Time was when conscience dwelt With men of each vocation; Time was when lawyers did not thrive So well by men's vexations.

Time was when charity Was not denied a being; Time was when office kept no knaves; That time was worth the seeing.

"Ay, ay, and time was for many other things. But what of that, goodman brazen face? I see my master has placed me here on a very foolish account. I think I'd as good go to sleep, too, as to stay watching here to no purpose." Whilst he thus scoffed and taunted, the head spoke a third time, and said, "TIME IS PAST!" and so, with a horrid noise, fell down and broke to pieces. Whereupon ensued lamentable shrieks and cries, flashes of fire, and a rattling as of thunder, which awaking the two friars, they came running in, in great disorder found Miles rolling on the floor, in a stinking pickle, almost dead with fear, and the head lying shattered about the room in a thousand pieces. Then, having brought him to his senses again, they demanded how this came. "Nay, the devil knows better than I," said Miles, "I believe he was in this plaguy head: for when it fell, it gave a bounce like a cannon." "Wretch that thou art!" said Bacon, "trifle not with my impatience. Didst thou hear it speak, varlet! answer me that."

"Why, truly," said Miles, "it did speak, but very simply, considering you have been so long a-tutoring it. I protest I could have taught a jackdaw to have spoke better in two days. It said, 'TIME IS.'" "Oh, villain!" says Bacon, "had'st thou called me then, all England had been walled with bra.s.s, to my immortal fame." "Then," continued Miles, "about half an hour after, it said, 'TIME WAS.'" "O, wretch! how my anger burns against thee. Had you but called me then, it might have done what I desired." "Then," said he, "it said, 'TIME'S PAST'; and so fell down with the horrid noise that waked you and made me, I am sure, befoul my breeches; and since here's so much to do about time, I think it's time for me to retire and clean myself." "Well, villain," says Bacon, "thou has lost all our cost and pains by thy foolish negligence." "Why," said Miles, "I thought it would not have stopped when it once began, but would have gone on and told me some pleasant story, or have commanded me to have called you, and I should have done it; but I see the devil is a cunning sophister, and all h.e.l.l would not allow him tinkers and bra.s.s enough to do the work, and therefore has put this trick upon us to get oft from his promise." "How, slave," said the friar, "art thou at buffoonery, now thou hast done me this great injury? Sirrah! because you think the head spake not enough to induce you to call us, you shall speak less in two months' s.p.a.ce," and with that, by enchantment, he struck him dumb to the end of that time, and would have done worse had not Bungey had compa.s.sion on the fellow's simplicity and persuaded him from it.

And thus ends the history of that famous Friar Bacon, who had done a deed which would have made his fame ring through all ages yet to come, had it not been for the simplicity of his man Miles.

THE HISTORY

OF

THE BLIND BEGGAR

OF BETHNAL GREEN,

CONTAINING

His Birth and Parentage; how he went to the Wars and Lost his Sight, and turned Beggar at Bethnal Green; how he got Riches, and educated his Daughter; of her being Courted by a rich, young Knight; how the Blind Beggar dropt Gold with the Knight's Uncle; of the Knight and the Beggar's Daughter being Married; and, lastly, how the famous Pedigree of the Beggar was discovered, with other Things worthy of Note.

CHAPTER I.

_How Monford went to the Wars of France, where he lost his Sight; how he was accompanied with his Wife, who preserved his Life, and of his Return to England, etc._

