Here begynneth a mery geste of the frere and the boye Fryer and the boy. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A04403 of text S119434 in the English Short Title Catalog (STC 14522). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 19 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 9 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 A04403 STC 14522 ESTC S119434 99854641 99854641 20071 2240941817

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 Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. A04403) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 20071) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1384:18) Here begynneth a mery geste of the frere and the boye Fryer and the boy. [16] p. : ill. In Fletestrete at the sygne of the sonne, by Wynkyn de Worde], [Enprynted at London : [between 1510 and 1513] In verse. Imprint from colophon. Suggested publication date from STC. Signatures: A. Reproduction of the original in the Cambridge University Library. eng Tales, English -- Early works to 1800. eebo Here begynneth a mery geste of the frere and the boye. [no entry] 1513 18 2909 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 A This text has no known defects that were recorded as gap elements at the time of transcription. 2010-09 Assigned for keying and markup 2010-10 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2010-11 Sampled and proofread 2010-11 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2011-06 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
Here begynneth a mery geste of the frere and the boye .

a friar and a shepherd

GOd that dyed for vs all And dranke bothe eysell and gall Brynge vs out of bale And gyue them good lyfe & longe That lysteneth to my songe Or tendeth to my tale There dwelled an husbonde in my countre That had wyues thre . By processe of tyme By the fyrst wyfe a sone he had That was a good sturdy ladde And an happy hyne His fader loued hym wele So dyde his moder neuer a dele I tell you as I thynke All she thought was lost by the rode That dyde the lytell boye ony good Other mete or drynke And yet ywys it was but badde And therof not halfe ynough he had But euermore of the worste Therfore euyll mote she fare For euer she dyde the lytell boye care As ferforth as she dorste The good wyfe to her husbonde gan saye I wolde ye wolde put this boye awaye And that ryght soone in haste Truly he is a cursed ladde I wolde some other man hym had That wolde hym better chaste Than sayd the good man agayne Dame I shall to the sayne He is but tender of aege He shall abyde with me this yere Tyll he be more strongere For to wynne better wage We haue a man a stoute freke That in the felde kepeth our nete Slepynge all the daye He shall come home so god me shelde And the boye shall in to the felde To kepe our beestes yf he may Than sayd the wyfe verament Therto soone I assent For that me thynketh moost nedy On the morowe whan it was daye The lytell boye wente on his waye To the felde full redy Of no man he had no care But sange hey howe awaye the mare And made Ioye ynough Forth he wente truly to sayne Tyll he came to the playne His dyner forth he drough Whan he sawe it was but bad Full lytell lust therto he had But put it vp agayne Therfore he was not to wyte He sayd he wolde ete but lyte Tyll nyght that he came home And as the boye sate on a hyll An olde man came hym tyll Walkynge by the waye Sone he sayd god these Syr welcome more ye be The lytell boye gan saye The olde man sayd I am an hongred sore Hast thou ony mete in store That thou mayst gyue me The chylde sayd so god me saue To suche vytayle as I haue Welcome shall ye be Therof the olde man was gladde The boye drewe forth suche as he had And sayd do gladly The olde man was easy to please He ete and made hym well at ease And sayd sone gramercy Sone thou hast gyuen mete to me I shall the gyue thynges thre Thou shalte them neuer forgete Than sayd the boye as I trowe It is best that I haue a bowe Byrdes for to shote A bowe sone I shall the gyue That shall last the all thy lyue And euer a lyke mete Shote therin whan thou good thynke For yf thou shote and wynke The prycke thou shalte hytte Whan he the bowe in honde felte And the boltes vnder his belte Lowde than he lough He sayd now had I a pype Though it were neuer so lyte Than were I gladde ynough A pype sone thou shalte haue also In true musyke it shall go I do the well to wyte All that may the pype here Shall not themselfe stere But laugh and lepe aboute What shall the thyrde be For I wyll gyue the gyftes thre As I haue-sayd to the before The lytell boye on hym lough And sayd syr I haue ynough I wyll desyre no more The olde man sayd my trouth I plyght Thou shalte haue that I the hyght Saye on now and let me se Than sayd the boye anone I haue a stepdame at home She is a shrewe to me Whan my fader gyueth me mete She wolde theron that I were cheke And stareth me in the face Whan she loketh on me so I wolde she sholde let a rappe go That it myght rynge ouer all the place Than sayd the olde man tho Whan she loketh on the so She shall begyn to blowe All that euer it may here Shall not themselfe stere But laugh on