MAKE WE MERRY MORE AND LESS An Anthology of Medieval English Popular Literature

This anthology off ers a frui� ul explora� on of the boundary between literary and popular culture, and showcases an impressive breadth of literature, including songs, drama, and ballads. Familiar texts such as the visions of Margery Kempe and the Paston family le� ers are featured alongside lesser-known works, o� en oral. This striking diversity extends to the language: the anthology includes Sco� sh literature and original transla� ons of La� n and French texts.

Editor's Preface Douglas Gray was planning this anthology to be a companion volume to his Simple Forms, but he left it unfinished at his death: the Introduction, and presentation of selections (including head-notes), were more or less complete but there were no notes or bibliography. The file vouchsafed to posterity was headed 'Master -edited so far'; it has been possible to identify and locate most, if not all, of the references. 1 For example, he does not say where he gets his extracts from Walter Map's De Nugis Curialium, and they do not correspond to the well-known translation by M. R. James. However, he says in an earlier anthology that he prefers to make his own new translations (however excellent the existing ones); 2 some stories in this match the ones in the present volume, so it is fair to deduce that he re-used his own translations. Further, he said then that he wished to keep costs down; a reason to believe he made his own transcriptions from manuscripts in some if not all cases as well.
There are a number of editions of, for example, the Paston Letters; it is not possible to identify which he used. Therefore the word 'editor' in my footnotes will always mean the editor of the text in question (possibly Gray himself; otherwise the editor of any text as detailed in 1 In order to keep notes to a helpful minimum I have indicated one or two references for each, to enable readers to explore further if they wish; it has been impossible to ascertain Gray's sources. the Bibliography); I refer to Gray by name, and to myself as editor of this book as little as possible.
Make We Merry is a long book, and every selection has been included as Gray set them out. It would be possible to shorten it by cutting some of the pieces, but we have decided not to do so: the selection represents the range and depth of Gray's vision, and there will be no more from him now.
The order of chapters, as he left them, corresponded very closely with those in Simple Forms although it could not be an exact match. Apart from reversing Ballads and Romances to match the earlier book, I have not conflated or divided any chapters; the chapters have been left in his order, as providing the closest possible 'companion'.
Sources are indicated as briefly as possible in footnotes; the rationale has been to identify an anthology or other source-book for each, because this is how Gray worked, and cite one or perhaps two for each. These anthologies provide a wealth of context and other information that readers may consult; footnotes can thus be kept brief and unobtrusive. Only where a convenient source is not available have IMEV numbers been used. But IMEV is an index, not an anthology; putting these numbers for every selection would duplicate information and make for cumbersome notes.
Because it has proved impossible to identify his sources with any certainty, footnotes indicate where the texts may easily be found (in most cases). 3 Having no access to Gray's library, I would naturally search my own shelves, libraries, and the internet; then choose among what is available for readers to follow up. I have edited as lightly as possible, so as to preserve the Master's style, but there were naturally a few lapses to correct and ambiguities to smooth out. Where it was impossible to locate what he was thinking of when he marked [nt] for notes to be added, these have been explored as far as practicable or silently omitted. In order to keep notes to a minimum, I have not given references for every single book or work that Gray mentions; 4 I have identified only where the text in question, that is, the passage selected for inclusion, may be found. Online versions of books have been added xix Editor's Preface to the Bibliography where available. 5 Among secondary sources, only the names mentioned in his text have been sought out and listed. It would be possible to replace a number of Gray's references with more recent works, but we prefer to present the book as closely as possible as he left it, and not strive to update it (except in a few special cases, where an up-to-date reference may obviate the need for an over-long footnote).
Given what has been explained above, it will be impossible to ascertain whether the books Gray used (if he did) are still in copyright; some may be, others very probably not. Furthermore, Gray may have made his own transcriptions from manuscripts.
A note about proverbs: Gray has scattered dozens of proverbs throughout his text, many but not all of them identified in Whiting's compendium. I have checked most of these, and he made very few errors (some may simply be copying errors). Therefore, since Whiting is very easy to use, providing clear headwords and an index, I have not attempted to identify every single example of a proverb or what might count as proverbial.
Further, a few of his glosses, which were so copious as to verge on the intrusive, have been deleted on the assumption that most nonspecialists likely to use this book can read Middle English words if their spelling approximates to the modern.
Titles of books and so on, and (conventionally) words and phrases in Latin, are printed in italic type.
It may also be useful at this point to identify the famous Percy Folio (PFMS), mentioned passim below: it is a folio book of English ballads used by Thomas Percy to compile his Reliques of Ancient Poetry (see Bibliography). Although compiled in the seventeenth century, some of the material goes back well into the twelfth.
Treatment of texts: 6 to enable modern readers to read without constantly having to consult a glossary or dictionary, glosses are placed on the page with translation of longer passages placed in footnotes. Annotation and bibliographical references are kept to a minimum. 5 The online versions supplied cannot always be the same editions as cited in this book; they are added for readers' convenience and general interest. 6 This paragraph was written by Gray, his only preface. His 'gentle modernization' of spellings makes it even more difficult to know what source he used for any given text.

Introduction
The nineteenth century saw the appearance of a number of anthologies of medieval English and Scottish popular literature, from Ritson's Pieces of ancient popular poetry to Hazlitt's Remains. 1 There have not been many modern attempts, which suggests a waning of enthusiasm. There is probably no single simple explanation for this: in part it may be due to academic distrust of areas where the material seems to be uncertain, and its relationships and developments even more so; partly to the increasing specialism of literary studies and a growing separation between literary and folklore studies. Although there have been some very valuable contributions from the later nineteenth and twentieth centuries, modern English departments rarely devote much time to popular literature in their medieval courses. Even ballads, 'rediscovered' in the eighteenth century, rarely appear in lectures on medieval English literature. But possibly an even greater problem has been the real difficulties which are presented by the notion of 'popular literature' and of attempts to define or illustrate it. In making this anthology I have used, as a general definition, the following (boldly adapted from the suggestion offered in Neuburg's Popular Literature, a fine study which runs from the beginning of printing to the year 1897): 'popular literature is what the unsophisticated reader or hearer was given for pleasure and instruction'. 2 Obviously there is much room for questioning or disagreement with such a very general description, and even more in deciding what we might include in Introduction popular literature, and with the criteria we use for inclusion or exclusion. Nor are the related questions -who wrote it? and who read or heard it? -without problems.
It is possible to give a general description of Middle English popular literature, but the details often remain uncertain. It is clear from many references in our surviving texts that there was an extensive oral 'folk' literature. This is now lost, except for what is preserved in scraps and snippets in those texts. Poets and moralists will occasionally give us the title of a popular song or a stanza from it; examples are to be found throughout this anthology. These can give us glimpses into this lost world; and moreover, we can find patterns and plots from oral folktales underlying some of our written narratives. But these 'glimpses of ghosts' are not really numerous or substantial enough to make an anthology from. However, they remind us of a very important point: that though this world is lost to us it was not lost to the literate writers of the period, and it continued for centuries. This world was not a static one: stories and songs were composed, handed on, revised and changed, and this probably had been the case for centuries. The 'simple forms' of this oral literature -folktales, narratives, wisdom literature (proverbs or riddles), and songs, dances and dramatic performances -had already left their mark on the literature of the ancient world: animal fables (from Aesop onwards), merry tales like the Widow of Ephesus, 3 even 'romances' like Apollonius of Tyre (a favourite story in the Middle Ages) 4 and Greek romances. Based on the findings of modern scholarship, on later examples from 'traditional' societies, and on the evidence of written Middle English texts which seem to be close to the oral literature (or perhaps conscious imitations of it), we can make an informed guess as to the stylistic characteristics of this oral literature, such as: a simple and direct vocabulary, an 'anonymous' objective style, the use of repetition and recapitulation for emphasis, with the oral performance rather than literary rhetorical arts controlling the audience's emotions, and tending to produce a dramatic style of narration, 'letting the action unfold itself in event and speech'. 5 An oral poet or storyteller would usually have a close relationship with his or her immediate audience, and would be sensitive to local conditions, but not deeply influenced by prevailing 'literary' fashions. However, it existed alongside a growing body of written literature with which it could relate.
We can apply the term 'popular' to a large body of literature occupying an intermediate position between the lost oral literature and the sophisticated literature written by literate 'learned' writers for society's élite readers. This popular literature was for the entertainment and instruction of humble folk, some partly literate, some not at all. Our knowledge of it is dependent on surviving manuscripts and printed books. Perhaps we may sense some general stylistic changes over time, from the Early Middle English Rawlinson songs (which seem very close to their oral antecedents) 6 to the sometimes more literary style of some items in the early sixteenth-century manuscript of Richard Hill, 7 but it is difficult to generalise about 'development'. The spread of literacy during the period seems to have encouraged the development of what was to become the 'reading class' of later times. However, most popular literature was for a long time enjoyed through performance -by reading aloud, reciting, or singing -in streets, halls, and meeting places. It was performed by a large number of 'entertainers': mostly anonymous, like the ballad writers and singers of later centuries, written by some of them, and by others who recorded stories and songs, and retold or recreated works from the literary élite. Some of them were capable of translating works from French; some were probably clerics, but in close touch with their layfolk and with popular culture, parish clerks or preaching friars; some perhaps scribes or others who worked at the edges of manuscript production. Others, no doubt, were would-be authors, professionals or semi-professionals, sometimes hacks (like their successors in modern times), but sometimes writers with genuine literary talent. Many of them were, no doubt, more aware of élite literary trends and fashions than the makers and performers of oral folk literature. This intermediate body of literature is 'popular' by destination, intended for the entertainment and the information of simple folk, and also 'popular' by origin, coming from the 'people', from writers within that group or close to it.

Introduction
Who read or heard it? The unsophisticated, who were not part of the literary, intellectual, or social élite, were probably a large part of the audience. 'Listneth lordings' is a polite call for attention, but some carols suggest a less deferential view. The audience must have been very varied in composition and behaviour. We need also to remember that medieval society, though stratified, was a class system which allowed contact and communication between the classes. Stories originating in both lower and higher levels could migrate upwards or downwards. So most members of the literary élite were exposed -in various ways, and in some part of their lives -to popular literature, and sometimes remembered or made use of it. Both Geoffrey Chaucer and Robert Henryson must have read (and perhaps heard) popular romances. Literacy was spreading throughout the period; but the categories of 'literate' and 'illiterate' are not straightforward or self-contained groups set in opposition, but were rather a series of gradations. And the illiterate or partly literate could -and did -have books read to them. 8 When we try to define the parameters of the large and heterogeneous body of writing, further difficulties arise. The literary culture of the Middle Ages is full of overlaps and interactions. Social historians are very aware of this. Peter Burke, for instance, distinguishes a 'great' learned tradition and a 'little' popular tradition. 9 The élite had access to both, but the 'folk' had only the 'little' tradition. We have already had a hint of this when we claimed that alongside an oral folk literature there was a written literature, and that popular literature flourished beside a sophisticated learned or courtly literature. These apparently distinct concepts often have vague or uncertain boundaries. This is the case even with the apparently distinct categories of 'secular' and 'religious' literature. It therefore seems to me unprofitable to think of two clearly marked and opposed divisions of 'popular' and 'learned / courtly / sophisticated' literature. Rather we should think of a spectrum, running from the (lost) oral literature through those popular texts which seem close to it, to those popular texts which are close to the undoubtedly sophisticated courtly poetry, and to that élite writing itself.
It is not, of course, a scientifically exact spectrum. The overlaps and interactions complicate matters enormously. Many literary historians Introduction would echo the remark of Boklund-Lagopoulou: 'when dealing with material of this sort, the distinction between popular and learned culture breaks down'; 10 and we can glimpse some remarkable interactions and transformations. Marie de France apparently based some of her elegant literary lais on Breton stories and folktales, producing a very sophisticated narrative form; 11 the Middle English popular versions of these seem to simplify them, even to bring them back into something not unlike their original form. But the awareness of courtly literature which we may sometimes sense in popular writers can also be problematic. The Gest of Robyn Hood begins with a motif apparently similar to that found in Arthurian romances, where the hero will not eat until some wonderful event occurs: 'Than bespake hym gode Robyn, To dyne have I noo lust, Till that I have som bolde baron, Or som uncouth gest' (stanza 6). Is this a hint of gentle parody, or is the author simply using a proven effective narrative device to excite anticipation? 12 Similarly, one could argue over the nature of the relationship of the tale of Rauf Coilyear to the Charlemagne romances with which the author was certainly familiar. 13 Sometimes we have popularised versions of courtly narratives.
It seems well-nigh impossible to place our specimens in a fixed place on that spectrum, beyond a general statement that some seem to be closer to the élite, sophisticated work of 'literary' authors, and some closer to the lost oral folk literature. Close to the élite pole, inhabited by French courtly romance but not, presumably, by the Middle English 'popular' versions of them: books of serious theology, written by theologians for other theologians (though these would usually be written in Latin). Some vernacular theological works, written for laymen, like John of Ireland's Meroure of Wysdom, or possibly the writings of Bishop Pecock, would probably qualify as 'popular', though close to the élite pole. 14 At this pole we would place 7 Introduction The Owl and the Nightingale) make extensive use of popular proverbs. Popular texts do not have the elaborate formal rhetoric of some courtly writings; sometimes, as in oral literature, the emphasis seems to be given by the words and the 'performance' of the narrator. Only the simplest figures and devices are used: exclamations from the 'narrator', frequent use of direct speech, and repetition: the ballad of Saint Stephen and Herod has a clear hint of the 'incremental repetition' which is characteristic of later ballads (in the repeated phrase 'I forsak the, kyng Herowdes and thi werkes alle'). 19 There is much use of emphatic repetition, as in the sad scenes of Orfeo's departure from his kingdom where 'wepeing' is repeated (cf. Emaré: 'the lady fleted forth alon … The lady and the lytyll chylde Fleted forth on the water wylde'; 20 or Adam Bell ' ''Set fyre on the house!'' saide the sherife … they fyred the house in many a place'; 21 or the Battle of Otterburn: 22 ' "Awaken, Dowglas!" cryed the knight'). Recapitulation becomes a kind of echoic narrative device. And we should note the way in which old 'formulaic' adjectives can be brought to life and given a new power (like the 'proude sherrif' of Nottingham). There is much use of formulae, not always simple clichés or filler phrases, which seem to derive ultimately from the lost oral works where they could have been useful for improvisation. A sensitive ear can detect these formulae and repetitions even under the elegant stylistic surface of Sir Orfeo. Narratives often use common themes ('a recurrent element of narration or description in traditional oral poetry'), 23 such as the arming of the hero, combats, feasts, prayers, and so on. There is a liking for simple metrical forms such as couplets or quatrains, both eminently suitable for recitation, reading aloud, or singing. But the popular writers show that they can cope with alliterative verse and with quite complex stanza forms.
In narrative the figures are strongly differentiated, but are not usually given detailed description (as is sometimes the case in courtly romances) but are presented simply and emphatically, often using repetition of a telling detail. There is a liking for direct speech and 8 Introduction dialogue. Sometimes a narrative will consist of a series of expressive scenes given emphasis by exclamations from the narrator. A modern reader needs to remember that these texts are meant to be heard. Many are in a kind of 'performative' style. There are many examples to be found in our ballads, romances, and tales like The Childe of Bristowe. 24 There is not much interest in psychological elaboration. We find sudden changes of attitude, rather than the self-conscious 'interiority' of courtly French romance, with a character debating within his mind what action he should take. Often there will be only a limited number of characters involved. 'Characterisation' is usually very simple, and usually revealed through a character's speech and deeds. Nor is there much ambiguity: characters tend to be 'black' or 'white'; so, Godard is totally evil in contrast to Havelock or Goldeboru in the romances of Havelock. 25 They range from the highest in society to the humblest (like the fisherman Grim). But the high usually talk and behave like ordinary people, as in later Scottish ballads, like Herod in Saint Stephen and Herod, or Orfeo, a 'high lording' and a harper (although his harp has magical power), who shows a simple fidelity and love. But there are some grotesque figures, such as the Turk or the Loathly Lady, 26 and sudden (sometimes violent) changes of emotion or circumstances, or extreme requests, as when the Turk asks Gawain to cut his head off -which produces a typically 'gentil' reaction from Gawain. 27 This is followed by a magic transformation: 'And whan the blod was in the bason light, He stod up a stalworth knight'. In Sir Gowther a disguised fiend suddenly reveals himself: 'A felturd [shaggy] fende he start up son And stod and hur beheld'. 28 Here the supernatural and the world of magic is very close at hand -and, interestingly, almost without any immediate reaction from the human figures involved (a technique which suggests the traditional folktale or Märchen). More usually, there is some reaction, as in a tale or legend (German Sage), as with the entry of the beautiful fairy mistress in Sir Lambewell. 29 Magic can be impressively eerie: Thomas of Erceldoune went his way 'whare it was dirke als mydnyght myrke and 9 Introduction ever the water till his knee'. 30 Demons and spirits are close to humans, even in comic tales, like that of the Basin. 31 And animals talk and act like humans.
Medieval English popular literature may not have the subtlety of the best work of the literary élite. But it has its moments of delight, often in touches of comedy: young Enyas being prepared for battle, 32 or the moment when the truth is suddenly revealed to the Sheriff in the Gest of Robyn Hood: 'Whan the sheriff sawe his vessel For sorowe he myght not ete.' 33 The title of this anthology deserves an explanatory note. The phrase 'make we mery, bothe more and lasse' is not meant to evoke or endorse a sentimental view of ' Merry England'. 34 There is plenty of evidence for extreme misery and hardship in this period. The 'folk' suffered continuously: there were wars, rumours of wars, strife and violence, sickness and plague, as well as lesser troubles. And some of the suffering is reflected in popular literature; the texts in our Chapter 1 give more than a hint of this. We find examples of violence, murder or riots, quarrels in the streets, and a lynching in which was shown 'neither mercie nor pite'. The phrase in question comes in fact from the 'burden' of a carol from MS Balliol 354, the early sixteenth-century commonplace book of Richard Hill, grocer of London, the source of several pieces in this anthology: 'Make we mery bothe more and lasse, For now ys the tyme of Crystymas'. 35 Perhaps in performance this burden would have been sung by a group, and the three stanzas by a single singer, who sounds like a master of the festivities: he is dismissive of whoever says he cannot sing, and the man who claims that he can do no other sport is to go to the stocks. It seems to be good evidence for a passionate desire for 'game', which is not limited to this great festive season.

Introduction
Sometimes, it seems, these calls to make merry sound like heroic attempts to find merriment in harsh circumstances. One proverb urges: 'Be thou mery, thow thou be hard betid'. 36 Of course sentiments like this are not confined to popular culture; cf. the Green Knight's sententious remark: 'Make we mery while we may and mynne upon joy, For the lur [sorrow] may mon lach [have] whenso mon likes.' 37 But perhaps the harshness of life helped to accentuate one quality in popular merriment: a liking for successful 'tricksterism', as witnessed by the cunning tricks of Reynard or the disguises and deceits of Robin Hood or Little John, or the merry stratagems of the comic tale or fabliau. So some proverbs instruct you to look after yourself rather than be altruistic to others.
Like the sophisticated literature of the time, popular literature enjoys the mingling of 'game' and 'ernest'. This is not usually done with the delicate touch of a Chaucer, although there is perhaps a hint of it in the uneasy jesting relationship between the main figures in The King and the Hermit or in Rauf Coilyear. Huizinga argued that play is of central importance in culture itself. Indeed his study opens with the statement: 'Play is older than culture, for culture, however inadequately defined, always presupposes human society. And animals have not waited for man to teach them their playing'. 38 But, it might be argued, mankind finally caught up with them in the fiction that animals can not only talk and act like humans, but also instruct them.
'Game' was of great importance in medieval culture, both popular and sophisticated; see the excellent Afterword to Medieval Comic Tales: 39 it was deep-seated, going well beyond simple explanations like 'letting off steam'. Parody sometimes seems to have been part of life: the courtly praise of the lady's beauty seems to produce, almost automatically, detailed descriptions of her ugliness. A fine example is the Early Middle English Land of Cokaygne, 40 where the world of monasticism and the description of the joys of the Earthly Paradise are turned completely upside down. It has, on the one hand, affinities with the world of 'nonsense' writing and, on the other, it demonstrates how play can create its own order (as Huizinga said, within a playground 'an 12 Introduction 'Syr, thys is a busye daye wyth us, we can not heare you, it is Robyn Hoodes day. The parishe is gone abrode to gather for Robyn Hoode.' 46 These were probably not quite the Bacchanalian revelry described with horror by the Puritans: 'their pipes playing, their drummers thund'ring, their stumps dauncing, their bels jangling, their handkerchiefs swinging about their heads like madmen, their hobbie horses and other monsters skirmishing about the rout', 47 but rather festivities intended to collect money for the parish and to celebrate the parish community, but there was real merriment, and sometimes abandonment. We find moments of exhilaration even in hostile satires (cf. Minot's attacks on the Scots); 48 and other examples in our chapter on Satire. This can rise to an extreme intensity of emotion: the nonsense poems, the drinking cries in the King and the Hermit, or the Scottish 'eldritch' poems. And there is even a parallel to this in popular religion, when enthusiasm leads some devotees to become 'fools for Christ'. 49 It is not surprising to find matters of 'ernest' in the midst of apparently total game. 'Game' was not simply mindless 'misrule' in the ballads and romances. Among scenes of misery and chaos we can find positive qualities, such as the simple faithfulness and human goodness of the fisherman Grim against the wickedness and violent cruelty of Godard. 50 Characters like Grim or the 'child' of Bristol seem to bring us close to the ordinary people of this period. 51 And it is arguable that the pervasive presence of 'game' reinforces the brisk and direct style of popular narrative.
This leads to a final point: to emphasize the range and the variety of this popular literature. In some areas we are very conscious of a body of 'lost literature': we have little direct evidence of popular drama, for instance. On the other hand, we are fortunate in having texts of a mass of songs and carols of many kinds, some probably written by clerks in imitation of the oral songs they could hear. Narrative is an area particularly well represented in the surviving popular literature. It is tempting to suppose that the tales and legends found in oral literature 13 Introduction carried within them the seeds of the more literary genres which appear in antiquity and the Middle Ages: the romance weaving together the adventures of a hero in a quest (or the simpler shorter 'lais'), ballads or ballad-like poems, sometimes long, sometimes brief, often making the adventures into a series of dramatic moments, and the simpler, shorter tales in verse or prose, moral or merry. The literary achievement of these popular forms certainly varies considerably, but at its best popular literature is a fascinating and delightful area.
This anthology is designed to illustrate its variety and quality as extensively as can be done in limited space, to give the reader some idea of its range, in various genres and kinds, and of the nature of medieval popular literature. My examples in general come from the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, but occasionally I have gone back to earlier Latin chroniclers, and quite often have come forward to the midseventeenth century PFMS (which almost certainly contains some late medieval pieces). I have been concerned to make the selection not too long, and not too forbidding; I doubt whether modern readers (let alone publishers!) would be at ease with a collection of texts which extends, as does Hazlitt's, to several volumes. I have attempted to give a fairly wide coverage by mixing many short extracts with some longer or complete texts. I have tried to offer both pleasure and instruction, as does Middle English popular literature itself. The Appendix gives some evidence in support of the view that medieval popular literature did not suddenly disappear but that many of its forms (romances, ballads, including those which pass on 'news' -of battles, executions and wonderful events -tales, and so forth) lived on, sometimes being transformed, and that medieval popular literature is in a real sense the ancestor of the popular literature which flourished in the following centuries.

Chapter 1
Voices from the Past This introductory chapter consists of extracts from chronicles, and other texts which illustrate medieval English life (and its anxieties and hazards), popular beliefs, magic and popular religion. 'Voices from the past' may seem a somewhat hopeful title, but extracts such as these are probably the nearest we can get to the actual voices. Snatches from songs are quoted by moralists and chroniclers. Chroniclers of course are interested in great events, but although they often sound impersonal they will often reveal their own opinions or record the opinions of humble folk. Letters (now being written in English) survive in some numbers in the fifteenth century. They are not the product of the humblest social class; those of the Pastons, a mercantile family in East Anglia, offer an unrivalled picture of local and family life. We have a precious Valentine letter, an appeal for money, and news and gossip from the area. The remarkable Book of Margery Kempe, a kind of spiritual 'personal experience narrative', the full text of which came to light only in the twentieth century, is another goldmine. Margery was the wife of a merchant of Lynn (now King's Lynn, in Norfolk), and seems to have been illiterate or semi-literate: her 'book' was written by a priest who knew her. It records some vivid accounts of her experiences in England, and in Europe and the Holy Land. She was a religious enthusiast and a determined pilgrim. 1 The rest of this chapter contains examples of pieces provided for the entertainment and instruction of the 'folk'. Prophecies were very common, and seem to have satisfied a fascinated curiosity about the future and a yearning for order 1 The Pastons, and Margery, are cited at some length later in this chapter.
(perhaps their enigmatic quality added to the pleasure); magical charms, and the simple prayers of popular religion.
A. Snatches and Snippets, which give us a glimpse of the lost oral literature i) This early fragment of a song is recorded by a twelfth-century chronicler in his Latin 'Book of Ely'. 2 He says that even at the present time these verses are still sung publicly in dances and remembered in the sayings of the wise. Perhaps there was a local legend concerning it, and King Cnut as its supposed author.

