[The vnluckie firmentie.] Kyttes, G. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription A04960 of text S121239 in the English Short Title Catalog (STC 15101). 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. 23 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 11 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 A04960 STC 15101 ESTC S121239 99856424 99856424 21973 2240872588

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Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A04960) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 21973) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 1576:11) [The vnluckie firmentie.] Kyttes, G. [28] p. T. Colwell, [London : 1572?] Signed at end: G. Kyttes. Title and printer's name from and publication date conjectured by STC. In verse. Headlines on versos read: The vnluckie firmentie. Signatures: A-C⁴ D² . Imperfect; signature A lacking. Reproduction of the original in the Bodleian Library. eng eebo [The vnluckie firmentie.] Kyttes, G 1572 22 3867 22 0 0 0 0 2 1608.48 F The rate of 1608.48 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the F category of texts with 100 or more defects per 10,000 words. 2003-04 Assigned for keying and markup 2003-05 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2003-09 Sampled and proofread 2004-01 Rekeyed and resubmitted 2004-02 Sampled and proofread 2004-02 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2004-04 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
And taryed f●r his company Which had not done so quickely Althoughe agaynst his hearte , For when he sawe a full platter His mouth woulde streyght run of water Tyll he therof had parte . Yet manerly he dyd refrayne Wherof his Wyfe was ryght fayne , To see hym syt so quyet , Thoughe he vnsatisfyed dyd ryse And at supper lykewyse By chaunge of wonted dyet . The daye was paste and nyght come , Beede woulde fayne haue ben at home I knowe not well wherfore , His wyfe sware by her hed That she wolde se the Bryde in bed Before she ●ast the doore 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 Brydegrome ●aide by Gods ' m● Cosyn you shall not go home to nyght And thefore make no haste , Beede dyd thanke hym hartely Trustyng that more Furmenty By tarieng he should taste . When tyme was come conuenyent Euery man homewarde went Whiche had ben at the feast , Sauynge some that ●ate Possettes Whilste a fewe merye Gossypes Brought the Bryde to rest . One gaue the bed a charme Another was deuysynge harme The thyrde dyd scoole the Bryde One wolde the sheetes haue sewed Another Nettels wolde haue strewed Uppon the Brydegromes syde . I can not tell howe they agreed But Mawde and her husbande Beede Were to their lodgynge led , But Beede coulde no rest take , His belly so began to ake By hungry goynge to bed . He turnde and tost styll in payne His ●●f●e that woulde haue slepte fayne He greatly dyd disease . Who knewe not what the cause was Howe do you syr ( quoth she ) alas Be 〈…〉 at ease ? Wyfe ( quoth he ) and dere lee●e Thou neuer feltest the lyke greefe Of myne I dare well saye , It is of such extremytie That if I haue not remedye 〈◊〉 shall not lyue tyll daye . Syr ( quoth she ) then let me heare ●hat is the thynge that doth you deare And what your helpe must be ? It is of such a qualytie That nothynge els but Furmentie Can saue my lyfe ( quoth he . ) By those wordes the wyfe knewe Whervppon the matter grewe And waxed full of sorowe . Saying thus to hym weepynge Syr I praie you fall to slepynge And suffer tyll to morow . For now you knowe they be not hot Tell me ( quoth he ) where is the pot I care not howe they be You do intend ( quoth she ) this nyght To put your honestie to flyght As farre as I can see . For that ( quoth he ) care not thou And lyke one made began nowe To chase and threate her sore Cryinge where is the pot styll At last ( quoth she ) with an ill wyll Behynde the mylke house doore . Why then ( quoth he ) with mery chere Let me alone if it be there I will it fynde I trowe , Go closely ( quoth she ) then I woulde not for my speckelde Hen , That any shoulde it knowe . Up rose he then in hys Shurte Not doutynge Colde to do hym hurt , For nothynge coulde hym staye He trode vppon the grounde soft Gropynge for the doore ofte Before he came halfe waye . The doore stode by the catche Full saftely then he drewe the latche For feare of makinge noyse . And as behynde the doore he sought The Ladle by the ende he caught Wherat he dyd reioyse . From whence eare he dyd departe Althoughe a full halfe quarte The Ladle wolde contayne , Syxe of them quyte of the swylde To the brym with Potage fylde To dryue awaye his payne . Thoughe they wanted holsome heat Yet he sware , he neuer meate Coulde lyke vnto them fynde , I praye God , muche good do it his hart And thus doth ende the seconde parte The best is yet behynde .
The thirde parte .

How Beede that wold haue brought his wife a Ladle full of Furmentie to her bed , myste the waye to his chamber , and how hee kist an olde wiues taile in stede of his wife . And how he bestowed The Potage where he had kist .