a rowe Fare well quod the olde man God kepe the sayd the chylde than I take my leue at the God that moost best may Kepe the bothe nyght and day Gramercy sone sayd he Than drewe it towarde the nyght Iacke hym hyed home full ryght It was his ordynaunce He toke his pype and began to blowe All his beestes on a rowe Aboute hym they daunce Thus wente he pypynge thrugh the towne His beestes hym folowed by the sowne In to his faders close He wente and put them vp echone Homewarde he wente anone In to his faders hall he gose His fader at his souper sat Lytell Iacke espyed well that And sayd to hym anone Fader I haue kepte your nete I praye you gyue me some mete I am anhongred by saynt Ihone I haue sytten metelesse All this daye kepynge your beestes My dyner feble it was His fader toke a capons wynge And at the boye he gan it slynge And badde hym ete a pace That greued his stepmoders herte sore As I tolde you before She stared hym in the face With that she let go a blaste That they in the hall were agaste It range ouer all the place All they laughed and had good game The wyfe waxed reed for shame She wolde that she had ben gone Quod the boye well I wote That gonne was well shote As it had ben a stone Cursedly she loked on hym tho An other blaste she let go She was almoost rente Quod the boye wyll ye se How my dame letteth pellettes fle In fayth or euer she stynte The boye sayd vnto his dame Tempre thy bombe he sayd for shame She was full of sorowe Dame sayd the good man go thy waye For I swere to the by my faye Thy gere is not to borowe Afterwarde as ye shall here To the hous there came a frere To lye there all nyght The wyfe loued hym as a saynt And to hym made her complaynt And tolde hym aryght We haue a boye within ywys A shrewe for the nones he is He dooth me moche care I dare not loke hym vpon I am ashamed by saynt Iohn To tell you how I fare I praye you mete the boye to morowe Bete hym well and gyue hym sorowe And make the boye lame Quod the frere I shall hym bete Quod the wyfe do not forgete He dooth me moche shame I trowe the boye be some wytche Quod the frere I shall hym teche Haue thou no care I shall hym teche yf I may Quod the wyfe I the praye Do hym not spare On the morowe the boye arose In to the felde soone he gose His beestes for to dryue The frere ranne out at the gate He was afterde leest he came to late He ranne fast and blyue Whan he came vpon a londe Lytell Iacke there he foude Dryuynge his beestes all alone Boye he sayd god gyue the shame What hast thou done to thy dame Tell thou me anone But yf thou canst excuse the well By my trouth bete I the wyll I wyll no lenger abyde Quod the boye what eyleth the My dame fareth as well as ye What nedeth the to chyde Quod the boye wyll ye wete How I can a byrde shete And other thynge withall Syr he sayd though I be lyte Yonder byrde wyll I smyte And gyue her the I shall There sate a byrde vpon a brere Shote on boye quod the frere For that me lysteth to se He hytte the byrde on the heed That she fell downe deed No ferder myght she flee The frere to the busshe wente Vp the byrde for to hente He thought it best for to done Iacke soke his pype and began to blowe Than the frere as I trowe Began to daunce soone As soone as he the pype herde Lyke a wood man he fared He lepte and daunced aboute The breres scratched hym in the face And in many an other place That the blode brast out And tare his clothes by and by His cope and his scapelary And all his other wede He daunced amonge thornes thycke In many places they dyde hym prycke That fast gan he blede Iacke pyped and laughed amonge The frere amonge the thornes was thronge He hopped wonders hye At the last he helde vp his honde And sayd I haue daunced to longe That I am lyke to dye Gentyll Iacke holde thy pype styll And my trouth I plyght the tyll I wyll do the no woo Iacke sayd in that tyde Frere skyppe out on the ferder syde Lyghtly that thou were goo The frere out of the busshe wente All to ragged and to rente And torne on euery syde Vnnethes on hym had one cloute His hely for to wrappe aboute His harneys for to hyde The breres had hym scratched so in the face And many an other place He was all to bledde with blode All that myght the frere se Were fayne awaye to flee They wende he had ben wode Whan he came to his hoost Of his Iourney he made no boost His clothes were rente all Moche sorowe in his herte he had And euery man hym dradde Whan he came in to the hall The wyfe sayd where hast thou bene In an euyll place I wene Me thynketh by thyn araye Dame I haue ben with thy sone The deuyll of hell hym ouercome For no man elles may With that came in the good man The wyfe sayd to hym than Here is a foule araye Thy sone that is the leaf and dere Hath almoost slayne this holy frere Alas and welawaye The good man sayd benedicite What hath the boye done frere to the Tell me without lette The frere sayd the deuyll hym spede He hath made me daunce maugre my hede Amonge the thornes hey go bette The good man sayd to hym tho Haddest thou lost thy lyfe so It had ben grete synne The frere sayd by our lady The pype wente so meryly That I coude neuer blynne Whan it drewe towarde the nyght The boye came home full