"Sixthly, the experiment of the midsummer smock, found in a better manner than before, by my painful study in philosophy. And now, daughters," quoth she, "take particular notice, for it is thus: Let seven of you together, on a midsummer's eve, exactly at the sun's setting, go silently into some garden, and gather each of you a sprig of red sage, then return to some private room, prepared particularly for that purpose, with a stool placed in the middle, each one of you having a clean smock, turned the wrong side outwards, hanging upon a line across the room, then let every one lay her sprig of red sage on a clean plate of rosewater set on a stool; which done, place yourselves in a row, where continue till twelve or one o'clock, saying nothing, whatever you see, for after midnight, each one's sweetheart or husband, that shall be, will take each maid's sprig out of the rosewater, and sprinkle his love's smock, and those who are so unfortunate as never to be married, their sprigs shall not be moved; and in consequence hereof many sobs and heavy sighs will be heard. This has been very often tried in our own country, and never failed of the desired effect.

These things I have found out of late, To make young lovers fortunate.

"And now, my dear daughters, I have but a few more words to say at this time, and they are by way of caution: In the twelve months I find above one and thirty very unfortunate days; and therefore, as you regard the future happiness of your lives, take care that you do not enter into wedlock upon those days. Now, for your better instruction, I'll tell you which they be.

"In January there are four; the 7th, 16th, 17th, and 18th.

February hath two; the 5th and 10th.

March hath three; the 9th, 10th, and 21st.

April hath two; the 6th and 7th.

May hath two; the 4th and 13th.

June hath three; the 7th, 9th, and 10th.

July hath two; the 9th and 17th.

August hath two; the 11th and 15th.

September hath three; the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th.

October hath three; the 4th, 14th, and 15th.

November hath two; the 5th and 24th.

December hath three; the 6th, 7th, and 9th.

Observe my rules for all these days, And then you will your fortune raise."

This said, old Mother Bunch presented them with a cup of her fine cordial water, and so dismissed them; and the young damsels, with rapturous hearts, returned her their hearty thanks.

After Mother Bunch had done dinner, the young men came, to wit, Tom the miller, Ralph the thatcher, and Robin the ploughman, with a great number of other trades and callings, all whom Mother Bunch invited to sit down that she might deliver her wholesome counsels to them.

And first she begins with Tom the miller, saying, "Ah, Tom! thou art a sad wild young fellow; there is not a maid that can come to the mill but thou will be fooling with them, but take my word for it, if you do not leave off in time, you will certainly spoil all your fortune. What woman do you think, having a portion, will have such a one? She may justly conclude that you will still run a catterwauling after young wenches, and leave her to sigh and weep for want of domestic happiness--you know what I mean, Tom."

"Yes, yes, mother," quoth Tom, "but sure you do not take me for such a one." "Yes, Tom, I do, and am seldom mistaken. It is you millers that fill the country so full of cracked-headed maidens, that when an honest husband comes to marry he finds the hearts already stolen away. But farewell, I'll have no more to say to such a fellow as you."

Then turning to Ralph the thatcher, she said, "I find you are very desirous of a wife, and your ambition is such that she must be rich, young, and beautiful: cannot you content yourself with honest Joan, to whom you gave promise of marriage? And now I find you have a mind to leave her, which if you do, and obtain such a one as you desire, I can tell you what will follow. She won't stand picking of straws with you, her fair face will find many friends in a corner, and you may chance to be a cuckold, and indeed but justly served in your kind; and, therefore, I advise you to return to your old love, for she is a very honest girl, and therefore far more fit for you than such a gay b.u.t.terfly as you have lately followed."

Then she stretched forth her hand to Robin the ploughman, saying, "Thou art an honest fellow, and good fortune will always attend thee. I mean not bags of gold nor heaps of silver; but thou shalt have a careful and industrious wife, one that will ever be willing and ready to labour, a true and faithful yoke-mate, and one that will be a cheerful partner in thy weal and woe, to comfort and support thee under the greatest and most severe trials. For, as the poet has it--

That burden may be borne By two with care, Which is perhaps too much For one to bear.

"Honest Robin, this is thy happy fortune, and as thou art a downright honest fellow, I am glad to find it so."

Thus Mother Bunch went round the room, And told them what would be their doom, If they her daughters did betray, And steal their maiden hearts away, Each would be punished with a bride, By whom he should be hornify'd; But if they were right honest men, Each of them should have fortune then.

This said, she did her blessing give, In love and happiness to live; Which when they did the same receive, Of Mother Bunch they took their leave, Declaring she had told them more, Than e'er they understood before.

