# History of the king and the cobbler

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THE HISTORY OF THE King and the Cobbler. IN TWO PARTS.
EDINBURGH:
Printed and Sold by J Morren, Cowgate.
THE HISTORY OF THE KING and the COBBLER. PART I. CHAP I.
IT was the custom of King Henry VIII. late in the night, to walk the ſtreets in diſguiſe, to take notice how the conſtables and watch performed their duty in guarding the gates, and watching the inward parts of the city, to prevent thoſe diſturbances and caſualties, which often happen by night, in great and populous cities. This he did often without the leaſt diſcovery; always returning home to Whitehall early in the morning. Once on his return, coming through the Strand, he took notice of a certain cobbler, who was conſtantly up at work, whiſtling and ſinging every morning. He reſolved to ſee him, and be acquainted with him, in order to which, he immediately knocked off the heel of his ſhoe, by ſtriking it againſt a ſtone; and having ſo done, he bounced into the cobbler's ſtall.
Who's there? cries the cobbler.
Here's one, ſaid the King.
With that the cobbler opened the ſtall door, and the king aſked him, if he could put on his heel.
'Yes, that I can,' ſays the cobbler; 'come in, honeſt fellow, and ſit thee down by me, and I will do it for thee ſtraight.' The cobbler ſcraped his old ſhoes to one ſide with his awl, to make room for the king to ſit by him.
​The king being hardly able to forbear laughing at the kindneſs of the cobbler, aſked him if there was not a houſe hard by which ſold a cup of good ale and if the people were up?
'Yes,' said the cobbler, 'there is an inn over the way there. I believe the folk are up for the carriers go from thence very early in the morning.'
With that the king borrowed an old ſhoe of the cobblers, & went over to the inn deſiring the cobbler to bring his ſhoe thither to him, as ſoon as he had put on his heel again: the cobbler promiſed he would; ſo making what haſte he could to put the heel on he carried it over to the king, ſaying, 'Honeſt blade, here is thy ſhoe, I'll warrant thee it will not come off again in haſte.'
'Very well,' ſaid the king, 'what muſt you have for your pains?'
'A couple of pence,' anſwered the cobbler.
'Well,' ſaid the king, 'ſeeing thou art an honeſt merry fellow, here's a teſter for thee; come ſit thee down by me. I will drink a full pot with thee; come here's a good health to the king.'
'With all my heart,' ſaid the cobbler, 'I will pledge thee were it in water.'
So the cobbler ſat down beside the king & was very merry, and drank off the liquor freely. He alſo ſung ſome of his merry ſongs and catches whereat the king laughed heartily and was very pleaſant and jocund with the cobbler, telling him withal that his name was Harry Tudor, and that he belonged to the court; and that if he would come and ſee him there, he would make him very welcome, ⟨becauſe⟩ he was ſuch a merry fellow, and charged him ⟨to⟩ be there and not to forget his name, and to ask ⟨any⟩ one about the court for him, and they would ⟨bring⟩ him to him: For, ſaid the king, I am very ⟨well⟩ known there.
​Now the cobbler little dreamed that he was the king who ſpoke to him, much leſs that the king's deal of confidence, he ſtands up and pulls off his hat, and makes two or three ſcraps with his foot, and gives the king many thanks, telling him that he was one of the honeſteſt fellows he ever met with in all his life time; and though he had never been at court yet it would not be long before he would make a holiday to come and ſee him.
Whereupon the king diſcharged the houſe for what they had drunk wou'd have taken his leave of the cobbler; but the cobbler not being willing to part with the king, took him by the hand, and ſaid, 'By my faith, you muſt not go yet, you ſhall first go and ſee my poor habitation; I have there a tub of good brown ale that was never tapp'd, you muſt needs go and taſte of it, for you are the honeſteſt blade that ever I met withal; and I love an honeſt merry companion with all my heart.'
CHAP II.
SO the cobbler took the king with him over the way, where he had a cellar adjoining to the ſtall, which was handſomely and neatly furniſhed for a man of his profeſſion; into this cellar he had the king; 'There, ſaid he, 'ſit down you are very welcome, but I muſt deſire you to ⟨ſpeak⟩ ſoftly for fear of awakening my wife Joan, ⟨who⟩ lies here hard by,' ſhewing the king a cloſe ⟨bed⟩ made up neatly at the corner of the cellar, ⟨much⟩ like unto cloſet, 'for if she ſhould wake, ſhe ⟨will⟩ make your ears ring again.'
