# History of two brothers misfortunes/The Misfortunes of Simple Simon

the
MISFORTUNES
of
SIMPLE SIMON.
CHAP. I.
An Account of Simon's Wedding, and his Wife's behaviour the day after their Marriage.
SIMON, the subject of our ensuing discourse, was a man very unfortunate many years after marriage not only by crosses, but by the cruelty of Margery his severe wife; his wedding day being the best he saw in seven years after, for then he had all his friends about him; Rough Ralph the fidler, and Will the piper, were appointed to make him and his guests merry.
Singing, dancing and feasting attended the day, which being ended, this loving couple were put to bed, where all their friends left them.
How he pleased her that night I cannot tell, but the morning was ushered in with ⟨a⟩ ​mighty storm, only because Simon put on his roast-meat cloathes. Thus she began the matter. Why how now, pray what is to-day, that you must put on your holiday cloathes? with a pye-crust to you, what do you intend to do, say you, tell me quickly? Nothing, said Simon, but to walk about with you, sweet wife, as is common the day after marriage. No, no, said Margery, this must not, nor shall not be. It is very well known I have brought you a considerable fortune; forty shillings in money and a good milk cow, four fat wedders, with half a dozen ewes and lambs, likewise geese, hens, and turkeys; also a sow and pigs, with other moveables, worth more than any of your crook-backed generation is able to give you. And do you think you shall lead as lewd a life now as you did before you was married; but if you do, then say my name is not Margery. Now I have got you within the bands of matrimony, I will make you know what it is to be married; therefore, to work, you rascal, and take care that what I have brought is not consumed; for if you do not, what will become of your wife and children, if you are able to get any?
Now Simon looked like one that had neither sense nor reason, but stood amazed, as ​if there had been a whole army of Billingsgate shrews. However, recollecting what he has heard about scolds, he muttered to ⟨himself⟩ Uswagers, I think I have got a woeful ⟨one⟩ now. What is that you say sirrah, said ⟨she⟩. Nothing dear wife, but what you say I ⟨allow⟩ to be true. And so taking his bag ⟨and⟩ bottle, went on forward to his daily ⟨labour⟩. But coming towards the lower end of ⟨the⟩ town, he chanced to meet with old ⟨Jobson⟩ the cobler, a merry blade, who loved a ⟨cup⟩ of good ale. What honest Simon, said ⟨Jobson⟩, I am glad to see you, for since our ⟨last⟩ meeting I hear you are married, and now wish you much joy. Now old Jobson ⟨being⟩ a merry fellow, invited Simon to take a ⟨flaggon⟩ of the best liquor that the next ⟨alehouse⟩ could afford, and there to drink to ⟨Margery's⟩ health. being merry in discourse, talking ⟨of⟩ the tricks and pranks they had played when batchelors, Jobson taking up the flaggon in his hand, said, come here’s to thee honest ⟨Simon⟩, and I wish thee better luck than ⟨Randal⟩ thy old father-in-law had with his ⟨wife⟩ for she was such a scold, that happy was ⟨those⟩ who lived out of the clamour of her ⟨noise⟩. But without doubt thy wife may be of a ⟨milder⟩ spirit, and have more of her father's ⟨meekness⟩ than her mother’s fury in her; but ⟨come⟩ Simon here’s to thee, and thy dearly beloved ​Margery cries Simon if she was present how merry should we be; but I fear on the wrong side of the mouth. Well, said Jobson, I vow I long to see her; and I verily believe she would be glad to see me, I dare to say she will prove a good wife. Truly, neighbour Jobson, I do not know ; but if she have no better ending than beginning, I wish I had ended my life at the plough tail. No sooner were these words out of his mouth, but in comes Margery with her gossips whom Jobson wished to see, forsooth; he wished her joy, but Margery in a very woeful fury snatching up Jobson’s oaken staff from off the table, gave poor Simon such a clank upon the noddle, as made the blood spring, saying, is this your work, sirrah? Jobson the cobler seeing so sudden an alteration, was affrighted, not knowing how to escape. She turning about to the left, being well disciplined, said; Thou rogue and rascal it is you that ruins all the poor women’s husbands in the town, and therefore you shall not go unrewarded, giving him such licks over the back and shoulders, as made poor Jobson lay in his bed for a fortnight. Simple Simon all this while not having any power to run away, but stood like one half frighted out of his wits, and trembling before his bride, with his hat in one hand, and the flaggon ​in the other, begging her to be ⟨patient⟩ and he would never offend her more. ⟨But⟩ she gave him a frown, and bad him be gone about his business, which he immediately ⟨did⟩. So that then Margery and her gossips ⟨had⟩ the whole room to themselves, where they sat till they were all as drunk as fish-women.