ryght As he was wonte to do Whan he came in to the hall His fader dyde hym soone call And badde hym to come hym to Boye he sayd tell me here What hast thou done to the frere Tell me without lesynge Fader he sayd by my faye I dyde nought elles as I you saye But pyped hym a sprynge That sayd his fader wolde I here Mary god forbede sayd the frere His handes he dyde wrynge Yes sayd the good man by goddes grace Than sayd the frere out alas And made grete mournynge For the loue of god quod the frere If ye wyll that he pype here Bynde me to a post For I knowe none other rede And I daunce I am but deed Well I wote my lyfe is lost Stronge ropes they soke in honde The frere to the post they bonde In the myddle of the hall All that at the souper sat Laughed and had good game therat And sayd the frere wolde not fall Than sayd the good man Pype on good sone Hardely whan thou wylte Fader he sayd so mote I the Haue ye shall ynough of gle Tyll ye bydde me be styll As soone as Iacke the pype hent All that there were verament Began to daunce and lepe Whan they gan the pype here They myght not themselfe ftere But hurled on an hepe The good man was in no dyspayre But lyghtly lepte out of his chayre With a good chere Some lepte ouer the stocke Some stombled at the blocke And some fell flatte in the fyre The good man had grete game How they daunced all in same The wyfe after gan steppe Euermore the kest her eye at Iacke And fast her tayle began to cracke Lowde than they coude speke The frere hymselfe was almoost lost For knockynge his heed ayenst the post He had none other grace The rope rubbed him vnder the chynne That the blode downe dyde rynne In many a dyuers place Iacke ranne in to the strete After hym fast dyde they lepe Truly they coude not stynte They wente out ar the dore so thycke That eche man fell on others necke So pretely out they wente Neyghbours that were fast by Herde the pype go so meryly They ranne in to the gate Some lepte ouer the hatche They had no tyme to drawe the latche They wende they had come to late Some laye in theyr bedde And helde vp theyr hede Anone they were waked Some sterte in the waye Truly as I you saye Starke bely naked By that they were gadred aboute Iwys there was a grete route Dauncynge in the strete Some were lame and myght not go But yet ywys they daunced to On handes and on fete They boye sayd now wyll I rest Quod the good man I holde it best With a mery chere Sease sone whan thou wylte In fayth this is the meryest fytte That I herde this seuen yere They daunced all in same Some laughed and had good game And some had many a fall Thou cursed boye quod the frere Here I somon the that thou appere Before the offycyall Loke thou be there on frydaye I wyll the mete and I may For to ordeyne the sorowe The boye sayd by god auowe Frere I am as redy as thou And frydaye were to morowe Frydaye came as ye may here Iackes stepdame and the frere Togyder there they metre Folke gadered a grete pase To here euery mannes case The offycyall was sette There was moche to do Maters more than one or two Bothe with preest and clerke Some had testamentes for to preue And fayre women by your leue That had strokes in the derke Euery man put forth his case Than came forth frere Topyas And Iackes stepdame also Syr offycyall sayd he I haue brought a boye to the Whiche hath wrought me moche wo He is a grete nygromancere In all orlyaunce is not his pere As by my trouth I trowe He is a wytche quod the wyfe Than as I shall tell you blythe Lowde coude she blowe Some laughed without fayle Some sayd dame tempre thy tayle Ye wreste it all amysse Dame quod the offycyall Tell forth on thy tale Lette not for this The wyfe was afrayed of another cracke That no worde more she spacke She durst not for drede The frere sayd so mote I the Knaue this is longe of the That euyll mote thou spede The frere sayd syr offycyall The boye wyll combre vs all But yf ye may hym chaste Syr he hath a pype truly Wyll make you daunce and lepe on hye Tyll your herte braste The offycyall sayd so mote I the That pype wolde I fayne se And knowe what myrth that he can make Mary god forbede than sayd the frere That he sholde pype here Afore that I hens the waye take Pype on Iacke sayd the offycyall I wyll here now how thou canst playe Iacke blewe vp the sothe to saye And made them soone to daunce all The offycyall lepte ouer the deske And daunced aboute wonder faste Tyll bothe his shynnes he all to brest Hym thought it was not of the best Than cryed he vnto the chylde To pype no more within this place But to holde styll for goddes grace And for the loue of mary mylde Than sayd Iacke to them echone If ye wolde me graunte with herte fre That he shall do me no vylany But hens to departe euen as I come Therto they answered all anone And promysed hym anone ryght In his quarell for to fyght And defende hym from his fone Thus they departed in that tyde The offycyall and the sompnere His stepdame and the frere With grete Ioye and moche pryde
Thus endeth the frere and the boye .

Enprynted at London in Fletestrete at the sygne of the sonne / by wynkyn de worde .

printer's device of Wynkyn de Worde

W

symbol for the numbers 74
C

wynkyn de worde