​At which ſpeech of the cobbler the king laughed, and told him he would be mindful to obſerve his directions.
Whereupon the cobbler kindled the fire, and fetched out brown loaf, from which he cut a luſty toaſt, which he ſet a baking at the fire, then he brought out his Cheſhire cheeſe. 'Come, ſaid he, 'will you eat ſome Cheſhire cheeſe; there is as good fellowship in eating as drinking.'
This made the king admire the honeſt freedom of the cobbler, ſo having eaten a bit, the cobbler began a health to all true hearts and merry companions; at which the king ſmiling, ſaid, 'Good merry friend, I'll pledge thee.'
In this manner they ate and drank together till it was almoſt break of day. The cobbler being very free of his liquor, and delighting the king with ſeveral of his old ſtories, inſomuch that the king was highly pleaſed with the manner of the cobbler's entertainment; when on a ſudden the cobbler's wife Joan began to awake: 'I'faith, ſays the cobbler, 'you muſt be gone, my wife Joan begins to grumble, ſhe will awake preſently, and I would not for half the ſhoes in my ſhop ſhe would find you here.'
So taking the king by the hand, he led him up ſtairs, ſaying, 'Farewell, honeſt blade, it ſhall not be long before I make a holiday and come to ſee the court.'
'You ſhall be kindly welcome,' replied the king. So they parted, the king on his way to Whitehall, and the cobbler to his cellar and there having put all things to rights before his wife Joan got up, he fell to work again, whiſtling and ſinging as merry as he uſed to do, being much ſatisfied that he had happened on ſo good and jovial a companion, and ſtill careſſing in his thoughts how merry he ſhould be when he came to court.
CHAP. III.
NOW as ſoon as the king came home, he ſent orders out about the court, that if any one enquired for him by the name of Harry Tudor, they ſhould immediately bring the perſon before him, whatever he was, without any further examination of him. Now the cobbler thought everyday a month till he had been at court to ſee his new acquaintance, and was much troubled how he ſhould get leave of his wife Joan, for he could not go without her knowledge, becauſe he reſolved to make himſelf as fine as he could, and the wife always kept the key of his holiday clothes.
Whereupon, one evening as they ſat at ſupper, finding her in a very good humour, he began to open his mind to her, telling her the whole ſtory of their acquaintance, and repeating over and over again that 'He was the honeſteſt fellow that ever I met with.' 'Husband, quoth ſhe, becauſe you have been ſo ingenious as to tell me the whole truth, I will give you leave to make a holiday for this once; you ſhall go to court, and I will make you as fine as I can.'
So it was agreed that he ſhould go the next day, whereupon Joan roſe betimes the next morning to bruſh up her husband's holiday clothes, and to make him as ſnug as ſhe could, waſhed and ironed the laced band, and made his ſhoes ſhine that he might ſee his face in them; having done this ſhe made her huſband riſe and put off his ſhirt; then ſhe waſhed him with warm water from head to foot, putting on him a clean ſhirt, afterwards ſhe dreſſed him in his holiday clothes, putting his laced band on prime.
CHAP IV. The Cobbler's reception at Court, and the manner of his behaviour before the King.
THE cobbler being thus ſet forth, ſtrutted thro' the ſtreets like a crow in a gutter, thinking himſelf as fine as the beſt of them all: in this manner he came to court, ſtaring on this body and that body as he walked up and down; and knowing no body to ask for Harry Tudor: at laſt he eſpied one, as he thought, in the habit of a ſervant man, to him he made his address, ſaying, 'Doſt thou hear, honeſt fellow, do you know one Harry Tudor, who belongs to the court?'
'Yes,' ſaid the man, 'follow me, and I will bring you to him.'
With that he had him preſently up to the guard-chamber, telling one of the yeomen of the guard, there was one who enquired for Harry Tudor.
Replied the yeoman, 'I know him very well, if you will pleaſe to go along with me, I will bring you to him immediately.'
So the cobbler followed the yeoman, much admiring the finery of the rooms he went through; and thinking within himſelf that the yeoman was miſtaken in the perſon he enquired after.
'For, ſaid he, the man whom I look for, is a plain merry honeſt fellow, his name is Harry Tudor, we drank two pots together not long ſince, I ſuppose he may belong to ſome lord or other about the court.'
'I tell you friend, replied the yeoman, I know him very well, do you but follow me and I ſhall bring you to him ſtraight.'