Merie sungen the munechesº binnenº Ely monks in
Thaº Cnut ching reuº ther by.  … there arose suche a sprynggynge and welling op of waters and floodes, bothe of the see and also of fresshe ryvers and sprynges, that the see brynke wallaes [sea-walls] and coostes broken up [so that] men, bestes, and houses in meny places, and namely [especially] in lowe cuntres [regions], violently and soddenly were dreynt and driven awey; and the fruyte of the erthe, thorugh continuance and abundaunce of the see waters, evermore after were turned into more saltnes and sournes of savour…

xi) The Plague of 1348, the Black Death 12
And in the xxiii yere of his [Edward III's] regne, in the este parteys of the world ether aros and bygan a pestilence and deth of Sarasines and 19 B. Scenes and Events from Chronicles and Letters payngneins [pagans], that so grete a deth was never herde of afore, and that wasted awey so the peple that unnethes the xthe persone was left alive. And in the same yere, aboute the sowth cuntreys and also in the west cuntres, there fell so much reyne and so grete waters that, from Cristemasse unto Midsomer, ther was unnethes day ne nyght but that it rayned sumwhat; thorugh whiche waters the pestilence was sone fectid and so habundant in all cuntres, and namely aboute the court of Rome and other places and s[e]re [various] costes, that unnethes there were left alive folk to bery ham that were ded honestly. But maden grete diches and puttes [pits] that were wunder brood and depe, and therin beried, and made a renge [pile] of the dede bodyes, and another renge of erthe above ham; and thus were they buried, and non other wise, but yf [unless] it were the fewer that were grete men of state.
[A few years later] In this same yere [1352], and in the yere afore, and also in the yere aftir, was so grete a pestilenc[e] of men fro the est into the west, and namely thorugh bocches [swellings], that he that siked this day, deid on the iii day after. To the wich men that so deaden in this pestilens, that haddyn but litel respite of lyggyng, the pope Clement, of his goodness and grace, yaf ham ful remissioun and foryevyng of all hire synnes that they were shriven of. And this pestilence lasted in London from Michelmasse into Auguste next folowyng almoste an hool yere. 13 And in thes dayes was deth withoute sorwe, weddyng withoute friendship, wilfull penaunce, and derthe without scarste [scarcity], and fleyng withoute refute or socour; for meny fledden fro place to place bycause of the pestilens; but they were enfecte, and might not ascape the dethe, after the prophete Isaye seith: 'ho that fleeth fro the face of drede, he shal fall into the diche; and he that wyndeth himself out of the diche, he shal be holde and teyd with a grenne [snare]', 14 but whan this pestilens was cesid and endid, as God wolde, unnethes the x parte of the peple was left alive, and in the same yere bygan a wonder thing that al that evere were born after that pestilens hadden ii chekteth [molars] in her hed than they had afore.

xii) A Storm … [1364] 15
About evesong tyme, ther aroos and come such a wynd out of the suoth, with such a fersnes, that he brast and blewe doun to ground hye houses and strong byldynges, toures, churches and steples, and other strong thynges; and al other strong werkes that stoden still, were so yshake therewith that they ben yet, and shol be evermore the feblere and weyker while they stonde; and this wynd lasted withoute eny cesyng vii. dayes. … and a Great Frost. 16 … in the yere of grace 1435, the grete, hard, bityng frost bygan the vii day of Decembre, and endured unto the xxii day of Feverere next, which greved the peple wonder sore; and moche pepel deyed in that tyme, for colde and for skarcite of wode and cole. And tender herbes were slayne with this frost, that is to say, rosemary, sauge, tyme, and many other herbes.

xiii) A Lynching [1427] 17
… in the same yere, a fals Breton, between Ester and Witsontyde, 18 mordrede a good wedowe in hir bedde, the whiche hadde found [provided for] hym, for almesse, withoute Algate, in the suburbs of London. And he bar away all that sche hadde, and after toke girth [asylum] of holy churche at Saint Georges in Suthwerk; but at the last he toke the crosse, and forsuore the kyng land. And as he went his way, it happid hym to come by the same place where he did that cursede dede. And women of the same parish come oute to hym with stones and with canell [gutter] dong and there made an ende of hym in the high streit so that he went no ferthere, notwithstondyng the constablis and other men also, which had hym in governaunce to convey hym forth in his way, for there was a grete companye of them, and on hym thei had neither mercie nor pite; and thus this fals thefe endede his life in this worlde for his falsnesse. 21

xiv) An Affray against the Lombards [1458?] 19
In this same yere fill [occurred] a gret affray in London ayenst the Lumbardes. The cause began for a yong man toke a dagger fro a Lumbard, and brake it; wherfore the yong man on the morne was sent fore to come before the mair and aldermen, and ther, for the offense, he was committed to warde [custody]. And then the mair departed fro the Guyldhall for to go home to his dyner, but in the Chepe [Cheapside] the yong men of the mercerie, for the moste parte apprentises, held the mair and shyreves stil in Chepe and wold nat suffer him to departe unto the tyme that thare felow, which was committed to warde, wer delyvered; and so by force thei rescued ther felowe fro prisone, and that done, the mair and shyreves departed, and the prisoner was delyvered, which, if he had be put to prisone, had be in jubardie of his lyfe. And than began a rumor in the cite ayenst the Lumbardes, and the same evening the handcrafty peple of the town arose, and come to the Lumbardes houses, and dispoyled and robbed diverse of thame, wherfore the mair and aldermen come with the honest peple of the town, and drofe thame thens, and sent some of thame that had stollen to Newgate. And the yong man that was rescued bi his felowes saw this gret rumor, affray and robbery folowed of his first mevyng to the Lumbard. He departed and went to Westmynster to sanctuary, or els it had cost him his lyfe, for anone after come doun an other determine [d] for to do justice on al thame that so rebelled in the cite ayens the Lumbardes, upon which satt with the mayr that tyme William Marow, the duke of Bokyngham, and many other lordes, for to se execucion done, bot the comons of the cite secretely made thame redy, and did arme thame in ther houses and wer in purpose for to have rongen the common bell which is named Bow Bell; but thei wer let by sad [steady] men. Which come to the knowlege of the duke of Bokyngham and othir lordes. And forthwith thei arose, for thei durst no lenger abide, for thei doubted that the hole cite shold have risen ayenst theme, but yett neverthelesse ii or iii of the cite were juged to deth for this robbery, and wer honged at Tiburn.

xv) Religious Unrest at Evesham 20
And in this same yere the m[e]n and the erles tenauntes of Warwyk arisen maliciously ayens the abbot and the covent of Evesham and her tenauntes, and destroyeden fersly the abbot and the toun, and wounded and bete her men and slowen of hem meny one, and wenten to her maners and places, and dede myche harme, and brekyn doun her parkes and her closes, and brenten and slowen her wild bestes, and chaced hem, brekyng her fishepond hedis, and lete the water of her pondes, stewes and ryvers renne out; and token the fish, and bere it with hem, and deden al the harme that they myghte.

xvi) A Heretic Venerated [1440] 21
The xix yeer of kyng Harri, the Friday before midsomer, a prest called ser Richard Wyche, that was a vicary in Estsexe, was brend on the Tourhille for heresie, for whoos deth was gret murmur and troubil among the peple, for some said he was a good man and an holy, and put to deth be malice; and some saiden the contrary; and so dyvers men hadde of him dyvers oppinions. And so fer forth the commune peple was brought in such errour that meny menne and women wente be nyghte to the place where he was brend, and offrid there money and ymages of wax, and made thair praiers knelyng as thay wolde have don to a saynt, and kiste the ground and baar away with thaym the asshis of his body as for reliques; and this endured viii daies, til the mair and aldermenne ordeyned men of armes forto restreyne and lette [prevent] the lewd peple fro that fals ydolatrie, and meny were therfore take and lad to prisoun. And among othir was take the vicary of Berkyngchirche beside the tour of Londoun, in whos parishe alle this was done, that received the offryng of the simple peple. And for to excite and stire thaym to offre the more fervently, and to fulfille and satisfie his fals coveitise, he took asshis and medlid thaym with powder of spices and strowed thaym in the place where the said heretic was brend; and so the simple peple was deceived, wenyng that the swete flavour hadde commeof the asshis of the ded heretic: for this the said vicari of Berkyngchirche confessed afterward in prisoun …

B. Scenes and Events from Chronicles and Letters
The Bishop of Salisbury murdered [1450, just after the murder of the Bishop of Chichester] 22 And this … yer … William Ascoghe bishop of Salisbury was slayn of his owen parisshens and peple at Edyngdoun aftir that he hadde said masse, and was drawe fro the auter and lad up to an hille therbeside, in his awbe, and his stole aboute his necke; and there thay slow him horribly, their fader and their bisshoppe, and spoillid him unto the nakid skyn, and rente his blody shirte into pecis and baar thaym away with thaym, and made bost of their wickidnesse; and the day befor his deth his chariot was robbed be men of the same cuntre of an huge god and tresour, to the value of x.ml. marc, as thay saide that knewe it. Thise ii bisshoppis were wonder covetous men, and evil beloved among the commune peple, and holde suspect of meny defautes, and were assentyng and willyng to the deth of the duke of Gloucestre, as it was said.

xvii) A Portent [1440] 23
The xxviii yer of king Harri [Henry VI], on Simon day and Jude, 24 and othir daies before and aftir, the sonne in his risyng and goyng doune apperid as reed as blood, as meny a man saw; wherof the peple hadde gret marvaille, and demed that it sholde betokened sum harm sone afterward. And this same yeer, in the feste of saint Mighelle in Monte Tumba, 25 Roon [Rouen] was lost and yolden [surrendered] to the Frensshemenne … And the next yeer aftir alle Normandy was lost.

xviii) Roger Bolingbroke, Necromancer [July, 1440] 26
… and the Sunday the xxv day of the same moneth, the forsaid maister Roger with all his instrumentis of nygromancie -that is to say a chaier ypeynted, wherynne he was wont to sitte whanne he wrought his craft, and on the iiii corners of the chaier stood iiii swerdis, and ypon every swerd hanggyng an ymage of copir -and with meny othir instrumentis according to his said craft, stood in a high stage above alle  1. Voices from the Past mennes heddis in Powlis chircheyerd befor the cros whiles the sermon endured, holding a suerd in his right hand and a septre in his lift hand, araid in a marvaillous aray whereynne he was wont to sitte whanne he wrought his nygromancie. And aftir the sermon was don, he abjured alle maner articles longing in any wise to the said craft of nigromancie, or mys sownyng [discordant] to the Cristen feith …

Letters 27
In the fifteenth century, collections of letters in English are increasingly found. These are often written by merchants and others who are literate; in general women still seem to have been content to use the services of family scribes. Of especial importance is the extensive collection of those of the Paston family, a mercantile, landowning family of East Anglia, and its scribes and friends. These give us some vivid glimpses of life in that area. 28

xix) News from a Wife [1448] 29
Right worshipful husband, I recommend me to you and pray you to weet [know] that on Friday last past before noon, the parson of Oxnead being at mass in our parish church, even at the levation of the sacring, James Gloys had been in the town and came homeward by Wymondhams gate. And Wymondham stood in his gate, and John Norwood his man stood by him, and Thomas Hawes his other man stood in the street by the cannel side [gutter]. And James Gloys came with his hat on his head between both his men, as he was wont of custom to do. And when Gloys was against Wymondham, he said thus: 'Cover thy head!' And Gloys said again, 'So I shall for thee'. And when Gloys was further passed by the space of three or four stride, Wymondham drew out his dagger and said, 'Shalt thou so knave?' And therewith Gloys turned him, and drew out his dagger and defended him, fleeing into my mothers place; and Wymondham and his man Hawes cast stones and drove Gloys into my mothers place, and Hawes followed into my mothers place and cast a 27 See Paston Letters, ed. Norman Davis, part I, though it is not certain that Gray used this edition. Some are cited in his Later Medieval English Literature. 28 See also Bennett,The Pastons and their England. 29 Paston Letters,129, stone as much as a farthing loaf into the hall after Gloys, and then ran out of the place again. And Gloys followed out and stood without the gate, and then Wymondham called Gloys thief and said he should die, and Gloys said he lied and called him churl, and bade him come himself or ell [else] the best man he had, and Gloys would answer him one for one. And then Hawes ran into Wymondhams place and fetched a spear and a sword, and took [gave] his master his sword. And with the noise of this assault and affray my mother and I came out of the church from the sacring, and I bade Gloys go into my mothers place again, and so he did. And then Wymondham called my mother and me strong whores …

xx) Another Dispute [pr. 1451] 30
I greet you well, and let you weet that on the Sunday before Saint Edmund, 31 after evensong, Agnes Ball came to me to my closet and bade me good even, and Clement Spicer with her. And I asked him what he would; and he asked me why I had stopped in the kings way. And I said to him that I stopped no way but mine own, and asked him why he had sold my land to John Ball; and he swore he was never accorded with your father. And I told him if his father had do as he did, he would a be ashamed to a said as he said. And all that time Warren Harman leaned over the parckos [partition] and listened what we said, and said that the change was a ruely [deplorable] change, for the town was undo thereby and is the worse by £100. And I told him it was no courtesy to meddle him in a matter but if he were called to counsel …

xxi) Local News [1453] 32
Son, I greet you well and send you Gods blessing and mine …. 33  But yf that ye loffe me, as I tryste verely that ye do, ye will not leffe me therfor; for if ye hade not halfe the lyvelode that ye hafe, for to do the grettyst labure that any woman on lyve myght, I wold not forsake yowe. And yf ye commande me to kepe me true whereever I go, Iwyse I will do all my might yowe to love and never no mo. And yf my freendys say that I do amys, thei schal not me let so for to do. Myn herte me byddys ever more to love yowe Truly over all erthely thing.

C. Popular Beliefs
And yf thei be never so wroth, I tryst it schall be bettur in tyme commyng.
No more to yowe at this tyme, but the Holy Trinite hafe yowe in kepyng. And I besech yowe that this bill be not seyn of non erthely creature safe only your selfe. And this lettur was indyte at Topcroft wyth full hevy herte. Be your own M. B.

xxvi) The Shipman's Vision [1457] 40
The xxxv yere of kyng Harry, and the yere of Oure Lorde m.cccc.lvii, a pylgryme that alle his dayes had be a shipmanne came fro seynt James in Spayne into Englond abowte Mighelmas and was loged in the toune of Weymouthe, in Dorsetshyre, with a brewer, a Duchemanne, the whiche had be with hym in his seyde pylgremage. And as the sayde pylgryme laye in his bedde waking, he sawe one come into the chamber clothed alle in whyte having a whyte heede, and sate doune on a fourme [bench] nat fer fro hys bed, and alle the chambre was as lyghte of hym as it had be clere day. The pylgryme was agaste and durste not speke, and anone the seyde spirite vanysshed awey. The second nyghte the same spyryte came ayene in lyke wyse, and wythoute eny tareyng vanysshed awey. In the morrow the pylgrym tolde alle this to his oste, and seyde he was sore afeerde, and wolde no more lye in that chambre. Hys oste counseled hym to telle this to the parysshe preeste, and shryve hym of all his synnes, demyng that he hadde be acombred [oppressed] with some grete deadly synne. The pylgrym sayd, 'I was late shryve [shriven] at seynt James, and reseved there my Lord God, and sethe that tyme, as fer as I canne remembre, I have nat offended my conscience.' Natheles he was shryvenne, and tolde alle this to the preest; and the preest seyde, 'Sen [since] thow knowest thy selfe clere in conscience, have a good herte and be nat agast [afraid], and yef the sayde spirite come ayene, conjure hym in the name of the Fader and of the Sone and of the Holy Goste to telle the what he ys.' The iiide nighte the spyryte came ayene into the chambre as he had do before, wyth a grete lyghte; and the pylgrym, as the preest had counselled him, conjured the spyryte, and bade hym telle what he was. The spyryte answered and seyde, 'I am thyne eme [uncle], thy faderes brother.' The pylgrym seyde, 'How longe ys it ago sen thow deyde?' The spiryte seyde, 'ix yere.' 'Where ys my fader?' seyde the pylgrime. 'At home in his owne hous,' seyde the spiryte, 'and hath another wyfe.' 'And where ys my moder?' 'In hevene,' seyde the spiryte. Thenne seyde the spiryte to the pylgryme, 'Thou haste be at Seynt James; trowest thou that thow hast welle done thy pylgremage?' 'So I hoope,' seyde the pylgryme. Thanne sayde the spiryte, 'Thou haste do [caused] to be sayde there iii masses, one for thy fader, another for thy moder, and the iiide [third] for thyselve; and yef thou haddest lete say a masse for me, I had be deliviered of the peyne that I suffre. But thou most go ayene to Seynt James, and do say a masse for me, and yeve iii d.
[pence] to iii pore men.' 'O,' sayde the pylgrime, 'howe shulde I go ayene to Seynt James? I have no money for myne expenses, for I was robbed in the shyppe of v nobles.' 'I know welle thys,' sayde the spirite, 'for thow shalt fynde thy purce hanging at the ende of the shyp and a stoone therynne; but thow most go ageyne to Seynt James, and begge, and lyve of almesse.' And when the spyryte had thus seyde, the pylgryme saw a develle drawe the same spyryte by the sleve, forto have hym thennys. Thenne saide the spyryte to the pylgryme, 'I have folewed the this ix yere, and myghte never speke with the unto now; but blessed be the hous where a spyryte may speke, and farewell, for I may no lenger abyde with the, and therfore I am sory.' And so he vanysshed awey. The pylgryme went into Portyngale, and so forthe to Seynt James, as the spyryte had hym commanded; wherfore I counseylle every man to worship Seynt James.

xxvii) Ghostly Battles [1365] 41
… and in the same tyme in Fraunce and Engelond … soddenly ther apperid ii castels, of the whiche wenten out ii ostes of armed men; and the to[on] oste was helid and clothed in white, and the tothere in blak; and whan batayl bytuene hem was bygunne, the white overcome the blake, and anone aftter, the blak token hert to hem and overcome the white; and after that, they went ayen into her castellis, and tha[n] the castels and al the oostes vanisshed awey … … a certain knight of Lesser Britain lost his wife, and lamented for a long time after her death. He found her at night in a great band of women in an enclosed valley in a great wilderness. He wondered, and was filled with fear when he saw her, whom he had buried, alive again. He did not believe his eyes, and was doubtful about what was being done by the fairies. He decided in his mind to carry her off so that he might rejoice in the capture if he saw truly, or might be deceived by the ghost, and should not be censured for timidity in giving up. And so he seized her and found delight in wedlock with her for many years, as pleasantly and as solemnly as the first marriage, and by her he had children, whose descendants are numerous today, and are called 'the sons of the dead woman'. This would be an incredible and monstrous offence against nature if there were not dependable signs of its truth.

xxix) A Fairy Lover, from Walter Map 43
Similar to this [the story of Gwestin Gwestiniog] is what is related of Edric 'Wild', a 'silvestris' [man of the woods], so called from the agility of his body and the liveliness of his words and deeds, a man of great worth and lord of Lydbury North, who, when he was coming back from hunting through remote country accompanied only by a single boy, until midnight wandered uncertain of his path, happened upon a big building on the edge of a wood, such as the English had as drinking houses, called 'ghildhus' in English, and when he was near it and saw a light in it, looking in he saw a great dance with many noble women. They were most beautiful, in elegant dress, of linen only, bigger and taller than ours. The knight observed among them one outstanding in form and figure, inspiring desire more than all the sweethearts of kings. They went around with light movement and with delightful carriage, 42 De Nugis Curialium,trans. James,Distinction iv,; Gray made his own translation: see his From the Norman Conquest, p. 84 for the rescued wife. 43 This story is not presented in Gray's previous anthology (cited above), but it is clear he has made his own translation of this too (as well as the other two presented here). It is in Map's Distinction ii,. Gray has added the reference to Gwestin (the previous story in Map) so that readers will not think the Edric story is supposed to resemble the Rescued Wife in this volume. and with lowered voices in solemn concord a delicate sound was heard, but their speech was incomprehensible. When he saw this the knight was wounded in his heart, and could scarcely bear the fires that were inflicted from the bow of Cupid; his whole being was kindled, his whole being burst into flame, and he took courage from that most beautiful of sicknesses, that golden danger. He had heard the tales of the pagans: the nightly hosts of demons, Dictynna [Diana] and the troops of Dryads and riders; 44 and of the vengefulness of the offended gods, and the manner in which they summarily punish those who suddenly glimpse them, how they keep themselves separate and live secretly and apart, how they hate those who attempt to observe their councils to reveal them, who pry into them and lay them bare, how very carefully they conceal themselves, in case, if they are seen, they should be reviled. He had heard of their acts of vengeance and the examples of their victims, but -as Cupid is rightly depicted as blind -forgetting all this, he does not think it an illusion, is not aware of an avenger and, since his mind is darkened, incautiously he offends. He circles the hall, finds its entrance, and rushes in and takes her by whom he is taken. Immediately he is attacked by the others; although held back for a time by this fierce fight, finally, thanks to his efforts and those of his boy, he was freed, although not altogether unhurt, but wounded in the feet and legs by as much as the nails and teeth of women were capable of. He carried her off with him, and used her as he desired for three days and nights but could not extract a word from her; however she suffered the passion of his desire with gentle agreement. On the fourth day she spoke these words to him, 'Greetings, my beloved: you shall be safe and shall live happily in person and in your affairs until you blame me or my sisters from whom I was taken, or the place or the wood whence I came, or anything around it. From that day in truth your felicity shall end, and after I have departed, you will fail, with a series of mishaps, and by your importunity anticipate your final day.' He promised, with whatever security he could, to be steadfast and faithful in his love. He therefore summoned the nobles from near and far, and in that great gathering joined her to him in marriage. At that time there reigned William the 33 C. Popular Beliefs Bastard, the new king of England. Hearing of this wonder, he desired to test it, investigate it, and to know publicly if it were true. He summoned both of them to come to London at once, and many witnesses came with them, and testimonies from many who did not come, and the woman's beauty, of a kind not previously seen or heard of, was a convincing proof that she was of fairy origin. And with general amazement they were sent back to their own dwelling. Later, after the passing of many years it happened that Edric, returning from hunting at about the third hour of the night, when he did not find her called her and commanded that she be summoned, and when she came slowly said in anger as he looked upon her, 'Was it by your sisters that you were delayed so long?', and uttered further reproaches -but to the air only, for she vanished at the mention of her sisters. The young man repented his great and disastrous outburst, and he searched for the place whence he had seized her, but by no weeping or lamentation could he recover her. He called by day and by night, but only to his own folly, for his life ended there in lasting grief.

xxx) Herla and his Troop, another story from Map 45
Herla, king of the ancient Britons, is suddenly visited by another king, small, like a pygmy, riding on a goat. With his splendidly dressed retinue, he provides a great feast in Herla's honour, and insists that Herla should attend his wedding a year later.
… And now, after a year, he suddenly appeared before Herla, urgently desiring that the agreement should be observed. He assented and, providing himself with enough to repay the debt, followed whither he was led. So they entered a cave in a very high cliff, and after a time of darkness passed into a light which did not seem that of the sun or the moon, but of very many lamps, to the dwelling of the pygmy, a mansion as noble, in truth, in every way as the palace of the Sun described by Ovid. 46 When the wedding had been celebrated more, the debt to the pygmy repaid in seemly manner, and permission to leave granted, Herla left, burdened with gifts and presents of horses, hounds, hawks and all manner of excellent things for hunting and hawking. The pygmy led them as far as the darkness, and presented him with a small bloodhound to be carried, strictly forbidding that any of them from his whole company should dismount until that dog leapt out from the grasp of its bearer, then bade them farewell, and went back home. After a short time Herla came back to the light of the sun and to his own kingdom. He spoke to an old shepherd, and asked for news of his queen, by name. The shepherd, looking at him with wonder, said: 'Lord, I scarcely understand your speech, since I am a Saxon, and you a Briton. I have not heard the name of that queen, except that they relate that long ago a queen of that name of the very ancient Britons was the wife of King Herla, who in legend is said to have disappeared with a pygmy at this cliff, and was never afterwards seen on earth. The Saxons conquered that kingdom two hundred years ago and drove out the ancient inhabitants.' The king was astounded, who thought that he had stayed only for three days, 47 and could hardly remain on his horse. And some of his companions, forgetful of the pygmy's orders, dismounted before the dog had descended, and were instantly dissolved into dust. The king, realizing the reason for their dissolution, forbade under threat of a similar death that anyone should touch the earth before the dog had descended. However, the dog has not yet descended. And so the story has it that King Herla with his company continues his frantic rounds in endless wandering without rest or stopping. Many assert that they have often seen this band … the White Dragon. Its mountains and valleys will be made level, and the rivers of the valleys will flow with blood. The practice of religion will be blotted out and the ruin of the churches will be seen by all. At length the oppressed people will prevail and will resist the savagery of the foreign invaders.' xxxiv a) from a later English version of one of Geoffrey's prophecies 55 … Then schal Cadwaladre Conan calle, 56 And gadre Scotlonde unto hys flocke; Thanne in ryveres blode schall falle.
Thanne schal alyonsº folde and falle foreigners And be deposyde for ever and aye; To ben free that nowe ben thralle Schall befalle thanne ylke a daye.
And ben then lordes where non ys.

xli) She meets a Poor Pilgrim with a Crooked Back 66
On her travels she meets a variety of interesting people, some hostile or critical, others well disposed to her. Some are sympathetic clerics, but others are simple folk and 'outsiders' like William Wever with his white beard, from Devon, or 'Rychard wyth the broke bak', whom she met on her way between Venice and Rome after her company of pilgrims had abandoned her -some saying that they would not go with her for a hundred pounds.  [patches]. And yet I drede me that myn enmys shul robbyn me and peraventur taken the awey fro me and defowlyn thy body, and therfor I dar not ledyn the, for I wold not for an hundryd pownd that thu haddyst a vylany in my cumpany.' And than sche seyd ayen [replied], 'Richard, dredith yow not; God shal kepyn us bothen ryth wel, and I shal yeve yow too [two] noblys for yowr labowr.' Than he consentyd and went forth wyth hir. Sone aftyr ther cam too Grey Frerys [Franciscans] and a woman that cam wyth hem fro Jerusalem, and sche had wyth hir an asse the whech bar a chyst and an ymage therin mad aftyr our Lord. And than seyd Richard to the forseyd creatur, 'Thu shalt go forth wyth thes too men and woman, and I shal metyn wyth the at morwyn and at evyn, for I must gon on my purchase [occupation] and beggyn [beg] my levyng.' And so sche dede aftyr hys cownsel and went forth wyth the frerys and the woman. And non of hem cowde understand hir langage, and yet thei ordeyned for hir every day mete, drynke and herborwe as wel as he [they] dedyn for hemselfe and rather bettyr, that [so that] sche was evyr bownden to prey for hem. And every evyn and morwyn Richard wyth the broke bak cam and comfortyd hir as he had promysed. And the woman the which had the ymage in hir chist, whan thei comyn in good citeys, sche toke owt the ymage owt of hir chist and sett it in worshepful wyfys lappys. And thei wold puttyn schirtys thereupon and kyssyn it as thei [though] it had ben God hymselfe.

xlii) A Visiting Priest Reads to Her 67
… ther cam a preste newly to Lynne, which had nevyr knowyn hir beforn, and, whan he sey hir gon in the stretys, he was gretly mevyd to speke wyth hir and speryd [inquired] of other folke what maner woman sche was. Thei seyden thei trustyd to God that sche was a ryth good woman. Aftyrward the preyst sent for hyr, preyng hir to come and spekyn wyth hym and wyth hys modyr, for he had hired a chawmbyr for hys modyr and for hym, and so they dwellyd togedyr. Than the sayd 45 D. Popular Religion creatur cam to wetyn [know] hys wille and speke wyth hys modyr and wyth hym and had ryth good cher of hem bothyn. Than the preyste toke a boke and red therin how owr Lord, seyng the cyte of Jerusalem, wept thereupon, rehersyng the myschevys [misfortunes] and sorwys that shulde comyn therto, for sche knew not the tyme of hyr visitacyon. 68 Whan the sayd creatur herd redyn how owr Lord wept, than wept sche sor and cryed lowde, the preyste ne hys modyr knowing no cawse of hyr wepyng. Whan hir crying and hir wepyng was cesyd, thei joyyd and wer ryth mery in owr Lord. Sithyn sche toke hir leve and partyd fro hem at that tyme. Whan sche was gon, the preste seyd to hys modyr, 'Me merveyleth mech of this woman why sche wepith and cryith so. Nevyrtheles me thynkyth sche is a good woman, and I desire gretly to spekyn mor wyth hir.' Hys modyr was wel plesyd and cownselyd that he shulde don so. And aftyrwardys the same preste lovyd hir and trustyd hir ful meche and blissed the tyme that evyr he knew hir, for he fond gret gostly comfort in hir and cawsyd hym to lokyn meche good scriptur and many a good doctor which he wolde not a [have] lokyd at that tyme had sche ne be. He red to hir many a good boke of hy contemplacyon and othyr bokys, as the Bibel wyth doctowrys thereupon, seynt Brydys boke, Hyltons boke, Boneventur, Stimulus Amoris, Incendium Amoris, 69 and swech other …

xliii) A Fire at Lynn [1420-21] 70
On a tyme ther happyd to be a gret fyer in Lynne Bischop, which fyer brent up the Gyldehalle of the Trinite and in the same town an hydows fyer and grevows [destructive] ful likely to a [have] brent the parysch church dedicate in the honowr of seynt Margarete, a solempne place and rychely honowryd, and also al the town, ne had grace ne miracle ne ben. The seyd creatur being ther present and seyng the perel and myschef [plight] of al the towne, cryed ful lowde many tymes that day and wept ful habundawntly, preyng for grace and mercy to alle the pepil. And, notwythstondyng in other tymes thei myth not enduren hir to cryen and wepyn for the plentyvows grace that owr Lord wrowt in hir, as this 46 1. Voices from the Past day for enchewyng [eschewing] of her [their] bodily perel thei myth suffyr hir to cryen and wepyn as mech as evyr sche wolde, and no man wolde byddyn hir cesyn [cease] but rather preyn hir of contynuacyon, ful trustyng and belevyng that thorw hir crying and wepyng owr Lord wolde takyn hem to mercy. Than cam hir confessor to hir and askyd yyf it wer best to beryn [carry] the Sacrament to the fyer er not. Sche seyd, 'Yys, ser, yys, for owr Lord Jesu Crist telde me it shal be ryth wel.' So hir confessor, parisch preste of seynt Margaretys cherche, toke the precyows Sacrament and went beforn the fyer as devowtly as he cowde and sithyn browt it in ageyn to the cherche, and the sparkys of the fyer fleyn abowte the church. The seyd creatur, desiring to folwyn the precyows Sacrament to the fyre, went owt at the church-dor, and, as sone as sche beheld the hedows flawme of the fyr, anon sche cryed wyth lowed voys and gret wepyng, 'Good Lorde, make it wel.' Thes wordys wrowt in hir mende inasmeche as owr Lord had seyd to hir beforn that he shulde makyn it wel, and therfor sche cryed, 'Good Lord, make it wel and sende down sum reyn er sum wedyr [storm] that may thorw thi mercy qwenchyn this fyer and esen myn hert.' Sithyn sche went ageyne into the church, and than sche beheld how the sparkys comyn into the qwer [choir] thorw the lantern of the cherch. Than had sche a newe sorwe and cryed ful lowde ageyn for grace and mercy wyth gret plente of terys. Sone aftyr, comyn in to hir thre worschepful men wyth whyte snow on her clothys, seying unto hir, 'Lo, Margery, God hath wrowt gret grace for us and sent us a feyr snowe to qwenchyn wyth the fyr. Beth now of good cher and thankyth God therfor.'