BUt to make you vnderstande The thynge that I haue in hande In playne and perfecte sorte , I m●st by waye of degression Th●● make to you expression ●herof dyd sprynge the sporte . This yonge man that so late Was exalted to the estate Of moste honorable Maryage , Dyd kepe his weddynge resydence In the house of his Parentes A thinge not rare in vsage . The olde Father of the house With his wyfe and honest Spouse Thoughe she were somwhat olde Had their lodgynge neere bye Where Beede and his wife dyd lie As me myne Auctor tolde . Whose chambre doore open stoode Unluckyly that nyght by the Roode As thynges fell after oute Which I intende to disclose As I no lesse dyd purpose When I went here aboute . Thoughe Fortune had ben such a Frende That Beede obtayned in the ende His longed for reqest , Yet nowe on hym she gan to frowne And turnde hys lucke quyte vpsydowne Before she let hym rest . For when he was well satisfied His angre then was mollyfyed He was no longer wrothe . But lyke a louynge and kynde harte Wysshed that his Wyfe had part Of that so deyntie broth . Wherfore a Ladle full he hent And with them towarde his wyfe went When he him selfe was sped Intendynge to haue pleased her Because he had diseased her With tumblynge in his bed . But were it throughe to muche hast Or whether that he were agast With ought he sawe abrode , I knowe not nether doth it skyll But well I wotte , he sped but ill In caryage of his lode . For as he lyke a Foxe wylye Passed towarde his wife slylye With the Ladle in his fyst . He myssynge his owne chambre , Into the olde folkes Parler He slipt before he wist . Yet weenynge that he had ben ryght He went as warely as he myght And styll that waye dyd kepe , And forthwith in the same stounde The aged couples bed he founde Where both lay fost a sleepe . And albeit there was no lyght The Ladle yet he kepte vpryght And not a drop was spylde , The olde wife laye with her backe To hym warde , whose Bum for lacke Of clothes dyd lye vnhylde . Nowe Beede which dyd thynke he had Ben at his owne bed syde , for glad Dyd laye his lothsome lyppes Full kyndly to the bare place Supposynge that hys wyues face Which was the good wyues hyppes . Here is wife some Furmentie ( Quoth he ) because so louyngly Thou toldst me where they stoode , I neuer wist that any meate Made of a lytell mylke and wheate Coulde haue ben halfe so good . Tast of them here as thou lyest Puffe ( quoth she ) and lanchte a fyste The wynde somwhat heddye , Thou art vnwise ( quoth he ) to blowe Syppe afewe and thou sholt knowe They be cold enoughe alredy . With that there blewe so great a gale That wolde haue made ones stomake quayle It came with such a heate Wyfe ( quoth he ) by my fayth He thynkes thou haste a sowre breath After thy Brydale meate . And as he these wordes spake It semed that her tacklynges brake Wherwith atempest rose For then the Thunderclaps dyd mutther Rap , rap , one after another Assendynge into his nose . He waxed therwith very angry As I coulde not blame hym greatly Beynge in suche a case , By Coxe lylly woundes he swore If thou blowe in them once more I will caste them in thy face . With that there came a sore cracke Inoughe to haue made a shypwracke Then Beede the Ladle tooke , To daishe then he dyd not spare The Potage on ver Buttockes bare Wherwith the wyfe awocke . And when she felt her buttockes wete Her tayle cleauynge to the sheete Out and alas ( quoth she ) Her husbande a wooke therwith anon In the name of God and saynt Iohn What ayleth thee wyfe quoth he ? I am ashamde syr to tell it I haue taken such a surfet That I haue playde the chylde I praye you therfore hertyly That you wyll take it paciently For I am all befylde . The good man gropynge to her huckles Was by and by vp to the knuckles , Then he began to rayle Hast thou ben at the potage pot So ofte ( quoth he ) that thou canst not More better rule thy tayle . It chaunced not therby ( quoth she ) Wylt thou tell me that ( quoth he ) ? For Scrypture mention makes , That it was throughe none other meate For here ynoughe doth lye of Wheat To make a couple of Cakes . Couldst thou not from thy bed crepe , I was quoth shee so fast a slepe I knewe not of the dede , When Beede dyd this debatynge heare As one that had a flea in hys eare A waye he went with spede .
The fourth parte .

How Beede in returning to the pot with the Ladle againe , prisoned on of his handes in a Creame pot , & how he did chyde with his wife till she brake the Ladle on his hed , & won the mastrye of him with the losse of one of her eyes .