So going forward, he came to the room where the king was, accompanied with ſeveral of the nobles.
As ſoon as the yeoman had put by the array he ​ſpoke aloud ſaying, 'May it pleaſe your Majeſty. Here is one who enquires for Harry Tudor.' The cobbler hearing this, thought he had committed no leſs than treaſon, therefore he up with his heels and ran for it, but not being acquainted with the ſeveral turnings and rooms thro' which he came, he was ſoon overtaken and brought before the king, whom the cobbler little thought to be the perſon he enquired after, therefore in a trembling condition he fell down upon his knees, ſaying, 'May it pleaſe your Grace, may it pleaſe your Highneſs, I am a poor cobbler, and enquired for one Harry Tudor, who is a very honeſt fellow; I mended the heel of his ſhoe not long since, for which he paid me nobly, and gave me two pots to boot, but I had him over afterwards to my cellar, where we drank part of a cup of hoppy ale, and were very merry until my wife Joan began to grumble, which put an end to our merriment for that time but I told him I would come to court and ſee him as ſoon as I conveniently could.'
'Well, ſaid the king, Be not troubled; would you know this honeſt fellow again if you ſaw him? The cobbler replied Yes, that I would from a thouſand.' Then ſaid the king, 'Stand up, and be not afraid, look well about you peradventure you may find the fellow in this company.'
Whereupon the cobbler aroſe and looked wiſhfully upon the king and the reſt of the nobles; but to little or no purpoſe, for though he ſaw ſomething in the king's face which he thought he had ſeen before, yet he could not imagine him to be Harry Tudor, whoſe heel of his ſhoe he had mended, and who had been ſo merry with him both in the inn and at his own cellar.
He therefore told the king, 'he did not expect to find Harry Tudor among ſuch fine folks as he ſaw there: but that the perſon he looked for was ​plain, honeſt, and true-hearted fellow, (illegible text) withal that he was ſure did Harry Tudor but know that he was come to court, he would make him very welcome.' At which ſpeech of the cobbler's the king had much ado to forbear laughing out right; but keeping his countenance as ſteady as he could, he ſaid to the yeoman of the guard, 'Here take this honeſt cobbler down into my cellar, and let him drink my health, and I will give orders that Harry Tudor ſhall come to him preſently.' So away they went, the cobbler ready to leap out of his skin for joy, not only that he came ſo well off, but alſo that he ſhould find his friend Harry Tudor.
CHAP. V.
THE cobbler had not been long in the king's cellar, before the king came to him in the ſame dreſs and habit he had on when the cobbler mended his ſhoe, whereupon the cobbler knew him and ran and kiſſed him, ſaying, 'Honeſt Harry, I have made a holiday to ſee you, but I had much ado to get leave of my wife, who was loth that I ſhould loſe ſo much time from my work, but I was reſolved to ſee you, I therefore made myſelf as fine as I could; but I'll tell you Harry, when I came to the court I was in a peck of trouble how to find you out, but at laſt I met with a man who told me he knew you very well, and that he would bring me to you, but inſtead of doing ſo, he brought me before the king, which affrighted me out of my ſeven ſenſes; but, good friend, added he, I am reſolved to be merry with you, ſince I have had the good fortune of meeting with you at laſt,
​Ay, that you ſhall, replied the king, we,ll be aſ merry as princes.' With that he called for a large glaſs of wine and drank to the cobbler and the king's good health; ſaid the cobbler, 'Honeſt Harry I will pledge thee with all my heart. Now after the cobbler drank four or five good healths, he began to be merry and fell a ſinging his old ſongs and catches, which pleaſed the king very much, and made him laugh heartily; when on a ſuddne ſeveral of his nobles came into the cellar, extraordinary rich in apparel, who ſtood bare at Harry Tudor, which put the cobbler into a great amazemennt at firſt but recovering himſelf, he looked more wiſhfully upon Harry Tudor, when preſently he knew him to be the king whom he ſaw in the preſence chamber, though in another habit. He immediately fell upon his knees, ſaying, 'May it pleaſe your Grace, Highneſs, I am an honeſt poor cobbler and mean no harm.'