In former days, when the rose of England eclipsed the lilies of France, and true English valour made that nation stoop, among other brave gallants that went over to try their fortune, Monford was one, a person well descended, who, being naturally inclined to war and greedy of fame, neither the entreaty of friends nor the marriage he had contracted with a kind, beautiful woman, could alter his purpose; but taking his wife Margaret with him, he, with many hundreds more, crossed the seas, and with the help of a prosperous wind, arriving at Calais, marched to the royal standard, accompanied with his loving wife, who, in manlike attire, became his inseparable companion, and was the cause of saving his life; for many skirmishes happened between the English and French, wherein young Monford behaved himself with wondrous courage; and in one, following too hot the pursuit, was, with divers others, entrapped into ambush, late in the evening; and though he manfully disputed it, making great slaughter of the enemy, yet in spite of resistance he was beaten from his horse by a forcible stroke, and left in the field for dead among the dying men; where he had undoubtedly perished through loss of blood, and the anguish of his wounds, had not his tender-hearted love, upon hearing what had happened and his not returning, hasted to the field, where, among the slain, she by moonlight discovered him, stripped and struggling for life, and by the help of a servant brought him to a shepherd's cottage, where she carefully dressed his wounds and administered such cordials as brought him to himself, to her unspeakable joy; though this joy was something abated when she found he had lost his sight, but true love working in her heart, the alteration or disfigurement of his countenance did not alter her affection; but comforting him in the best manner she could, though his natural courage would not admit of any dejection, she procured him a homely suit of apparel, and brought him (unfit for service) back to England, of whose entertainment and settlement at Bethnal Green, in the county of Middles.e.x, and course of life, you shall hear in the following chapter.

CHAPTER II.

_How Monford arrived in England and of the Cold Entertainment he found among his relations.

How he settled in Bethnal Green, where he continued to beg for his Living._

Monford, having escaped a dreadful storm at sea, landed with his wife on the coast of Ess.e.x, where he had some considerable relations, to whom, in his necessity, they applied themselves for succour; but they, who, after the death of his parents, had wasted much of his patrimony, or fearing he might be chargeable to them, would not know him, and those that were convinced he was the same Monford that went over to France gave him but cold entertainment; insomuch that, scorning to rely upon their charity, he told his wife that he intended, early in the morning, to haste towards London, and that he would rather trust to Providence than the ingrat.i.tude of those who, in his prosperous days, had caressed him. His wife declared she would labour at her spinning-wheel or do what she was capable for a living. In two days travelling they spent what little money they had saved, so necessity obliged them to ask charity of the people as he pa.s.sed through the country towns and villages; who, understanding that he came by his misfortune in fighting for the honour of his country, gave liberally to him; and considering that the loss of his sight had rendered him incapable of business, he resolved to embrace what providence had cast in his way, which was to live upon charity.

Whereupon, arriving at Bethnal Green, near London, he hired a small cottage for his wife and himself, and daily appearing publicly to crave alms, was from thence called "The Beggar of Bethnal Green," and in a short time found it a thriving trade, insomuch that his bed of straw was changed into down, and his earthen platters and other utensils into a better sort of decent furniture.

CHAPTER III.

_How Monford happened to meet with Snap, an old, experienced Beggar, who gave him an Insight into the Mystery of the Canting Tribe; and how he invited him to the Rendezvous._

Monford resolving in this kind of way to spend the remainder of his days, being very well contented with his trade, having played it with great success in the place where he lived, one day he was encountered by an old proficient in the art of begging, who, seeing him very diligent, did greatly covet his acquaintance, and to know what gang he did belong to. He therefore accosts him in their canting method, which is a sort of speech or rather a gibberish peculiar to themselves. Monford, being ignorant, could make him no direct answer, which the other, whose name was Snap, perceiving, and thereby knowing him to be a young beginner, invited him to their feasts or rendezvous in Whitechapel, whither he having promised to come, and they between them tripped off four black pots of rum, they parted that time.

CHAPTER IV.

