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saw moche people about him, he commaunded to go over the water. And there cam a scribe and said vnto him: master, I woll folowe the whythersumever thou goest. And Jesus said vnto him: the foxes have holes, and the byrddes of the aier have nestes, but the sonne of man hath not whereon to leye his heede: Anothre that was one of hys disciples seyd vnto him: master suffre me fyrst to go and burye my father. But Jesus said vnto him: folowe me, and let the deed burie their deed. And he entred in to a skyppe, and his disciples folowed him, And lo there arose a greate storme in the see, in so moche, that the shippe was hyd with waves, and he was aslepe. And his disciples cam vnto him, and awoke him, sayinge: master, save us, we perishe. And he said vnto them: why are ye fearfull, o ye endewed with lytell faithe? Then he arose, and rebuked the wyndes and the see, and there folowed a greate calme. And men marveyled and said: what man is this, that bothe wyndes and see obey him? And when he was come to the other syde, in to the countre off the gergesens, there met him two possessed of devylls, which cam out off the graves, and were out off measure fearce, so that no man myght go by that waye. And lo they cryed out saynge: O Jesu the sonne off God, what have we to do with the? art thou come hyther to torment vs before the tyme [be come]? There was a good waye off from them a greate heerd of swyne fedinge. Then the devyls besought him saynge: if thou cast vs out, suffre vs to go oure waye into the heerd of swyne. And he said vnto them: go youre wayes: Then went they out, and departed into the heerd of swyne. And lo, all the heerd of swyne was caryed with violence hedlinge into the see, and perisshed in the water. Then the heerdmen fleed, and went there ways into the cite, and tolde every thinge, and what had fortuned vnto them that were possessed of the devyls. And lo, all the cite cam out, and met Jesus. And when they sawe him they besought him, to depart out off there costes.

29. HUGH LATIMER, d. 1555. (Manual, p. 62.)

(From his Sermons.)

I can not go to my boke for pore folkes come vnto me, desirynge me that I wyll speake yt theyr matters maye be heard. I trouble my Lord of Canterburye, & beynge at hys house nowe and then I walke in the garden lokyng in my boke, as I canne do but little good at it. But some thynge I muste nedes do to satisfye thys place.

I am no soner in the garden and haue red a whyle, but by and by commeth there some or other knocking at the gate.

Anone cometh my man and sayth: Syr, there is one at the gate woulde speake wyth you. When I come there, then is it some or other that desireth me that I wyll speake that hys matter might be heard, & that he hath layne thys longe at great costes and charges,

and can not once haue hys matter come to the hearing, but amōg all other, one especially moued me at thys time to speake.

Thys it is syr: A gentylwoman came to me and tolde me, that a greate man kepeth certaine landes of hyrs from hyr and wilbe hyr tenaunte in the spite of hyr tethe. And that in a whole twelue moneth she coulde not gette but one daye for the hearynge of hyr matter, and the same daye when the matter shoulde be hearde, the greate manne broughte on hys syde a greate syghte of Lawyers for hys counsayle, the gentilwoman had but one mã of lawe: and the great man shakes him so, so that he cã [not] tell what to do, so that when the matter came to the poynte, the Judge was a meane to the gentylwoman that she wold let the great mā haue a quietnes in hyr Lande. I beseche your grace that ye wyll loke to these matters.

30. SIR THOMAS MORE, 1480-1535. (Manual, p. 61.)

DESCRIPTION OF RICHARD III.

Richarde, the thirde sonne of Richarde, Duke of York, was in witte and courage egall with his two brothers, in bodye and prowesse farre vnder them bothe, little of stature, ill fetured of limmes, croke backed, his left shoulder much higher than his right, hard fauoured of visage, and such as is in states called warlye, in other menne otherwise, he was malicious, wrathfull, enuious, and from afore his birth, euer frowarde. . . . None euill captaine was hee in the warre, as to whiche his disposicion was more metely then for peace. Sundrye victories hadde hee, and sommetime ouerthrowes, but neuer in defaulte as for his owne parsone, either of hardinesse or polytike order, free was hee called of dyspence, and sommewhat aboue hys power liberall, with large giftes hee get him vnstedfaste frendeshippe, for whiche hee was fain to pil and spoyle in other places, and get him stedfast hatred. Hee was close and secrete, a deepe dissimuler, lowlye of counteynaunce, arrogant of heart, outwardly coumpinable where he inwardely hated, not letting to kisse whome hee thoughte to kyll: dispitious and cruell, not for euill will alway, but after for ambicion, and either for the suretie or encrease of his estate. Frende and foo was muche what indifferent, where his aduantage grew, he spared no mans deathe, whose life withstoode his purpose. He slewe with his owne handes king Henry the sixt, being prisoner in the Tower, as menne constantly saye, and that without commaundement or knoweledge of the king, whiche woulde vndoubtedly yf he had entended that thinge, haue appointed that boocherly office, to some other then his owne borne brother.

