vpon this condicion we wil take of the locke, that you will drinke .xij. pence for our sakes to-morow at the alehouse wher we found you, and thank the good wife for the good chere she made vs.” He promised faithfully that he would so do; so they toke of the locke, and went their way so farre ere it was daye, that the parson coulde neuer haue any vnderstanding more of them. Now this parson, sorowfully slumbering that night betwene feare and hope, thought it was but folly to make two sorrowes of one; he vsed contentacion for his remedy, not forgetting in the morning to performe his promise, but went betims to his neighbour that kept tiplinge, and asked angerly where the same two men were that dranke with her yester daye. “Which two men?” q_uoth_ this good wife. “The straungers that came in when I was at your house wyth my neighbores yesterday.” “What! your neuewes?” q_uoth_ she. “My neuewes?” q_uoth_ this parson; “I trowe thou art mad.” “Nay, by god!” q_uoth_ this good[76] wife, “as sober as you; for they tolde me faithfully that you were their vncle: but, in fayth, are you not so in dede? for, by my trouth, they are strau[n]gers to me. I neuer saw them before.” “O, out vpon them!” q_uoth_ the parson; “they be false theues, and this night thei compelled me to geue them al the money in my house.” “Benedicite!” q_uoth_ this good wife, “_and_ haue they so in dede? as I shall aunswere before god, one of them told me besides that you were godfather to him, and that he trusted to haue your blessinge before he departed.” “What! did he?” quoth this parson; “a halter blesse him for [leaf 11] me!” “Me thinketh, by the masse, by your countenance you loked so wildly when you came in,” quoth this good wife, “that somthing was amis.” “I vse not to gest,” {41} quoth this parson, “when I speake so earnestly.” “Why, all your sorrowes goe with it,” quoth this good wife, “and sitte downe here, and I will fil a freshe pot of ale shall make you mery agayne.” “Yea,” saith this parson, “fill in, _and_ geue me some meat; for they made me sweare and promise them faithfully that I shoulde drinke xii. pence with you this day.” “What! dyd they?” quoth she; “now, by the mary masse, they be mery knaues. I warraunt you they meane to bye no land with your money; but how could they come into you in the night, your dores being shut fast? your house is very stronge.” Then this prason[77] shewed her all the hole circumstance, how he gaue them his almes oute at the wyndowe, they[78] made such lamentable crye that it pytied him at the hart; for he sawe but one when he put oute his hand at the windowe. “Be ruled by me,” quoth this good wyfe. “Wherin?” quoth this parson. “By my troth, neuer speake more of it: when they shal vnderstand of it in the parish, they wyll but laugh you to skorne.” [79]†“Why, then,” quoth this parson, “the deuyll goe with it,”—and their an end.† [Footnote 69: 1573 omits.] [Footnote 70: 1573 omits.] [Footnote 71: _saith._ B.]