xliv) A Woman who was Out of her Mind 71
As the seyd creatur was in a chirch of seynt Margaret to sey hur devocyons, ther cam a man knelyng at hir bak, wryngyng hys handys and schewyng tokenys of gret hevynes. Sche, parceyvyng hys hevynes, askyd what hym eylyd. He seyd it stod ryth hard wyth hym, for hys wyfe was newly delyveryd of a childe and sche was owt hir mende. 'And, dame,' he seyth, 'sche knowyth not me ne non of hir neyborys. Sche roryth and cryith so that sche makith folk evyl afeerd [terribly 47 D. Popular Religion afraid]. Sche wyl bothe smytyn and bityn, and therfor is sche manykyld [manacled] on hir wristys.' Than askyd sche the man yyf he wolde that sche went wyth hym and sawe hir, and he seyd, 'Ya, dame, for Goddys lofe.' So sche went forth wyth hym to se the woman. And, whan sche cam into the hows, as sone as the seke woman that was alienyd of hir witte saw hir, sche spak to hir sadly [soberly] and goodly and seyd sche was ryth welcome to hir. And sche was ryth glad of hir comyng and gretly comfortyd be hir presens, 'For ye arn', sche seyd, 'a ryth good woman, and I beheld many fayr awngelys abowte yow, and therfor, I pray yow, goth not fro me, for I am gretly comfortyd be yow.' And, whan other folke cam to hir, sche cryid and gapyd as sche wolde an [have] etyn hem and seyd that sche saw many develys abowtyn hem. Sche wolde not suffyrn hem to towchyn hir be hyr good wyl. Sche roryd and cryid so bothe nyth and day for the most part that men wolde not suffyr hir to dwellyn amongys hem, sche was so tediows to hem. Than was sche had to the forthest ende of the town into a chambyr that the pepil shulde not heryn hir cryin. And ther was sche bowndyn handys and feet with chenys of iron that sche shulde smytyn nobody. And the seyd creatur went to hir iche day onys er twyis at the lest wey [at least], and, whyl sche was wyth hir, sche was meke anow [enough] and herd hir spekyn and dalyin [converse] wyth good wil wythowtyn any roryng er crying. And the syd creatur preyid for this woman every day that God shulde, yyf it were hys wille, restoryn hir to hir wittys ageyn. And owr Lord answeryd in hir sowle and seyd, 'Sche shulde faryn ryth wel.' Than was sche mor bolde to preyin for hir recuryng [recovery] than sche was beforn, and iche day, wepyng and sorwyng, preyid for hir recur tyl God yaf hir hir witte and hir mende ayen [again] …

xlv) A Conversation with Christ 72
… Than answeryd owr Lord to hir and seyd, 'I prey the, dowtyr, yeve me not ellys but lofe. Thou maist nevyr plesyn me bettyr than havyn me evyr in thi lofe, ne tho shalt nevyr in no penawns that thu mayst do in erth plesyn me so meche as for to lovyn me. And, dowtyr, yyf thu wilt ben hey in hevyn wyth me, kepe me alwey in thi mende as meche as thu mayst and foryete me not at thi mete [mealtimes], but think alwey 48 1. Voices from the Past that I sitte in thin hert and knowe every thowt that is therin, bothe good and ylle, and that I parceyve the lest thynkyng and twynkelyng of thyn eye.' Sche seyd ayen [in reply] to owr Lord, 'Now trewly, Lord, I wolde I cowed lovyn the as mych as thu mythist [might] makyn me to lovyn the. Yyf it wer possible, I wolde lovyn the as wel as alle the seyntus in hevyn lovyn the and as wel as alle the creaturys in erth myth lovyn the. And I wolde, Lord, for thi lofe be leyd nakyd on an hyrdil, 73 alle men to wondryn on me for thi love, so it wer no perel to her [their] sowlys, and thei to castyn slory and slugge on me, and be drawyn fro town to town every day my lyfetyme, yyf thu wer plesyd therby and no mannys sowle hyndryd, thi wil mote be fulfillyd and not myn.'

xlvi) Margery's Own Tale 74
Accused before the Archbishop of York of preaching, she defiantly announces 'I preche not, ser, I come in no pulpytt. I use but comownycacion and good wordys …'. But a 'doctor' present says she told him 'the werst talys of prestys that evyr I herde'; the Archbishop commands her to tell the tale.
Sir, with yowr reverens, I spake but of o [one] preste be the maner of exampyl, the which as I have lernyd went wil [wandering] in a wode thorw the sufferawns of God for the profite of his sowle tyl the nygth cam upon hym. He, destitute of hys herborwe [lodging], fond a fayr erber [arbor] in the which he restyd that nyght, having a fayr pertre [pear-tree] in the myddys al floreschyd wyth flowerys and belschyd [embellished], and blomys ful delectabil to hys sight, wher cam a bere, gret and boistows [rough], hogely to beheldyn, schakyng the pertre and fellyng down the flowerys. Gredily this grevows best ete and devowryd tho fayr flowerys, and, whan he had etyn hem, turning hys tayl-ende in the prestys presens, voydyd hem owt ageyn at the hy[nd]yr party. The preste, having gret abhominacyon of that lothly sight, conceyvyng gret hevynes [sorrow] for dowte what it myth mene, on the next day he wandrid forth in his wey al hevy and pensife, whom [and to him] it fortunyd to metyn wyth a semly agydd man lych to a palmyr or a pilgrim, the whiche enqwiryd of the 49 D. Popular Religion preste the cawse of hys hevynes. The preste, rehersyng the mater befornwretyn, seyd he conceyvyd gret drede and hevynes whan he beheld that lothly best defowlyn and devowryn so fayr flowerys and blomys and afterward so horrybely to devoydyn hem befor hym at hys tayl-ende, and he not undirstondyng what this myth mene. Than the palmyr, schewyng hymselfe the massanger of God, thus aresond [addressed] hym, 'Preste, thu thiself art the pertre, sumdel [to some degree] florischyng and floweryng thorw thi servyse seyyng and the sacramentys ministryng, thow thu do undevowtly, for thu takyst ful lytyl heede how thu seyst thi mateynes and thi servyse, so it be blaberyd [babbled] to an ende. Than gost thu to thi Messe wythowtyn devocyon, and for thi synne hast thu ful lityl contricyon. Thu receyvyst ther the frute of evyrlestyng lyfe, the sacrament of the awter, in ful febyl disposicyon. Sithen [then], al the day aftyr thu myssespendist thi tyme: thu yevist the [give yourself] to bying and selling, chopping and chongyng, as it wer a man of the world. Thu sittyst at the ale, yevyng the to glotonye and excesse, to lust of thy body, thorw letchery and unclennesse. Thu brekyst the commawndmentys of God thorw sweryng, lying, detraccyon, and swech other synnes usyng. Thus be thy mysgovernawns, lych onto the lothly ber, thu devowryst and destroist the flowerys and blomys of vertuows levyng to thyn endles dampnacyon and many mannys hyndryng lesse than [unless] thu have grace of repentawns and amending.' Than the Erchebisshop likyd wel the tale and comendyd it, seying it was a good tale. And the clerk which had examynd hir befortyme in the absens of the Erchebischop, seyd, 'Ser, this tale smytyth me to the hert.'

Ballads
The question of 'medieval ballads' has excited much heated discussion, which sadly seems to have led to a recent neglect, with the result that they are often not thought of as belonging to medieval literature. The discussion has been blighted by the presence lurking in its background of two opposed and extreme views: 1) an ahistorical sense that ballads are somehow 'timeless' and 2) its opposite, a fiercely historicist view that since they are the product of a particular time and place they should be 'dated' at or very close to the time at which they are recorded. Objections can be raised against both extremes: some ballads recorded in relatively modern times seem certainly to be ancient, but questions of time and place are always there. The ballad of 'Johnnie Armstrong' (Child 169,recorded in the seventeenth century) presumably dates from soon after the death by summary execution of that Border reiver in c. 1530, although ballads with a similar type of story could well have existed. On the other hand, there is evidence that some ballads were in existence before they were 'recorded'. And the stories of some ballads seem to be very ancient, existing sometimes in differing literary forms. Child,discussing 'Tam Lin' (no. 39, recorded in a volume printed 1792) mentions a Cretan fairy tale (recorded even later), with a very similar plot, and points out a similarity with the pre-Homeric story of the forced marriage of Thetis with Peleus in Apollodorus, 1 remarking that 1 Probably in the Bibliotheke, Pseudo-Apollodorus (1st or 2nd century AD); see OCCL (and for the story).
such a long period of (possible) transmission will not seem unlikely 'to those who bear in mind the tenacity of tradition among people who have never known books'.
At this point some rough definition or description of the term 'ballad' will be useful: as, perhaps, a poem which tells a story, designed for singing or reciting (characteristically in stanzaic form), often short or shortish. The story, usually of a single action, is exciting or unusual and the teller normally concentrates on the crucial or dramatic situations or events. The method of narrative is 'impersonal'. It is simple, direct, and straightforward, making much use of direct speech and of emphatic narrative techniques (repetitions and recapitulations, and the technique of 'leaping and lingering'). 2 The narrator does not psychologise, or analyse the events in depth; the story exists for its own sake. This rough definition echoes those offered by experts in ballad studies, but is deliberately wider -to escape the problem raised by some definitions, of depending exclusively on the excellent Scottish 'border ballads' in Child's collection.
Two points require a little further annotation: 1) The question of length. least the possibility of performance in a series of stages or sittings. It is arguable that even these passages of longer narrative still maintain a sense of an essential brevity. But it is possible that Adam Bell, like the Gest, was made from pre-existing stories of adventures, and its style is similar to that of some popular romances. 'Ballads' and 'romances' are not always clearly distinguished in early accounts: see, for example, the hostile remark in Puttenham's Arte of English Poesie (from the later sixteenth century) on the 'small and popular musickes' sung by the 'cantabanqui … or else by blind harpers or suchlike tavern minstrels that give a fit of mirth for a groat, and their matters being for the most part stories of old time, as the tale of Sir Topas, the reports of Bevis of Southampton, Guy of Warwicke, Adam Bell and Clymme of the Clough and such other old romances or historicall Rimes …'.
2) The word 'impersonal' may also mislead. A reader or hearer may well feel that they have no difficulty in identifying good characters and evil ones, and, moreover, can point to explicit statements of approval or disapproval -as in the exclamation directed against the treacherous 'old wyfe' in Adam Bell: 'Evel mote she spede therefore!' However, such moments seem to arise from the story itself and the way it is told -the reactions of a narrator in performance rather than from the conscious artifice of the original 'author' who first put the story together. He and his 'personality' or 'individuality' remain hidden from sight. We are aware of the presence of the narrator, but not usually of the person who first put the story together, and certainly not of his personality or individuality. Hence Kittredge's words seem quite sensible: 'a ballad has no author. At all events it appears to have none.' 5 We must not underestimate the importance of performance: these poems were meant to be heard rather than read. And, to judge from the famous remark of Sidney, 'I never heard the old song of Percy and Douglas that I found not my heart moved more than with a trumpet; and yet it is sung by some blind crowder [fiddler] with no rougher vice than rude style', 6 they could move their audience.
To the question 'were there any medieval English ballads, or balladlike poems?' the answer is a fairly firm yes. That the evidence of our written records is fragmentary and apparently erratic does not necessarily indicate that the material was not there. The age of enthusiastic antiquarian collectors of traditional ballads was still to come. To be 'collected' in the Middle Ages a ballad might be seen as useful for religious instruction or sermon (as is possible with Judas, or Saint Stephen), or perhaps for personal use, sometimes because of personal taste or simple chance. Sixteenth-century printers seem to have identified a popular taste for 'outlaw ballads'. Above all, we must not underestimate the power of popular memory, 'the tenacity of tradition among people who have never known books.' 7 Our selection here tries to illustrate this in its arrangement: A) 'early texts', from the thirteenth to the sixteenth century; B) from the seventeenth-century PFMS -a collection whose narrow escape from destruction illustrates the fragility of our surviving corpus. 8 And C) a few 'modern' examples, which may have connections with medieval poems (chosen from a potentially long list, although in many cases the 'transmission' remains obscure). 9 This problem occurs also in the case of apparent allusions to particular ballads. For example, in the midsixteenth century Complaynt of Scotland 'the tayl of the yong Tamlene' is mentioned, as is 'Thom of Lyn', a dance. 10 These references, together with a couple in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, suggest very strongly that the story of the ballad of Tam Lin was known well before the text of 1792, but do not tell us about its forms or style. The remains of the early ballads and ballad-like poems, although of great interest, may now seem fragmentary or scanty, but this can be misleading. The total corpus could well have been much more extensive: we may suspect that there were more 'religious ballads', and probably more 'battle ballads' (on battles such as Harlaw, Agincourt, and Flodden, 11 or less well-known encounters); we know that there were many Robin Hood ballads beside those which appeared in manuscript or print.

A. Medieval and Early Modern Ballads
It seems very probable that the oral tradition continued alongside the 'popular' tradition, presumably with overlaps, borrowings and 'donations' between them. And it would be deeply misleading to think of all this as something totally fixed and static. The scene was probably one of constant movement, with ballads moving between the traditions, ballads constantly developing, being retold and revised, and new ones created. 12

A. Medieval and Early Modern Ballads i) Judas 13
This poem, found in a thirteenth-century manuscript (a preacher's book), is often called the first recorded English ballad, although there have been dissenting voices, expressing doubts about its earliness and its apparent isolation. In fact it may not be totally isolated: the manuscript contains some (possibly) comparable narrative poems, called by the manuscript's editor Karl Reichl 'geistliche Spielmannsdichtung'. 14 These, the legend of Saint Margaret and a poem on the Three Kings, have something of the rapidity of narrative found in Judas. The matter of the poem comes from the extensive legendary material which surrounded the figure of Judas -attempts, perhaps, to explain if not exonerate his horrendous act of treachery. Child mentions a Wendish ballad in which he lost thirty pieces of silver gambling with the Jews, and then follows their suggestion that he sell his master for them. Judas seems to have so many of the characteristics of later ballads -rapid, abrupt transitions, repetitions, the action carried by dialogue, impersonality -that it is almost impossible not to call it a ballad.

ii) Saint Stephen and Herod
This poem is found in an early fifteenth-century manuscript, a collection of songs and carols. 15 It is a pious legend; the same miracle as in the 'Carnal [crow] and the Crane' (Child 55, recorded in Sandys Christmas Carols, 1833) but probably more ancient: there it is associated with the Three Kings and the adoration of a lion. This poem also has significant features: a dramatic style, an impersonal question and answer pattern, and perhaps a hint of incremental repetition ('in kyng Herowdes halle'). Although religious ballads are not frequent in Child's collection, it seems likely that in the Middle Ages they were more numerous. For another ballad recorded in the fifteenth century, see the riddle ballad The Devil and the Maid; and the PFMS King John

iii) The Battle of Otterburn 16
Recorded in a mid-sixteenth century manuscript; the battle took place in 1388. It is an example of a 'battle ballad'. The reference in the Complaynt of Scotland (also mid-sixteenth) to 'The Perssee and the Mongumrye met' may be from this version, or from the Hunting of the Cheviot or from an independent Scottish poem, now lost. This version seems to be firmly English. It has the characteristics of what seems to have been a well-liked type of ballad: an exciting narrative with much dialogue. It has some moments of genuine excitement, such as the cry of the Scottish knight, 'Awaken Dowglas!', culminating in a personalised battle between two chivalric heroes. According to Froissart, Otterburn was 'the hardest and most obstinate battle that was ever fought.' 17

A. Medieval and Early Modern Ballads
The ballad is long (280 lines, 70 stanzas). Our extract (stanzas 9-25, vv. 33-100; most of the first fytte) gives the run-up to the battle and its beginning. The Scots had assembled a large army, divided into two parts: the main force towards west Carlisle; the other, under the command of James Douglas and other Scottish nobles, to Newcastle, which they attacked. Douglas marched to Otterburn. The English gathered a great army and marched there. Although superior in numbers, the English were defeated. Sir Henry Percy was captured, and Douglas killed. This fine outlaw ballad survives in a print by William Copland (c.1560).
There are fragments of an earlier printing by John Byddell (1536), a later edition (1605) by James Roberts, and a copy in PFMS. These, with other references in the sixteenth century, suggest that it circulated widely in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Other references indicate its popularity well before the Copland print: the names of the three outlaws appear (satirically) along with those of Robin Hood and others in a Parliament Roll for Wiltshire, 19 far to the south of Cumbria, where the story is set and may have originated. An even earlier reference is probably that to 'Allan Bell', an archer in Dunbar's poem on Sir Thomas Norny. 20 The ballad seems designed to be read aloud. It has the traditional characteristics: sudden use of direct speech ('Thys nyght is come unto thys town Wyllyam of Cloudesle'), moments of dramatic intensity, and a certain impersonality -Cloudesly besieged in his house is like a scene from an Icelandic saga. But its narrative style is more relaxed than that of the shorter ballads, and it sometimes reads like a popular romance -and that makes it easier for a modern reader to read it 'on the page'.
Women have a more significant role than in the Robin Hood ballads. 21 It is tempting to speculate that it may have something of the encyclopedic tendency seen in the Gest of Robyn Hode to incorporate everything known to the maker about the outlaws' life, even to the inclusion of Cloudesly's display of his already proven skill in archery in the 'Wilhelm Tell feat' (which is made into a little 'pitous' scene). But as it stands the poem reads well, and it must have been exciting to listen to. Many a man to the grounde they threwe, And made many an herte colde.
But whan theyr arowes were all gone.
Men presyd on them full fast; They drewe theyr swerdes than anone,º at once And theyr bowes from them caste.
They wente lightlyº on theyr waye, quickly With swerdes and buckelers rounde; By that it was the myddes of the daye, They had made many a wounde.
There was many an oute-horn in Carlyll blowne 24 And the belles backwarde dyd they rynge; Many a woman sayd alas, And many theyr hands dyd wrynge. In Inglewood, Cloudesly is reunited with Alice and his children.
The outlaws decide to go to the king to obtain a charter of peace. The queen pleads for mercy to be shown to them, and the king somewhat reluctantly agrees. Messengers arrive with news of the carnage they have caused in the north, but the king has now given his word ('I wyll se these felowes shote, That in the north have wrought this wo'), and they give a demonstration, with Cloudesly performing the feat of shooting an apple on the head of his seven-year-old son. The king and the queen give them offices at court; the three go to Rome to be absolved of their sins, they return to stay with the king, and die good men all three: 'Thus endeth the lyves of these good yemen, God sende them eternall blysse, And all that with hand-bowe shoteth, That of heven they may never mysse!' B. Poems from PFMS

v) A Gest of Robyn Hode 25
Of all the outlaw ballads and stories, the tales of Robin Hood and his companions and enemies seem to have been the most popular. Robin Hood remains an elusive figure. The careful and informative work of medieval historians has not so far produced a historical prototype satisfactory to everyone. 26 The earliest reference seems to be the 'Robehod fugitivus' (possibly a nickname) in a Berkshire document of 1262. 27 The surviving medieval stories do not help us with information about his origins: he is a 'yeoman', but we are not told the reasons for his outlawry; he seems to exist, fully formed, as the outlaw hero. 'Rhymes of Robin Hood' are alluded to by Langland in the later fourteenth century. The stories sometimes furnished the plots for folk plays. 28 They clearly existed in large numbers; in spite of great losses we have a small but varied group of surviving texts. 29 Of these the longest and most ambitious work is the Gest of Robyn Hode, which survives only in printed versions and some fragments. 30 Modern editions are usually based on the Antwerp edition, supplemented by Wynkyn de Worde's. It is a long poem (456 stanzas) almost certainly based on earlier Robin Hood ballads, probably put together in the mid-fifteenth century as a 'ballad-romance', a popular epic, or a 'long ballad' as found in some European examples, or in Adam Bell. Three stories are woven together: the adventures of Robin Hood with a knight, with the sheriff of Nottingham, and with the king. Our extract, the third 'fytte', tells how Robin's follower Little John tricked the sheriff and delivered him to Robin.
Fytte 1 briefly introduces Robin Hood and some of his men in Barnsdale (Yorks). Little John, remarking 'It is fer dayes, God sende us a gest, That we were at oure dynere!', is sent with two companions to Watling Street, to find some unknown guest who can be invited to dinner (for which he will pay). They meet a sorrowful knight: 'All dreri was his semblaunce, He rode in simple aray; A soriar man than he was one Rode never in somer day.' He is brought to Robin in the wood, and The botelerº was full uncurteys, butler There he stode on flore.
He start to the botery And shet fast the dore.   Nowe hathe the sherif sworne his othe, And home he began to gone -He was as full of grene wode As ever was hepeº of stone.

hip 33
In fytte 4 Robin is still waiting for his money: 'I drede Our Lady be wroth with me, For she sent me nat my pay'. Little John is sent up to Watling Street to find 'some unknown guest'. He finds two black monks from the abbey and their retinue. One is taken to Robin. He has never heard of Mary as a 'borowe', but Robin tells him that he is her messenger. He says that he has only twenty marks, but Little John's checking reveals eight hundred pounds and more: 'Our Lady hath doubled your cast [throw, outlay]', he remarks to Robin. Now the knight arrives with his four hundred pounds. Robin tells him to keep it and use it well: 'Our Lady by her selerer Hath sent to me my pay.' The following Fyttes relate the other stories of Robin's adventures, ending with his brief stay in the king's court, his return to the greenwood, and his death. Sir Aldingar is the treacherous steward of the king. He desires to sleep with the queen, but she rejects him. In anger 'he sought what meanes he cold find out, In a fyer to have her brent.' A blind and lame leper is placed on the queen's bed, and Aldingar tells the king that it is the queen's new love. The queen laments and describes a dream she has had: a griffin carried her crown away and would have forced her into his nest, but a merlin came flying from the east and killed it. She asks for a champion to fight for her: one must be found within forty days or else she will be burnt. One messenger can find no-one, and the other only a little child, who 'seemed noe more in a mans likenesse Then a child of four yeeres old.' He sends the messenger back with a greeting for the queen, and a message to remember her dream: 'When bale is att hyest, boote is att next.' 36 The queen is gladdened, but is put into a tun ready to be burnt. The little child comes riding out of the east, and demands that Aldingar be brought. And love her as thou shold, Thy wiffe shee is as true to thee As stone that lies on the castle wall.'

vii) Glasgerion 38
Used by Percy in the Reliques; 39 Chaucer mentions 'the Bret Glascurion' among the harpers in his House of Fame (v. 1208). He seems to be the Welsh tenth-century Y Bardd Glas Keraint, the Blue [i.e. chief] Bard Geraint, of whom little is known. He may well be the Glasgerion of the ballad. His harping skill is described at the beginning of the ballad; in a later Scottish ballad collected from the recitation of an old woman (Robert Jamieson's Popular Ballads and Songs from Tradition, 1806, Child's version B) the harper, there called Glenkindie, was the 'best harper That ever harpd on a string … He'd harpit a fish out o saut water, Or water out o a stane, Or milk out o a maiden's breast, That bairn had never nane'.
Glasgerion is a king's son and an excellent harper. The king's daughter of Normandy is so moved by his playing that she invites him to her bower when men are at rest. He tells his boy, Jack, of this, and Jack tells him to sleep and he will awaken him before cockcrow … [vv. 33-96] … But upp then rose that litherº ladd, wicked And did on hose and shoone, A coller he cast upon his necke, Hee seemed a gentleman, And when he came to that ladies chamber, He thrild upon a pinn,º rattled the door-pin The lady was true of her promise, Rose up and let him in.
He did not take the lady gay To boulster nor to bed, But downe upon her chamber flore Ful soone he hath her layd. 38 PFMS vol. i,p. 246

C. Some Later Ballads
Some ballads recorded in later times which possibly have some link with medieval tales or ballads. The list is a long one, and the connections are often uncertain.

viii) Fair Annie 40
The story behind this Scottish ballad, recorded in Scott's 'Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border' (1802) and Robert Jamieson's 'Popular Ballads and Songs from Tradition' (1806), seems to be somehow related to that of Marie de France's Lai le Freine, in which twins are separated soon after birth. One is a foundling, left with only a rich robe (compare Emaré in our chapter Romances, iii) and a ring. She grows up to be a gentle and patient woman. She is loved by a knight, but when he is persuaded to marry he chooses a nobly born lady, who is in fact Freine's twin. Freine is in the hall when the bride arrives, but thanks to the robe and the ring is 'recognised', and marries the knight herself. This lai was translated into Middle English in the fourteenth century, but survives only in an incomplete form: the recognition scene and the denouement are lost. A Scandinavian ballad exists in Danish and Swedish, and there are versions in Dutch and German. The Scottish ballad begins with Annie's lord informing her that he is going across the sea to bring home 'a braw bride'; Annie, who has borne him seven sons, welcomes the new bride, but laments bitterly … … When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a' men bound to bed,

Lord Thomas and his new come bride
To their chamber they ere gaed.º  But thanks to a' the powers in heaven That I gae maiden hame!'

ix) The Three Ravens
Child no. 26. Recorded in 1611, it was apparently very popular, but is now less well known than the generally similar 'Twa Corbies' (in Scott's 'Minstrelsy'). See also 'The New-Slain Knight' (Child no. 263). A perhaps remote resemblance to the image of the wounded knight, in the enigmatic Corpus Christi Carol, has been suggested; 41 and it is possible that famous poem is a 'religious' version derived from a ballad of a slain knight such as this.
There were three ravens sat on a tree.

Downe a downe, hay down, hay downe
There were three ravens sat on a tree,

With a downe
There were three ravens sat on a tree, They were as blacke as they might be, With a downe derrie, derrie, derrie, downe, downe. Downe there comes a fallow doe, As great with yong as she might goe.