THoughe Beede his latter laboure lost His former pleasure , quit that cost If that had ended all , But as the Prouerbe doth expresse To sweete meate , a sowre messe Of sawce doth often fall . For as I sayde , he dyd not byde To here the man and wyfe chyde For that which he had done , But stale a waye with softe noyce And dyd not at his lucke reioyce But made an inwarde mone . For that he had so euyll sped Beynge by his folye led Where he myght shame haue got And where he on his full gorge , Sustayned such a sore discharge Of hote and peryllous shotte And when he being thus bestadde The mylke house founde agayne had Which longe he mased sought , The Ladle then he dyd restore Unto the Pot , from whence before With Potage he had brought . The Moone had then her perfyte lyght And showen in at the wyndowe bryght That opened to the South , Wherby Beede dyd soone espye A Erthen pytcher standynge by Whiche had a mylky mouth . And as it is a Glottens gyse That wherupon he settes his eyes That seemeth meate to be , His stomacke wyll begyn to gnawe Tyll parte be in his gredy mawe Of that his eye doth see . For in the Pot , that there stode Was sweete Creame thycke and good Which Beede dyd from the shelfe Quickely take , and in it pryed And what it was when he espyed He laughed to hym selfe . Saynge mawgre all ill lucke He woulde therat haue one plucke Before he thence dyd passe . But Spoone coulde he none fynde And suppynge was not in his mynde Wherfore he forced was . Into the pot hys fyst to thrust To satisfye his gredy lust And hoggysshe appetyte But of his fyst the greatnes And the pottes mouth streatnes Dyd marre his purpose quite Because throughe hardely goynge in Ther of , and chafynge of the skyn Wwich was both harde and tough The bloude so fast into it fe●l That sodaynely it gan to swell Then had he worke ynoughe For out it woulde not come agayne Thoughe he and houre full or twayne Dyd struggle with it sore , He wrange and wrested , pluckte and haylde He feet and chafed , curst and raylde His hap he did deplore . Wysshynge that the tyme and howre That he from his owne bowre Proceded lyke a mome , To se his wynes cosen wed That he ther with a broken hed Had kept him selfe at home . And when he from his bed did ryse His hungry stomacke to suffyse To wysshe he nowe begyns That the Thresholde of the doore , Had hym tumbled in the floore And broken both his shynnes . His wife that a sleepe had taken In the meane whyle , was nowe waken And when her Mate she myst . In a musynge moode she was For howe the worlde was come to pas With hym she lytle wyst . Yet thought she , by hys longe taryeng That there had hapt some miscaryinge And therfore was in dreede , For she thought that veryly He had choked hymselfe with Furmentie Because he came not to bed . Up she rose to go looke The waye to the mylke house she tooke Where busylye God wot Her Husbande in his shryt she founde Barefoote on the colde ground Wrestlynge with the pot . Syr ( quoth she ) what do you meane ? Speake softe ( quoth he ) noughty queane The Deuyll plucke out thy tonge Then softely she agayne dyd saye What is the matter I you praye That you haue ben so longe . But he was in such a rage As one that shulde on a Stage The parte of Herode playe , That all in vayne dyd Mawde speake For he his fume dyd seke to wreake And then began a fraye . For a woman as you knowe Can very ill abyde a blowe And therfore in her mynde That Deuyll put it at the last , The she shulde be no more agast To folowe all her kynde . Which is to paye vsurye For any kynde of Iniurie , By men vnto them offerde And Beede as I vnderstand A buffet with his emptye hande To Mawde his wife then proferde The which she tooke in ill parte Saynge syr be shrewe thy harte For ( you ) was come from home : If thou do so muche agayne Thou Loute quoth she I tell the playne I wyll dresse the lyke a mome . What ( quoth he ) euen playne Loute , Then is it tyme to looke about Your tawntynge will I charme If I coulde from mee discharge This Creame pot , that I once at large Myght haue my other arme . But she lyke a subtill shrewe His Cowardely Courage well knewe And therfore was she bolde T vomyte out her bytter bane That all the trayne in Turne agayn lane Myght there haue learnde to scolde . Beede layde on with threates amayne Mawde with tawntes replyed agayne For a worde , she gaue him fyue , Bonayre and Bux●m was forgot Then Beede sawe it booted not Agaynst the streame to stryue And therwith all he dyd forbeare His hastie wordes and spake her fayre Which put her in a Courage To vse with him such kynde of playe That after tyll his dyenge daye He curst his Cosynes Maryage . For the more that Beede sought His wife to sylence to haue brought The lowder styll she crowes , And whan her powder all was spent Then vaylyauntly her selfe she bent To fall to handye blowes . But Beedes fortune was so ill His better hande yet beynge styll Within the Creame pot fast , That about his balde noddle To rap a good the wodden Ladle His wife was not agast . Cryinge lowde at euery strype I wyll the teache , thou greedy Grype Good maner more to knowe , The man had small defence God wot Yet now and then with the pot He warded well her blowe . But she layde one suche lyll , That he was forst agaynst his wyll That kynde of warde forgo , Or els in wylfull dyngynge stroke The Erthe Pot wolde soone haue broke And spylde the Creeme also . So that the sely man was fayne Upon the Frontresse of his brayne To take his wyues blessynge , Who quyte a sundre on his noule At lengh dyd breake the Ladle boule Wherby she caught a dressynge Thoughe a peece that backe dyd flye And gaue her such a blowe in the eye That refte therof the syght , And then to bed she went in payne With more losse to her then gayne For all her cunninge fyght .
The fyfte parte .

