he would be, an old acquaintance of his furnished him with an old Sute and an old Cloake for his old Armour. A Lawier being sicke and extreame ill, [102.] Was mooved by his friends to make his will, For they with one consent resolved all; He never more would see Westminster Hall. Hee feeling in himselfe his end was neere, Unto their counsell did encline his eare; And absolute gave all the wealth he had To franticke persons, lunaticke and mad, To no man else he would a pennie give, But only such as doe in _Bedlem_ live. This caused his friends most strangely to admire, And some of them his reason did require? Quoth he, my reason to you I'le reveale: That you may see with equitie I deale. From mad mens hands I did my wealth receave, Therefore that wealth to madmens hands I leave. [110.] Not farre from maister _Hobsons_ house, there dwelled one of those cunning men, otherwise called fortune tellers, such cossoning[F. 219] companions, as at this day, (by their Crafts) make simple women beleeve how they can tell what husbands they shall have, how many children, how many sweetharts, and such like: if goods bee stole, who hath them, with promise to helpe them to their losses againe; with many other like deceiptfull elusions. To this wise man (as some termes him) goes maister _Hobson_, not to reap any benefit by his crafty cunning, but to make a Jest, and tryall of his experience, so, causing one of his servants to lead a masty[F. 220] dog after him, staying at the Cuning mans doore with the dog in his hand, up goes master _Hobson_ to y^e wise man, requesting his skil, for he had lost ten pound lately taken from him by theeves, but when and how he knew not well. The cunning man knowing maister _Hobson_ to be one of his neighbors, and a man of a good reputation, fell (as he made showe) to conjuring and casting of figures, and after a few words of incantation, as his common use was, hee tooke a very large faire looking glasse, and bad Maister _Hobson_ to looke in the same, but not to cast his eyes backward in any Case; the which hee did, and therein saw the picture of a huge and large oxe with two broad hornes on his head, the which was no otherwise, but as hee had often deceitfully shewd to others, a cossoning fellow like the cunning man himselfe, clothed in an oxe hide, which fellow he maintained as his servant, to blinde the peoples eyes withall, and to make them beleeve hee could shew them the Divill at his pleasure in a glasse: this vision maister _Hobson_ perceving, & gessing at the knavery thereof, gave a whistle for his dog, which then stayed below at the doore, in his man's keeping, which whistle being no sooner hard but the dog ran up the stayers to his maister, as hee had beene mad, and presently fastned upon the poor fellow in the oxe hide, and so tore him as it was pittifull to see. The Cunning man cried for the passion of God take off your dog. No, (quoth Maister _Hobson_) let