No, no, ſaid the king nor ſhall you receive any here.' He commanded him therefore to riſe up, and be as merry as before, and that he ſhould uſe the ſame freedom with him as he did before, when he mended the heel of his ſhoe. This kind speech of the king's and three or four glaſſes of more wine, made the cobbler to be in as good humour as he was before; telling the king several of his ⟨pretty⟩ ſtories, and ſinging ſome of his beſt ſongs, very much to the ſatisfaction of the king and his nobles.
The COBBLER'S SONG in the KING'S Cellar.
Tune—Jenny Gin.
COME let us drink the other pot, Our ſorrows to confound: We'll laugh and ſing before the king, So let his health go round.
For I'm as bold as bold can be, No cobbler e'er was ruder Then here, good fellow, here's to thee Remember Harry Tudor. When I'm at work within my ſtall, Upon him I ſhall think: His kindnefs I to mind will call Whene'er I eat or drink. His kindneſs was to me to great, The like was never known; His kindneſs I will ſtill repeat, And ſo ſhall my wife Joan. I'll laugh when I ſit in my ſtall, And merrily I will ſing: That I with my poor laſt and awl, Am fellow with a king. But it is more I muſt confeſs, That I at firſt did know, But Harry Tudor ne'ertheleſs, Reſolv'd it ſhould be ſo. And farewell unto Whitehall, I homeward muſt retire, To ſing and whiſtle in my ſtall, My wife will me deſire. I do but think how ſhe will laugh, When ſhe hears of this thing, How he who drink her nut brown ale Was England's royal King.
CHAP. VI. How the Cobbler became a Courtier.
NOW the king conſidering the pleaſant humour of the cobbler, how innocently merry he was, and free from any deſigns: that he was a perſon that laboured very hard, and took a great deal of pains for a ſmall livelihood, was pleaſed, oto ​of his prince's ⟨grace⟩ and favour, to allow him a liberal annuity of forty merks a year, for better ſupport of his jolly humour, and the maintenance of his wife Joan, and that he ſhould be admitted one of his courtiers, and might have freedom of his cellar whenever he pleaſed, which being ſo much beyohd expection, did highly exalt the cobbler's humour, much to the ſatisfaction of the king.
PART II.
CHAP. I. Of the Cobbler's return from Court to his wife Joan, and the comical discourse that past between them.
Christopher Crispin, for ſo was the cobbler named, with whom King Henry VIII. had made himſelf ſo exceeding familiar; this cobbler, I ſay, having been at court, where he made much mirth, and was made much of on account of that mirth, returned home in the afternoon full fraughted with wine and wonderful expectations; his heart and head being light, he went capering along ſinging up his cap, crying, 'Long live Harry Tudor, long live Harry Tudor,' with a hundred boys at his heels hooping and hallowing; his wife ſtanding at the door, and ſeeing him prancing along in ſuch a poſture, immediately put on one of her accuſtomed crabbed looks, crying, High, tittie, what's come to you now? I'll Harry Tudor you with a vengeance? was it for this that I dreſt you up in pimlico, in all your beſt apparel, to have you come home like one juſt out of Bedlam!' 'Peace, wife, quoth the cobbler, for I am upon preferment, I am promiſed to be made a courtier, that I am.' 'A courtier, quoth Joan, ads-foot, more likely cuckold, you drunken ſcoundrel.'
​'Nay, quoth the cobbler, you muſt know that it is from you that I muſt have that favour, if it be conferred upon me. 'Ceaſe your prating, quoth Joan, and get you to bed, that you may riſe in the morning, and fall to your buſineſs, for this wicked courſe of life will never do.' With theſe and other like reprimands, ſhe conquered poor Criſpin, who for quietneſs ſake, forthwith went to bed; where we will leave him to take his reſt. Let us now return to the court and ſay ſomething of what paſt between the king, queen, and nobles, relating to that day's comical adventure.
CHAP. II.
NOW it is to be noticed, that the cobbler was no ſooner gone, but the king with his nobles began to renew their mirth, by rehearſing the many comical fancies and pleaſant pranks with which the cobbler entertained them; and what added the more to their recreation and ſport, was a certain lord, who put himſelf into a country habit, and imitated the cobbler ſo to the life, that the king & the reſt of the nobles fell into a fit of laughter, which laſted for a conſiderable time without any intermiſſion; whereupon the queen with her maids of honour, came to enquire into the cauſe of ſuch general mirth.