CHAP. II
She drags him up into the Chimney, and hangs him a smoak-drying.
At night when he returned to his ⟨home⟩ Margery, by the help of a nap she ⟨had⟩ taken, was a little restored to her senses again; but yet not forgetting the fault ⟨he⟩ had committed, she invented a new kind ⟨of⟩ punishment: For having a wide chimney wherein they used to dry bacon, she taking him at a disadvantage, tied him head and foot, bound him in a basket, and by the help of a rope drew him to the beam in the chimney, and left him there to take his lodging the second night after their wedding, with ⟨a⟩ small smoaky fire under him; so that in ⟨the⟩ morning he was reeked like a red-herring. But at length he caused his wife to shew ⟨him⟩ so much pity as to let him down.
CHAP. III.
Simon loses a sack of corn, that he was carrying to the mill to have ground.
Not long after she sent him to the mill with a sack of corn, and bade him ⟨remember⟩ what she said to him, or he should ⟨not⟩ go unpunished. Well, said Simon, I ⟨hope⟩ I shall never offend thee more.—For ⟨this⟩ promise she gave him a mess of milk, ⟨and⟩ when he had eaten all up, he took the ⟨sack⟩ of corn on his back, and went towards ⟨the⟩ mill, which stood about two miles from the house. When Simon was got about half ⟨way⟩ he began to be weary, which was the ⟨forerunner⟩ of a greater misfortune; for a man ⟨coming⟩ by leading an empty horse towards the mill, perceiving Simon weary of his load, (illegible text) him he might lay it upon his spare horse. ⟨To⟩ which Simon willingly consented. The ⟨man⟩ riding on, Simon could not pace with ⟨him⟩, so he desired him to leave it for him at ​the mill; he promised he would, but ⟨never⟩ intended to perform.—Simon thus losing ⟨his⟩ sack of corn, knew not how to go home, ⟨or⟩ shew his face before his wife, until he ⟨got⟩ two or three of his neighbours to go ⟨with⟩ him, to beg for his pardon, and to help ⟨to⟩ make up the differences between them ⟨which⟩ they did after a long parly. So that for ⟨the⟩ crime he passed unpunished.
CHAP. IV.
But although he was not punished, ⟨according⟩ to the severe correction he ⟨had⟩ formerly received, yet he had not escaped the several railings in his ears for several ⟨days⟩ after, ever anon she crying out. You sot, ⟨will⟩ you never be wise? Yes, sweet Margery, (illegible text) Margery I hope I shall in time. Well, says ⟨she, I⟩ will you once more: Here, take this ⟨basket⟩ of eggs, and go to market and sell them, ⟨and⟩ be sure do not break them nor spend the ⟨money⟩, for if you do, sorrow will be your ⟨fate⟩ and you may expect to feel the ⟨weight of⟩ ​my hand more than ever you have done yet. At which harsh words he trembled, and looked as white as his wife’s smock, for fear he should miscarry with his basket of eggs, for he knew his wife would be as good as her word.
Then Simon taking his basket of eggs, trudged to the market; but no sooner came there, than seeing a vast crowd of people, he resolved to see what was the matter.—When he came to the place, he found that two butter women had fallen out, and to that degree, that they had taken one another by the quoif, their hair and their fillets flying about their ears; which Simon seeing he was moved with compassion, and ran to part them, but in vain; poor Simon was still unfortunate, and came off with loss; for one of the women pulled him down and broke his eggs.—Poor Simon was almost distracted to see ⟨the⟩ ground; but whether it was the fear of ⟨the⟩ anger of his wife, or whether it was ⟨courage⟩; this it was, Simon run in among them, ⟨and⟩resolved to be revenged on them for the ⟨loss⟩ of his eggs. Whilst they were in the fray, ⟨the⟩ constable came, and supposing them drunk ⟨gave⟩ orders they should be all set in the ⟨stocks⟩ together: Simon in the middle and ⟨the⟩ women on one side, which was ⟨accordingly⟩ done; but they rang such a peal in Si​mon's ears, that he was deaf for a ⟨fortnight⟩ after.—Being released he ventured home again, dreading the impending storm; ⟨but⟩ this was his comfort in the midst of all ⟨his⟩ hard fortune that though he might find ⟨the⟩ force of her blow still he should be deaf ⟨to⟩ her noise being stunned by the women ⟨in⟩ the stocks.