She lift up his bloudy hed,
And kist his wounds that were so red.
She got him up upon her backe, And carried him to earthen lake.º pit She buried him before the prime, She was dead herselfe ere evensong time.
God send every gentleman, Such haukes, such hounds, and such a leman.

x) Thomas the Rhymer 42
Child no. 37; the best known version is that of Mrs Brown in the early nineteenth century. The ballad has some intriguingly close parallels with the late medieval English romance Thomas of Erceldoune: see our chapter Romances (ix). Even older than Mrs Brown's, and even closer to the romance is Child's version C from Scott's 'Materials for the Border Minstrelsy': Mrs Greenwood (1806) 'from the recitation of her mother and aunt, both of them then over 60, who learnt it in childhood from a very old woman, at Longnewton, near Jedburgh.' Thomas  See that a weel-learned man ye be; For they will ask ye one and all, But ye maunº answer nane but me.

must
And when nae answer they obtain, Then will they come and question me, And I will answer them againº in reply That I gat yere aithº at the Eildon tree.
oath Ilkaº seven years, Thomas, every We pay our teindingsº unto hell, tithings And ye're sae leesomeº and sae strang pleasing That I fear, Thomas, it will be yeresell.'º yourself Chapter 3

Romances
The romance is one of the most important and distinctive literary forms in the Middle Ages. 'Romance' is a French word, and as a literary form it developed in French courts and literary circles; although the antecedents of medieval romance go back to the Greek romance. 1 French romances could certainly be genuinely 'courtly', as in the twelfth-century poems of Chrétien de Troyes, but they were not all an exclusively élite form of literature: underneath the elegant narratives we can sometimes discern folktale patterns and motifs. Marie de France says that some of her sophisticated lais are related to ancient Breton stories. Even in medieval France we begin to feel that 'courtly' and 'popular' are terms which do not denote totally self-contained and mutually exclusive categories but, rather more vaguely, points on a continuous spectrum. This seems even more likely when we turn to Middle English romance, where many examples have survived, quite a few of them from French originals.
There is here a substantial body of what is commonly called 'popular' romance, probably one step away from the lost orally transmitted (sometimes orally created) romances of the minstrels, sometimes inheriting or imitating their stylistic patterns like a formulaic but expressive diction. Chaucer's own tale of Sir Thopas is a brilliant burlesque of popular romances. It has a number of their common characteristics: division into 'fits' or sections each beginning with a call 1 For example, the story of Apollonius of Tyre. Similar 'romance-type' tales are found around the world. to attention; sudden, sometimes melodramatic, events and adventures (here involving an 'elfqueene' and a giant, Sir Olifaunt); very simple formulaic diction. Chaucer's burlesque produces a narrative which is exquisitely awful, and is broken off by the Host with a remark about doggerel. However, the burlesque is not completely destructive. The popular romances and their shortcomings are lost to sight in a cloud of joyously impossible comedy. We are left with the strong feeling that Chaucer secretly loved these romances: he certainly has a detailed knowledge of them, and alludes to several (for example, Guy of Warwick). And in fact, most of the surviving popular romances are not as awful as Sir Thopas. They show distinct signs of literary quality, and the whole corpus reveals a remarkable variety. Some would find a place at one end or other of our spectrum. Emaré, with its repetitions and formulae, seems close to the 'oral' pole, whereas one has to look very closely at the Auchinleck copy of Sir Orfeo in order to see the formulae, which have been skilfully worked into a polished narrative style. Again in popular romances we find echoes of folktale motifs and patterns: Cinderellatype stories, for instance. Some have connections with later ballads (though the details of any connection often remain mysterious); and the occasional romance in quatrains, like The Knight of Curtesy (which uses the legend of the 'eaten heart') 2 or Thomas of Erceldoune (clearly related to Thomas the Rhymer), sometimes sound like long ballads. Like the early outlaw ballads (see Chapter 2), most of these romances have a direct, formulaic and expressive style, often more impressive in the hearing, rather than in reading on the page. Typically, too, most share a liking for simple stanza forms, like couplets or the common twelve-line tailrhyme stanza.
In order to illustrate briefly the variety of this extensive body of literature, I have decided to opt for extracts -two longer ones from Havelok and Sir Orfeo, romances admired by critics -and a series of shorter examples from less well-known works, which illustrate their treatment of individual scenes or dramatic moments in the narrative (many of them showing mortals in eerie and perilous situations). Adventures are an important and central feature of the romance, whether sophisticated and 'literary' or 'popular'. i) Havelok

i) Havelok
A romance of just over three thousand lines, written probably in the late thirteenth century, or possibly at the beginning of the fourteenth. Havelock story material was in circulation earlier: in the Anglo-Norman chronicler Gaimar's Estoire (c. 1135-40)  ii) Sir Orfeo 5 The story of Orpheus and Eurydice was a favourite in the Middle Ages. The happy ending given to it here is not unique. Possibly Celtic stories also lie in the background (cf. the Irish tale of the Wooing of Etainn), 6 and stories of the recovery of mortals from the otherworld or of those taken by the fairies. 7 The Middle English romance was probably written in the later thirteenth century or the early fourteenth. This story, and other popular Orpheus stories, lived on -into a Scottish romance and a Shetland ballad recorded in the nineteenth century (Child No. 19). There is a reference to a French 'lai d'Orphey', but this has not survived. This romance is remarkable for its sensitivity to human emotion, its insistence on the virtues of faithfulness and courage, and its narrative skill. For all its literary art, it has many of the characteristics of popular romance. Interestingly, though Orfeo is a 'heigh lording', he is also a minstrel (we are given some details of performance in vv. 25 ff, 267 ff, 361 ff).
(a) Orfeo, a king and a great harper, is married to the beautiful Heurodis.
One day at the beginning of May she goes out with her maidens, and falls asleep under a tree. When she awakes she shows signs of a terrible distress. Taken back to her chamber, she describes how in her sleep she was visited by a large company of mysterious knights and ladies, and was commanded by their king to return to the tree on the following day; if she offers any resistance she will be torn apart, and still carried off. The next day Orfeo with a body of men escorts her to the tree. For example, the first story from Walter Map,above. 8 In Sands, the passage is vv. 195-306; there is a 'prologue' printed in some editions, which explains the differing line-numbers. But the passages are easy to identify, whichever edition the reader consults. ii) Sir Orfeo Acº neither to other a word no speke.
but For messais that sche on him seiye That had ben so riche and so heiye, The teres fel out of her eiye.
The other levedis this yseiye.
And maked hir oway to ride; Sche most with him no lenger abide. Disguised as a minstrel 'of poor life' he takes Heurodis with him back to his own city. He plays before the steward, who recognises his harp. He reveals his identity, is restored to his kingdom, and after his death the faithful steward becomes king.

iii) Emaré
A simple romance, with direct style, repetitions, and formulae, perhaps suggesting it is not too far removed from oral storytelling; but one which it is easy to underestimate. With its symmetrical plot it tells a 'pitous' story of a suffering woman, a calumniated queen. It is a 'test' story; it has similarities with the Constance story (Chaucer' Egaré/Emaré. Another letter is substituted, saying that her offspring was a devil. The king laments, but sends a letter saying that she should be well cared for. This too is intercepted by his mother and replaced with another saying that she should be cast out on the sea with her child and her splendid robe. The steward is unable to prevent this, and the two are cast adrift. [vv. 637-708] Then was ther sorrow and myche woo, When the lady to shype shuldeº go; had to They wepte and wronge her hondus.
The lady that was meke and mylde In her arme she bar her chylde, And toke leve of the londe.
When she wente ynto the see There came an ape to seke hur pray; 13 In Six Middle English Romances (ed. Mills). iv) Octavian Hur oon chylde sche bare away On an hye hylle.
The ape bar the chylde hur fro! In swownyng downe sche felle.
In all the sorowe that sche in was, And when the lyenas hungurd sore, Sche ete of the gryffyn more, That afore was stronge and wyght.
As hyt was Goddes owne wylle, The lyenas belafteº the chylde style:º left at peace The chylde was feyre and bright.
The lady sett hur on a stone, Besyde the welle and made hur mone As a wofull wyght.º creature [After many adventures, the brothers, now proven warriors, are reunited and the mother-in-law is burnt.]

v) Sir Gowther
This romance, dated around 1375 in Mills, 14 is a version of the widespread legend of Robert the Devil, in which a young child, begotten by a devil, finds salvation after a disorderly and sinful youth.
A duke and his wife have been married for ten years, but have no child. In desperation the wife prays for a child by any means … [vv. 58-81]  The boy, Gowther, grows up to be a very strong and very 'wild' young man who terrorises everyone in the neighbourhood. His supposed father dies of sorrow. When he is called 'a devil's son' by an earl, Gowther forces his mother to tell the story of his conception. He goes to Rome, and begins a life of penitence as 'Hob the Fool'. He rescues the emperor's daughter from the Saracens, is recognised by her, and marries her. He is absolved by the Pope, becomes the ruler of Almayne, and is venerated as a saint.

vi) Chevelere Assigne 15
A fourteenth-century century romance in alliterative long lines. It is a version of the Swan-Knight legend (cf. Lohengrin, the son of Parzival in German romance); though it is not here associated, as it often was from the late twelfth century, with the name of Godfrey of Bouillon, one of the leaders of the First Crusade.
An episode in which the innocent young knight Enyas (Helyas, in other Middle English stories) is instructed in the art and method of single combat. The scene is treated with a touching and attractive comedy (as in some scenes in the English William of Palerne). 16 Bewtrys (Beatrice), wife of king Oriens of Lyon, is delivered of six sons and a daughter, born simultaneously, each with a silver chain around the neck. Her wicked mother-in-law, Matabryne, orders her man Markus to drown the children, but out of pity he spares them and leaves them in the forest, where they are reared by a hermit. But Malkedras, a wicked forester, sees them, and tells Matabryne who sends him to kill them and bring her the silver rings from their necks. He finds six children; the seventh, Enyas, has gone into the forest with the hermit in search of food. When the chains are cut, the six children become swans, and fly to a nearby river. Matabryne wishes that Beatrice should be burnt, but the young Enyas offers to fight on her behalf: he must do battle with Malkedras. [vv. 287-313] A knyghte kawghte hym by the honde, and ladde hym of the rowte.
'What beeste is this,' quod the child, 'that I shall on hove?'º ride 'Hit is called an hors,' quod the knyghte, 'a good and an abull.'º useful

viii) Sir Lambewell 20
Marie de France's lai of Lanval survives in two Middle English versions: Sir Landevale (early fourteenth century) and Thomas Chestre's Sir Launfal (later fourteenth). The former lives on in two popular versions. Sir Lambewell (632 lines, in PFMS) ia a good example of popular romance, which has probably passed through a series of copyists and retellers.
Lambewell is a young knight at Arthur's court who is far from home and who has spent much of his wealth. In his distress he is helped by a fairy mistress, who in typical fashion imposes a taboo: he must not reveal her to anyone. But, taunted by Guinevere, he does. He is no longer visited by his mistress, and he is accused of slandering the queen. But just before the judges speak, his beautiful mistress rides into the town, with a sparrowhawk on her hand, and three white greyhounds running beside her … [vv. 523-38 & 600-30]

ix) Thomas of Erceldoune 21
This fifteenth-century romance has very clear similarities with the ballad of Thomas the Rhymer (see our chapter Ballads, no. x), but the nature of the relationship is not certain. Many scholars have thought that the ballad is derived from the romance, but recently it has been argued that the romance has itself been formed from earlier tales or possibly ballads (which may have lived on separately). Certainly, the romance has some unusual features: the first-person narrative at the beginning, the unusual quatrain form and the relative lack of 'story'. It ends with a long series of prophecies, but these may well have been added later. He is commanded to speak only to her when he is in her lord's castle. Thomas stands still and looks at her. She is once more 'fayre and gude', riding on her palfrey with her hounds; she leads him to the castle, where he sees ladies making music, knights dancing, and feasting: there was 'revelle, gamene and playe'. He stays there until (relapsing momentarily into first-person narrative, 'till one a daye, so hafe I grace, My lufly lady sayde to mee') he is told to make ready for the jouney back to 'Eldone tree'. He says that he has only been in the castle for three days; she tells him that he has been there for three years and more (seven years and more according to the Cambridge MS). 26 She says that on the following day the foul fiend of hell will come and 'amange this folke will feche his fee' and 'thou arte mekill mane and hende -I trowe full wele he wolde chese the' (v. 292), and she takes him back to 'Eldonne tree'. The first Fytte ends here. In the following two fyttes, in response to his request to be told of 'some ferly' she tells him a long series of prophecies, until at last he allows her to go … to Helsdale in the north, reputed to be the home of fairies and witches.
This section gives some popular examples of the vast number of short tales, in both prose and verse, which have survived from the Middle Ages. 'Tale' and 'legend' are terms which in medieval English can more easily overlap than in modern English: together they are the equivalent of the German Sage (story). In Middle English 'legend' is used of the story or life of a saint, and also more generally for story or 'account'. It does not seem to have had the common modern meaning of 'nonauthentic' or non-historical, although there were certainly people in the Middle Ages who questioned the truth of some legends (such as that King Arthur did not die in his last battle, but lived on). The etymological background of the two English words are of interest: 'tale' is associated with 'telling' or 'speaking'; 'legend' (from Latin, meaning that which is read) with 'reading'. Both activities are significant in the performance and transmission of tales and legends. The two activities, however, were not then mutually exclusive. Tales and legends were spoken, by storytellers or preachers, or sung, by entertainers or minstrels; and also read by the newly literate. But 'reading' was sometimes reading aloud, in public streets or private rooms. 1 However the tales and legends were experienced, it is very clear that medieval 'folk' loved them: Chaucer's Pardoner remarks 'lewed peple loven tales olde', though he also has a cynical eye on the money to be earned. However, it is difficult to overestimate the vast scope 1 See 1 xlii and 4 ii. 1 xlii is about the priest reading to Margery, in chapter 1 above; 4 ii is the story of Gunnhild, below: 'sung of in our time in the public streets'. and variety of these 'tales olde', some of which go back to the very beginnings of recorded literature. It is as if we are confronted by a vast ocean of stories. 2 And the stories are not only of an almost infinite variety, but they seem wonderfully flexible. They are constantly changing, being retold or reshaped, being turned into various literary forms, crossing linguistic or geographical boundaries, sometimes making their way into highly sophisticated literary works like the Decameron 3 or the Canterbury Tales. Attempts at classifying them are fraught with difficulties. Here we simply offer some examples of some significant 'kinds'. The very common 'comic tales' and 'animal stories' are given their own chapters. 4 This chapter serves as an introduction, and has examples of kinds such as anecdotes, exemplary stories, local legends, religious legends and saints' lives. Some of these continued to flourish: anecdotes are still with us, still circulating by word of mouth and feeding a taste for gossip and satire. In the Middle Ages they also appear in chronicles, and sometimes, it seems, had a role in providing what became in the hands of chroniclers 'historical material' itself.
Other kinds have a significance that we do not always recognise. 'Exemplary story' or 'exemplum' sounds at first to be a rather dull category. But the examples are often far from dull: they aim to entertain as well as to instruct. And they have a considerable literary influence: in general, helping to form the 'mentalites' of sophisticated authors, all of whom must have heard them. In particular: we sometimes find echoes of their simple, pungent style in literary storytelling, and even in 'mystical' works when their authors turn to stories (compare Julian of Norwich's description of Christ as a lord in his house, presiding over a stately and joyous feast, or her tale of the Lord and the Servant; 5 and Margery Kempe's own exemplum, 6 which wins the approval of the archbishop).
Many of these tales are told in a manner which seems close to the speaking voice of an oral taleteller. It is very likely that behind our 2 Gray's chapter on different kinds of narrative, in Simple Forms, is entitled The Ocean of Story. 3 The Decameron is a collection of stories or novellas written in Italian, in the fourteenth century, by Giovanni Boccaccio. 4 Chapter 5, Merry (Comic) Tales; and chapter 6, Animal Tales. Lüthi thought of as two basic forms in the prehistory of narrative: the Volksmärchen or folktale (with its strange magical clarity, its absolute demands, its simple 'one-dimensionality'), and Volkssage or traditional story (with a more 'historic' setting in a more familiar world, and some concern with human emotions and relationships). These basic forms also lie behind our recorded copies of narrative ballads and popular romances. Many of our recorded examples of tales and legends seem close to the Volkssage, but we sometimes catch glimpses of the simpler Volksmärchen and its motifs. 7

A. Anecdotes and Tales in Chronicles
As well as the 'lewed peple', chroniclers loved tales and anecdotes. Some of the stories they used are still remembered: Cnut and the sea, Alfred and the cakes; or Lady Godiva of Coventry, who rescued the town from the servitude of an oppressive tax by riding naked (veiled by her long hair) through the streets. And there are very many others, on a variety of topics. William of Newburgh records the finding of fairy children, the Lanercost chronicle records a story of King Arthur living on after his last battle, and there are gossipy stories about Fair Rosamund, the mistress of Henry II. 8 Here we have two anecdotes from early medieval chroniclers, concerning the warrior Siward, whose fame lived on in later lore, and of Gunnhild, whose trials seem to have later become the ballad of Sir Aldingar.

i) Siward 9
About this time [1054] Siward the brave earl of Northumbria, almost a giant in size and very tough in both hand and mind, sent his son to subjugate Scotland. When messengers reported his death in battle to 7 See Simple Forms, Chapter 7, for a fuller discussion of points raised in this introduction, including references. 8 These well-known stories can easily be found by consulting reference works, or the internet; space does not permit detailed descriptions of texts not selected for inclusion in this anthology. 9 In

ii) Gunnhild 10
Harthcnut … sent his sister Gunnhild, the daughter of Cnut by Emma, a maiden of outstanding beauty, who in the time of her father was sighed for by many wooers, but not won, in marriage to Henry the emperor of the Germans. Thronged and distinguished was that wedding festivity, and it is still sung of in our time in the public streets. The maiden of so great a name was led to the ship surrounded by all the princes of England … She came thus to her husband, and for a long time she cherished her matrimonial vows. However, finally she was accused of adultery, and she put forward a little boy, a nursling who kept her pet starling, to battle in a duel with her denouncer, who was a man of gigantic build, since her other servants avoided it out of laziness and fear. And so, when combat was joined, through a miracle from God, the accuser was cut down in the hollow of the knee, and fell. Gunnhild, rejoicing in their unhoped for triumph, gave her husband notice of separation; nor could she be prevailed upon any longer by threats or enticements to come to his bedchamber again, but taking the religious veil, in the service of God, she grew old gently and peacefully.

B. Moral Tales, Exempla
These are very common, and were often used in sermons: the brief stories could be elaborated or adapted in various ways by preachers. Probably oral 'performance' would make them more emphatic and memorable than when read on the page. Sometimes they could form the basis for more 'literary' versions, sometimes they themselves are abbreviated 'epitomes' of longer versions.

vii) A Lecherous Woman is carried off to Hell 17
We rede of a prestis concubyne, that when she was bown to dye sho cried opon thaim at was aboute hur with grete instans, and bad thaim gar make hur a payr of hy bottois [boots] and put thaim on hur leggis for thai war passand necessarie unto hur, and so thai did. And opon the night after, the mone shane bright, and a knight and his servand was rydand in the feldis togedur, and ther come a woman rynand fast unto thaim, cryand, and prayed thaim helpe hur. And onone this knught light 140 4. Tales and Legends and betaght his man his hors, and he kennyd [recognised] the womman wele enogh, and he made a cercle abowte hym wth his swerd, and tuke hur in unto hym; and sho had nothing on bod [but] hur sarke [shirt] and thies buttois. And belife he harde a blaste of ane ugsom horn at [that] a hunter blew horrible, and huge barkyng of hundis. And als sone as thai hard, this womman was passand ferde. And this knight spirrid [asked] hur whi sho was so ferd, and sho tellid hym all; and he light [alighted] and tuke the tressis of hur hare and wappid it strayte abowte his arm, and in his right arm he helde his swerd drawen. And belife [at once] this hunter of hell come at hand, and than this womman said, 'Lat me go, for he commys.' And this knight held hur still, and this womman pullid faste and wolde hafe bene away. So at the laste sho pullid so faste at all hure hare braste of hur heade, and sho ran away and this fend folowd after and tuke hur, and keste hur overthwarte behind hym on his hors at [so that] hur hede and hur armys hang down on the ta [one] syde, and hur legis on the toder syde. And thus, when he had his pray, he rade his ways, and be [by] than it was nere day. And this knight went in the morning unto the town, and he fand this womman new dead, and he teld all as he had sene, and shewid the hare at was wappid abowte his arm. And thai lukyd hur head ther sho lay, and thai fande how all the hare was plukkid of be the rutis.

viii) The Weeping Puppy 18
A common story, told by Petrus Alfonsi and others. Sometimes the elements of a 'merry tale' in it are developed (cf. the Early Middle English Dame Sirith), 19 but here it is firmly moral with the title Mulier mediatrix aliam ad peccatum inducit: a female go-between leads another woman into sin.
Petrus Alphonsis tellis how som tyme ther was a wurshupfull man that went on pylgramage, and he had a gude wyfe and a chaste. So ther was a yong man that luffid hur passandly, and wolde hafe giffen hur grete giftis to hafe had his luste on hur, and sho wolde not on no wyse. So at the laste he fell seke for sorrow at he mot not spede [succeed], and lay in his bed. So ther come in ane olde wyfe and vysitt hym and askid hym what was the cauce at he was seke for. And he oppynd his herte unto hur and tolde hur all that hym aylid. And sho said hym thurte [he needed] not be seke herfor, sho cuthe help hym well enogh. And he promysid hur a gude rewarde to helpe hym. So sho had a little bykk [bitch] whelpe; and sho held it fastand ii dayes. So on the iii day sho made a cake of mustard and mele and gaff it, and it ete it; and for bytuernes of the musterd it began hugely to grete [weep], and the een [eyes] therof to ryn. So sho went unto this gude wyfe hows, and this whelpe folowid hur. And sho, becauce sho was ane olde wyfe, welcomyd hur fayre, and gaff hur meat and drynk. So at the laste sho askid hur what this whelpe aylid to wepe thus. And sho ansswerd and said, 'Dere dame, it is no mervell if I make sorow and wepe, for this whelpe was my doghter, and was a full leall [loyal] maydyn, and a gude and a fayr. And becauce sho wolde not consent unto a yong man that luffid hur, to be his luff, thus sho was shapen to be a biche whelpe.' And with that sho lete as sho swownyd and wepid sore. So this gude wyfe made mekull sorow, and said, 'What mon I do? Allas! for I am in the same cace; for a yong man luffis me and I have dispysid hym, and I am aferd that I sall oght [have to] be mysshapend.' And than the olde wyfe ansswerd and cownceld hur to consent unto hym, and latt hym hafe his liste at [so that] sho wer not forshapyn and made a byche whelpe. And sho prayed hur to go for hym, and so sho did and fechid hym unto this womman, and ther he had his luste and his desire, and this false alde when [woman] had a gude rewarde of ather [each] partie.

ix) Pope Joan 20
We rede in cronicles how som tyme ther was a yong damysell, and a luff [lover] of hurs went away with hur and broght hur in mans clothyng unto Rome, and ther sho went unto the scule and wex [became] so parfyte in connyng [learning] that sho had no make [equal] in all Rome. So at the laste, be ane hole consent, sho was chosyn to be pope, and was made pope. And when she was pope hur luff lay with hur and gatt hur with chylde, so he wiste not at sho was with childe to [until] sho 142 4. Tales and Legends was evyn at travellyng [labour]. So hur happened on a day to com in procession fro saynt Peturs unto saynt John Latarenens [Lateran], and ther sho began to travel, and bare hur chylde betwixt Colliseum and saynt Clemett kurk; and ther sho dyed, and ther thai berid hur. And becauce of that detestable dead [deed], the pope usid never syne to com theraway with procession, and herefor hur name is nott putt emang [among] other popes namis in the Martiloge.
x) The Fate of an English Witch 21 … som tyme ther was in Englond a womman that usid sorcerie. And on a day as sho was bown [ready] to eatt, sho hard a craw [crow] cry beside hur, and sodanlie the knyfe that was in hur hande fell. And hereby sho demyd at [that] hur dead [death] drew nere, and so sho fell seke, bown to dye. And sho sent after a monk and a non that was hur childer and chargid thaim in hur blissyng that anone [as soon] as sho war dead thai sulde sew hur in a harte-skyn, and than at thai sulde close hur in a tombe of stone, and at thai sulde feste [fasten] the coveryng theron stronglie bothe with lead and strong yrn, and at thai sulde close this stane and bynde it aboute with iii strang chynys [chains], and than at thai sulde do mes [Mass] and pray for hur aboute hur bodye. And if sho lay so sekurlie [securely] iii dayes, than sho chargid thaim to bery hur upon the iiii day in the erth. And so all this was done, and ii furste nyghtis, as clerkis was sayand ther prayers aboute hur, fendis [fiends] brak the yatis [gates] of the kurk, and come in unto hur and brak ii of the chynys that was at ather end; and the myddyll chyne abade [remained]  bar hut oute of the kurk. And ther befor the yatis ther was ordand a blak hors, and that ane uglie, and hereoppon was sho sett. And than onone sho and all this felowshup vanysshid away.

