilled his promise, and Awdeley obtained the materials for his
    book, 2

  Vacabondes, beggerly, 1; ruflyng, 1; ‘the old briefe’ of, 60

  Vagabondes, their vsage in the night, 76

  Vagabonds, account of the doings of, at the funeral of a man of
    worship in Kent, 22

  vagarantes, 19

  Vngracious, a man who will not work, 15

  Vnthrift, a reckless knave, 15

  vntrus, to undress, 72

  Vpright man, description of, 1, 4, 31

  Vpright men, list of the names of, 78, 79, 80

  Vrmond, Earle of, 82


  walkinge mortes, description of, 67; a story of a trick that one
    played on a man who would have had to do with her, and the
    punishment he received instead, 67–73

  wannion, a curse, 62

  wappinge, fornicating, 87

  Washman, one who shams lameness, sickness, etc., 5

  waste, bynge a; go hence, 84, 86

  watch, the constable, 45

  watche, person, 61; our watche, us, 86

  Welsh rogues, 44, 57

  Whistle, anecdote of the, 61–5

  Whipiacke, a robber of booths and stalls, 4

  Whitefriars, 51, 56

  whydds, words, 84, 86

  whystell, whistle, 62

  whyte money, silver, 42

  wilde roge, description of, 41; story of one robbing a man, of whom
    he had just begged, 42

  wilde roge’s reason for being a beggar, 42

  windless, out of breath, 73

  windshaken knaue, 66

  woode, mad, 14

  Wostestowe, a servant of the Lord Keeper’s, 58

  wyld Dell, description of, 75

  wyn, a penny, 83


  yannam, bread, 83, _n._

  yaram, milk, 83

  yemen, yeomen, 22

  ynkell, tape, 65




TRANSCRIBER’S NOTE

This is a transcription of the 1869 Edition of _Awdeley’s Fraternitye
of Vacabondes, Harmon’s Caueat, Haben’s Sermon, &c._, by the Early
English Text Society (EETS). The EETS book is itself an annotated
transcription of earlier manuscripts, as for instance, the 1575
edition of _The Fraternitye of Vacabondes_ by John Awdeley. This DP
transcription is available in several editions, including simple text,
html, epub, and mobi. Original page images from the EETS edition are
available from archive.org—search for “fraternityeofvac00vilerich”. I
produced the DP cover image, and hereby assign it to the public domain.

The original spelling and grammar of the EETS edition have been
retained, with some exceptions noted below. Space before punctuation
such as colon, semicolon, question mark, or exclamation mark have been
generally eliminated.

In this DP simple text edition, original small caps are uppercase, and
italics look _like this_. Superscripts are indicated like these: “a^o”
or “iij^{li}”. Large initial letters in the EETS edition are marked
with leading double ++ as in “++THes”. The variation between capital
and lower-case letters after an initial large capital is as in the
original. The letter n with macron is marked n̄, using the combining
macron Unicode character. The code “[l~l]” denotes ll with a tilde
through the two letters l. The Unicode character [“ɳ” u0273, latin
small letter n with retroflex hook] has been substituted for the letter
n with right hook in the text edition.

Footnotes have been relabeled 1–185, and moved from within paragraphs
to nearby locations between paragraphs. In the EETS edition, replicated
footnote anchors were occasionally used to delineate specific ranges of
text. In this edition, footnote anchors are unique, so other symbols
from the set {†‡§*} have been inserted to delineate the ranges.

The EETS book contains notations like “[leaf 4]”, which refer to the
leaf in the original manuscript. These are retained. Most are inline,
but a few are in the form of sidenotes, floating, for example, to the
side of a text heading. Page numbers as printed in the EETS edition are
shown like this: “{xiii}” or “{53}”.

The EETS edition was printed with running heads, which will be termed
headnotes in this discussion. Most of the original headnotes were
either repetitions from previous pages, or else essentially the same as
a text heading or subheading somewhere on the page in question. A few
did add information to the page; these few have been retained in this
ebook edition. They have been moved if necessary from the top of the
page to the top of the section that they describe. The first example of
an included headnote occurs on page 19.


CONTENTS. The Preface discussion of HARMAN’S _Caueat_ begins on page
iv, not v.

Page vi. “Anno domini .1567” to “Anno domini. 1567”.

Page vii. In “of Rogges . . . iij”, the illegible exponent after “iij”
is rendered _s_ herein.

Page viii. The abbreviation
for “page” was changed from “p” to “p.” in two places.

Page ix (note). Added a matching “)” after “_Environs of London_.”.

Page xi. The marker in “therevpon† bestow” should be paired, but is
not. One possibility is “†therevpon† bestow”.

Page xviii. The unbalanced left parenthesis at “(although he is bold”
is retained.

Page xxi. “under theee titles” to “under these titles”.

Page xxvii and elsewhere. The DP team have done the best they could
with the sometimes illegible superscripts in passages like the sixth
paragraph on page xxvii.

Page xxviii. “concernyny” to “concernyng”.

Page 21. full stop removed from “exercyses. may”.

Page 27. full stop changed to comma in original “wylbe. curyous heds”.
Also, “finde fauttes” changed to “finde faultes”. The odd construction
“in short season a great change we see . well, this delycat” is
retained, to be construed as you think best.

Page 30, and similar instances elsewhere. The first two lines of the
original printed paragraph are indented 6½% and spanned by an enlarged
left curly bracket “{” on the left side. I do not know the significance
of this, and cannot herein acceptably reproduce these two lines as
printed. In this DP transcription, a new right bracket “ }” is inserted
to enclose the words of the two lines as printed. In the text edition,
the markup “++{ ” is employed at the beginning of the paragraph, and in
the html/epub/mobi editions, an image is employed, spanning the first
two lines of the rewrapped paragraph.

Page 33n. The second footnote had no label; one has been provided to
match its anchor.

Page 34. “These vyright men” to “These vpright men”.

Page 45. A new right double quotation mark is inserted after “after
midnight.”, to match the left quotation mark at ‘“I am Counstable’.

Page 49n. The footnote label was missing; a new one is inserted.

Page 54. A new right double quotation mark is inserted after “there
serche hym.”, to match the left quotation mark in ‘“I praye you haue’.

Page 56n. “would proue an houest man” to “would proue an honest man”.

Page 61n. The missing label for the third footnote is restored.

Page 65. “baken, or ch´ese” to “baken, or chéese”.

Page 71. A DP teammember suggested that in “the good man of the house
shrodge hym for Ioye”, “shrodge” should be “shrogde”.

Page 85. The footnote anchor for the first footnote was barely visible
on the printed page, after “I layd”.

Page 92–95. Pages 92 and 94 comprise the EETS transcription of the
[_Lansdowne MS. 98, leaf 210._] manuscript of Haben’s Sermon. Facing
pages 93 and 95 comprise the EETS transcription of the [_MS. Cott.
Vesp._ A xxv. _leaf 53_] manuscript. Because of various limitations of
these ebook editions, pages 93 and 95 have been moved, in order, after
page 94. Moreover, page 93 was originally printed with the incorrect
page number “98”, but this has been corrected.

Page 97. This title page contains a mixture of modern roman type and a
type that looks more like gothic. In this ebook text edition, the gothic
phrases are wrapped in _italic markup_.

Page 101. What looks like “friendes gifte3” is changed to “friendes
giftes”.