his house, and went secretly to the place where his mayd and he had appointed. In the meane time, the mistresse, thinking her husband safe with his houndes, sent for her friend to her bedchamber, by a trusty servant of hers, in whom she assured that he was a secret pander in such affaires; and the gentleman was not slack to come, but, making all the haste he could, came and went into the chamber, asking for the master of the house very familiarly. The old mayd, noting all this, as soone as she knew them together, went and called her master, and carried him up by a secret paire of staires to her mistresse chamber doore, where, peeping in a place that the mayd before had made for the purpose, he saw more then he lookt for, and so much as pincht him at the very heart, causing him to accuse his wife for a strumpet, and his friend for a traytor: yet, for all this, valluing his owne honour more then their dishonesty, thinking, if he should make an uprore, he should but aime at his owne discredite, and cause him selfe to be a laughing game to his enemies, he concealed his sorrow with silence, and, taking the mayd a part, charged her to keepe all secret, whatsoever she had seene, even as she esteemed of her owne life; for, if she did bewray it to any, he himselfe would, with his sword, make an ende of her dayes; and with that, putting his hand in his sleve, gave the poore mayd six angels to buy her a new gown. The wench, glad of this gift, swore solemnly to tread it under foot, and, sith it pleased him to conceale it, never to reveale it, so long as she lived. Upon this they parted, she to her drudgery, and he to the field to his men, where, after he had kild the hare, he returned home; and, finding his friend in the garden, that in his absence had been grafting hornes in the chimnies, he entertained him with his wonted familiaritie, and shewed no bad countenance to his wife, but dissembled all his thoughts to the full. As soone as dinner was done, and that he was gotten solitary by himselfe, he beganne to determine of revenge, but not, as every man would have done, how to have brought his wife to shame, and her love to confusion; but he busied his braine, how he might reserve his honour inviolate, reclaime his wife, and keepe his friend. Meditating a long time how he might bring all this to passe, at last a humour fel into his head, how cunningly to compasse all three: and therefore he went and got him certain slips, which are counterfeit peeces of mony, being brasse, and covered over with silver, which the common people call slips. Having furnished himselfe with these, he put them in his purse, and at night went to bed, as he was wont to do, yet not using the kind familiarity that he accustomed; notwithstanding, he abstained not from the use of her body, but knew his wife, as aforetimes; and, every time he committed the act with her, he laid the next morning in the window a slip, where he was sure she might find it; and, so many times as it pleased him to be carnally pleasant with his wife, so many slips he still laid down. upon her cushionet. This he used for the space of a fortnight, till at last his wife, finding every day a slip, or sometimes more or lesse, wondred how they came there, and, examining her waiting mayds, none of them could tell her any thing touching them; whereupon she thought to question with her husband about it; but being out of remembrance,

the next morning, as she lay dallying in bed, it came into hereminde, and sbe asked her husband, If he laid those slips on her cushionet, that she of late found there, having never seen any before? I marry did I, quoth he, and have laid them there upon speciall reason; and it is this:

Ever since I was married to thee, I have deemed thee honest, and therefore used and honored thee as my wife, parting coequall favours betwixt us, as true lovers; but late finding the contrary, and with these eyes seeing thee play the whore with my friend, in whom I did repose all my trust, I sought not, as many would have done, to have revenged in bloud, but for the safety of mine own honor, which other. wise would have been blemished by thy dishonesty, I have beene silent, and have neither wronged my quondam friend, nor abused thee, but still do hold bed with thee; the world shall not suspect any thing, and to quench the desire of lust, I do use thy body, but not so lovingly as I would a wife, but carelessly as I would use the body of a false harlot or strumpet, and therefore, even as a whore, so I give thee hire, which is for every time a slip, a counterfeit coyne, which is good enough for a slippery wanton, that will wrong her husband that loved her so tenderly, and thus will I use thee for the safety of mine owne honor, till I have assured proofe that thou becomest honest; and thus with teares in his eyes, and his heart ready to burst with sighs, he was silent; when his wife, stricken with remorse of conscience, leaping out of her bed in her smocke, humbly confessing all, beged pardon, promising, if he should pardon this offence, which was new begun in her, she would become a new reformed woman, and never after (so much as in thought) give him any occasion of suspition or jealousie; the patient husband, not willing to urge his wife, tooke her at her word, and told her, that when he found her so reclaimed, he would, as afore he had done, use her lovingly, and as his wife, but, till he was so perswaded of her honesty, he would pay her still slips for his pleasure, charging her not to reveale any thing to his friend, or to make it knowne to him, that he was privy to their loves. Thus the debate ended, I guesse, in some kind greeting, and the gentleman went abroad to see his pastures, leaving his wife in bed full of sorrow, and almost renting her heart asunder with sighs. As soon as he walked abroad, the gentleman his friend came to the house, and asked for the good man; the pander, that was privy to all their practises, said, that his master was gone abroad to see his pastures, but his mistresse was in bed; Why then, sayes he, I will goe and raise her up; so comming into the chamber, and kissing her, meaning as he wont) to have used his accustomed dalliance, she desired him to abstaine, with broken sighs, and her eyes full of tears; he wondering what should make her thus discontent, asking her what was the cause of her sorrow, protesting with a solemne oath, that if any had done her injury, he would revenge it, were it with hazard of his life. She then told him, scarce being able to speake for weeping, that she had a sute to move him in, which, if he granted unto her, she would hold him in love and affection, without change, next her husband for ever; he promised to do whatsoever it were; then, says she, sweare