C. Local Legends
According to Westwood and Simpson, editors of The Lore of the Land (a vast and valuable collection of English examples), local legend is 'a kind of folktale which centres on some specific place, person, or object which really exists or has existed within the knowledge of those telling and hearing the story; it means a great deal to those living in a particular area, or visiting and exploring it, but in most cases has not become widely known outside its own community.' 22 It could therefore, in theory, be easily distinguishable from the more general and less geographically specific 'legend'. However, it is not always easy when dealing with possible medieval examples to isolate or distinguish them in this way, for two obvious reasons. First, because we do not have precise details of their transmission, and also because the world of medieval story is characterised by movement: stories travel about, often very widely. They are retold, adapted for various purposes, and may be attached to various places where they may find a new home. References to places may sometimes be rather arbitrary: according to the prologue to Sir Orfeo, Winchester used to be called Thrace. Alexander Neckham says that Cirencester (where he was abbot) received the name of Urbs Passerum because the Saxon invaders devised a cunning plan to overcome the British defenders by sending in sparrows with burning straws fastened to their tails to burn the roofs of houses; this story is also found in Gaimar and other writers, but apparently similar stories and strategems are found elsewhere. 23 Geoffrey of Monmouth says that the Saxon Hengist asked Vortigern for enough land as can be encircled by a single thong. 24 By finely cutting the hide of a bull he made one long enough to mark out ground for a great fortress. The place took its name from the thong, Castrum Corrigie 144 4. Tales and Legends (modern Caistor). The story is similar to that in Virgil, of Dido and the founding of Carthage. 25 Henry of Huntingdon's brief story of the Brave Man of Balsham may well be a traditional local legend: when the Danes had ravaged East Anglia and burnt Cambridge they went through the Gog Magog hills and came to Balsham, where they killed everyone they found, throwing the children up in the air and catching them on the sharp points of their spears. But one man, 'worthy of widespread fame' went up the steps of the church tower, 'which stands there at this day', 26 and 'made secure as much by the position as by his bravery' fought the whole army. 27 However, though there are similar stories of a lone hero resisting a great force, like local legends recorded later, medieval examples are often associated with strange or eerie places. Stonehenge had aready produced one: according to Geoffrey of Monmouth the stones were transported to England by Merlin from Ireland, where they were called the Giants' Ring because giants had brought them there from Africa. 28 We give a few examples from the twelfth-century chronicler Gervase of Tilbury, who seems to have a particular interest in this type of story.

xi) Peak Cavern: a passageway to the Antipodes 29
In greater Britain there is a castle placed among mountains, to which the people have given the name of the Peak. Its defences are almost impregnable, and in the hill is a cavernous opening which from time to time belches out, and very powerfully, a wind, like a pipe. The people marvel whence such a wind comes, and among other things which happen there causing further wonder, I have heard from a very religious man, Robert, Prior of Kenilworth, who originated from that area, that 25 The agreement was for an area no larger than could be covered by a single hide; cutting the hide into thin strips made a much larger area possible. See OCCL for Dido, whose task was to use a single hide; in Mannyng's Chronicle (vv. 7499-512) he asks for as much land as can be covered by a single 'boles hyd'. 26 This is an example of the 'still-there' motif, gleefully exploited by medieval authors to prove the veracity of their narrative. 27 Henry of Huntingdon's Chronicle, the year 1010 (pp. 188-9 in Forester's translation). 28 Geoffrey trans. Thorpe, Of the four passages from Gervase in this anthology, just this one matches the passage numbered (c) in Gray's From the Norman Conquest (pp. 90-1). As before, he has clearly made his own translation. See Gervase, ed. and trans. Banks and Binns, pp. 642-5.
when the nobleman William Peveril owned the castle with the adjoining estate, an active and powerful man, rich in diverse livestock, one day his swineherd was dilatory in the duty entrusted to him, and lost a pregnant sow, of a very superior kind. Fearing therefore the sharp words of his lord's steward, he pondered whether by any chance the sow might have stolen into the famous, but yet uninvestigated, cave of Peak. He decided that he would explore that hidden place. He went into the cavern at a time when it was without any wind, and after travelling for a long time he completed his journey and at length came out from the darkness, free, into a bright place, a spacious level plain of fields. Going into the land, which was extensively cultivated, he found reapers gathering ripe produce, and among the hanging ears of corn he recognised the sow, which had brought forth from herself little pigs. Then the swineherd, amazed and rejoicing that his loss was repaired, related the events, just as they had happened, to the bailiff of that land; he was given back the sow, and sent off joyfully; and led forth his herd of pigs. A wonderful thing: coming back from the subterranean harvest he saw the wintry cold continuing in our hemisphere, which I have been rightly led to ascribe to the absence of the sun and its presence elsewhere.

xii) Laikibrais; Saint Simeon's Horn, and a mysterious Dog 30
There is in greater Britain a forest, 31 filled with many kinds of game, which looks upon the town of Carlisle. Almost in the middle of this forest is a valley fenced around by hills near a public road. Every day at the first hour is heard a sweet sound of bells, and for this reason the local inhabitants have called that deserted spot Laikibrais in the Gallic (Welsh, or French) language.
In this same forest a more marvellous event happened. There was a town named Penrith within the borders of that forest. A knight, springing from that town, when he was hunting in the forest far removed from the noise of men, was alarmed by a sudden tempest with thunder and lightning flashes. When, here and there, flashes of lightning set the forest on fire, he glimpsed a large hound passing, becoming visible in the storm, and fire was flashing from its throat. The knight, terrified by such an amazing vision, was unexpectedly met by another knight carrying in his hand a hunting horn. Filled with fear, he approached this figure, and revealed the reason for his fear. 'Hearken,' said the sudden arrival comfortingly, 'Put aside your fear. I am Saint Simeon, whom you called on and entreated in the midst of the lightning. I give you this horn for the perpetual defence of yourself and your household, so that whenever you are afraid of lightning or thunder you can blow the horn and at once all fear of threatening danger will disappear, nor will lightning have any power within the area where the sound of the horn may be heard.' Upon this Saint Simeon inquired if our knight had seen anything which had excited any amazement or wonder in him. In reply he said that he had seen a hound with fire blazing from its open mouth. Saint Simeon vanished in search of it, leaving the horn with the knight as a remembrance of the happening and as a lasting protection for his household. It has been seen by many, and marvelled at. It is lengthy, and twisted back in the style of hunting horns, as if it were made from the horn of an ox. And furthermore the dog which we spoke of went into a priest's house on the edge of that town, making its way through the entrance apparently firmly closed against it, and set fire to his house with its unlawfully begotten family.

xiii) Wandlebury Ring 32
In England, on the edges of the diocese of Ely, is a town, Cambridge by name; and nearby, within its area, a place which men call Wandlebury, because the Vandals camped there as they were devastating parts of Britain and destroying the Christians. There, on the peak of a small hill where they set up their tents, is a circular plain, enclosed by ramparts, with a single entrance in the manner of a gate offering access. There is a tale from ancient times supported by popular account that if a knight goes into this level area after nightfall, when the moon is shining, and cries aloud 'Let a knight come forth against a knight!' at once a knight will hasten out against him, prepared for combat, and with their horses galloping together he either unhorses his opponent or is himself thrown 147 C. Local Legends down. But first, a knight must enter the circle through that entrance alone, though his companions are not prevented from seeing the conflict from outside … To support the truth of this tale, Gervase cites the case of Osbert FitzHugh, a twelfth-century knight who put it to the test: he felled his adversary, and captured his horse, but was wounded in the thigh. The challenger disappeared. The horse was black, with grim wild eyes; at cockcrow it broke loose, galloped off, and disappeared. Every year, on the same night and at the same time, Osbert's wound would break open again.

xiv) A Mysterious Drinking Horn 33
Another event no less marvellous, and well enough known, happened in greater Britain. There was in the county of Gloucestershire a hunting forest, 34 filled with bears, stags and all kinds of game found in England. Here in a dale filled with trees was a little knoll, its top as high as a man's stature on which knights and huntsmen are accustomed to ascend when, tired by the heat and thirst, they tried to find a remedy for their condition. Thanks to this place and its nature, if anybody leaving his companions climbed up it by himself, and then, as if he was talking to another person, were to say 'I am thirsty', immediately, and unexpectedly, a cupbearer was standing by his side, impressively attired, and with a cheerful countenance holding in his hand and offering to him a great horn, like that used by he English in olden times for a drinking goblet. A nectar of unknown but most pleasant taste was offered to him; when he drank it all the heat and tiredness of his warm body would vanish, so that anybody would imagine not that he had been toiling away, but wished to seize the opportunity to toil once again. When he had drunk the nectar the attendant offered him a towel to dry his mouth, and having done his service he vanished, nor did he look for a reward for his trouble, nor conversation and inquiry … This lasted for many years, until one day a knight out hunting did not return the horn according to the proper custom, but kept it for himself. However, the earl of Gloucester did not wish to countenance a theft and gave the horn to King Henry. D. More 'free-standing' Literary Examples More 'free-standing' literary examples (of which there are many), represented by a story about Hereward and a nice moral tale, The Childe of Bristowe.

xv) Hereward
The deeds of the eleventh-century English hero Hereward were celebrated by the people in songs and dances, and apparently in oral tales. Some made their way into the twelfth-century French verse chronicle of Gaimar, L'Estoire des Engleis, others into the Latin Gesta Herewardi, and The Book of Ely. 35 The English rebelling against William the Conqueror around Ely and its fens were surrounded by the Conqueror's forces, and eventually begged for mercy … … Except Hereward, who was so noble.
With a few men he escaped, and with him Geri, one of his relatives, And five companions with them.
A man who brought fish to the guards Along the marshes, acted As a good and courteous man: Each one picked out a very good horse.
The woods were near, and they entered them, They did not lose their way, They knew all that country very well! There were many of their friends there.
At a town which they came to They found ten of their close friends

Tales and Legends
And these joined up with Hereward.
Once they were eight, now more than ten, Ten and eight are the companions now; Before they passed Huntingdon They had a hundred men, well armed, Close liegemen of Hereward …

xvi) The Childe of Bristowe 36
A man who has studied law and learnt how to beguile poor men has a son on whom he dotes. In order to make his son rich he 'rought not whom he beguiled'. The young child, set to learning, becomes 'wise and witty' and fears 'al dedis derke'. The father is keen for him to study law, so that no one will be able to beguile him, but the son has other ideas. 'The child answerd with a softe sawe: They fare ful well that lerne no lawe, And so I hope to do'; he fears to imperil his soul 'for any wynnyng of worldes welthe', and is determined to be a merchant: 'that good getyn by marchantye' is 'trouthe'. He goes to Bristol and is engaged to a merchant there, 'a just trew man', for seven years. He does well, loves God, and 'al marchauntz loved hym, yong and olde.' Meanwhile his father continues his dubious behaviour until he falls sick and draws towards his end. On his deathbed he discovers that no one in the neighbourhood is prepared to be his executor; he sends for his son and heir ('moche good have y gadred togeder With extorcion and dedis lither' -all for the son) and eventually persuades him to be his attorney. But the son binds him with another charge: that a fortnight after his death his spirit should appear and report on his fate. When the father dies, the son arranges for masses, sells his father's goods, and distributes the proceeds to the poor. But the gold is soon gone … [stanzas 39-46] … By than the fourtenyght was broght to ende, He also dislikes her name, because he and his fellows have suffered from a Mary in the past. He persuades her to be called Emmekyn. She becomes his paramour. They travel around together, and eventually return to Nemmegen. There Mary is converted by a play about sinful living. The devil tries to kill her, but she survives. The pope imposes on her the penance of wearing three iron rings. She enters a nunnery, and when she dies an angel frees her from the rings as a sign of God's forgiveness.

xviii) Saint George and the Dragon 40
As the saint rides by, he sees a damsel standing and mourning … … And when he saw the aray of thys damesell, hym thought well that hyt schuld be a woman of gret renon, and askyd hur why scho stode ther with soo mornyng a chere. Than answered scho and sayde, 'Gentyll knyght, well may I be of hevy chere, that am a kyngys doghtyr of thys cyte, and am sette here for to be devoured anon of a horrybull dragon that hath eton all the chyldyr of thys cyte. And for all ben eton, now most I be eten; for my fader yaf the cyte that consell. Wherfor, gentyll knyght, gos [go] hens fast and save thyselfe, lest he les [destroy] the as he wol me!' 'Damesell,' quod George, 'that wer a gret vyleny to me, that am a knyght well i-armed, yf I schuld fle, and thou that art a woman schuld abyde.' Than wyth thys worde, the horrybull best put up his hed, spyttyng out fure, and proferet batayll to George. Then made George a cros befor hym, and set hys spere in the grate [rest], and wyth such might bare down the dragon into the erth, that he bade this damysell bynd hur gurdull aboute his necke and led hym aftyr hur into the cyte. Then this dragon sewet [followed] her forth, as hyt had ben a gentyll hownde, mekly without any mysdoyng.

xix) Saint Julian 41
We rede how that when saynt Julyan was a yong man and went on huntyng, he pursewid on a tyme after a harte. And this harte turnyd agayn and spak unto hym and sayd, 'Thow that mon [is destined to] sla bothe thi fadir and thi moder, wharto pursewis thou me?' And he had grete wonder herof, and becauce [so that] this sulde not happyn hym, he went away oute of a fer contreth and servid a wurthi prince; and he made hym a knyght and gaff hym a warde, a grete gentylwomman, unto his wife. And his fadur and his moder at home, hafyng grete sorrow that he was gone oute of the contrey fro thaim, went and soght hym many mylis. So on a tyme when he was furthe [away], be a sodan cace [sudden chance] thaim happynd to com unto his castell. And be wurdis at [that] thai said ther his wyfe understude at thai was fadir and moder unto hur husband, be all the proces at sho had hard [heard] hur husband say. And when sho had made thaim wele to fare, sho laid thaim samen [together] in hur awn bedd. And this Julian come home sodanlie in the mornyng and wente unto his chamber, and fand thaim ii samen in the bed. And he, trowyng that it had bene one that had done avowtry [adultery] with his wyfe, he slew thaim bothe and went his ways. And he mett his wife fro the kurkward [coming from the church], and sho tolde hym how his fadir and his moder was commen, and how sho had layd thaim in hur awn bedd. And than he began to wepe and make sorow, and said, 'Lo! that at the harte said unto me, now I, a sory wriche, hafe fulfillid itt.' And than he went oute of contre and did penans, and his wyfe wolde never forsake hym. And ther thai come unto a grete water, ther many war perisschid, and ther he byggid a grete hostre, and all that ever come he herbard [lodged] thaim, and had thaim over this watyr. And this he usyd a lang tyme. So on a nyght aboute mydnyght, as he layin his bed and it was a grete froste, he hard a voyce cry petifullie, and sayd, 'Julian! Com and feche me owr, I pray the!' And he rase onone [at once] and went our the water, and ther he fand a man that was nerehand frosyn to dead, and he had hym our, and broght hym into his howse and refresshid hym, and laid hym in his awn bed and happid [covered] hym. And within a little while he that was in the bed, that semyd seke and like a leppre, ascendid unto hevyn and sayd on this maner of wyse, 'Julyan! Almighti God hase reseyvid thi penans. And within a little while ye bothe shall com unto Hym.' And with that he vanysshid away.

xx) A Saintly Fool 42
… Som tyme ther was in a monasterie of nonnys a maydyn, and for Goddis luff sho made hur selfe evyn as a fule, and meke and buxhom [obedient] to everilk bodis commandment; and sho made hur selfe so vile, and so grete ane underlowte [underling], that ilkone uggid [everyone felt apprehensive] with hur, bod [but] ilkone strak hur and skornyd hur, and evur sho tuke it in plesans. So sho passed never the kichyn, bod bade ther, and wasshid dysshis and skowrid pottys, and did all maner of fowle labur. And sho satt never at meat, bod held hur 42 In the Alphabet of Tales, number CCCXXII, Fatuitas. 161 E. Religious Tales and Saints' Legends selfe content with crombys and crustis that war lefte at the burd [table]; and therwith sho liffid, and sho war [wore] nevur shone nor hose, and sho had nothing on hur head bod revyn [torn] clothis, and raggid. And sho was servyciable to everilk creatur, and wold do no bodye wrong, and what at evur was done unto hur, ther was none at hard hur gruche therwith. So emang all thies, be the commawndement of ane aungell, saynt Patryk, at was a holie man and liffid in wildrenes, come unto this same monasterie, and callid befor hym all the nonnys and all the susters of the place, at he might se thaim, and sho come not. And than he said, 'Ye er not all here.' And thai said, 'Yis, fadur, we er all here, outtakyn one that is bod a fule.' And he bad thaim call hur; and als sone as he saw hur he knew in his spiritt that sho was mor halie than he. And he fell down on his kneis befor hur an said, 'Spirituall moder, giff me thi blissyng!' And sho fell down on kneis before hym and said, 'Nay, fathur, rather thou sulde blis me.' And with that the susters of the howse had grete wonder, and said unto hym, 'Fathir, suffer not this enjorie, for sho is bod a fulle.' And he said, 'Nay, sho is wise, and ye er bod fules, for sho is bettyr than owder ye or I.' And than all the susters fell on ther kneis befor hur, and askyd hur forgifnes of wrangis and injuries that thai had done unto hur [and] scho forgiffes thaim ilkone with all hur harte.

xxi) The Virgin Mary saves a Thief on the Gallows 43
We rede in hur 'Meracles' how som tyme ther was a thefe, and he had a grete devocion unto our Ladie, and said hur salutacion oft unto hur. So at the laste he was takyn with thift and hanged, and our Ladie come and held hym up iii dayes, hur awn handis, so that he felid no sare. So thai that hanged hym happened be cace [chance] to com by hym away, and fand hym mery and liffand [living]. And thai trowed he had not bene wele hanged. And thai wer avysid [thought] to have stykkid hym with a swerd as he hang. And as thai wold hafe stryken hym, our Lady putt it away with hur hand, so at thai noyed [harmed] hym noght. And he told thaim how our Ladie helpid hym, and thai tuke hym down and lete [released] him. And he went unto ane abbay, and ther servid our Ladie ewhils [whilst] he liffid.

Merry Tales
The short comic tale seems to have been a favourite form in medieval popular literature. 1 Large numbers survive, and they show considerable variety, reflecting the variety of the wider medieval comic tradition. I will try to give some idea of this variety, in topic, form, and treatment. Medieval comedy is sometimes crude and vulgar, sometimes more detached and witty, offering some kind of entertainment or 'game'. It may be genial, but sometimes seems darker and more cruel, finding entertainment in physical as well as in moral deformity. It makes enthusiastic use of cunning tricks and tricksters, adroit answers, ingenuity and intelligence. Some tales seem totally amoral, and would no doubt have needed the defence offered in Chaucer's dictum, 'men shal nat maken ernest of game'. And yet some are curiously similar to moral, exemplary tales (as in The Wright's Chaste Wife).
Tales appear in both verse and prose and take many forms -too many for them all to be represented here. We have only one example of the fabliau (a word used of verse tales which flourished in France from the twelfth century, but part of a wider and much earlier tradition, and which were given highly sophisticated treatment by Chaucer). Fabliaux and fabliau-like tales characteristically give vigorous expression in terse and simple style to a decidedly non-idealistic view of life. The setting is non-courtly, the characters are often tradesmen, merchants, 1 Gray called this chapter 'Comic Tales', but 'Merry' in the table of contents. I retain 'Merry' so as to match his chapter-title in Simple Forms.
and their womenfolk, clerics and students. Plot and action are very important, as is direct speech and conversation. There is a combination of realism (especially in 'local' details) with a plot that is decidedly nonrealistic -much more so than that of a romance, though not usually as extreme as the wild 'eldritch' fantasy of some Scottish comic tales. Much fun is had with stereotype: old men with young wives, lecherous clerics and monks, women as objects of desire and adept at fulfilling their own desires. This Scottish tale of the same type, a cross between rhymed and alliterative verse, is placed here, although it is often classified as a 'Charlemagne romance', a kind with which the author was clearly familiar. It was perhaps conceived as a burlesque Charlemagne romance. Whatever category we place it in, it is a fascinating and delightful work, contrasting the two main characters with some delicate irony and giving each a distinctive 'voice' and attitude.
King Charles and his splendid retinue ride out from Paris, but on the moor they encounter a fierce tempest, and the company is scattered. Heº callit on Gyliane his wyfe, 'Ga, tak him be the hand (Rauf) And gang agane to the buirdº quhair ye suld eir have gane. Further questioning leads to the king giving his name as 'Wymond of the Wardrop', in the queen's chamber, and inviting Rauf to come to the court, remarking that he will find it a profitable market for his fuel. Rauf says that he does not know where the court is, and that he is reluctant to go to a place where he is unknown. The king attempts to reassure him, and in the morning when they part Rauf announces that he will indeed try to sell his coal at court. The king goes his way, and is reunited with his retinue and his knights. They return to Paris with great ceremony and festivity. Rauf fills two baskets and, rejecting a warning from his wife about the stranger's 'gentrise' ('Lat me wirk as I will, the weird [fate] is mine awin'), also sets out in search of 'Wymond'. On the way he has an encounter with the knight Sir Roland, and finally forces his way into court. In a brief 'recognition scene' he glimpses Wymond: 'Yone is wymond, I wait … I ken him weill thocht he be cled in uther clothing.' He is very alarmed, especially when the king tells his nobles how he was treated in Rauf's house. They laugh, but say he deserves to be hanged. The king, however, will not allow such treatment to the man who 'succourit my lyfe in sa evil ane nicht … that carll for his courtasie salbe maid knicht.' And so he is and, after a further battle with a Saracen, Magog, he becomes Marshal of France.

iv) The Freiris of Berwik 11
A Scottish fabliau, formerly attributed (without solid evidence) to William Dunbar. The anonymous author has produced a literary gem. It is one of the most enjoyable fabliaux in the English language: the action moves swiftly in its rather complicated route to a comic conclusion, with characters being nicely differentiated. The author obviously delights both in the everyday setting, and in the traditionally exaggerated turns of the plot. The comedy is sharp and satirical, but not overly dark and destructive.
In Berwick, 'a nobill toun', are two Jacobin friars, Allane and Robert. 'Rycht wondir weill plesit thai all wyffis And tawld thame tailis of haly sanctis'. Friar Allan was old and tired, but Friar Robert is young and hot of blood. Returning to the town when night is falling they are worried that they will find the gates closed, and decide to find lodging outside the town. They come to the house of one Symon, who had a fair wife -'bot scho wes sumthing dynk and dengerous' [dressy and haughty]. Alesone receives them, tells them that her husband is away in the countryside, and gives them drink. As they are telling their merry tales, they hear 179 iv) The Freiris of Berwik the prayer bell of their own abbey and know that they cannot return. They ask for lodging for the night. The wife, at first reluctant, finally agrees that they can stay up in the loft. In fact, the wife is pleased 'that thay wer closet ther', because she has a tryst with her lover, a rich and powerful grey friar, and she dresses up for the occasion, 'als prowd as ony papingo'. Up in the loft friar Robert makes a little hole with his bodkin so that he can see what is going on. The grey friar is sitting in his chair like a prelate, and the wife is whispering in his ear. Then there is a sudden commotion, a knocking on the gate and a cry: Simon the husband has returned unexpectedly. The wife is annoyed that her plans for the evening have been brought to nothing, and the grey friar is filled with alarm … Scotland produced a remarkable tradition of popular comic tales: Colkrelbie Sow, Sym and his Bruder, and some which find comic entertainment of a weird 'eldritch' kind, as in Lichtoun's Dreme or The Gyre Carling (the 'mother witch' of Scotland). 13 Sadly, there is no space to celebrate this varied tradition here in the manner it deserves. We must be content with the lively Freiris of Berwik (above) and the following little tale of how Kitty found an alehouse close to the gate of heaven. [An honest, hard-working wright is slow to enter marriage, but finally chooses the fair daughter of a widow in the area. The widow says that the only marriage portion she can give him is a garland of roses. However, it has a marvellous property: if his wife is faithful the roses will retain their colour, but if she is fickle the colour will change. They are married and return home after the festivities. Then the wright is struck by the thought that his wife is so beautiful that other men will desire to have her 'and that hastly and sone'. And so he plans and builds a crafty room from which no one can escape, 'wyth wallys stronge as eny stele And dorres sotylly made and wele'. It has a cunningly-made trapdoor with a 'pit' beneath it: 'whoso touchyd yt ony thing, Into the pytt he schuld flyng.' The wright is summoned by the lord of the town to work on the construction of a wooden hall which will take two or three months …] The lord seyd, 'woult thou have thi wyfe?
I wyll send after her blyveº quickly That sche may come to the.' The wryght hys garlond hadde take wyth hym.
That was bryght and no thing dimme, Yt was feyre on to see. [The steward capitulates. Meanwhile, back in the town, the lord's people are increasingly worried about his fate. The proctor of the parish church approaches the wright, hears of the power of his garland, and immediately reacts in the same way as the lord and the steward: 'in good faye That schall I wete thys same daye Whether yt may so be'. He goes to the wife and makes his proposition, which is received in the same manner as those of his predecessors. He offers twenty marks, and this is accepted.] Nowe hath sche the treasure tane,º taken And up the steyre be they gane, (What helpyth yt to lye?) The wyfe went the steyre beside.
The proctoure went a lytyll to wyde -He fell downe by and by.
Whan he into the seller felle He wenteº to have sonke into helle, thought He was in hert full sory.
The stuard lokyd on the knyght, And seyd, 'Proctoure, for Godes myght, Come and sytt us by.' The proctoure began to stare, For he was he wyst never whare, Butt wele he knewe the knyght And the stuard tht swyngelyd the lyne.

5. Merry Tales
Thowe camyst to loke howe we fare, Nowe helpe this lyne were dyght.' [The proctor pleads lack of training: 'I lernyd never in lond For to have a swyngell in hond By day nor be nyght'. But the need for food begins to make itself felt: 'the proctoure stode in a stody Whether he might worke hem by'.

Finally …]
The proctoure began to knocke, [The lord and the lady return home, and the steward and the proctor ride off, vowing not to return. All the treasure that the suitors brought is given by the lady to the wright's wife. And the wright's garland remains 'feyre of hewe.'] I take wytnes att gret and small,

Thus trewe bene good women all
That nowe bene on lyve ….

vii) 'Noodle' Stories 16
This little sub-category of the comic tale, in which a fool demonstrates his own folly, was obviously popular. In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries this kind of folly was attributed especially to the inhabitants of Gotham in Nottinghamshire.
The Man who had a Goose … Som tyme ther was a man that had a guse. And sho warpyd everilk day ane egg. And on a tyme he umthoght that he wold hafe all thies eggis at ons, and he slew his guse and oppend hur, and he fand bod one egg in hur. And so for grete haste that he had of that at was for to com, he loste all.
Penning the Cuckoo On a tyme the men of Gotam wold have pynned the Cockow that she should sing all the yeare and in the myddest of the towne they dyd make a hedge (round in compass), and they had got a cocow, and put her in it 201 vii) 'Noodle' Stories and sayde, 'Singe here all the yeare, and thou shalte lacke neyther meate nor drincke.' The Cocow, as soone as shee was set within the hedge, flew her waye. 'A vengeaunce on her!' sayde they, 'We made not our hedge high ynough.'

Runaway Cheese
There was a man of Gotam the which went to the market to Nottingham to sell cheese. And as he was goynge downe the hyll to Nottingham bridge, one of his cheeses dyd fall out of his poake, and did runne downe the hyll. 'A horsons,' said the fellow, 'Can you runne to the market alone I will sende the one after the other of you.' He layde downe hys poake, and tooke the cheeses, and dyd trundle them downe the hyll one after another; and some ran into one busshe, and some into another. And at the laste he sayde, 'I charge you all meete me in the market place.' When the fellowe dyd come into the market place to meete hys cheeses, hee dyd tarie tyll the market was almoste done. Then he went about, and dyd enquire of hys neighboures, and other men if they did see his cheeses come to the market. 'Who shoulde bringe them?' sayd one of the market men. 'Marye! themselves,' sayd the fellow, 'They knew the way well ynoughe.' He taryed still tyll it was nyght. At nyghte he said, 'A vengeaunce on them al! I dyd feare to see that my cheeses dyd runne so faste, that they runne beyond the market. I am sure that they be almoste now at Yorke.' He hyred a horse to ryde after to Yorke to seeke hys cheeses wheare they were not. But to thys daye, no man coulde tell hym of hys cheeses.