How Beed brake the Creampot on a Freers hed , and the Freer brake his felowes hed . And of the hurt & discommodytie that came through Beedes longyng for Furmentie .

WHen Beede coulde se no remedy But that of meare necessytie The Creame pot must a sundre , To fynde a place wheare he myght Worke his purpose out of syght About then dyd he blunder . In the end he thought without the doore Was the fyttest place therfore Sythe nedes he do it must Intendynge ther by subtyle wyt To throwe the sherdes into some pyt And hyde the Creame he must . Why do I staye , he got hym out To do the thyng he went about With hast deuoyde of heede But as it is an olde Ryme Hast makes wast somtyme So dyd it ●hen by Beede . For as asy●●● he cast his eye A darke corn●r he dyd espye And thyther hym selfe he got , Where a sleepe laye two Fryers Balde almost to the eares Upon a greene plot . Which two such maner vties Had kept aboue their duties Ouer euen at the Maryage And were so well entertayned That ther they were both constrayned To take vp their harbygage . They had sucked such a Iuce Out of the good ale Cruce Wherin they founde no dregges That neyther of them his hed Coulde cary home to his bed For lacke of better legges . But there the selye fooles Laye slepynge in their Cooles And bare headed was one Which Beede did nothynge marke But at a blushe in the darke Did take it for a stone . Wherupon the pot he strake So harde that it in peeces brake Then was he well apayde , But when he sawe what he had doone He whypte awaye to bed soone And nothing therof sayde , The Freere awaked with the blowe And can vpon his owne felowe That styll lay fast asleepe . Saynge knaue , why doest thou so , I wyll requyte the or I go Thy hed I aduyse the keepe . And with a great pybble stone He brake his fellowes head anone Who therwith vp dyd starte And sayde agayne vnto the other What doth moue the gentell brother To playe with me this parte . A good c●se there is ( quoth he ) For that thou hast so serued me As it no lesse appeares , Se quoth he then dronken Loute Howe thou my braynes hast strycken out Which run about myne eares . The Freeres then to buffets fell Who had the worse I can not tell For no man was them by But he that best of them sped Was sure of a broken hed Or elles I hearde a lye . On the morowe was there founde The Creame pot broke on the grounde A meruell in myne eyes The Creame was run downe the gutter The Cooke therby for lacke of Butter That daye dyd marre the Pyes . The Ladle clefte a sonder was And howe all this shulde come to pas The people mused sore , The Furmentie was halfe eaten The mylke Mayde was shrewdly beaten For lockynge not the doore . The olde woman to her payne In such a humble broth had layne That on her heuy hyppes The skynne alas , was chased of As brode I wys I do not scoffe As yonder yonge mans lyppes . Mawde had vpon her browe Cawght a Clappe I tolde you howe Wherby she lost an eye Men thought her husband Beede That nyght in bed had done that deede But there they went a wrye . For besyde many a knocke Which he of her in her smocke Had taken lyke a Daster . He neuer whyle she was his wife Coulde after lyue a quyet lyfe For styll she would be mayster . All these fore saide chaunces ill If Beede in hed had layne styll Had not so hapte that daye : But now there was noremedye For no man coulde for certaintie The fault to any laye . Euery man ther at mused But Beede fyrst hym selfe excused Whom no man dyd suspecte : But when his mylkye sleeue was spyde Which lyke a foole he coulde not hyde The matter was detecte . Home therfore he went in hast Not taryenge for his breake fast Nor yet the Bryde to thanke , His wife tooke more leasure And went after at her pleasure A shamed of the prancke . Yet lyke an honest woman she Tooke her leaue , so dyd not he Of thankes she made no spare , Desyrynge God to sende them ioye And then God saue her and saynt Loy She called for her Mare . And thus of that Matrymonye Dyd ende the great Solemnytie Where to so many fell , Such hurte and discommodytie Throughe a poore messe of Furmentie That all that yet do dwell . Within the Coast of Cumberlande That dyd the Processe vnderstande Wyll speake ye at of that Feaste , But let them talke and saye their fyll For I haue sayde all that I will And therfore here I rest . Finis . quoth . G. Kyttes .