Now for these poor young creatures that have pined themselves to death, and have no cure, the worst of pretenders to physiognomy might prescribe them a remedy, and all those of what const.i.tution soever that have hoped houses of their own, I will show you how you shall see the person that is to give you one, collected from Trismegistus and Cornelius Agrippa.

On midsummer Eve three or four of you must dip your dresses in fair water, then turn them wrong side outwards, and hang them on chairs before the fire, and lay some salt in another chair, and speak not a word. In a short time the likeness of him you are to marry will come and turn your dresses, and drink to you; but if there be any of you will never marry, they will hear a bell, but not the rest.

_Another way, quickly tried._

Take hemp-seed, and go into what place you will by yourself, carry the seed in your ap.r.o.n, and with your right hand throw it over your shoulder saying,

Hemp-seed I sow, hemp-seed I sow, And he that must be my true love, Come after me and mow.

And at the ninth time expect to see the figure of him you are to wed, or else hear a bell as before.

Yet though you hear the sad and dismal bell It is your own fault if you hear the horrid knell.

_Another way._

You that dare venture into a churchyard, just as it strikes twelve at night, take a naked sword in your hand, and go nine times about the church, saying,

Here's the sword, but where's the scabbard?

Which continue the whole time you go round; and the ninth time the person you are to marry will meet you with a scabbard and so kiss you: if not, a bell as before.

_Another, called the Dutch Cake._

Three, four, or more of you must make a cake of flour and salt (no matter of what flour), and some of each of your own baking; make your cake broad, and each of you set the two first letters of your name with a pin, but leave such a distance that it may be cut; then set it before the fire, but speak not one word. Turn it each of you once; and the person to be your husband will cut out your name; then the next, unto the last.

_Another way._

The first change of the new moon on the New Year, the first time you see it, hold your hands across, saying this three times--

New moon, new moon, I pray thee, Tell me this night who my true love will be.

Then go to sleep without speaking a word, and you will certainly dream of the person you shall marry.

_Another way experienced often._

Young men and maids may take some rosemary flowers, bay leaves, a little thyme, sweet marjoram, and southern-wood; make these into powder, and with barley flour make a cake, but do not bake it. Lay this under your head any Friday night; and if you dream of music, you will wed those you desire in a short time; if of the sea or ships, you will travel first; if of a church, you must be contented to die single.

THE

COMICAL HISTORY

OF THE

COURTIER AND TINKER

CHAPTER I.

_The Courtier finds the Tinker asleep; he has him carried in that posture to his house; lays him on a Bed in a stately Room with rich Clothes by him; feasts and entertains him with fine Music; makes him drunk, and then conveys him back again._

A Courtier one day riding along with his retinue espied a Tinker who had been taking a very early draught to quench the spark in his throat, lying fast asleep, and snoring under a sunny bank, having made his budget into his pillow, to rest his drowsy head upon; and the Courtier's country house not being far off, he immediately caused his servants to take him up very softly, and carry him thither, then to put him in a stately bed in the next chamber, pull off his foul shirt, and put on him a clean one, then convey away his old clothes, and lay rich ones by him. This was punctually observed. The Tinker being thus laid, slept soundly till evening; when rousing up between sleeping and waking, and being dry, as drunkards usually are, he began to call for some drink, but was greatly frighted to find himself in such a palace, furnished with lights and attendants about him, that bowed to him, and harmonious music, accompanied with most charming voices, but none of them to be seen. Whereupon looking for his old clothes and budget, he found a m.u.f.f and rich attire glistening with gold by him, which made him fancy himself metamorphosed from a Tinker to a Prince. He asked many questions, but in vain, yet being willing to rise, the attendants arrayed him in the richest attire; so then he looked on all sides admiring the sudden change of fortune, and as proud as a peac.o.c.k when he spreads his tail against the glittering beams of the sun. And being arrayed, they had him into another room, where was a costly banquet prepared, and placed him in a chair, under a fine canopy, fringed with gold, being attended with wine in gilded cups. At first he strained courtesy, but being entreated to sit down, the banquet being solely at his disposal, he fell to most heartily. Then after supper they plied him with so much wine, as to make him dead drunk, then stripped him, and put on his old clothes; they carried him as they had brought him, and laid him in the same posture they found him, being all this time asleep; and when he awoke he took all that had happened before for a vision, telling it wherever he came, that he had really and verily dreamed he had been a prince, telling them as well as he could all that had happened, but plainly he saw now again his fortune would raise him no higher than to mend old kettles; yet he made the following song for the fraternity to sing at their leisure:--

All you that jovial Tinkers are, Come listen unto me: I dreamed a dream that was so rare, That none to it I can compare, No Tinker such did see.