A Demonic Grasshopper
On a tyme theare was one of Gotam mowynge in the meads, and found a great gras-hopper. He dyd caste downe hys sythe and dyd runne home to his neighbours and sayde that there was a devill in the fyelde that hopped in the grasse. Then there was everye man readye wythe clubbes and staves, wythe holbardes [halberds] and other weapons, to go to kill the grasshopper. Whan they did come to the place where that the Grashopper shoulde bee, sayde the one to the other, 'Lette everye man crosse hymselfe from this devil, for we wyll not meddle wyth hym.' And so they returned home againe and sayde, 'Wee weare well bleste thys daye that we went no further.' 'A! cowardes!' sayd he that After that, came Howleglass to Maybrough where he did many marvellous things that his name was there well known. Then bade the principal of the town that he should do something that was never seen before. Then said he that he would go to the highest of the Council House and fly from it. And anon that was known through all the town that Howleglass would fly from the top of the Council House in such that all the town was there assembled and gathered in the market place to see him. Upon the top of the House stood Howleglass with his hands waving as though he would have flown. Whereat he laughed and said to the people, 'I thought there had been no more fools than myself. But I see well that here is a whole town full. For had ye altogether said that ye would have flown, yet I would not have believed you. And now ye believe one afore that saith he will fly, which thing is impossible, for I have no wings, and no man can fly without wings.' And then went he his way from the top of the Council House, and left the folk there standing. And then departed the folk from thence, some blaming him and some laughing, saying, 'He is a shrewd fool, for he telleth us the truth.'

ix) The Parson and the Bishop's Lady Paramour 18
The parson of Kalenborowe perceyvynge that the bysshope wolde have hym with hym to every church-holowynge [hallowing], he sought a wile to byde at home and kepe howse with his servant or wenche, for it was moste his ease. And incontinent he went to the byssopes soverayne lady and prayed her that she wolde help hym that he might byde at home and nat go to no churche-halowynge, 'And I wyll gyve you a gode rewarde'. She answered agayne and sayd, 'That is nat in my power.' The parson sayd, 'Yes,' and sayd, 'Holde here a purse with money for your labour, for I knowe well the bysshope wyll lay with you tonight; thus I pray you to shewe me the hour of his commyng that I may lay under the bed.' She answered and saide, 'Than come at seven of the clocke, for eight of the clocke is his houre.' And in the meane season she prepared the chamber lyke an erthely paradyse and sett rownde about the wallis of it candellis burnynge bright against the bisshopes commyng, and at the houre assigned the parson came and crepte under the bedde in her chamber. Whan the bisshope com, he merveyled sore to se this sight and asked her what it ment. 'My lorde,' she saide, 'this is for the honoure of you, for this nyght I hope ye wyll halowe my lytell chapel standing benethe my navyll in Venus valaye and that by and by, or ellys from hens forth I wyll shewe you no point of love whilst I leve.' The bysshope went to bedde with his soverayn lady and he fulfilled all her desire and began to holowe her chapel to the best of his power. The parson laynge under the bedde herd this right well and began fore to singe with a hye voice lyke as they do at every church-holowynge in this maner, 'Terribilis est locus iste', 19 wherof the bishop marvayled and was abashed and blessed hym with the signe of the holy crosse, and wenynge to hym that the devyll had bene in the chamber, and wolde have conjured hym. Than spake the parson laynge under the bedde with grete haste, saynge thus (and with that he crepte out), 'Reverende fader, I fere so sore to breke your commaundement that I had lever crepe on hande and fote to fulfyll your mynde and wyll than to be absent at any of all your churche-holowinges, and for that cause I wolde be at this chapel also.' The bysshope sayde, 'I had nat called the to be at the holownge herof! I trowe the devyll brought the hether! Get the hens out of my sight and come nomore to me!' 'My lorde, I thanke you and also your lady paramours.' Thus wente the preste on his way and thanked God that he was so rydde from the bysshope, and so come home and kepte house with his fayr wenche as he was wont to do, the whiche was glad of his commynge home, for she had great disease of suche thynges as he was wonte to helpe her of. And some that envied the preste shewed the 204 5. Merry Tales bysshop that he had suche a fayre wenche. And because he had layde under the bysshops bedde and played hym that false touche, the bisshope sent a commission ento hym, that upon payne of curssinge he shold put awaye frome hym his yonge lusty wenche, and to kepe his house that he shold take an olde woman of xl yere of age, or ellys he sholde be put in pryson. The parson, hering this, made a gret mournynge complaint to his wenche and said, 'Now must I wasshe and plasshe, wringe and singe and do al my besines myself', wherof she gave hym gode comforte and said, 'The whele of fortune shall turne ones againe', and so departed for a seson. And than he toke gode hert a grece, and said to himself, 'No force, yet shall I begyle hym, for I wyll kepe ii wenches of xx yere of age, and twise xx maketh xl! Holde thyne owne, parson!' Early Sixteenth-Century Jests

x) Wedded Men at the Gates of Heaven 20
A certain wedded man there was, which when he was dead came to heaven-gates to saint Peter, and said he came to claim his heritage which he had deserved. Saint Peter asked him what he was, and he said, 'A wedded man.' Anon Saint Peter opened the gate and bade him come in, and sayd he was worthy to have his heritage because he had had much trouble, and was worthy to have a crown of glory. Anon after that there came another man that claimed heaven, and said to Saint Peter that he had had two wives; to whom Saint Peter answered and said, 'Come in, for thou art worthy to have a double crown of glory, for thou hast had double trouble.' At the last there came a third claiming heaven, and said to Saint Peter that he had had three wives and desired to come in. 'What!' quod Saint Peter, 'Thou hast been once in trouble and thereof delivered, and then willingly wouldst be troubled again, and yet again therof delivered; and for all that couldst not beware the third time, but entered'st willingly in trouble again! Therefore go thy way to hell, for thou shalt never come in heaven, for thou art not worthy.' This tale is a warning to them that have been twice in peril to beware how they come therein the third time. Early Sixteenth-Century Jests

xi) No Welshmen in Heaven 21
I find written among old jests how God made Saint Peter porter of heaven, and that God of his goodness, soon after his Passion, suffered many men to come to the kingdom of heaven with small deserving; at which time there was in heaven a great company of Welshmen which with their cracking [bragging] and babbling troubled all the others. Wherefore God said to Saint Peter that he was weary of them and that he would fain have them out of heaven. To whom Saint Peter said, 'Good Lord, I warrant you, that shall be done.' Wherefore Saint Peter went out of heaven-gates and cried with a loud voice, 'Caws pob!' that is as much as to say 'roasted cheese' -which thing the Welshmen hearing, ran out of heaven a great pace. And when Saint Peter saw them all out, he suddenly went into heaven and locked the door, and so sparred all the Welshmen out.
By this ye may see that it is no wisdom for a man to love or to set his mind too much upon any delicate or worldly pleasure whereby he shall lose the celestial and eternal joy.

Animal Tales
There is a long and extensive medieval tradition of animal tale, which has its roots in antiquity, and also looks forward to the modern world. It is a tradition in which learned, popular, and folk elements are intertwined. In it the animals have a variety of functions: they offer moral examples, practical instruction, and entertainment. The idea that man can learn from the animals is a venerable one; a very early English example is Bede's story of the sparrow, offered as advice to a Northumbrian king: 'It seems to me that the life of man on earth is like the swift flight of a single sparrow through the banqueting hall …'. 1 Later in the Middle Ages we find disapproving clerics recording popular superstitions concerning the possibility of learning the future from the behaviour of birds, as well as evidence in sophisticated writers like Chaucer, a knowledge that sometimes seems to come from observation. As in modern traditional societies, animals were not only 'good to eat' but also 'good to think'.
Again, as in modern traditional societies, people were very close to animals. This is evident from many references in the works of literary authors. Chaucer remarks that the cock is the orloge [clock] of small villages (Parliament of Fowls,v. 350), and in the House of Fame (v. 1516) observes that there are as many writers of old tales 'as ben on trees rokes nestes'. He gives names to common animals in and around the house: a sheep called Malle (Molly); dogs called Colle, Talbot, and Medieval English proverbial lore is full of references to animals. Whiting's collection of proverbs contains references to well over a hundred animals, birds, fish, and insects; some are exotic (chameleon, crocodile) but the majority are more local and familiar. 3 And they include one or two which would have been more prominent in medieval town life than in modern, notably bears and apes. One proverb [Whiting B 102]  There is no online version of Whiting, but it is widely available in libraries and very easy to use. Therefore I am not listing every single proverb or proverb-like sentence that Gray cites, and I have simplified the references; he often gives not only the Whiting number but also the source used by Whiting. and entertainment. Among the characteristics alluded to are their imitative behaviour ('men sein commonly that the ape doth as he other seeth' [Whiting A 136]), their grimacing and their foolishness. Ape seems sometimes almost synonymous with 'fool'; see Chaucer's 'he made the person and the peple his apes' (Tales,I,v. 706). People may be 'drunken as an ape' or 'ape-drunk'.
The mixture of 'scientific' and 'popular' lore is an important element in the background of the very rich medieval literary tradition of animal tales, in which, in Britain, the achievements of Chaucer and Henryson are pre-eminent. Here we are in a wonderful fictional time when, as Chaucer says, 'bestes and brides koude speke and synge' (Tales, VII. v. 2881). Here beasts and birds engage in formal debate on matters significant to humans, or appear as actors in moral tales for their instruction and entertainment. The animal fable is a very ancient literary form, traceable back to the mysterious figure of Aesop and beyond, to the 'wisdom literature' of the ancient near East and the fables of the Old Testament. Animal fables, both Aesopic and non-Aesopic, lived on in the Middle Ages in versions in Latin and in the vernaculars. The 'moralities' which they engender are sometimes religious and high-minded, but not always. Sometimes the 'morality' seems rather to be advice on how to survive in a hostile world; and the fable, while not quite a 'slave' fable, often seems to be an expression of the views and attitudes of the lower classes of society. Here, cleverness, ingenuity, and cunning seem to be prized. An excellent (and extreme) example is to be found in the nefarious activities of Reynard the Fox, stories which moved through literary sources, but almost certainly against a background of popular storytelling, into a kind of beast epic, the French Roman de Renart. Reynard the Fox comes from a widespread folk interest in small animals who can by cleverness and cunning defeat the stronger and larger, but rather stupid, creatures; but he seems to have developed into a rather sinister and amoral comic Trickster figure, similar to Coyote in some North American Indian mythologies.
'The overlapping of the human and animal worlds provides a powerful stimulus for the imagination' says D. D. R. Owen in the Introduction to his translation of the Roman de Renart. It certainly does -and the creators of animal tales seem to have discovered (before literary theory) 210 6. Animal Tales the 'elasticity of mind' and the capacity to find 'equivalences in the most disparate phenomena, and for substituting one for another which lies at the mysterious heart of metaphor '. 4 While it is clear that both popular and learned elements coexist in the developed tradition of the written medieval animal story, we must not forget that at the same time animal tales were being told by oral story tellers. For example, Thomas More, speaking as Anthony in the Dialogue of Comfort against Tribulation, recalls a 'Mother Maud' who used to tell the children stories as she sat by the fire. One of her 'fond childish tales' was the story of how 'the Ass and the Wolf came on a time to confession to the Fox'. 5 And Wyatt's 'mothers maydes sang a song of the field mouse'. 6 There was probably a large body of such tales, which have vanished, almost without trace, but if we have lost the exact words that Mother Maud and other mothers' maids used in telling their tales, we sometimes feel close to the presence of an oral teller in the fables in exemplary stories. A realisation of this has led me, rather boldly, not to illustrate the animal tale in the sophisticated form given to it by Chaucer or Henryson, but in Caxton's version, where in spite of the apparent 'literary' background of his Aesop and Renard (the first translated from Macho's version of Steinhowel, the second from a Dutch version), and in spite of his own occasional verbosity, there is a striking simplicity of narrative.

Animals in histories, Cats and adages
Spectacular scenes involving animals are occasionally recorded in chronicles, sometimes associated with other 'portents'. The Brut chronicle records (in the thirteenth century) 'there fill so mich rayne in hay-tyme yhat it wasted and distroyed bothe corn and hey; and ther was suche a debate and fighting of sparows, by divers places in thes dayes, that men founden unnumerable multitudes of hem ded in feldes as they 4 Cited in Gray,Robert Henryson,p. 57

A. Man and Animal
wenten …'. 7 There was also a very severe pestilence, and a sickness called 'the pockes'. A little later eagles fought 'oppon the sonde of the Scottyssh see, that meny a man hyt sye the iii dayes togedir there were ii egles, of the which the tone come out of the southe. And the tother out of the north, and cruelly and strongly they foughten togider and warstled togider; and the suth egle ferst overcome the northe egle, and al torent and tare hym with his bille and his clowes, that he shold not reste ne take no brethe; and aftir, the suth egle flye home to his owne costs'. This was followed by a cosmic disturbance.
The Middle Ages had developed quite an impressive learned tradition of natural history, but it is very difficult to know how far this impinged upon popular lore. We give two possible examples: a passage on the fox from the Middle English Physiologus, and one on the cat from Trevisa's fourteenth-century translation of the encyclopedia of Bartholomew the Englishman.

i) The Fox 8
A wilde derº is that is ful of feleº wiles - ii) The Cat 9 The catte … is a beste of uncerteyn here and colour. For som catte is whyte, som reed, and som blak, and som scowed and splenked [spotted and dappled] in the feet and the face and in the eeren, and is most yliche to the lepard. And hath a gret mouth and sawe teeth and scharpe, and longe tonge and pliaunt, thynne, and sotile. And lapeth therwith whanne he drynketh, as othere bestes doon that haven the nether lippe schorter than the over, for bycause of unevenesse of lippes suche bestes souken nought in drynkynge but lapeth and likketh, as Aristotil seith and Plinius also. And he is a ful leccherous beste in youthe, swyfte, plyaunt, and mery. And lepeth and reseth [pounces] on alle thing that is tofore him and is yladde by a strawe and pleyeth therwith. And is a wel hevy beste in eelde [old age] and ful slepy. And lith sliliche [lies slyly] in awayte for mys and is ware where they ben more by smelle than by sight. And hunteth and reseth on hem in privey place. And whanne he taketh a mous he pleyeth therwith and eteth him after the pleye. And is as it were wylde and goth aboute in tyme of generacioun. Among cattes in tyme of love is hard fightynge for wyves, and oon craccheth [scratches] and rendeth the other grevousliche with bytyng and with clawes. And he maketh a reweliche noyse and horrible whan oon profreth to fighte with another. And is a cruel beste whanne he is wilde and wonyeth in wodes and hunteth thanne smale wilde bestes, as conynges [rabbits] and hares. And falleth on his owne feet whanne he falleth out of highe place and is unnethe [scarcely] yhurte whanne he is ythrowe doun of an high place. His drytte [droppings] stynketh ful foule and therefore he hydeeth it under erthe and gadereth thereupon coverynge with feet and clawes. And whanne he hath a fayre skynne he is as it were prowde therof and goth faste aboute; and whanne his skynne is ybrende [burnt] he abydeth at home. And is ofte for his fayre skynne ytake of the skynnere and yslayne and yhulde [skinned].

iii) Animals in Adages
We give a very small selection from a large mass of material (quotations and references are from Whiting). 10 The long and complicated background to medieval animal lore produced traditional similitudes and common proverbial comparisons (a good many of which have survived), and a great range of traditional animal attributes and behaviour, and of human attitudes to them. Some animals seem to have become especially significant or almost symbolic: the lamb is gentle, chaste and humble, meek and mild (as is the dove, which has no gall). 11 At the other extreme are hostile, dangerous or wicked animals like the serpent. There are foolish animals, like the ass (variously described as dull, ignorant, rude, slow), and animals which are traditionally mad or crazed, like the March hare. Some are unpleasant, like the stinking brock (badger), the 'rammish' goat, or the foul pig wallowing in its sty. Occasionally we can glimpse the hierarchies of the animal world: the cowardly kite may not fly with the royal eagle, whose eye pierces the sun. Some creatures are more ambiguous. In animal tales and fables the fox is the supreme example of wiliness and cunning, but one sometimes senses a barely-hidden admiration for its ingenuity.
Can we perhaps catch a hint of this even in the fox proverbs, with their apparently 'objective' accounts of its behaviour: 'the fox feigns dead 214 6. Animal Tales till the birds come to his tongue', 'when the fox preaches keep well the geese'? The cat, in its nature an even more ambiguous creature, associated with the house but also with the world outside it, is found in many adages, but is not confined to them: 'a cat falls on its feet', 'the cat would eat fish but would not wet its feet', 'see like a cat in the night', 'who shall find a cat true in keeping milk?', and so on. We have already met two Chaucerian cats. Of a third (an example of its often noticed passionate hunting of its 'contrary' the mouse) it is said that even if given milk and exquisite food, 'Lat hym seen a mous go by the wal, Anon he weyveth [refuses] milk and flesh and al … Swich appetite hath he to ete a mous' (Tales,. But for all its ambiguity, the cat could have a moral function.
The most obvious result of this proverbial animal lore was the development of a large number of proverbial similitudes of an almost formulaic kind: 'busy as a bee', black as any crow / raven', 'swift as the hind / doe / falcon / swallow', 'proud as a peacock', grey as a goose ', etc.,

B. Fables, and Stories of Reynard
Aesopic fables produced large and interesting literary tradition in the Middle Ages in both Latin and the vernacular. Caxton's version (1483-4) is based on the French translation by Macho of Steinhowel's extensive collection. Beside the various literary versions there was almost certainly a body of oral versions, known to the likes of 'Mother Maud'. Caxton follows Macho fairly closely. Sometimes he tries to heighten his style, but many of his fables are simple and unsophisticated in form. It is in these, and in the many retellings of fables in moral tales, that we come probably as close as we can to the style of the oral taletellers. We begin with an Anglo-Norman example in Bozon (who quotes a couple of English proverbs), followed by examples from Caxton, and finally (nos xiii ff.), by examples in moral tales.

iv) Bozon: the Goshawk and the Owl 14
The owl asked the goshawk to bring up her son; the other agreed, and said that she should bring him and put him with her own nestlings. As soon as the little bird arrived among the others, the hawk told him to

v) The Rat and the Frog
Now it be so that as the rat wente in pylgremage he came by a river, and demaunded helpe of a frogge for to passe and goo over the water. And thenne the frogge bound the rats foote to her foote, and thus swymed unto the myddes over the river. And as they were there the frogge stood stylle, to th'ende that the rat shold be drowned. And in the meane whyle came a kite upon them, and bothe bare them with hym. This fable made Esope for a symylytude whiche is prouffitable to many folks, for he that thynketh evylle ageynst good, the evylle whiche he thynketh shall ones [one day] falle upon hymself.

vi) The Eagle and the Fox
How the puyssaunt and myghty must doubte the feble Esope reherceth to us suche a fable. Ther was an egle whiche came theras yong foxes were, and took awey one of them and gaf hit to his yonge egles to fede them with. The fox wente after hym and praid hym to restore and gyve hym ageyne his yong foxe. And the egle sayd that he wold not, for he was over hym lord and maister. And thenne the foxe fulle of shrewdness and of malice beganne to put togider grete habondaunce of strawe round aboute the tree whereupon the egle and his yonge were in theyr nest, and kyndeled it with fyre. And whan the smoke and the flambe began to ryse upward, the egle ferdfulle and doubting the dethe of her lytylle egles restored ageyne the yonge foxe to his moder. This fable sheweth us how the mighty men oughte not to lette [harm] in ony thynge the smale folke, for the lytyll ryght ofte may lette and trouble the grete.

vii) The Lion and the Rat
The mighty and puyssaunt must pardonne and forgyve to the lytyll and feble, and ought to kepe hym fro al evylle, for oftyme the lytyll may wel gyve ayde and help to the grete -wherof Esope reherceth to us suche a fable of a lyon whiche slepte in a forest and the rats disported and playd aboute hym. It happed that the rat wente upon the lyon, wherfore the lyon awoke, and within his clawes or ongles he tooke the rat. And whanne the rat saw hym thus taken and hold sayd thus to the lyon, 'My lord, pardonne me, for of my deth nought ye shalle wynne, for I supposed not to have done to yow ony harme ne displaysyre.' Thenne thought the lyon in himself that no worship ne glorye it were to put it to dethe, wherfor he graunted his pardone and lete hym goo within a lytell whyle. After this it happed so that the same lyon was take at a grete trappe. And as he sawe hym thus caught and taken, he beganne to crye and make sorowe. And thenne whan the rat herd hym crye he approached hym and demaunded of hym wherefore he cryed. And the lyon ansuerd to hym, 'Seest thow not how I am take and bound with this gynne?' Thenne sayd the ratte to hym, 'My lorde, I wylle not be unkynde, but ever I shal remembre the grace whiche thou hast done to me, and yf I can I shall now helpe the.' The ratte beganne thenne to byte the lace or cord, and so long he knawed it that the lace brake, and thus the lyon escaped. Therfore this fable techeth us how that a man myghty and puyssaunt ought not to dispraise the lytyll, for somtyme he that can nobody hurte ne lette [hinder] may at a nede gyve help and ayde to the grete.

viii) The Cat and the Rat
He which is wyse, and hath ones hath ben begyled, ought not to truste more hym that hath begyled hym, as reherceth this fable of a catte whiche wente into a hows where as many rats were, the whiche he dyd ete one after other. And whanne the rats perceyved the grete fyersnes and crudelyte of the catte, held a counceylle togyder where as they determined of one comyn wylle that they shold no more hold them ne come nor goo on the lowe floore. Wherfore one of them moost auncyent proffered and sayd to al the other suche words, 'My bretheren and my frendes, ye knowe wel that we have a grete enemye, whiche is a grete persecutour over us alle, to whom we may not resyste, wherfore of nede we must hold our self upon the hyghe balkes [beams] to th'ende that he may not take us.' Of the whiche proposycion or wordes the other rats were wel content and apayd, and bylevyd this counceylle. And whanne the kat knewe the counceylle of the rats, he hynge hymself by his two feet behind at a pynne of yron whiche was styked at a balke, feynynge hymself to be dede. And whanne one of the rats lokynge dounward sawe the katte, beganne to lawhe and sayd to the cat, 'O my frend, yf I supposed that thow were dede, I shold goo doune, but wel I knowe the so fals and pervers that thow mayst wel have hanged thyself, faynynge to be dede -wherfore I shall not go doune.' And therfore he that hath ben ones begyled by somme other ought to kepe hym wel fro the same.

Foxes in Songs xi) A Fox Carol 19
This carol, or the idea behind it, seems to survive in a modern folksong, The Fox and the Goose, 20 though the exact route of its transmission remains uncertain.

xiv) The World's Glory 23
Esopus in Fabulis tellis how ther was a hors that was arrayed with a brydyll of gold, and a gay saddyll, and he met ane ass that was ladyn; and this ass made hym no reverens, bod held evyn furth his way. So this prowde hors was wrothe therwith, and said, 'Bod at I will not vex my selfe, els I sulde sla the with my hinder fete, becauce thou wolde not voyde the way, and giff me rowm to pass by the.' And when this ass hard hym, sho made mekyll sorrow. So within a little while after, this hors, that was so gaylie cled, was wayke and lene, and had a sare gallid bakk; and the ass met hym undernethe a carte, ledand muke unto the felde -and the ass was fayr and fatt. And the ass said unto hym, 'Whar is now thi gay aray at thou was so prowde of? Now blissid be God, thou erte put to the same occupacion at I use, and yit my bak is haler [more whole] than thyne. And therfor now thi gay gere helpis the nott.'

xv) Saint Jerome's Lion and the Ass 24
On a day when Sant Jerom satt with his brethir, sodanlie ther come a haltand [limping] lion and went into the abbay. And onone as the brethir saw hym thai fled all, and Saynt Jerom rase and met [him] as he had bene a geste. And this lyon lifte up his sare fute and lete hym se it, and he callid his brethir and garte [made] one of thaim wash it, and layd salvis and 229 C. Animals in Exempla or Moral Stories medcyns therto, made of herbys, and onone this lion was hale [restored] and was als meke as a hors. And Saynt Jerom chargid hym that he sulde evure day take charge of and kepe ane ass that broght hym and his brethir fewell [fuel] fro the wud, and he wolde everilk day at dew tyme hafe this ass of [from] the felde and bring it hame, and kepid hur surelie. So on a day as this ass was pasturand, this lyon liste wele slepe, and layde hym down and fell apon a sad [deep] slepe; and ther come merchandes with camels be this ass away, and saw at no bodie was stirrand, and thai tuke this ass with thaim. And when thai war gone, this lyon wakend and myssyd his fellow, and soght here and ther romyand [wandering] and couthe not fynde hit. And when he saw he cuthe not fynd it, he went home all hevylie unto the abbay, and stude at the yate oferrom [at a distance] and durste com no ner becauce he broght not hame the ass; and he durste not com in as he was wunt to do. And the monkis, when thai say [saw] hym at he come home and broght not the ass with hym as he was wunt to do, and thai trowed he had etyn hur, and herefor withdrew his meate fro hym at thai war wunte to giff hym and wold not giff hym it, bod bad hym go and ete the hynder-end of the ass as he had etyn the for-end. And than Saynt Jerom charged this lyon to do the ass offes, and to bring home wod [wood] on his bak daylie to the kychyn as it was wunt to do; and mekelie he did it as he was commandid and gruchid nothing therwith. So on a day as this lyon was walkand be his one [alone], he was war of thies merchandis com of ferrom [afar] with ther camels ladyn, and this lyon ass at he kepid emang thaim. And with a grete romyng [sc. rounyng = roaring] he ran opon thaim, and all the men fled and war passand ferd, and all thies camels and this ass bothe with merchandis as thai war ladyn, he broght unto the abbay. And when Saynt Jerom saw, he commawndid his brethir to giff thies catell meate, and than to abyde the will of God. And than this lyon come into the abbay as he was wunte to do, and wente to Saynt Jerom and syne [then] fro monk to monke, and fawnyd thaim and lowtid [bowed] unto the erth, evyn as he had askid thaim forgyfnes. And than the merchandis come and knew [acknowledged] ther fawte and askid Saynt Jerom forgyfnes; and he forgaff thaim when thai confessed how thai did, and lete thaim hafe all ther gudis agayn. And thai gaff the abbay to amendis a messur of oyle, and band thaim and ther successurs for evurmore yerelie to giff unto that abbay the same messur, and so thai do yerelie unto this day.

xvi) Silent Bribes: the Cow and the Ox 25
Som tyme ther was a ballay [bailiff] of a grete lordshup, that made a feste grete and costios unto the weddyng of a son of his. So ther was a tenand in the lordship, that had a grete cauce ther in the cowrte to be determynd befor the Stewerd. And agayn this baillay son sulde be wed, he com unto the baillay and said, 'Sur, I pray you stand for me befor the stewerd in the courte, at I may hafe right, and I sall giff yow a fatt cow to your son weddyng.' And he tuke the cow and sayd that he suld. So this mans adversarie harde tell hereoff, and he come unto this baillay wyfe and gaff hur a fatt ox, and besoght hur at sho wold labur unto hur husband that he wold answer for hym agayns his adversarie in the courte. And sho tuke the cow and laburd unto hur husband, and he promysid hur at he suld fulfil hur entent. So bothe the parties come into the courte afor the stewerd, and put furth ther cawsis, and the baillay stude still and spak not a wurd for nowdur of thaim, unto so mekyll at he that gaff the ox was like to be castyn [defeated]. And the man that gaff hym the ox said unto the baillay, 'Sur, whi spekis nott the ox?' and the baillay ansswerd hym agayn and said, 'For suthe! The ox may nott speke, for the cow is so fayr and so gude that sho will nott latt hym speke.'

xvii) Swallows 26
… somtyme ther was a husbandman, that had bygand [dwelling] in his howse everilk yere many swallows. So at tyme of the yere when thai wer bown [ready] att [to] goo, he tuke ane of the old swallows, and he wrate a bill with thir wurdis therin, 'O Irund[o], ubi habitas in yeme?' 27 and he band it unto the fute therof, and lete hur goo, for he knew be experiens that sho wold come agayn the next yere. And so sho flow hur wais with other into the lande of Asie; and ther sho biggid in a howse all wynter. And so this gude man of the howse on a tyme beheld hur. And he tuke this burd, and lowsid the bill, and lukid whatt was therin; and he tuke it away, and wrate anoder, of thies wurdis, 'In Asia, in domo Petri.' 28 And he knytt [fastened] it unto hur fute, and lete hur go. And sho come agayn 231 C. Animals in Exempla or Moral Stories att sommer unto this husband howse, whar sho had bred befor; and he tuke hur and lowsid this bill, and redd it. And he told the storie therof unto many men, evyn as it had bene a miracle.

xviii) Malevolent Mice 29
… a riche man on a day satt at his meate. And sodanlie he was umlappid with a grete flok of myce, and sodanly thai lefte all at was in the howse, and pursewid uppon hym. And men tuke hym and had hym unto a ship on the water at he mot so [might thus] esskape the myce, and void thaim fro hym. And thai lepid after hym into the watyr, and come to the shupp and gnew [gnawed] it thurgh. And so he mott on no wyse kepe hym fro thaim, unto so muche [until such time] att he was had to land agayn; and ther the myce fell on hym and kyllid hym, and ete hym up evere morsell unto the bare bonys.

xix) A Mouse and a Cat 30
A mowse on a tyme felle into a barell of newe ale, that spourgid [was fermenting], and myght not come oute. The cate come beside, and herde the mouse crie in the barme [froth], 'Pepe! pepe!' for she myght not come oute. The cat seide, 'Why cries thou?' The mouse seide, 'For I may not come oute.' The catte saide, 'If I delyver the this tyme, thou shalte come to me when I calle the.' The mouse seide, 'I graunte the, to come when thou wilte.' The catte seide, 'Thou moste swere to me', and the mouse sware to kepe covenaunte. Then the catte with his fote drew oute the mouse, and lete hym go. Afterward, the catte was hungry, and come to the hole of the mouse, and called and bade hire come to hym. The mouse was aferde, and saide, 'I shall not come.' The catte saide, 'Thou hast made an othe to me, for to come.' The mouse saide, 'Brother, I was dronkyne when I sware, and therfore I am not holdyn to kepe myn othe.' 29 Tale number DXLV, Mures eciam homines aliquando inuadunt. 30 In Gesta Romanorum, tale XLV (fable of a cat and a mouse). Very well known, it also appears among Spanish tales in Brewer's Medieval Comic Tales. 232 6. Animal Tales

xx) A Theft cannot be Hidden 31
… Som tyme ther was a man at [that] stale his neghbur shepe, and ete it; and this man that aght [owned] this shepe come unto saynt Patryk, and told hym how a shepe was stollen from hym, and he chargid oft sithis that who somevur had it sulde bryng it agayn, and no man wolde grawnte it. So on a haly day, when all the peple was in the kurk, saynt Patryk spirrid and commaundid, in the vertue of Jesu at this shepe sulde blete in his belie that had etyn itt, at all men might here. And so it did, and thus the thefe was knowen, and made amendis for his trispas. And all other that hard ever after was ferd to stele.

xxi) Animals Know that Theft is Sinful 32
… Som tyme ther was ane hermett that dwelt in wyldernes, and everilk day at meate tyme ther com unto his yate a sho-wulfe [she-wolf], and sho wulde never away or [before] he gaff hur somewhat at [to] eate. So on a day this hermett was with anoder bruther of his in occupacion, and come not home att meate-tyme of the day. And this wulfe come and fand hym not ther, and was war of a little bread in a wyndow, and sho brak in and tuke it, and eete it and went away. And when the hermett come home, he fand the crombis of the bread at the wyndow, and he demyd who had takyn it. And this wulfe knew hur deffaute, and wolde not com at this hermett a sennett [week] afterwerd. And when this hermet myssid this wulfe, at used to com daylie unto hym, he made his prayer unto God; and this wulfe com agayn upon the sennet day, bod sho stude of ferrom [far away], and durste not com nere hym. And sho layd hur down and held down hur head, as sho suld aske hym forgyfnes; and he tuke it for a confession, and bad hur com ner hym boldly, and he suld forgiff hur. And fro thensfurth evur after sho come at tyme of the day, and did hur offes as sho was wunt.

