CHAPTER III.

How Grays Wife of Glocester, with One or Two
more of her Neighbours, went to the Faire, where
Servants came to be hired, & how she tooke the
Earle of Shrewsburies Daughter into her Service.

T was wont to be an old Custome in Glocestershire, that at a certaine Time in the Yeere, all such young Men and Maidens as were out of Service, resorted to a Faire that was kept neere Glocester, there to be ready for any that would come to hire them, the young Men stood all on a Row on the one Side, and the Maidens on the other. It came to passe, that the Earle of Shrew buries Daughter, whose Father was lately banished, being driven into great Distresse, and weary with Travell, as one whose delicate Life was never used to such Toyle, sate her downe upon the High-way Side, making this Lamentation:

O false and deceitful World! quoth she; who is in thee that wishes not to be rid of thee,

for

"

for thy Extremities are great? Thou art deceitful to all, and trusty to none. Fortuner is thy Treasurer, who is like thy selfe, wavering and unconstant, she setteth up Tyrants, beateth downe Kings; giveth Shame to some, and Renowne to others: Fortune giveth these Evils, and we see it not: she treades us under Foot, and we know it not: she speakes in our Eares, and we heare her not: she cries aloud, and we understand her not: And why? because we know her not, until Misery doth make her manifest.

Ah, my dear Father, well maist thou doe. Of all Misfortunes it is most unhappy to be fortunate: and by this Misfortune came my Fall. Was ever good Lady brought to this Extremity? What is become of my rare Jewels, my rich Array, my sumptuous Fare, my waiting Servants, my many Friends, and all my vaine Pleasures? my Pleasure is banisht by Displeasure, my Friends fled like Foes, my Servants gone, my Feasting turned to Fasting, my rich Array consumed to Ragges, and my Jewels decke out my chiefest Enemies: therefore of all Things the meanest State is best, Poverty with Surety, is better than Honour mixed with Feare: seeing God hath allotted me to this Misery of Life, I will frame my Heart to embrace Humility, and

carry

carry a Mind answerable to my Misfortunes: fie on this vaine Title of Ladyship, how little doth it availe the distressed? No, no, I must therefore forget my Birth and Parentage, and think no more on my Fathers House. Where I was wont to bee served, now will I learne to serve, and plaine Meg shall be my Name; good Lord grant I may get a good Service, nay any Service shall serve, where I may have Meat, Drinke, and Apparell. She had no sooner spoken these Words, but she spied a Couple of Maidens more comming towards her, who were going to the Faire; and bidding her good Morrow, asked her if she went to the Faire. Yea, mary, qd. she, I am a poore Mans Child that is out of Service, and I heare that at the Statute, Folkes doe come of Purpose to hire Servants. True it is, said the Maidens, and thither goe we for the same Purpose, and would be glad of your Company. With a good Will, and I am right glad of yours, said she, beseeching you, good Maidens, you will doe me the Favour, to tell me what Service were best for me: for the more too blame my Parents, they would never put me forth to know any Thing. Why what can you doe? (quoth the Maidens) can you brew and bake, make Butter and Cheese, and reape Corne well? No verily, said Margaret,

Margaret, but I would be right glad to learne to doe any Thing whatsoever it be. If you could spin or card, said another, you might do excellent well with a Clothier, for they are the best Services that I know; there you shall be sure to fare well, and so live merrily.

Then Margaret wept, saying, alas, what shall I doe? I was never brought up to these Things. What, can you doe nothing? quoth they. No truly (quoth she) that is good for any Thing, but I can read and write, and sowe, some Skill I have in my Needle, and a little on my Lute: but this, I see, will profit me Nothing. Good Lord, quoth they, are you bookish? wee did never heare of a Maide before that could reade and write. And although you can doe no other Thing, yet possible you may get a Service, if you can behave your selfe manerly. I pray you, qd. another, seeing you are bookish, will you doe so much as to reade a LoveLetter that is sent me? for I was at a Friends of mine with it, and he was not at Home, and so I know not what is in it. I pray you let me see it, quoth Margaret, and I will shew you. Whereupon she readeth as followeth.

O Jenny,

O Jenny, my Joy, I die for thy Love,
And now I heare say that thou dost remove:
And therefore, Jenny, I pray thee recite,
Where shall I meete thee soone at Night.

For why, with my Master no more will I stay,
But for thy Love I will runne away:
O Jenny, Jenny, thou puttest me to paine,
That thou no longer wilt here remaine.

I will weare out my Shooes of Neats-Leather,
But thou and I will meete together,

And in spight of Fortune, Rat, or Mouse,
We will dwell together in one House.

For who doth not Esteeme of thee,
Shall have no Service done of me:
Therefore, good Jenny, have a Care,
To meete poore Fragment at the Faire.

Now, alas, good Soule (quoth Jenny) I think he be the kindest young Man in the World. The Rest answered, that he seemed no lesse, and surely it appeareth that he is a pretty witty Fellow, quoth one of them, how finely hee hath written his Letter in Rime; trust me, I will give you a good Thing,

and