University of Virginia Library

A mery gest, howe a Sergeaunt woulde learne to be a Friar.

Wise men alway, affirme and saye,
the best is for eche man.
Diligently, for to apply,
such busines as he can.
And in no wise, to enterprise,
another faculte:
For he that will, and can no skill,
is neuer like to thee.
He that hath left, the hosiers crafte,
and fall to makinge shone.
The smith that shall, to painting fall,
his thrifte is well nigh done.
A blacke draper, with white paper,
to go to writing scole.
An olde butteler, become a cutteler,
I wene shall proue a fole.
An olde trotte, that can (God wotte,)
nothinge but kis the cup.
With hir phisicke, will keepe one sicke,
till she haue sowsed him vp.
A man of lawe, that neuer sawe,
the waies to buie and sell.
Weninge to arise, by marchaundyse,
I praye God speede him well.
A marchaunt eke, that will go seke,
all the meanes he may.
To fall in sute, tyll he dispute,
his money cleane away.
Pleading the lawe, for euery strawe,
shall proue a thriftie man.
With bane and strife but by my life,
I can not tell you whan
Whan an hatter, will go smatter,
in phylosophie.
Or a pedler, waxe a medlar,
in theologye.
All that ensewe, suche craftes newe,
they driue so farre a cast.
That euermore, they do therefore,
beshrewe themselfe at last.
This thinge was tried, and verefied,
here by a sergeaunt late.
That rufully was, or he coulde pas,
rapped about the pate.
While that he woulde, see how he could,
in Gods name plaie the friar.
Now if ye wyl, know how it ful,
take neede and ye shall heare,
It happed so, not long agoe,
a thriftie man there dide.
An hundred pound of nobles round,
than had he laide a side.
His son as he would, should haue this gold
for to beginne withall.
But to [illeg.]se his child wel thryues,
that [illeg.] were to small.
per of this day, I haue herde say,
that many a man certesse,
Hath with good cast, be ritche at the last,
that begonne with lesse.
But this yong man, so wel he can,
his money to imploye,
That certainly, his polecie,
to see it was a ioye,
For least some blast might ouercast,
his shippe or by mischaunce.
Men with some wyle, might him beguile,
and minishe his substaunce.
For to put out, al maner dout,
he made a good puruaie.
For euery whit, by his owne wit,
and tooke another waie.
First faire and wele, a pretie deale,
he hyd it in a potte.
But than him thought, that way was nought
and there he left it not.
So was he faine, from thence againe,
to put it in a cuppe.
And by and by, as couetouslie,
he supped it faire vppe.
In his owne brest he thought it best,
his money to inclose,
Then wyst he well, what euer fell,
he coulde it neuer lose.
He borrowed than, of another man,
money and marchaundice:
Neuer paide it, vp he laide it,
in lyke maner wyse.
Yet on the geare, that he would weare,
he taught not what he spent:
So it were nice, as for the price.
coulde him not myscontent.
With lustie sporte, and with resorte,
of ioly company.
In mirth and plaie, full many a daie,
he liued merily.
And men had sworne, some man is borne,
to dignite and powre.
And so was he, for suche degree,
he gate and suche honowre,
That without doubte, whan he went out,
a sergeaunt well and faire.
Was readie straight, on him to waight,
as sone as on the maire,
But he doutlesse, of his mekenes,
hated suche pompe and pride.
And would not go, accompanied so,
but drewe himselfe aside.
To saint Katherine, straight as a line,
he gate him at a tide
For promotion, or deuotion,
there would he needes bide.
There spent he fast, tyll all was past,
and to him came there manie.
To aske their dette, but none coulde gette,
the valour of a penie.
With visage stoute, he bare it out,
vnto the harde hedge,
A moneth or twaine till he was faine,
to lay his gowne to pledge,
Than was he there, in greater feare,
than or that he came thither.
And would as faine, depart againe,
but that he wist not whither.
Than after this, to a frende of his.
he went and there abode.
Where as he laie, so sicke alwaie,
he might not come abrode.
It happed than, a marchaunt man
that he ought money to,
Of an officer, that gan enquire,
what him was best to do.
And he aunswerd, be not a ferde,
take an action therfore,
I you behest, I shall him rest,
and than care for no more.
I feare quod he, it will not be,
for he will not come out.
The sergeaunt said, be not afraide,
it shall be brought about,
In many a game, like to the same,
haue I bene well in vre,
And for your sake, let mee be bake,
but if I do this cure.
Thus parte they bothe, and to him goth,
a pace this officer,
And for a daie, all his araie,
he chaunged with a frier.