D. Some further Middle English Literary examples
These are not easy to find. One problem is that of all the types of Middle English popular literature, animal tales and poems are the result of a very intimate interrelation between the 'learned' and the popular tradition. Birds make brief but significant appearances in lyrics. The high points, especially the elaborate bird debates, are to be found in poets like Chaucer, Henryson, and Holland. I have preferred examples which seem to come from the popular end of the spectrum (of which but few have survived), in contrast to the merry tales.

xxii) Bird on Briar 33
A love song, with music, apparently addressed to a bird, perhaps a confidant and the representative of Love.  Debates between animals, and especially between birds, were a favourite form of the sophisticated literary authors: like Chaucer's Parliament of Foules; or Holland's Buke of the Howlat, a Scottish poem in alliterative verse. One or two, however, seem possibly closer to the popular tradition. I give extracts from two thirteenth-century poems: firstly, from the Thrush and the Nightingale (in MS Digby 86), a somewhat stiff and uninspired debate on the nature of women.

I heard dispute
That onº of wele,º that other of wo, [Whereupon the thrush admits defeat, apologetically says that she will no longer speak ill of women, and that she will fly away out of this land.] D. Some further Middle English Literary examples

xxvi) From The Owl and the Nightingale [vv. 91-138] 37
The Nightingale Attacks the Owl Our second debate is a much more lively affair, done with genuine wit and vivacity. The protagonists in their exchanges use exempla, fables, and proverbs, as well as rhetorical techniques of a less honourable kind. The poem's editor says of the anonymous author that he was 'a man of wide sympathies, a man who has seen something of the world and yet was not without the kind of learning valued among the religious.' 38 He seems to have been well read in the literature of his day, but he was also deeply responsive to the popular tradition, as we can see in the way he uses traditional and proverbial animal lore. . The Nightingale replies that she will remain secure in her cover because she knows that the Owl is hostile to small birds, and in consequence is hated by them all; and they try to drive the Owl away. The Owl is ugly, unclean, and unnatural. And the altercation gets off to a fine start with a mixture of comedy, satire, deepseated incompatibility, and outright hostility … He cuthº wel whoneneº he is icume.' shows whence

xxvii) The Hare's Lament 42
It is rare to find any expression of sympathy, however brief, in Middle English animal tales, for hunted animals like the fox or the hare. And whelpes play with my skyne!

Chapter 7
Proverbs and Riddles The proverb and the riddle are two very ancient forms of 'wisdom literature', found in the ancient near East (there are examples of both forms in the Bible) and in pre-Conquest Britain (Old English gnomic verses and maxims, and riddles). And both are found throughout the world. The forms of the two seem to be related. It has been suggested that they have the same 'deep structure': the proverb is, as it were, an 'answer' to the riddle's unspoken enigmatic and covert question. Certainly they sometimes share the same image or topic: a French riddle asks 'which of all the household utensils is always readily available?' [a candlestick], and a proverb remarks 'a candlestick is always ready for any candle.' Neither proverbs nor riddles are well-known or frequently used in modern Western societies (at least outside the world of children), but in the Middle Ages they were esteemed and commonly used.
The proverb, 'a short pithy saying in common recognised use … some homely truth expressed in a concise and terse manner' (OED), is constantly used by medieval authors, and often appears in manuscript collections. Proverbs are sometimes attributed to wise sages like Solomon or 'Alfred', 1 sometimes said to be in common use, ancient, the property of peasants and rustics. They seem to have existed in both an oral and a written tradition, and to have moved easily from one 1 Gray writes 'Alfred' in quotation marks; one might as well put such quotes around other names such as Solomon. Once a figure has acquired a reputation for wisdom, many sayings are ascribed to him (rarely, her) whether he wrote them or not. Gray explains this further, below.
to the other. Some seem to have had their origin in the 'folk', others apparently have a 'literary' origin (often from the Bible or Aesop). As in modern 'traditional' societies, they seem to have had a variety of social and rhetorical uses: in argument and oratory, as a means of making generalisations, as 'normative' vehicles of satire, as expressions of social discontent. Some characteristics of the proverb probably appealed to sophisticated authors. For all its firmness in generalising, the proverb's 'truth' does not always prove to be absolute. It often seems to need, or invite, some contextualisation or interpretation. Quite often we find proverbs which express opposing views: dreams are true / dreams are false, for example. This fluidity and flexibility was exploited by writers such as Chaucer. There was a body of 'proverbial similitudes' (warm as wool, etc); these as well as common (and perhaps overused) proverbs could be enlivened or revivified by writers, thus in Chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde (2. v. 1276) Pandarus 'felte iren hot, and he bigan to smite '. 2 The examples in this section have been chosen to illustrate briefly some of the characteristics and literary potential of proverbs. We begin with some Early Middle English examples, attributed to figures of wisdom, like King Alfred, then further examples from the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. The use of proverbs in literary texts is illustrated by the Owl and the Nightingale. There was obviously an interest in poems of general wisdom and instruction: moral proverbial verses were sometimes painted as tituli in secular buildings like the Percy castles at Leconfield and Wressel, and the sixteenth-century 'Painted Room' in Oxford contained a set of the 'precepts in -ly' (for example, 'in the mornynge earlye serve God devoutlye'). 3 I have illustrated this briefly with a couple of moral carols. The vividness of some proverbs seems to call for visual depiction. England cannot rival the achievement of the Netherlandish artists, but there is a nice depiction of 'shoeing the goose' (that is, performing useless and nonsensical tasks). 4 We continue with proverbs in epitaphs and end with an extract from the proverb contest A reference to English carvings (there is a similar proverb in French): one is among the choir stalls at Beverley Minster, another at Whaley (Lancs). The latter is captioned: 'who so melles hym of yat al men dos, let hym cum heir and shoe the gos.' The feet of geese being driven to market might be dipped in tar to protect them from damage on the road, since they could not be shod. Whiting G 389. between Solomon and Marcolfus, which illustrates many of the qualities of the proverb tradition: its oppositions, and its combination of highminded wisdom with a crude and vulgar realism.
The Riddle, 'a question or statement intentionally couched in a dark or puzzling manner, and propounded in order that it may be guessed or answered, especially in pastime; an enigma or dark saying' (OED), seems to imply a kind of contest: an audience is challenged by a questioner. It is not surprising to find that riddle contests are common throughout the world's traditional societies, and in the history of literature. A riddle will usually have only one answer, though some are ambiguous, encouraging the audience to think of a possible obscene solution (see no. xiv), and perhaps sometimes 'doubly ambiguous' with the more literal solution returning to shame the obscene thoughts of the audience? In some of the early riddle-contests 'pastime' gives way to a very grim context: the forfeit for failure is death, as in the story of the princess Turandot, who tested her suitors with riddles. 5 There is a vestige of this remaining in our nos xv & xvi (although, in xv, the threatening fiend is seen off by the maid with some briskness). However, in most, 'pastime' seems ever present: the riddles are genuinely 'demandes joyous' (see D, below). And there is some delight in the artful and playful strategies which mislead the audience, making a riddle the verbal equivalent of those trick pictures in which a duck may be a rabbit, depending on how we interpret the 'signs'. Lurking behind the riddle is the rhetorical figure of 'enigma' which seems to have fascinated some writers -and some preachers and theologians -presenting the 'paradoxes of the faith' or reflecting, like Nicholas of Cusa, on 'learned ignorance'. 6 Our selection illustrates something of the nature of the riddle. We begin with examples from manuscripts and early prints, some of them demonstrating that riddles, like proverbs, can have an amazing longevity. In manuscripts, riddles are not recorded in the very large numbers that proverbs are, but they are obviously 'there', as is a liking for puzzles (see nos xiii & xiv). Examples of riddle-contests 5 The story of Turandot, famous because of Puccini's opera, was based on part of a twelfth-century Persian epic. 6 Nicholas of Cusa (1401-64) contributed to European history and culture notably by his writings on 'learned ignorance'.

246
7. Proverbs and Riddles are followed by a number of 'riddling' poems, one of which (no. xvii) sounds rather like a nursery rhyme -but has an 'adult' conclusion.
The religious examples are especially interesting: they include a witty riddling poem on 'earth' (no. xxi; compare 'Remember O man that thou art dust …', and the proverbial 'Earth must to Earth'), 7 and a very interesting example (no. xxii) of an enigmatic presentation of a traditional devotional image, the significance of which is gradually revealed by the central figure. We end with a brief example of the way in which enigma was used in narrative.

A. Proverbs recorded in Manuscripts and Prints i) Proverbs of Alfred 8
'Maxims' were used and collected in pre-Conquest times, and are found in Early Middle English versions. The Anglo-Saxon king was remembered as a wise and learned sage, but there is no evidence that the historical ruler ever produced a collection of proverbs. His name seems to be used rather to confer a certain authority. Alfred's name is sometimes attached to individual proverbs. The collection (not absolutely fixed), known as the Proverbs of Alfred, is early (perhaps from the twelfth century). Ac leorne hire custe,º but learn her qualities Heo cutheth hi wel sone'º ….
she makes them known very quickly

ii) From The Book of St Albans 10
Too wyves in oon hous, Too cattys and oon mous, Too doggis and oon boon: Theis shall never accorde in oon.

iii) From MS Balliol 354, the early-sixteenth century book of Richard Hill 11
4. It is a sotill mowse, that slepith in the cattis ere 6. A bird in hond is better than thre in the wode

iv) Miscellaneous Proverbs
To trust myche in dremes is ful gret abusion 12 And alle be hit that sum folkis say To truste on dremys nys but triffle play, Yet oon may mete the dreme wel yn his s[w]evyn As afterward that shalle bifalle him evyn 13 For al is noght trewe that faire spekyt 14 Hunger makth hard beanes sweete 15 Tharfor men seye, and wel ys trowed, 'The nere [nearer] the cherche, the fyrther fro God' 16 As it is seide in olde proverb -'pore be hangid be the necke, a riche man bi the purs' 17 The worlde so wide, th'aire so remuable,º changeable The selyº man so litel of stature, helpless The grove and groundeº and clothinge so mutable. The more I seche the worse kan I fynde, The lighter leveº the lother for to wende,º easier to leave more loath to go The betº y serve the more al out of mynde.º better forgotten Is thys fortune, not I,º or infortune?

I know not
Though I go lowse,º tyed am I with a lune.º free leash (for a hawk)
Ther is non gres that growit on ground, In every place qwer that he go.

Kep thi tunge …
Good men that stondyn and syttyn in this halle, I prey you, bothe on and alle That wykkyd tunges fro you falle, That ye mowun to hefne go.

viii) Proverbs appear in epitaphs … 27
Farewell, my frendis! The tide abidith no man: I moste departe hens, and so shall ye.
But in this passage, the best song that I can C. Proverbs in Verses, or Adages Is Requiem Eternum 28 -I pray God grant it me! Whan I have endid all myn adversite, Graunte me in Paradise to have a mancyon.
That shede his blode for my redempcion.

ix) Most eloquently in the fictional epitaph of Graunde Amour, 29 in Hawes's Pastime of Pleasure
O mortall folke, you may beholde and se How I lye here, somtyme a mighty kyght.

The ende of joye and all prosperyte
Is dethe at last, through his course and might.
For though the day be never so longe At last the belles ryngeth to evensonge.

x) Adages as embodiments of ancient wisdom 30
In the Adagia of Erasmus adages (like later emblems) took on the nature of gnomic utterances, darkly and deeply meaningful, 'often having inner senses far more moral than it would ever occur to a modern reader to give them'.

Know Time 31
Nosce Tempus: know time. Opportunitie is of such force that of honest it maketh unhonest, of damage avauntage, of pleasure grevaunce, of a good turne a shrewd turne, and contraryewyse of unhonest honest, of avauntage damage, and brefly to conclude it cleane chaungeth the nature of thynges.

xi) Solomon and Marcolfus
In the Old English period the dialogues of the rival sages Solomon and Saturn present a debate. In the late Middle Ages Solomon's opponent was his parodist, the ugly, churlish Marcolphus, whose earthy proverbs are modelled on the proverbial lore of the peasants, and present a world view quite opposed to that of the king. 32 The Latin version appeared in vernacular form; the English version of Leeu was printed at Antwerp in 1492. 33 Upon a season heretofore as king Salomon, full of wisdom and richesse, sate upon the kings sete or stole [throne] that was his fadres Davyd, sawe coming a man out of th'Este that was named Marcolphus, of visage greatly myshapen and fowle; nevyrethe lesse he was right talkatyf, elloquend, and wyse. His wif had he wyth hym, whiche was more ferefull and rude to beholde. This Marcolf was of short stature and thykke. The head had he great; a brode forhede rede and full of wrinkelys or frouncys [creases]; his erys hery [hairy] and to the myddys of chekys hangyng; great yes [eyes] and rennyng; his nether lyppe hangyng lyke an horse; a berde harde and fowle lyke unto a gote; the hands short and blockyssh [gross]; his fyngres great and thycke; rounde feet and the nose thycke and croked; a face lyke an asse, and the here of hys heed lyke the heer of a gote. His shoes on his fete were ovyrmoche chorlyssh and rude, and his clothys fowle and dirty; a short cote to the buttockys; his hosyn hinge [hung] full of wrynkelys, and alle his clothes were of the moost fowle coloure … … Salomon sayde, 'I have herd of the that thou kanst right wele clatre [chatter] and speke, and that thou art subtyle of wyt, although that thou be mysshapyn and chorlyssh. Lete us have betwene us altercacion. I shal make questyons to the, and thou shalt therto answere.' Marcolfus answeryd, 'He that singyth worste begynne furste.' Salomon: 'If thou kanst answere to alle my questyons I shall make the ryche, and be named above all other withyn my reaume.

D. Riddles
[Because of the king's hostility, Marcolphus flees and hides in an old oven, having made footprints in the snow with the foot of a bear. When these are discovered the king sets out hunting and is led to the oven …] … The king Salomon discended from hys hors, and began to loke into the oven. Marcolphus laye all crokyd, hys visage from hymwarde; had put downe hys breche into hys hammes that he might se hys arshole and alle hys other fowle gere. As the king Salomon, that seyng, demawnded what laye there, Marcolphus answeryd, 'I am here.' Salomon: 'Wherefore lyest thou thus?' Marcolphus: 'For ye have commanded me that ye shulde nomore se me betwixt myn yes. Now and ye woll not se me betwixt myn yes, ye may se me between my buttockys in the myddes of myn arsehole.' Than was the king sore movyd [provoked]; commanded his servauntys to take him and hange hym upon a tre. Marcolphus so takyn sayde to the kyng: 'My lord, well it please you to yeve me leve to chose the tre whereupon that I shall hange.' Salomon sayde, 'Be it as thou hast desired, for it forcyth not on what tre that thou be hangyd.' Than the kynges servauntes token and leddyn Marcolph wythoute the citie and through the vale of Josaphath, and ovyr the hyghte of the hylle of Olyete from thens to Jericho, and cowde fynde no tre that Marcolf wolde chese to be hanged on. From thens went they ovyr the flome Jordane, and all Arabye through, and so forth all the grete wyldernesse unto the Rede See, and nevyrmore cowed Marcolph fynde a tre that he wolde chese to hange on. And thus he askapyd out of the dawnger and hands of King Salomon, and turnyd ayen unto hys house and levyd in pease and joye.

xii) From the Demaundes Joyous (1511) 34
3) Who was Adams moder? (the earth) 4) What space is from the hyest space of the se to the deepest? (but a stone's cast) 6) How many calves tayles behoveth to reche from the erthe to the skye? (one, if it's long enough) 9) Whiche parte of a sergeaunte love ye best towarde you? (his heels) 11) Which is the moost profitable beest, and that men eteth leest of? (bees) 12) Which is the broadest water and leest jeopardye to passe over? (dew)

xiii) A Puzzle
Water frosen, Caines brother; So hight my leman, and no other. 35

xiv) A Riddle with ambiguous solution 36
I have a hole above my knee And pricked yt was and pricked shal be And yet yt is not sore And yet yt shal be pricked more.

xv) The Devil and the Maid 37
Wol ye hereº a wonder thynge

Proverbs and Riddles
Heweneº ys heyer than ys the tre, heaven Helle ys dypper than ys the see.
Thonder ys lodder than ys the horne.
Loukyngeº ys longer than ys the way, expectation Synº ys rader than ys the day, sun Godys flesseº ys betur than ys the brede, flesh Payne ys strenger than ys the dede.º death Gras ys grenner than ys the wode, Love ys swetter than ys the note.
Thowtº ys swifter than ys the wynde, thought Jesus ys richer than ys the kynge.
Saferº ys yeluer than ys the wexs, saffron Selke ys softer than ys the flex. Now, thu fende, stylº thu be; silent Nelle ichº speke no more with the!' I will not

xvi) King John and the Bishop 38
Off an ancient story Ile tell you anon, Of a notable prince that was called King John, In England was borne, with maine and with might; Hee did much wrong and maintained litle right.
This noble prince was vexed in veretye,º truth For he was angry with the Bishopp of Canterbury; For his house-keeping and his good cheere, Theº rode post for him, as you shall heare.

E. Riddle Challenges
They rode post for him very hastilye; The king sayd the bishopp kept a better house than hee: A hundred men even, as I [heard] say, And fifty gold chaines, without any doubt, In velvet coates waited the bishop about.
The bishopp, he came to the court anon, Before his prince that was called King John.
As soone as the bishopp the king did see, 'O,' quoth the king, 'Bishopp, thow art welcome to mee.
There is noe man soe welcome to towne What is the thing, bishop, that I doe thinke.

you shall
And come againe and answere mee.' The bishop bade the king god night attº a word; with He rode betwixt Cambridge and Oxenford, But never a doctor there was soe wise Cold shew him these questions or enterprise.
Wherewith the bishopp was nothing gladd, But in his hart was heavy and sadd.

7. Proverbs and Riddles
And hyed him home to a house in the countrye, To ease some part of his melanchollye.
His halfe-brother dwelt there, was fierce and fell, Noe better but a shepard to the bishoppe himsell; The shepard came to the bishopp anon, Saying, 'My lord, you are welcome home! What ayles you,' quoth the shepard, 'that you are soe sadd, And had wonte to have beene soe merry and gladd?' 'Nothing,' quoth the bishopp, 'I ayle att this time; Will not thee availe to know, brother mine.' 'Brother,' quoth the shepheard, 'you have heard itt, That a foole may teach a wisemane witt; Say me therefore whatsoever you will, And if I doe you noe good, Ile doe you noe ill.' Quoth the bishop, 'I have beene att the court anon, Before my prince is called King John.
And there he hath charged mee Against his crowne with traitorye.
If I cannott answer his misterye, Three questions hee hath propounded to mee, He will have my land soe faire and free.
And alsoe the head from my bodye.
The first question was to tell him in that stead, With the crowne of golde upon his head, Amongst his nobilitye, with joy and much mirth, To lett him know within one penye what hee is worth.
And secondlye to tell him without any doubt How soone he may goe the whole world about, And thirdlye to tell him, or ere I stint, What is the thinge that he does thinke.' 'Brother,' quoth the shepard, 'you are a man of learninge; What neede you stand in doubt of soe small a thinge?
Lend me,' quoth the shepard, 'your ministersº apparel, That I will give thee franke and free;º unconditionally Take thee that, shepard, for coming to me, Free pardon Ile give,' the kings grace said, 'To save the bishopp, his land and his head; With him nor thee Ile be nothing wrath; Here is the pardon for him and thee both.' [He takes it back to the bishop, whose heart is 'of a merry cheere'; the shepherd announces that he will no longer 'crouch nor creep' before him, nor keep his sheep.] Religious writings sometimes make use of 'enigma'.
Her sone her fader ys and broder; Lyfe faught with dethe and dethe is slayne; Most high was lowe -he stygheº agayne. xxii) The first sixty lines of a religious visionary poem. 45 The meaning of the enigmatic images gradually becomes clear. This poem also provides an introduction to our following section.

G. Enigma in Narrative
His wowndes bledyng day and nyght.

Lulley …
And by that bedes side ther kneleth a may,º maid And she wepeth both nyght and day.

Lulley …
Chapter 8 Satire Satire is a protean term. 1 Together with its derivatives, it is one of the most heavily-worked literary designations and one of the most imprecise. The great English lexicographer Samuel Johnson defined satire as 'a poem in which wickedness or folly is censured', and more elaborate definitions are rarely more satisfactory. No strict definition can encompass the complexity of a word that signifies, on the one hand, a kind of literature … and, on the other, a mocking spirit or tone that manifests itself in many literary genres but can also enter into almost any kind of human communication. Whenever wit is employed to expose something foolish or vicious to criticism, there satire exists, whether it be in song or sermon, in painting or in political debate, on television or in the movies. In this sense satire is everywhere. 2 It certainly seems to be almost everywhere in medieval England. From this period, although much has been lost -or was never written down -there survives a mass of satirical writing, in both verse and prose. Alongside a tradition of popular satire there was of course a 'learned' one, rooted (remotely) in ancient classical satire and (more obviously) in that of the Old Testament prophets, their successors among The popular tradition, which overlaps and interacts with it, rarely has the wit or the precision shown by such writers: it prefers a direct, heavy blow, sometimes delivered 'below the belt'. We seem to be in a world of homely taunts and stereotypes, mockery and invective. In its attempts to expose folly and vice it will employ ridicule and simple abuse. But it is a tradition not only vehement and aggressive, but also varied. The attitudes behind our examples show a remarkable range, from outright venom -sometimes close to the feared nith of earlier satire to a more relaxed and almost urbane attitude (as in The Land of Cokaygne), 3 or in the high-spirited burlesque of the Tournament of Tottenham. 4 Modern readers quickly become impatient with the general 'complaints' on the wickedness of the age, but we need to remember that such complaints could be telling and pointed if quoted in a particular context to an audience of receptive listeners. And if context is important, so is performance, whether in song or recitation or, visually, in the satirical 'bills' posted in public places. The simple, direct style of some pieces seems to bring us close to the style of the now lost satirical songs of the oral tradition, as we find it in the few fragments quoted by chroniclers. The popular flyting, an exchange of taunts, is known to us mainly through its appearance as a kind of courtly game in the writings of Dunbar and Skelton. But its oral antecedents could still be heard in medieval streets: Dunbar, addressing the merchants of Edinburgh, remarks that no one can pass through the city's streets 'for stink of haddockis and of scattis We begin with an introductory group of 'snatches': poems referred to or quoted by chroniclers (the words of these are the nearest we can come to the actual words of the oral song). These songs seem to have been common. Our no. (ii) is a poem attributed to John Ball at the time of the Peasants' Revolt, a poem related to the general laments on the wickedness of the contemporary world, like the common 'Abuses of the Age', and which also shows how these 'general' poems may be given a pointedness in a particular political context.

C. Particular Abuses and Wicked Deeds
Medical and religious satire: although quack doctors and their remedies figure in popular drama, both medieval and later, English satirical poems on them have not survived in great numbers. We include one simple burlesque example. Here the more learned tradition produced one little masterpiece in Henryson's Sum Practysis of Medecyne, a dazzling performance which unites the style of 'flyting' with a wonderfully wild sense of fantasy: the 'remedies' include 'sevin sobbis of ane selche' [seal] and 'the lug of ane lempet'. 21 The much more extensive surviving corpus of religious satire -Lollard attacks on the church, orthodox attacks on Lollards -also presents problems for an anthologist of popular literature, since many examples seem more learned and 'literary'. We simply present two poems against friars.

ix) A Good Medicine for Sore Eyes 22
For a man that is almost blynd:

C. Particular Abuses and Wicked Deeds x) These Friars 23
This poem is more lively than many anti-fraternal attacks, but it is sometimes obscure. The author seems to be thinking of wall-paintings in a church, such as are found in the large churches of the preaching friars. Of  On that lovelych lord, so for to lye.
With an O and an I, one sayd ful still,º quietly Armachanº distroy ham, if it is Goddes will.

Archbishop of Armagh 25
Ther comes one out of the skye in a grey goun As it were a hog-hyerdº hyandº to toun;

E. Parody and Burlesque
Hath brought Jack Napiis in an evill cache.º pursuit Be ware, al men, of that blame, And namlyº ye of grete fame, especially Spirituall and temperall, be ware of this, Or els hit will not be well, iwis.
God save the kyng, and God forbade That he suche apes any mo fede, And of the perille that may befall Be ware, dukes, erles, and barouns alle.