upon a bible, you will do it without exception; with that he tooke a bible, that lay in the window, and swore, that whatsoever she requested him to do, were it to the losse of his life, he would, without exception, performe it. Then she holding downe her head, and blushing, began thus: I neede not, quoth she, make manifest, how grossely and grievously you and I have both offended God, and wronged the honest gentleman my husband, and your friend; he putting a speciall trust in us both, and assuring such earnest affiance in your unfained friendship, that he even commited me, his wife, his love, his second life, into your bosome; this love have I requited with inconstancy, in playing the harlot; that faith, that he reposed in you, have you returned with treachery, and falshood, in abusing mine honesty, and his honor. Now, a remorse of conscience toucheth me for my sins, that I heartily repent, and vow ever hereafter to live only to my husband; and therefore my sute is to you that from hence forth you shall never so much as motion any dishonest question unto me, nor seeke any unlawfull pleasure or conversing at my hands; this is my sute, and hereunto I have sworne you, which oath, if you observe as a faithful gentleman, I will conceale from my husband what is past, and rest, in honest sort, your faithfull friend for ever; at this, she burst a fresh into teares, and uttered such sighs, that he thought, for very griefe, her heart would have cleaved asunder; the gentleman, astonied at this strange metamorphosis of his mistris, sate a good while in a maze, and at last, taking her by the hand, made this reply: So God helpe me, faire sweeting, I am glad of this motion, and wondrous joyfull that God hath put such honest thoughts into your mind, and hath made you the meanes to reclaim me from my folly: I feele no lesse remorse then you doe in wronging so honest a friend, as your husband, but this is the frailenesse of man; and therefore, to make amends, I protest a new, never hereafter, so much as in thought, to motion you of dishonesty, only I crave you be silent; she promised that, and so they ended, and for that time they parted. At noone the gentleman came home, and cheerefully saluted his wife, and asked if dinner were ready, and sent for his friend, using him wonderfull familiarly, giving him no occasion of mistrust, and so pleasantly they past away the day together: at night when his wife and he went to bed, she told him all what had past between her and his friend, and how she had bound him with an oath, and that he voluntarily of himselfe swore as much, being hartily sorrie, that he had so deeply offended so kind a friend. The gentleman commended her wit, and found her afterwards a reclaimed woman, she living so honestly, that she ne• ver gave him any occasion of mistrust. Thus the wise gentleman reclaimed, with silence, a wanton wife, and retained an assured friend.

At this pleasant tale all the boord was at a mutiny, and they said, the gentleman did passing wisely that wrought so cunningly, for the safety of his owne honor, but exclaimed against such a friend, as would to his friend offer such villany, all condemning her, that would be so false to so loving a husband. Thus they did diversly descant, and past away dinner; but this tale wrought little effect in me, for, as one past grace, I delighted in change: But the gentleman that was his familiar, and my paramour, was so touched, that, never after, he

would touch me dishonestly, but reclaimed himselfe, abstained from me, and became true to his friend. I wondring, that, according to his wonted custome, he did not seeke my company; he and I being one day in the chamber alone, and he in his dumps, I began to dally with him, and to aske him, Why he was so strange, and used not his accustomed favours to me? He solemnly made answere, That, though he had played the foole, in setling his fancy upon another mans wife, and in wronging his friend, yet his conscience was now touched with remorse, and, ever since he heard the tale afore rehearsed, he had vowed in himselfe, never to do my husband the like wrong againe. My husband, quoth I, he is none of mine, he hath brought me here from my friends, and keepes me here unmarried, and therefore am I as free for you, as for him, and thus began to grow clamorous, because I was debard of my lust. The gentleman, seeing me shamlesse, wisht me to be silent, and sayde, Although you be but his friend, yet he holds you as deare as his wife, and, therefore, I will not abuse him, neither would I wish you to be familiar with any other, seeing you have a friend that loves you so tenderly: Much good counsell he gave me, but all in vaine, for I scorned it, and began to hate him, and resolved both to be rid of him, and my supposed husband; for, falling in with another familiar of my husbands, I so inveagled him, with sweete words, that I caused him to make a peece of mony to steale me away, and so carry me to London; where I had not lived long with him, but he, seeing my light behaviour, left me to the wide world, to shift for my selfe.