CHAP. V.
Simon's Wife cudgels him for losing his money
At length Simon coming home, he ⟨met⟩ his beloved Margery, who seeing ⟨his⟩ dejected countenance, began to mistrust ⟨something⟩; so taking hold of his arm, she ⟨hauled⟩ him in for examination. When Simon ⟨saw⟩ this he could not forbear weeping and ⟨began⟩ to tell her a dismal story concerning ⟨the⟩ stocks; but she wanted her money for ⟨the⟩ eggs: But Simon being deaf, could not ⟨hear⟩ her, which made her fall on him with ⟨such⟩ fury, that at last he was obliged to run ⟨upstairs⟩ and jump out of the chamber window which when she saw, she followed him ⟨down⟩ the town with an hundred boys and girls ⟨after⟩ them, Simon still crying out to the peo​ple, You may see what it is to be married. And her tone was, You rascal, the money for the eggs, often giving him a crack on the crown. At length it was his good hap to get from her.—Night drawing, and Simon not having one penny to help himself, was forced to the best of a bad bargain, resolved to lodge that night in the hog-stye amongst the hogs; and so next morning in the presence of some of his dearest friends, he begged pardon on his knees of his sweet, kind, and loving wife Margery.
CHAP. VI.
Simon loses his Wife's Pail, and burns out the bottom of her kettle.
Margery being reconciled again, on his humble petition, she charged him to be careful for the future, that he did not offend her as he had done before, which he promised to observe.—Then Simon, said she, I am this day going a gossiping, & shall leave you at home to make a fire and hang on the kettle. Yes sweet wife. Now Margery was no sooner gone, but he put on the fire and hung on the kettle. Then taking the pail, ​he goes to the well to fetch water; when there came an ox running down, with a butcher and his boy after him, who called to Simon to stop the ox which he endeavoured but the ox giving them the slip, Simon run in pursuit of him for the space of three or four miles and having secured him. the butcher gave him thanks for his kindness. So Simon returned back to the well, but his pail was lost, and he made a lamentation for it, enquiring about it but could hear nothing of it; and as the proverb says, one sorrow never comes alone; for in going in doors, the fire was flaming, and the bottom of the kettle burnt out. At the fight of this he fell to wringing his hands, and crying out with a lamentable tone, never was a man so unfortunate as poor Simon; what shall I say to my wife when she comes; first, I have lost the pail, second I have burnt out the bottom of the kettle. Here will be a sad reckoning for these mischances. Just in the middle of these lamentations, in comes Margery, who having heard him, came armed and fitted for the fray. How, now, sirrah, said she, has this been the care you promised of my business? and with that let fly an earthen pot at his head which made the blood to run about his ears. This done, she took him by the collar, and cust him about the kitchen ​at a most horrid rate, Simon crying for mercy, but cruel Margery still encreased his misery, till the neighbours came in persuading Margery to be pacified; for said they it was a mischance—A rascal, says she, for I can set him about nothing, but thus he serves me. Yet they still interceded for Simon until she excused him.
CHAP. VII.
Margery calling Simon to her, said, Will you never be careful in any thing I set you about.—Yes, dear wife I hope I shall: Why then, said she, take this money, I have tied it in a clout that you may not lose it. Therefore, go to the market, and make all the haste you can, and get me some soap—I will, sweet wife, quoth he, and with that he went as fast as ever he could.
​Now in his way he was to pass over a bridge and coming to the middle of it, a flight of crows flew over his head, which so affrighted him that he let fall his money. This was the beginning of a new sorrow; he stood a while, and knew not what course to take. At last he resolved to pull off his cloathes, and jump into the water in search for it. Now as he was searching for his money, an old ragman came by, and put his cloathes in a bag. Simon seeing this, pursued him, but in vain, and was forced to return home naked; which his wife seeing, fell into a horrid sweat, and taking the dogwhip, she jerked poor Simon about, making him dance the canaries for two hours, he crying out, Goodwife forbear; but she crying out, You rascal, where is my money and your cloathes? Thus she continued till she was tired, and he begged her pardon.