So was he dight, that no man might,
him for a frier denie.
He dopped and donked, he spake and loked,
so religiouslie.
Yet in a glasse, or he would passe,
he toted and he pored.
His heart for pride, lept in his side,
to see howe well he fryred.
Then forth a pace, vnto the place,
he goeth in Gods name:
To doo this deede, but nowe take heede,
for heere beginneth the game.
He drew him nie, and then softlie,
at the doore he knocked.
A Damsell, that heard him wel,
there came and it vnlocked.
The Fryar sayd, God speede fayre mayde,
heere lodgeth such a man:
It is tolde mee, well sir quoth she,
and if he do? what than?
Quod he, maistresse, no harme doutlesse,
it longeth for our order.
To hurt no man, but as we can,
euery wyght to forder.
With him truely, faine speake would I,
syr quod she, by my faye:
He is so sicke, yee be not lyke,
to speake with him to daye.
Quoth he fayre maye, yet I you pray,
thus much at my desyer:
Uouchsafe to doo, as goe him too,
and saye an Austen Fryar,
Woulde with him speake, & maters breake,
for his auayle certaine.
Quod shee I wyl, stand ye heere styll,
tyll I come downe againe.
Uppe is shee goe, and tolde him so:
as shee was bode to saye.
He mistrustinge, no maner thinge,
said mayden go thy waie.
And fetche him hither, that we to gither:
may talke a downe she goth.
And vp him brought, no harme she thought,
but it made some folke wroth:
But this officer, this fained frier,
whan he was come a lofte,
He dopped than, and greet this man,
religiously and ofte.
And he againe, right glad and faine,
tooke him thereby the hande:
The friere than said, ye be dismaide.
with trouble I vnderstande.
In deede quod he, it hath with me,
bene better than it is.
Sir quod the frier, bee of good chere,
ye shall yet after this.
For christes sake, loke that ye take,
no thought into your brest,
God maie tourne all, and so he shall,
I trust vnto the best,
But I woulde nowe, comyn with you,
in counsaile if you please,
Or elles not, of maters that,
shall set your heart at ease.
Downe went the maide, the marchaunt said
nowe saye on gentill frier,
Of this tidinge, that ye me bringe,
I long full sore to heare.
Whan there was none, but they alone,
the frier with euell grace
Said I rest thee, come on with mee,
and out he toke his mace:
Thou shalte obey, come on thy way,
I haue thee in my clouche,
Thou goest not hence, for all the pence,
the mayre hath in his pouche.
This marchaunt there, for wrath and feare,
waringe well nighe wood:
Saide horeson the[illeg.]e, with a verie mischefe,
who hath taught thee thy good?
And with his fist, vpon the list.
he gaue him suche a blowe,
That backewarde downe, almoste in swoune,
the frier is ouerthrowe.
Yet was this man, well fearder than,
lest he the frier had slaine:
Till with good rappes, and heuy clappes,
he dawed him vp againe.
The frier toke heart, and vp he starte,
and well he laide aboute,
And so there gothe, bytwene them bothe,
many a lusty cloute.
They rent and tere, eche other heer,
and claue [illeg.]ogidee fast:
Till with lugginge, halinge and tugginge,
they fell downe bothe at last.
Than on the grounde, to gether rounde,
with many a heuy stroke.
They roule and romble, they turne and tumble,
lyke pygges do in a poke.
So long aboue, they heaue and shoue,
togither that at the last,
The maide and the wife, to breake the strife,
hied them vpwarde fast.
And whan they see, the captaines lye,
waltringe in the place,
The friers hood, they pulled a good,
a downe about his face.
While he was blinde, the wenche behinde,
lent him on the flore.
Many a iole, about the nole,
with a great battill dore.
The wife came to it, and with her feete,
she holpe to kepe him downe:
And with her rocke, many a knocke,
she gaue him on the crowne.
They laide his mace, about his face,
that he was wode for paine,
The frier frap, gate many a swap,
till he was well nighe slaine.
Up they him lifte, and with euell thrifte,
hedlong all the staire:
Downe they him threwe, and said adewe,
recommaunde vs to the mayre.
The frier arose, but I suppose,
amased was his hedde:
He shoke his heres, and from great feres,
he thought him well a fledde.
Quod he nowe lost is all this cost,
we be neuer the nere:
Ill mot he thee, that caused mee,
to make my selfe a frier.
Nowe maisters all, an ende I shall,
make there as I began.
In any wise, I wolde auyse,
and councell euery man.
His owne crafte vse, all newe refuse,
and vtterlye let them gone.
Playe not the frier, now make good cheere,
and welcome euerychone.