'My liege, ſaid the queen, I'm glad to hear you and your nobles ſo merry; and would be as glad to know what fancies have been the occaſion of ſo much laughter.' 'My lady, quoth the king, we have had the company of a comical cobbler, the like of whom never came to court ſince ​the conqueſt, for his downright honeſt ſimplicity has afforded us much paſtime.' Then ſaid the queen, 'I wiſh I had been there to have been partaker of this mirth.' Then the king replied, 'It may not be too late as yet; for I will contrive with the very firſt opportunity to give you a ſight of him under ſome diſguiſe; by which we will ſoon have new proofs of his pleaſant paſtime
But then ſaid the proud prelate Cardinal Wolſey, 'How do theſe frolics agree with your kingly dignity? what will your friends and allies ſay, when they will hear how you, converſe and take pleaſure in the company of a poor cobbler?' Why, ſaid the king, 'Wolſey, have you not heard of the induſtrious bee, that extracts honey as well from the meaneſt flowers, as the richeſt bloſſoms? and if ſo, why may not I experience the fidelity of my people by converſing with a poor cobbler, as well as I may by the crafty policy of a proud cardinal.'
This cheak pear ſtopped the mouth of cardinal Wolſey, whilſt the king, queen, and nobles, purſued their mirth to the height of their ſatisfaction.
CHAP. III.
YOU may remember how the cobbler at his frolicſome return home from court was ſummoned to bed by the ſtrict orders of Joan his commanding wife, where he ſlept ſecure till towards the morning, when ſhe ſuddenly made him ſtart with a thunder clap of 'Thou drunken ſwine and whimſical wood-cock, is it not time to riſe? Is this the courſe of life you intend to lead?' at which words the poor cobbler awakened, and that he might get out of the hearing of this certain lecture, he leap'd ​out of bed, put on his cloathes and his conſidering-cap; ſo poſting away to his ſtall, he fell to work upon his old ſhoes and boots, as fierce as a fury, and as blithe as a bird in the returning ſpring, eaſing his fancy with a ſong of his own making.
HIS SONG.
THOUGH now I ſit within my ſtall, Old ſhoes and ſlippers mending, I to the court ſhall have a call, There's hope depending. I do not value cruſty Joan, Though once in tears I woo'd her, I have the favour, 'tis well known, Of honeſt Harry Tudor: He gives me forty merks a year, Which is a deal of treaſure: Beſides all this, there is no fear Of having courtly pleaſure. I wiſh old Joan ſhe would die, Though once with tears I woo'd her: I'd go to court and there live by My dear friend Harry Tudor.
Now whilſt the cobbler was making himſelf merry with ſinging this new made ſong, Joan ſuddenly chopp'd upon him and hearing him mention the name of Tudor, ſalutes him in this manner, 'Out you drunken ſcoundrel, are ye going toudoring it again, I thought ye had got enough yeſterday. Come down to breakfaſt, you blockhead.' With that he immediately follows her like a patient man, whilſt ſhe continued ſcolding in this manner, 'I need not ask you whether or not you met with your pot companion, for I think you gave me full enough proof that you did by the drunken condition yon came home in; I think you told me he was ſomething of a courtier, but I rather take him to be a charman or a drunken porter, pray (illegible text) here's ​the money you carried out with you? you had fourpence halfpenny of me that I let you have out of my own pocket, becauſe I would have you appear like a man; and beſides what you took of Johnſon the old joiner, and likewiſe of Simon Souſecrown the ſaddler, for two pair of heelpieces, & now come let me ſee what you have left.' 'Alas,' ſaid the cobbler, 'My friend was ſo far from letting me ſpend any thing, that he has given me what may be the making of us both.' 'Why, husband, quoth Joan, what has he given you ? 'Why, to tell you the truth, my ſweet wife, he has ſettled forty merks on you and me, and as a ſure token of his goodneſs, he has given me theſe two broad pieces of gold.' 'O me! quoth Joan, did thy friend give thee all this? well, God's bleſſing on his loving heart, he's an honeſt fellow I'll warrant him. 'Who do you call fellow! quoth her husband, he that is ſo particular a friend of mine is no worſe a perſon than our gracious King Henry, and were he to know what you have ſaid of him to me, you might happen to dine upon the fruit of a hemp ſeed, by which I might be rid of a ſhrew.' 'Sweet husband, quoth Joan, pardon what I have ſaid through my ignorance, and never divulge my unfortunate ſayings, as you love me, and I will never call you ill names for the future during my life.' 'Be ſure, quoth he, you keep your promiſe, and I will aſſure you that all will be well.
CHAP. IV.
