"Dear mother, these are things I fain would know; for, believe me, I have many sweethearts, and I willingly choose the best, lest I should marry in haste and repent at leisure. 'Tis true, I have near a hundred and fifty pounds to my portion, the great noise of which has brought many sweethearts, for I have no less than five or six at this time; and, mother, I would fain know which of them comes for love of me, and which of them for money." "Daughter," quoth Mother Bunch, "here is an experiment, if you will but try, it will make a clear discovery of the reality of their love. Let a report be spread that thou hast lately been robbed of all that thou hast, both money and apparel. Now, if after this, there is one of them that continues his love as before, you may be very certain that he is faithful; but, be sure that you keep this counsel to yourself, that the secret be not discovered." "I will take care of that, dear mother," quoth Margery, "and I heartily thank you for this kind and seasonable advice." "Good morrow, daughter," she replied, "Young men are false, and must be tried." She was no sooner gone, but in comes Mrs. Susan, a young sempstress from Salisbury, with sorrowful lamentation, weeping and wringing her hands. "How now!" quoth good Mother Bunch; "what is the matter with you, daughter, that you go on at this rate?" "Alas! Mother Bunch," quoth Susan, "my--my--my--my--my--my!" "What my?" said Mother Bunch. Quoth sobbing Susan, "My sorrows are more than I am able to bear; for, mother, dear Frank the fiddler, my old love, and I are fallen out, and he swears he will not have me." "Come, daughter," quoth Mother Bunch, "be of good comfort, for I will put thee in an effectual way to find whither Frank the fiddler be really angry with thee or not; and if he be, I will teach thee infallibly how to obtain his favour again. 'She that is afraid of every grass, must not think to go in a meadow.' Let your angry love but alone for a season, and he will soon come to himself again; for I know that love is a puny darling, and wants very frequently to be humoured. Therefore, let him alone, in time he will forget his anger, and return to thee again, if he has any principle, good nature, or loyal love in him; and if not, you had better be without him than during your whole life to be tied to so sour an apple tree. Remember the old proverb, 'Set thy stool in the sun; if a knave goes, an honest man may come.' I hope thou hast not been playing the wanton wagtail with him, hast thou?" "No, indeed, dear Mother Bunch; but yet, I must needs confess that he fain would have played a lesson on my lute last market day, but I would not let him; and that was the cause of our falling out." "Sayest thou so, daughter? Why, then, I will tell thee, that since he found thou withstood his temptations, with so much resolution, take my word for it he will never forget thee." "Well, dear mother," quoth young Susan,