_How Monford went to the Beggars' Feast, and of his Entertainment, and also the Presents they made._

Monford, upon his coming home, declared to his wife what a merry companion he met with, and what discourse he had, and likewise what he had promised, entreating her to get things in readiness, that she might conduct him thither, where appeared, instead of a ragged regiment of lame, blind, and dumb, there was a rout of jovial dancers, as gay as the spring, and as merry as the maids; which made them imagine they were mistaken in the place or was imposed upon, and therefore turned to go away, had not Snap started from his chair, where he sat as supervisor, in all his gallantry, and taking him by the hand, let him know who it was introduced him into the a.s.sembly, where he was received as brother of their society, every member saluting him with a compliment, and, that he might not want a guide for the future, Snap, in the name of the society, presented him with a dog and a bell trained to the business. So his wife and he, being splendidly entertained, were dismissed, upon his promise that he would not be absent at their yearly meeting.

CHAPTER V.

_What Success he had in the Begging Trade. How his Wife was brought to Bed of a Daughter, and Christened by the Name of Elizabeth._

The blind beggar soon became master of his trade, and, by the help of his dog, trudged often to London, and having the perfect tone, had the luck to return with his pockets well lined with c.h.i.n.k. His way of begging became so pleasing to him that he would often sing as follows--

A beggar lives a merry life, And has both wealth and ease; His days are free from care and strife, He does whate'er he please.

While others labour, sweat, and toil, His tongue does get him pelf; He travels with his dog and bell, And brings home store of wealth.

He being by this time in a warm condition, to add further to his joy, his loving wife fell in labour, and was delivered of a daughter, whose birth made him think he was the happiest man alive, and hundred times he kissed her and dandled her in his arms, whom he christened by the name of Elizabeth, and as she increased in years, so her beauty and modesty caused her to be called "Pretty Betty." Some began to dote upon her admirable perfections, and the better to qualify her gave her such learning as was suitable to her degree, which she improved; so that her beauty and wit, her skill in singing, dancing, and playing on instruments of music, procured her the envy of the young maidens thereabouts, who supposed themselves much superior in birth and fortune, would often reflect upon her birth, and call her a beggar's brat. She bore all their ill language without returning it, and endeavoured to win them to her by gentle persuasions; but not prevailing, and her patience spent, she said, "I never injured any of you, but have strove to do you all the good offices which I was capable of doing; why, then, do you envy and abuse me? What if my parents are in a mean station, yet they pay for my education of dancing and singing which they bestow upon me, and though, perhaps, I am not so well descended as some of you, though you may be mistaken, yet Heaven might have made your case the same had it thought fit." Yet, finding that they did not cease to rail at her, and being by this time about fifteen years of age, she prevailed with her parents to grant her leave to seek her fortune.

CHAPTER VI.

_How handsome Betty took Leave of her Parents, and the Entertainment she met with._

Now the time of Betty's departure being come, her parents furnished her with clothes and other necessaries, whereupon she fell upon her knees and craved their blessing, which being given, with many prayers for her prosperity, they took a sad farewell.

Pretty Betty, having now left her father's house, or rather smoke-loft, went pensive along the road towards Stradford, relying only on Providence to direct her. Having walked all night, at sunrise she came to Rumford, in Ess.e.x and being ready to faint, betook herself to an inn, and called for something to refresh her. The mistress of the house, taking notice of her garb, beautiful face, and modest behaviour, though dejected, began to ask her from whence she came, and whither she was bound. Betty replied, "I am going to seek my fortune. I am very well educated by my indulgent parents, who live near London; but I am now obliged, contrary to my former expectation, to get my livelihood in some honest way of working." The good woman, being more and more taken with her carriage, demanded if she would be content to stay with her till she could better provide to her advantage, and that she would use her as a daughter rather than a servant. Betty thankfully accepted the offer, and in the performance of whatever she undertook discharged herself so well that she gained the love and applause of all that observed her, insomuch that her name for beauty and ingenuity began to spread, and abundance of young men resorted to the house, which created a great trade, on purpose to see her, who generally took a liking to her; for nature had made her so lovely and charming that she could not but be admired, insomuch that many of them, as they found opportunity, began to buzz love stories in her ears, to which she gave but little heed, till four suitors of greater worth beat off these little a.s.sailants, and laid close siege, as in the following chapter will appear.