Awdeley's Fraternitye of Vacabondes, Harman's Caueat, Haben's Sermon, &c.

Part 8

Chapter 84,054 wordsPublic domain

++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]]

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}