KING Henry, as you have heard, promiſed the Queen that ſhe ſhould be accommodated with ​ſome of the cobbler's ſigurics, now his care was how to make good his promiſe, that is to ſay, how he might bring himſelf into the cobbler's company without the honeſt cobbler knowing who he was. Many thoughts came into his head, and amongſt the reſt, one he reſolves upon, which is this, the king ſends a man and a horſe down into the country, there to buy leather fit for ſhoemakers, and to ſend it to London by the carrier, who come to the ſame inn, which was over againſt the foreſaid cobbler. This was accordingly done, the king in the habit of a plain country man come to the inn with his queen, who in the dreſs of an innocent country maiden, paſt for his kinſwoman, he paſſing for a tanner that was come to receive and ſell the leather; the king having paid the carrier for bringing his parcel, calls for ſome of the beſt liquor the houſe afforded, which being brought, he asked the innkeeper whether or not he could help him to a chapman for his leather, who anſwered, 'There is on honeſt fellow of a cobbler over the way, I'll ſend for him, he'll either buy it or help you to a chapman for it no doubt.' Then the king ſaid, 'Pray thee ſend for him.' Whereupon the cobbler was called, who came capering like a morice dancer, ſaying, 'Who wants me?' 'This gentleman, ſaid the innkeeper, he has a parcel of leather to ſell.' 'I'll buy it, ſaid the cobbler, if it be for my ſum.' Now having looked over it, he aſked the price; the king not knowing what it was worth, aſked him forty ſhillings.' 'Harry! quoth he, I wiſh you may have come honeſtly by it, for though I am the buyer, I muſt tell you it is worth a great deal more.' 'That is neither here nor there, ſaid the king. I (illegible text) ſelling it off, which when I have done, I don't think to deal in leather for the future any more, for I am for a place at the court, and this young maid my kinſwoman, is likewiſe deſirous ​to wait on ſome lady.' 'Mary, quoth the cobbler, if it be ſo, perhaps I may do you a piece of ſervice, for as ſimple as I ſit here: though I ſay it myſelf, I am well acquainted with the king; and as you ſeem to have both good honeſt faces, I do proteſt I will do you all the good I can that I will; & there's my hand on the ſame.' 'Thou ſayeſt well quoth the king, and if thou do me any kindneſs I do not matter if I give thee that leather as a reward of thy goodneſs, and ſo here's to thee.' 'I thank thee,' quoth the cobbler, and by the time he had drunk three or four carouſes, his heart grew light and he told the king he would ſing him a ſong of his own making. At which the queen, when ſhe heard it, laughed heartily; for he had many jokes and pleaſant ſongs; he delighted the queen more than any thing ſhe had ſeen or met with in her life. At length it grew towards noon, the cobbler was for going with them towards the court; but he muſt dreſs himſelf for he would not appear before the king in his cobbler's clothes for all the ſhoes in his ſhop.
CHAP. V.
THE cobbler being gone, the king turned himſelf to the queen, ſaying, 'How like you the converſation of this comical Criſpin? The queen ſaid, 'Right well, beſides I ſee ſomething of a principle in him, which in my judgment ſeems to outſhine his poverty; for, my liege, when you offered the leather to him at a low price, he let you know it was worth much more, and therefore was loth to meddle with it, fearing you came not honeſtly by it, and what I obſerved in him is, that he has a light heart, brisk and merry; and for ought I know, enjoys more happineſs in his coarſe and ​homely cottage, than a courtier or a colonel,
'Not too much of that,' quoth the king, 'for I well remember that when he had me down into his lower cellar, to drink a cup of nappy ale, and ate ſome of his bread and cheeſe, all on a ſudden his wife Joan began to rouſe from her night's reſt, and I found he began to be afraid; for he ſaid, 'Friend, you must be gone; I would not that Joan my wife ſhould catch you here, no not for all the ſhoes in my ſhop. And thereupon rather than the cobbler ſhould be cudgelled by his wife, got away with as great ſpeed as might be.' 'My liege,' ſaid the queen, 'you were hard put to it.' In troth, quoth the king, "ſo I was.' Then with a ſmile her majeſty ſaid, 'I would willingly ſee her.' 'She ſhall be ſent for,' ſaid the king, and thereupon called the innkeeper to let them know what he would let them have for dinner? who told them he had a ſhoulder of mutton, which ſhould be ready in half an hour.