31. ROGER ASCHAM, 1515-1568. (Manual, p. 64.)

(From the School Master.)

And one example, whether love or feare doth worke more in a childe, for vertue and learning, I will gladlie report: which maie be hard with some pleasure, and folowed with more profit. Before I went into Germanie, I came to Brodegate in Lecetershire, to take my leave of that noble Ladie Jane Grey, to whom I was exceding moch beholdinge. Hir parentes, the Duke and the Duches, with all the houshould, Gentlemen and Gentlewomen, were huntinge in the Parke: I founde her, in her Chamber, readinge Phædon Platonis in Greeke, and that with as moch delite, as som jentleman wold read a merie tale in Bocase. After salutation, and dewtie done, with som other taulke, I asked hir, whie she wold leese soch pastime in the Parke? smiling she answered me: I wisse, all their sporte in the Parke is but a shadoe to that pleasure, that I find in Plato: Alas good folke, they never felt, what trewe pleasure ment. And howe came you Madame, quoth I, to this deepe knowledge of pleasure, and what did chieflie allure you unto it: seinge, not many women, but verie fewe men have atteined thereunto? I will tell you, quoth she, and tell you a troth, which perchance ye will mervell at. One of the greatest benefites, that ever God gave me, is, that he sent me so sharpe and severe Parentes, and so jentle a scholemaster. For when I am in presence either of father or mother, whether I speake, kepe silence, sit, stand, or go, eate, drinke, be merie, or sad, be sowyng, plaiyng, dauncing, or doing anie thing els, I must do it, as it were, in soch weight, mesure, and number, even so perfitelie, as God made the world, or else I am so sharplie taunted, so cruellie threatened, yea presentlie some tymes, with pinches, nippes, and bobbes, and other waies, which I will not name, for the honor I beare them, so without measure misordered, that I thinke my selfe in hell, till tyme cum, that I must go to M. Elmer, who teacheth me so jentlie, so pleasantlie, with soch faire allurementes to learning, that I thinke all the tyme nothing, whiles I am with him. And when I am called from him, I fall on weeping, because, what soever I do els, but learning, is ful of grief, trouble, feare, and whole misliking unto me: And thus my booke, hath bene so moch my pleasure, and bringeth dayly to me more pleasure and more, that in respect of it, all other pleasures, in very deede, be but trifles and troubles unto me. I remember this talke gladly, both bicause it is so worthy of memorie, and bicause also, it was the last talke that ever I had, and the last tyme, that ever I saw that noble and worthie Ladie.

D.-BALLADS.

32. The Ancient Ballad of Chevy Chase. (Manual, pp. 67-69.)

Sir Philip Sydney, in his Discourse of Poetry, speaks of this Ballad in the following words:-"I never heard the old song of Piercy and Douglas, that I found not my heart more moved than with a trumpet; and yet it is sung by some blind crowder with no rougher voice than rude stile; which being so evil apparelled in the dust and cobweb of that uncivil age, what would it work trimmed in the gorgeous eloquence of Pindar?"

THE FIRST FIT.1

The Persè owt 2 of Northombarlande,
And a vowe to God mayd he,
That he wolde hunte in the mountayns
Off Chyviat within dayes thre,
In the mauger 3 of dougtè Dogles,
And all that ever with him be.

The fattiste hartes in all Cheviat

He sayd he wold kill, and cary them away:
Be my feth, sayd the dougheti Doglas agayn,
I wyll let that hontyng yf that I may.

4

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1 Fit is a part or division of a song. 2 Out. 3 In spite of. 4 Hinder.

5 Company. 6 Field.

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At the laste a squyar of Northombelonde
Lokyde at his hand full ny,

He was war 9

ath the doughetie Doglas comynge: With him a mightè meany.

Both with spear, byll, 10 and brande: 11
Yt was a myghti sight to se,
Hardyar men both off hart nar hande
Were not in Christiantè.

The wear twenty hondrith spear-men good
Withouten any fayle;

The wear borne a-long be the watter a Twydė,
Yth 12 bowndes of Tividale.

Leave off the brytlyng of the dear, he sayde,

And to your bowys look ye tayk good heed;
For never sithe ye wear on your mothars borne
Had ye never so mickle need.

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