I now being brought to London, and left there at random, was not such a house-dove, while my friend stayd with me, but that I had visited some houses in London, that could harbour as honest a woman as my selfe; when as therefore I was left to my selfe, I removed my lodging, and gate me into one of those houses of good hospitallity, whereunto persons resort, commonly called a Trugging-house, or, to be plaine, a Whore-house, where I gave my selfe to entertaine all companions, sitting or standing at the doore like a staule, to allure or draw in wanton passengers, refusing none that would, with his purse, purchase me to be his, to satisfie the disordinate desire of his filthie lust: Now I began not to respect personage, good qualities, or the gracious favour of the man, when I had no respect of person; for the oldest lecher was as welcome as the youngest lover, so he brought meate in his mouth. Thus, to the griefe of my friends, hazard of my soule, and consuming of my body, I spent a yeare or two, in this base or bad kind of life, subject to the whistle of every desperate ruffian; till, on a time, there resorted to our house a cloathier, a proper young man, who, by fortune, comming first to drinke, espying me, asked me, if I would drinke with him; there needed no great entreaty, for, as then, I wanted company, and so clapt me downe by him, and began very pleasantly to welcome him: The man, being of himselfe modest and honest, noted my personage, and juditially reasoned of my strumpetlike behaviour, and inwardly (as after he reported unto me) grieved, that so foule properties were hidden in so good a proportion, and that such rare wit and excellent beauty were blemisht with whoredomes base deformity; in so much that he began to thinke well of me, and to

wish that I were as honest as I was beautifull. Againe, see how God wrought for my conversion; since I gave my selfe to my loose kind of life, I never liked any so well as him, in so much that I began to judge of every part, and me thought, he was the properest man that ever I saw: Thus, we sate both amorous of other, I lasciviously, and he honestly; at last, he questioned with me, What country woman I was, and why, being so proper a woman, I would beseeme to dwell or lye in a base alehouse, especially, in one that had a bad name? I warrant you, I wanted no knavish reply to fit him, for I told him, the house was as honest as his mothers: Marry, if there were in it a good wench or two, that would pleasure their friends at a neede, I guessed by his nose, what porridge he loved, and that he hated none such. Well, seeing me in that voyce, he said little, but shooke his heade, paid for the beere, and went his way, onely taking his leave of me with a kisse, which, me thought, was the sweetest that ever was given me. As soone as he was gone, I began to thinke what a handsome man he was, and wisht, that he would come and take a nights lodging with me, sitting in a dumpe to thinke of the quaintnesse of his personage, till other companions came in, and shaked me out of that melancholly; but, as soone againe as I was secret to my selfe, he came into my remembrance. Passing over this a day or two, this cloathier came againe to our house, whose sight cheered me up, for that, spying him out of a casement, I ranne downe the staires, and met him at the doore, and heartily welcom❜d him, and asked him, if he would drink; I come for that purpose, sayes he, but I will drinke no more below, but in a chamber: Marry, Sir, quoth I, you shall, and so brought him into the fairest roome. In our sitting there together drinking, at last, the cloathier fell to kissing, and other dalliance, wherein he found me not coy at last told me, that he would willingly have his pleasure of me, but the room was too lightsome, for, of all things in the world, he could not in such actions away with a light chamber. I consented unto him, and brought him into a roome more darke, but still he sayde it was too light: Then I carried him into a further chamber, where drawing a curtaine before the window, and closing the curtaines of the bed, I asked, smiling, If that were close enough? No, sweete love, sayes he, that curtaine is not broad enough for the window, some watching eye may espy us, my heart misdoubts, and my credit is my life; Love, if thou hast a closer roome then this, bring me to it: Why then, quoth I, follow me, and with that, I brought him into a backe loft, where stood a little bed, only appointed to lodge suspicious persons, so darke, that at noone day it was impossible for any man to see his owne hands: How now, Sir, quoth I, is not this darke enough? He sitting him downe, on the bedside, fetcht a deepe sigh, and said, Indifferent, so, so; but there is a glimpse of light in at the tiles, some body may, by fortune, see it: In faith, no, quoth I, none but God. God, sayes he, I why, Can God see us here? Good Sir, quoth I, why I hope you are not so simple, but you know, Gods eyes are so cleere and penetrating, that they can pierce through walls of brasse: And alas, quoth he, sweete Love, if God see us, shall we not be more