'That will do,' ſaid the king 'and therefore call the cobbler and his wife, for I deſire they may both dine with me.' The innkeeper having delivered his meſſage, Joan ſet up a railing, ſaying, 'What ſot is this that has ſent for you now? I ſhall have you drunk again, that I ſhall.'
'Why, quoth the cobbler, did you not tell me the other day that you would never ſcold me again, if I would but keep your counſel, and do you begin already? Go put on your beſt red petticoat and waiſtcoat while I dreſs myſelf, for I do not know but we may take a walk to court after dinner; and it will be for your credit to ſee the king in your beſt apparel' Now Joan having a fear for what ſhe had formerly ſaid, doubting that he might out with all, poor creature, ſhe was fain to bridle her unruly tongue, and turn her crabbed ​frown into a ſweet and pleafant ſmile; all with obedience to her husband ſhe made herſelf as fine as a London milk maid upon a May-day, and Criſpin likewiſe bruſhed up bis beard, and then went over with Joan as pert as a pearmonger. The king taking the glaſs, drank to the cobbler's wife, who ſimpering like a firmity kettle, ſaid. I thank you, ſir. Then paſſing it to her husband, he filled up a bumper, and drank to the queen, with this compliment, 'Young woman you are welcome to London, and I don't queſtion but to help you to a ſervice that may be to your heart's content.'
Now by the time the glaſs had gone round dinner was ready, the cobbler craved leave to ſay the grace, it was ſhort, and when ended, the king carved for the queen and himself, and bade the cobbler and his wife do the like. Quoth Joan, 'I know my husband is for the cuckold's bit, and ſo here it is, let him have it.' At which ſaying, the king and queen ſmiled, her majeſty being much more pleaſed with the mirth than the meat, fed ſparingly; at which the cobbler merrily ſaid, 'Young woman, if you come to dine with the ſervants of a nobleman's family, auſoks, you muſt lay about you better than you do, or they will make you as fat as a hen in the forehead'
With this and the like diſcourſe they paſſed away the time for an hour, and the king and queen withdrew into another room, there to conſult about finiſhing the comical adventure.
CHAP VI. How tbe Cobbler was put in fear of bis life, and how became off with flying colours.
NOW the king had formerly told the ſecretary of ſtate, that he would ſend his royal ſignet to him, by a meſſenger whom he ſhould ſecure in order to give an account, upon examination, how ​he came by it. Wherefore he preſently pen, ink and paper, and writes the letter, wherein he includes the ſignet aforeſaid; and having directed the letter, he deſired the cobbler to carry it, who was ready to ſerve him. Now Joan reſolved to go with him, and did ſo, becauſe ſhe would keep him from being drunk.
They had no ſooner gone out, but the king called for the reckoning, and having paid it, he and his queen went privately by water to their palace, where they pulled off their diſguiſe, and appeared in their royal apparel, the king with his nobles, and the queen with her maids of honour. By this time the cobbler and his wife delivered the letter to the ſecretary, who opened the ſame, ſeemed to ſtartle, and with frowning countenance, ſaid, 'Behold here is the king's ſignet, how came you by it?'
'Why,' ſays the cobbler, 'I had the letter, and whatever was in it, I know not, only I had the the letter from a tanner.' The ſecretary replied, 'If you do not bring the tanner to me, take my word for it, we ſhall make an example of you.' 'Why,' quoth Joan, 'you will not hang my husband, will ye?' quoth the ſecretary, 'it will go hard with him if he do not find the tanner' 'I'll fetch him preſently, quoth Joan. But coming to the inn, and finding they were gone, poor Joan fell into a violent fit of the tanterians, tearing her hair and wringing her hands, crying, 'What will become of my poor cobbler, he will be hanged.' 'For what? ſaid the inn-keeper; but Joan had not the patience to tell him her lamentation, crying. 'O the tanner O the tanner, O the tanner is gone!' and in this condition raving like a fury, or like a lunatic perſon broken out of Bedlam, ſhe ran back again to Weſtminſter with a multitude of men, women and children after ​her, who wanted to know the cauſe; but Joan continued crying, 'O the tanner is gone! and my poor Criſpin what will become of thee?' Which words her husband heard juſt as ſhe was entering the door; he cried, 'Dear Joan, have you brought them with you?' 'With me' quoth Joan 'No, no, they are gone, and you are left to ſuffer: ſaw it had been better for you to mind your work, than to follow every one that ſends for you, now you may ſee what you have brought yourſelf to; nothing would ſerve you, it ſeems, the other day, but to be a courtier. ſuch was ⟨your⟩ ambitious fancy; but let me tell you, if ⟨they⟩ have a fancy to hang you, that I may ſay you have made fine work on't, and I doubt not but it will be a warning to you for the future, I cannot but think how like a courtier you look now in this melancholy condition.'
While ſhe was thus inſulting poor Criſpin. the king was told of theſe tranſactions, and therefore ſent that he might be brought before him, which was accordingly done: but as the cobbler approached the preſence of the king, every joint of him trembled for he expected to find no favour. Now he came before the king, who, with an angry countenance, ſaid, 'cobbler, how came you by my ſignet?' The poor cobbler falling on his knees, and wringing his hands, cried, 'May it pleaſe your grace, may it pleaſe your honour, I had it from a tanner who ſent for me to the Bell in the Strand, to buy a parcel of leather he had brought out of the country.' And whereupon he told her king the whole ſtory, from the beginning of their meeting till his ſending him away with the letter. The king replied, 'This is a pleaſant ſtory, and well compacted together; but it ſeems you cannot produce this tanner, wherefore I'll leave ⟨you⟩ ​to the king, and if you are hanged according to law, you muſt take it for your pains'
Joan, hearing the talk of hanging, fell upon her knees, crying, Good Sir King, pray Sir King, don't hang my poor Criſpin I beſeech you, he is an honeſt man and has but one fault.' 'What fault is that?' quoth the king. 'May it pleaſe your grace,' quoth Joan, 'he will not be ruled by his wife, but is always ready to run away like a monkey after any man that will give him drink.' 'That's neither here or there, ſaid the king, he muſt die: nevertheleſs, as you have begged that he may not be hanged, upon the word of a king he ſhall not, but I will allow him the favour to chooſe his own death.
'Why then,' quoth the cobbler, let me die the death of my father and great grandfather.' 'How was that?' quoth the king.' 'It was on a death-bed and in a good old age.' At which choice of the cobbler's the king, queen, & the nobles laughed very heartily, and Criſpin and his wife, by the King's command, were locked up in a room half an hour, there to attend the king's further pleaſure.
No ſooner were they again confined, but the cobbler with a trembling voice, ſaid, 'Sweet wife, I wonder what the king intends to do with us now.' Quoth Joan, 'Pray thee be of comfort, I am perſuaded that the king is the tanner, and the queen is the kinswoman.' 'Adsfoot, have a care of what you ſay, I ſhall have you ſpeak treaſon, and then we ſhall both be hanged i(illegible text)ith after all.' 'Fear not husband, I can ſee as far into a milſtone as he that picks it, I am ſure tho they changed their apparel, they would not change their complexion. Whilſt they were in this diſpute, the king and queen dreſſed in their former diſguiſe, entered the room, attended by nobles and maids of honour; at which the king ſaid, Criſpin, ſince you ​⟨could⟩ not find the tanner, I have brought him to ⟨you⟩. At which words he fell on his knees and cried,
Long live our gracious ſovereign king and queen, Who did their royal perſons ſo demean, As in familiar ſort to joke with us, And I rejoice to find it is no worſe
'Ariſe, honeſt cobbler,' quoth the King, 'and merry be thy heart; I have tried thy patience, and will prove thy friend, and thy forty merks per annum which I formerly gave thee, ſhall be much more by my bounty.'
Thou ſhalt have fifty pounds a year in land, Which lies upon the ſouth ſide of the Strand; I am the royal giver, thou the taker, And I will have it call'd the cobbler's-acre.
Poor Criſpin and his wife were tranſported with joy at this glorious coming off, and the more at the queen's gift, which was purſe of gold They then preſented the court with a comical farce, called, The Forked Friends, or the Fiddler and His Wife, wherewith they finiſhed the day, to the great joy of all the beholders Being diſmiſſed with great applauſe, the cobbler and Joan returned home, where in a ſhort time he built a row of houſes, calling the place, The Cobbler's Acre, according to the king's requeſt, which name continued after the cobbler's death, but at this time it is turned a more magnificent building, and has loſt its former name.
Yet during life the cobbler at the court, Was well belov'd and freely entertain'd Where he afforded much delightful ſport, So long as Harry Tudor lived and reign'd. The king died firſt, the cobbler followed after, But not till he had often fill'd the court with laughter.
FINIS.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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