E. Parody and Burlesque
Two examples of verse satire which make good use of the extensive and deep-rooted tradition.

xviii) The Land of Cokaygne 37
This Early Middle English poem, with its witty combination of antimonastic satire and parody of the delights of the Eathly Paradise, manages to create a glorious vision of a comic utopia; and the (monastic) world upside down. [vv. 51-166] … Ther is a wel fair abbei Of white monkes and of grei;

Songs
be described as 'popular' or 'learned' and, if we decide to place it in the category of popular lyric (a category whose boundaries are not absolutely fixed), how closely it approximates to the oral song from which it came. Thus Greene, 3 discussing the plough song (xiii), records numerous parallels in later folksong, but points out that the carol is 'intended for more sophisticated performance, probably by choirboys', and concludes cautiously that 'it is conceivable that a carol on this theme may be the result of a learned clerical composer's interest in an air heard in the fields.' Similarly, in the fine drinking song 'Bryng us in good ale' (xvi) he notes the 'repeated formula with a portion changed with each repetition, an old device used by very elementary folk-poetry' -and which allows improvisation. 4 However, the repetition is quite artful, with the rejected items of food becoming a splendidly bizarre ensemble, and the accompanying (apparently explanatory) 'asides' are sometimes wonderfully fantastic. Could it be a clever imitation, and transformation, of the techniques of oral folk-poetry? 'Performance' seems to lie behind almost all the popular lyrics. Some of them are clearly dance songs; in nearly all of them we seem to hear the voice of the singer. They survive in a variety of forms. Perhaps the most distinctive is the 'carol', not yet limited to Christmas songs. The name derives from the French 'carole', a ring-dance, and the ideas of performance and entertainment continue to lurk even in the more sophisticated and literary examples. Characteristically the Middle English carol is a stanzaic poem, secular or religious, marked by a recurring 'burden' or refrain. Other forms of song are also found, and we see brief glimpses of sharp satire, and examples of popular talk (like the ducks that 'slobber in the mere', in xvi below), double entendre, and some entertaining rascals. But in general the popular lyric presents us with a rich and varied array of merry entertainment. Our selection attempts to give a sense of this. After a 'welcome song' delivered by a minstrel or a master of ceremonies, we move to a series of snatches of oral songs, then to the merriment of the festal season and throughout the year, and to various contemporary figures, pedlars 'light of foot', roving bachelors and an amorous priest, encounters between men and women; to some songs which seem to hover between children's songs and erotic lyric, and to merry nonsense verse. We end with some religious popular lyrics, some of which show the same zest and merriment as their secular counterparts.

Religious Songs (a brief selection)
Nou goth sonne under tre, Me reweth, Marie, thi sone and the.

xxvi) 33
Adam lay ibowndyn, bowndyn in a bond, Fowre thousand winter thowt he not to long.
And al was for an appil, An appil that he tok, As clerkes fyndyn wretyn, wretyn in here bok Ne hadde the appil take ben, the appil take ben, Ne hadde never our Lady aº ben hevene qwen.
have Blyssid be the tyme that appil take was,

Drama
The surviving texts of early English drama have preserved for us a large number of plays, but these probably represent only a very small portion of what once existed. The question of 'lost literature' has figured throughout this anthology, but is especially important in the case of songs and drama. The loss of so much of the early drama is undoubtedly very regrettable, and at first dispiriting. But it need not be. What has survived is often of very high quality and a remarkable variety, even giving us a few surviving examples of folk drama in the Robin Hood plays (two are included here). And the surviving records give a further impression of a once very large and varied body of work: more saints' plays (a form which obviously lost favour after the Reformation), and even a couple of plays seemingly based on romance stories, and a glimpse of the many dramatic or semi-dramatic plays and performances associated with seasonal festivals. The surviving texts and the records sometimes present us with unanswerable questions: for example, whether the impression given by the surviving texts that England (at least before the 'morality' plays, interludes, and comedies of the early sixteenth century) had fewer secular plays than France is in fact the truth. There seem to be some early secular plays, like the Interludium de clerico et puella or (possibly) Dame Sirith, and later plays seem to have 'secular' elements -the ending of the Woman Taken in Adultery, with the lover fleeing, suggests a scene from a merry tale or fabliau.

Drama
More often the records excite our curiosity to discover more about the dramatic or semi-dramatic pieces in May games -the processions, 'ridings', and so on. Processions were common, associated with Saint George, Robin Hood; there was even a ship procession at Hull associated with a Noah play (the ship or Ark was carried in procession and then kept in the church), and the seasonal festivals and pastimes, with their summer kings and queens, abbots of unreason and others. These are noted by disapproving moralists, but we are not given any precise details. 1 And we know very little about the 'folk plays' which once existed. However, the surviving dramatic texts do give us hints of possible scenes, topics, or practices in folk plays: the use of masks, players making entrances and exits through the audience and introducing themselves, combats and mock deaths and revivals, comic doctors and blustering tyrants -as in the later mummers' plays, with their doctors who can revive the 'dead', their swaggering blusterers, and giants like Blunderbore. It would be very rash to assume that lost medieval folk plays were identical with these mummers' plays, but it is quite possible that some were similar to them. A couple of relevant points may be cited in support of this view: similar plays are found throughout Europe, and although texts of the English mummers' plays are recorded only from the eighteenth century on, it is likely that they go back further. They were 'exported' to early British colonies such as Newfoundland. There, although the first precise account appears in a work of 1819, it is possible that they were part of the 'Morris dancers, Hobby Horses and Maylike conceits' brought there by Gilbert in his voyage of 1583. 2 Some of these points suggestive of folk-drama are illustrated here in extracts from early morality plays and interludes, and from plays forming part of the 'mystery cycles'. The mystery cycles are of special significance; presenting the epic story of man's Creation, Fall, and Redemption, they remained popular for centuries. They were mostly, it seems, written by clerics, but these clerics were obviously very close to their lay folk. They use colloquial speech, and exploit the forms of They offered instruction together with entertainment, but instruction in the manner of late medieval devotion -so close to 'popular religion' with its simplicity and homeliness, as in the shepherds' gifts to the Christ Child, or Noah talking familiarly to God. Two final points may be made briefly, and confidently. First, the high quality of much of the writing arguably makes the mystery plays one of the supreme achievements of Middle English popular literature; and second, the insight they give us into the world of the 'folk' brings us very close indeed to the ordinary men and women of medieval England with their faith and devotion, their fears and their courage. And it is a clear-sighted view: we are also made to see the less admirable qualities of humankind, such as violence and cruelty, the deviousness of Mak the sheep-stealer and trickster, the grumpiness and bleak scepticism of the shepherds.

i) The Entrance of Cain in the Wakefield Mactatio Abel
The 'Wakefield' (a town near York) or 'Towneley' (the name of a former owner of the manuscript) Cycle contains thirty-two plays, some apparently taken from the York cycle, others showing the bold and original technique of a very talented dramatist, now known as the 'Wakefield Master'. The Mactatio Abel (The Killing of Abel), with the fascinating, brutal figure of Cain, almost certainly owes something to his imagination. The Biblical story of strife between brothers is already a dramatic one, and this is intensified by the dramatist's use of colloquial, earthy speech and his skill in characterisation. Cain is at once a short-tempered and violent husbandman, and an eerily sinister and mysterious figure doomed to wander in exile in the land of monsters (early legends already show a fascination with him). It is not hard to see 'popular' elements at work here: in language, behaviour (the angry cursing of the ploughing team) or theatrical technique (as when Garcio introduces himself, in the manner of the later mummers' plays: 'All hayll. All hayll. Bothe blithe and glad, For here com I, a mery lad'). 3

ii) A Flyting between Noah and his Wife
Garcio. Yai, with the same mesure and weght Abel. Broder, ther is none here aboute That wold the any grefe.

ii) A Flyting between Noah and his Wife
Another Towneley play deals with a moment of crisis in the story of redemption when God decides to destroy sinful mankind -except his true servant Noah and his family -by a great Flood. 5 The dramatist's treatment is both awesome and familiar. The reaction of the carpenter in Chaucer's Miller's Tale, when the Flood is threatened to come again, shows even in comic context the terror associated with the event. Noah, the agent of God's salvation, is a simple and very ordinary person, obedient and practical, but he is extremely old (he laments the consequent aches and pains); and he has a domestic problem in the form of his very vocal wife. Again, the range of colloquial language is impressive, from the simple (as when Noah speaks to God when he has finally recognised him and they converse) to the wild and violent (in the 5 The Bible story seems to have been influenced by a Middle Eastern myth (Gray is probably thinking of the Epic of Gilgamesh).

iii) A dangerous blustering tyrant: Herod in a Coventry play 9
The Coventry cycle originally consisted of ten plays, but only two have survived; the manuscript was destroyed by fire in the nineteenth century. The last recorded performance of the plays was in 1579: it is possible that the young Shakespeare may perhaps have seen them. The pageant of the Shearmen and Taylors presented the Annunciation, the Nativity, and the Massacre of the Innocents. The story of the latter is an inherently powerful one: part of a cosmic struggle beween God and Satan, and with a folktale pattern perhaps lurking beneath it. 10  That yt be counsell that we have doon.
-Here shall the lechys man come into the place.

Drama
[This is Colle, the irreverent 'boy' of the quack doctor Master Brundyche, 'the most famous phesycyan That ever sawe uryne'. Colle introduces himself and is ordered to make a 'proclamation'. vv. 608 ff].
Colle. All manar of men that have any syknes, Morality plays and interludes also contain popular figures and scenes. Often apparently meant to be presented in halls or inn-yards, their characters make entrances and exits through the audience: in Mankind, 17 Nowadays cries 'make rom, sers, for we have be longe! We wyll cum gyf yow a Crystemes songe', and 'all the yemandry hat ys here' is asked to join in the singing. Actors collect money from the audience. The Vices are similar to the 'gallants' of satire ('nyse in ther aray, in langage they be large'), and they indulge in much shouting and huffing. There is a comic devil, Titivillus, with a big devil mask, who announces as he enters 'I com with my leggis under me': becoming 'invisible', he sabotages Mankind's work by placing a plank under the ground where he is digging. Our next example is the entry 345 vi) Wyt and Science of another giant, Tedyousnes, in a later interlude, Redford's Wyt and Science. This play, probably written for the singing boys of St Paul's, has an appropriately educational subject, the proposed marriage of Wyt the student to the lady Science, the daughter of Reason, and it requires some skilled musicians. It has some nice moments -as when Wyt transformed into a fool, Ignorance, sees his new appearance in a mirror -some of them clearly 'popular', as when Wyt is 'slain' by Tedyousnes and later 'revived', as in a folk play. Youth. By our Lady, he dyd promote the To make the preche at the galowe tre.
But syr, how diddest thou scape?º escape Riot. Verely, syr, the rope brake, And so I fell to the ground.

Drama
And ran away safe and sound.
By the way I met with a courtyersº lad.

courtier's
And twenty nobles of gold in hys purs he had.
I tokeº the ladde on the eare -hit Besyde his horse I felled him there.
I toke his purs in my hande, And twenty nobles therin I fande.
Lorde, howe I was mery!

Robin Hood Plays
The preceding extracts have given us many possible glimpses of the techniques and practices of 'folk drama', but no complete dramatic text. The nearest we can come to this is in the surviving Robin Hood plays, which were obviously numerous and popular throughout the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, 20 but of which only a handful survive. We give two examples: Robyn Hod and the Shryff of Notyngham and Robin Hood and the Friar. Robin Hood plays are 'performance-based versions of the same myth presented in the ballads'. 21 Like the ballads they have dramatic scenes, minimal dialogue, and much energetic and often violent mimed action; interestingly, the combats of the ballads and plays reappear in modern film versions of Robin's adventures. The Robin Hood plays are certainly not dramatic masterpieces, but they provide us with an invaluable glimpse of the folk's entertainment. No doubt Robin Hood plays were used or adapted in the widespread 'summer games' and 'church-ales', which were clearly the source of much pleasure, as we see from the experience of Latimer, mentioned earlier. 22 Sometimes the Robin Hood festivities seem to have consisted of processions or 'ridings'. In Scotland there survives a comic monologue, 'the droichis [dwarf's] pairt of the play', in which a dwarf (and shape-shifter) of an extraordinary age announces his arrival in a whirlwind to bring 'plesans, disport and play', and urges the noble merchants to 'follow furth on Robyn Hude … in lusty grene lufraye [livery]'. viii) Robin Hood and the Sheriff of Nottingham

viii) Robin Hood and the Sheriff of Nottingham 23
The earliest surviving Robin Hood play is a dramatic fragment consisting of a single page of text (c. 1475), with no formal stage directions, although in the manner of early drama actions are indicated in the speakers' texts (for example: 'off I smyte this sory swyre'). It has been associated with East Anglia, and with John Paston's lament that his horse-keeper Woode, who used to play 'Seynt Jorge and Robyn Hod and the Shryff of Notyngham' has gone into Barnsdale, a locality often favoured by Robin Hood in the ballads. The story is probably based on one or more ballads, now lost. Friar Tuck makes his first appearance in recorded English literature here. A connection with the ballad of Robin Hood and Guy of Gisborne (surviving in PFMS) has been made, but although there are similarities, that ballad does not seem to be the source. The text presented here attempts to indicate a possible plot, making use of suggestions from earlier editors and commentators, but much is open to debate. The first part is reasonably clear. There is a dialogue between the Sheriff and a knight, who promises to capture Robin Hood. Robin appears, is accosted by the knight, and the two engage in combats: archery, stone-casting, and wrestling. What follows is less clear … Of an adventure I shal you tell,

Drama
The which befell this other day, He never loved fryer nor none of freiers kyn.

sc. a blow
Robin. Of all the men in the morning thou art the worst, To mete with the I have no lust; For he that meteth a frere or a fox in the morning.
To spede ellº that day he standeth in jeopardy.º prosper ill danger Therfore I had leverº mete with the devil of hell, rather Fryer, I tell the as I thinke, Then mete with a fryer or a fox In a mornyng, orº I drynke.
before Friar. Avaunt, thou ragged knave, this is but a mock! If you make mani words, you shal have a knock. i) The Lykewake Dirge 2 John Aubrey gives an example of this dirge in his 'Remains of Gentilisme and Judaisme'. He says that in the early seventeenth century the belief in Yorkshire was that after a person's death the soul went over a 'whinny moore', covered with thorns or gorse, and the mourners led by a woman sang this song.

ii) A Prophecy
Like magical charms (examples in Chapter 1), prophecies can easily be underestimated by modern readers. From a literary point of view they are usually unimpressive, full of (in Shakespeare's phrase) 'skimble scamble stuff' and it is very difficult to avoid words like 'credulity'; they are highly adaptable, able to fit a number of possible historical situations. But a more sympathetic view would be to see them as attempts by simple folk to make some sense of the difficult world they lived in. And they must have been 'useful', since they survive in large numbers.
Our example gives the beginning and conclusion of The Prophecie of Thomas Rymour,4 as printed in The Whole Prophecie of Scotland, England, and some parts of France and Denmark (Waldegrave, Edinburgh 1603, Andro Hart, 1615 and later editions), a work which contains prophecies of Merlin, Thomas the Rhymer, Bridlington, and others. It was apparently much consulted during the Jacobite rising in 1745 (the Stuart duke of Gordon being recognised as the 'Cock of the North'). 'The ''Whole Prophecie'' continued to be printed as a chapbook down to the beginning of the present century, when few farmhouses in Scotland were without a copy of the mystic predictions of the Rhymer and his associates' (Murray, p. xlii). And in England also there were local prophets, and more celebrated legendary figures like Robert Nixon 'the Cheshire prophet' and Mother Shipton.

Ballads
Some ballads recorded later are possibly of medieval origin (see Chapter 2, in which the medieval origin of the ballads is more clearly discernible), but often the process of transmission remains unknown or uncertain. One famous possible example:

iii) Sir Patrick Spens 6
This version is less well-known (and more wordy) than the famous version in Percy's Reliques (1765). It is recorded in Herds MSS (18th). There are other Scottish versions; Hirsh prints a version in Medieval Lyric. The date of origin is uncertain. It has been suggested that it shows a dim memory of a wreck of 1281 in which the Scottish princess Margaret and her husband Eric of Norway perished.

iv) Tam Lin [extract] 8
Beliefs in fairies and spirits continued to flourish. In the seventeenth century Aubrey describes fairy activity at Hackpen Hill, Wiltshire. 9 The Lore of the Land contains many examples (for example, a story from Addy's Household Tales); 10 interest in them also continued.
Tam Lin tells the story of a love affair with a person in fairyland, and the recovery of a human from the fairies in their ride. This story is probably medieval -it is alluded to in the mid-sixteenth century Complaynt of Scotland -and possibly much older. Child found parallels with an ancient Greek tale, but we cannot be certain of the form in which it appeared. In The Complaynt, the shepherds tell 'the tayl of the yong Tamlene', and a dance 'Thom of Lyn' is mentioned. In the sixteenth century it is licensed as 'A ballet of Thomalyn', and it is found as the name of an 'air' in a seventeenth-century medley. Had it already assumed its characteristic ballad form? Possibly it circulated in various forms, rather like the tale of Thomas the Rhymer. There's nane that gaes by Carterhaugh But they leave him a wad,º wed (pledge or forfeit) Either their rings, or green mantles, Or else their maidenhead.
[Janet comes to Carterhaugh, a wood near Selkirk, and when she pulls a 'double rose' Tam Lin appears. (Some of the ballad is lost here.) She returns to her father's hall. 'An auld grey knight' says 'Alas, fair Janet, for thee But we'll be blamed a' ', but she angrily tells him to hold his tongue: 'Father my bairn on whom I will, I'll father nane on thee.'] … Out then spak her father dear, And he spak meek and mild, 'And ever alas, sweet Janet,' he says, 'I think thou gaes wi child.' 'If that I gae wi child,father, Mysel maunº bear the blame.  Nae doubt I will be there.
[Next, he warns her of the terrible transformations the fairy folk will work on him in order to frighten her away] They'll turn me in your arms, lady, Into an eskº and adder, newt But hold me fast and fear me not, I am your bairn's father.
They'll turn me to a bear sae grim, And then a lion bold; But hold me fast and fear me not, As ye shall love your child.
Again they'll turn me in your arms To a red het gand of airn,º   What this world will be.' 'O I shall be as dead, mother, As the stones in the wall; O the stones in the streets, mother, Shall mourn for me all.
Upon Easter-day, mother, My uprising shall be; O the sun and the moon, mother, Shall both rise with me.' 'It's for nae honour ye did to me, Brown Robyn, It's for nae guid ye did to mee, But a' for your fair confession You've made upon the sea.' vii) Hugh of Lincoln 'Sir Hugh, or the Jew's Daughter', Child 155 (surviving in a number of versions, suggesting popularity), from Jamieson's Popular Ballads and Songs 1806, from the recitation of Mrs Brown of Falkland. It also appears in Percy's Reliques. It is ultimately based on a medieval legend, alluded to by Chaucer in his Prioress's Tale. But just how this medieval anti-Semitic legend reached the eighteenth century is still mysterious. The possibility of contemporary contact with Catholic sources, whether in Britain or in Europe, has been raised. But it is likely that the melodramatic possibilities of a legend of child murder excited a much earlier ballad singer, and that the route of transmission may have been relatively direct.

viii) Robin Hood and the Curtal Friar [Stanzas 9-38] 12
A popular example of the numerous Robin Hood ballads, which circulated widely. This text (Child 123 B) is from a Garland of 1663; another, earlier but incomplete, survives in the Percy Folio MS (and what remains of it seems close to the later, although Robin's request to the friar to carry him is less autocratic in PFMS). Both versions are available in modern editions: Knight and Ohlgren (a composite text), and Dobson and Taylor, both with useful introductions. The style is popular and emphatic, intended for oral performance rather than reading on the page. Robin Hood has been told of a powerful friar at Fountains Abbey (in the Middle Ages, a Cistercian abbey, not a friary), who will be more than a match for him … … Robin Hood put on his harness good, And on his head a cap of steel.

Ballads
And spake neither good word nor bad, Till he came at the other side.
Lightly leapt the fryer off Robin Hoods back; Robin Hood said to him again, 'Carry me over this water, thou curtal frier, Or it shall breed thy pain.' The frier took Robin Hood on's back again, And stept up to the knee; Till he come at the middle stream, Neither good nor bad spake he.
And coming to the middle stream, There he threw Robin in: 'And chuse thee, chuse thee, fine fellow, Whether thou wilt sink or swim.' Robin Hood swam to a bush of broom, The frier to a wicker wand;º willow tree Bold Robin Hood is gone to shore, And took his bow in hand.

One of his best arrows under his belt
To the frier he let flye; The curtal frier, with his steel buckler, He put that arrow by.
'Shoot on, shoot on, thou fine fellow, Shoot on as thou hast begun; If thou shoot here a summers day, Thy mark I will not shun.' Robin Hood shot passing well, Till his arrows all were gone; They took their swords and steel bucklers, And fought with might and maine; From ten oth' clock that day, Till four ith' afternoon; Then Robin Hood came to his knees, Of the frier to beg a boon.
'A boon, a boon, thou curtal frier, that noise. He was a knight, said they, that coming through the street the Dragon met with and cast her venome upon him, whereof he rotted and dyed. Where is that Dragon? said Bevis. Not far from this place, said they. Then Bevis called Ascapart to go with him, and Ascapart was very willing. So together they went, and when they came near the place where the Dragon was, they heard the dreadfullest yell that ever was. What Devill is that, quoth Ascapart. It is the Dragon, said Bevis: we shall see him anon. Ile go no further, said Ascapart, if she roars so loud before we come to her, what will she do when we fight with her? Fear not, said Bevis, we will teach her how to hold her Tongue. Marry, teach her thy self, said Ascapart, for I will go back again. Then farewell, said Bevis, I will go my self. So forward went Bevis, and backward went Ascapart. Bevis coming near her Den, she made forth, but never was such a Dragon seen in the world as this was, from her Head to Tail was full forty foot, her Scales glistered as bright as silver, and hard as flint. Have at thy Devils face, said Bevis and out he drew his good Morglay [and] on the Dragon laid, but her scales was so hard, his Sword cry'd twang, and never entred: then the Dragon struck Bevis to the ground, and up he got again: but she came on so fiercely that Bevis went back, and by chance fell into a Well, else the Dragon had destroy'd him: it seems the Well was holy water, and no venome might come within seven foot of it: there Bevis refreshed himself, and drank of the Water: and recovering his strength, to the Dragon he went again to have the other hour; but the Dragon assailed him so sore that Bevis was afraid he should have lost his life, yet with a valiant heart he stood to her stoutly: the Dragon finding him so strong bulkt a Gallon of her Venome upon him, which fell'd him dead to the ground, and his Armour burst all to pieces: the Dragon seeing he lay so still, she turned him with her tail, that he tumbled into the Well, and the water thereof expelled the Venome, and made himself safe and sound again: then he was a joyful man, and set upon the Dragon again: and when they had fought a long time, the Dragon would have been gone, and thinking to raise herself, lifted up her wings: Have at thee now, said Bevis: and with one sound blow hitting her under the wing, pierced her to the heart: with that she gave such a cry, which made the earth tremble: she being dead, Bevis beheaded her, and put it upon his spear, and so rode home: and when the people saw him coming, they gave a great shout, as at a Kings Coronation, and all the bells in the Town did ring. And all manner of Musick play'd before Bevis, as he rode through the Town, where with great joy his Uncle received him.

Tales, Anecdotes
As in the Middle Ages stories of various kinds (merry tales, animal stories, local legends, and so on) are recorded in profusion. It is impossible to illustrate this mass of material adequately here. There are many examples in Westwood and Simpson, The Lore of the Land: including the story of a mysterious wooer in Bridgerule, Devon, identified by the local parson as 'The Old Un' himself. I must be content with a single example of an anecdote which, although not connected with the Middle Ages, 16 has something of the anecdote's traditionally 'gossipy' quality.

x) An eighteenth-century anecdote: Dr Johnson imitates a kangaroo 17
On Sunday 29th August 1773, in Inverness, Johnson was in high spirits. Talk turns to Banks' description of 'an extraordinary animal called the kangaroo …' The appearance, conformation, and habits of this quadruped were of the most singular kind; and in order to render his description more vivid and graphic, Johnson rose from his chair and volunteered an imitation of the animal. The company stared; and Mr Grant said nothing could be more ludicrous than the appearance of a tall, heavy, grave-looking man, like Dr Johnson, standing up to mimic the shape and motions of a kangaroo. He stood erect, put out his hands like feelers, and gathering up the tails of his huge brown coat so as to resemble the pouch of the animal, made two or three vigorous bounds across the room.

Songs
As with tales, the volume of surviving folk songs presents problems. I give only three examples. The first two are clearly related to the enigmatic 'Corpus Christi Carol'. The texts are from Greene, Early English Carols (1935), who prints two further versions. No. xi, like most of the others, 16 The kangaroo was discovered in 1700 (Cook's voyage to Australia in the Endeavour). 17 See [Johnson] To the Hebrides, ed. Ronald Black, note 236 (to p. 106) on p. 485. is clearly 'religious', with the strange details becoming signs of Christ's coming birth. No. xii, however, which seems to preserve an echo of the 'falcon' burden of the old poem (is it too fanciful to suggest that its 'heron' may derive from 'erne' or 'eren', eagle?), and it is not overtly religious, suggesting perhaps a wounded knight and his lover -a pattern which may (according to one theory) lie behind The Corpus Christi carol. Readers will probably have their own views. In that hall there stands a bed, It's covered all over with scarlet so red.
At the bed-side there lies a stone, Which the sweet Virgin Mary knelt upon.
Under that bed there runs a flood, The one half runs water, the other runs blood.
At the bed's foot there grows a thorn, Which ever blows blossom since he was born.
Over that bed the moon shines bright, Denoting our Saviour was born this night. With silken sheets, and weel down spread:

xii) and Early English Carols
And in the bed there lay a knight, Whose wounds did bleed both day and night; And by the bed there stood a stane, And there was set a leal maiden. 18 With silver needle and silken thread, Stemming the wounds when they did bleed.

xiii) The Seven Virgins
Collected by Cecil Sharp [1903] and R. Vaughan Williams, but almost certainly much older (The Oxford Book of Carols suggests seventeenth century). 19 It is apparently based on an apocryphal legend of Mary going on a journey to see her son at Calvary. One of the late medieval Marian laments (in Carleton Brown's Religious Lyrics of the Fifteenth Century, 1939) with the refrain filius Regis mortuus est (The King's Son is dead), is given a somewhat similar narrative setting. A narrator ('as reson rywlyd my rechyles mynde By wayes & wyldernes as y hadde wente A solempne cite fortunyd me to finde') and meets a lamenting maid at the city's end -the king's son is dead. She gives vivid description of the death of her child, ending with her departure from Calvary weeping and wailing that she was born. Her final prayer, to have a sight of her son once before she dies, is given a sudden supernatural answer: a voice from heaven says 'Thu schalte se thi swete sone and say, Filius Regis is alive et non mortuus est' (which is better than the rather feeble ending of Leaves).  To pray for our king and queen. 6. Drama

Furthermore for our enemies all
Our prayers they should be strong: Amen, good Lord, your charity Is the ending of my song.

Drama
Medieval popular drama is often alluded to, but complete examples are rarely found -in fact, a few early Robin Hood plays -apart from the lists of seasonal festivities given by usually disapproving moralists (which often seem to have lived on in folk tradition). We mainly have to rely on features in the written 'literary' plays which seem to have come from folk plays. Fortunately, these are not so rare: characters enter through the audience, and announce who they are, characters that are killed but then revived, a comic doctor with traditional patter, and so on. From the eighteenth century on, 'mummers' plays' are frequently found. It is far from certain that these are to be connected with the older popular drama. But the fact that they (and similar forms in Europe) seem to have been widespread may suggest a greater antiquity. The mummers' play now seems (on the printed page) a rudimentary form of drama, but dramatic moments can be found. In one interesting reference, in Hardy's Return of the Native (1878), when Eustacia Vye persuades the mummers' boy to let her play the part of the Turkish Knight in a Saint George play, the play was 'phlegmatically played and received' but ended with a solemn moment: 'they sang the plaintive chant which follows the play, during which all the dead men rise to their feet in a silent and awful manner'.

xiv) Oxfordshire Saint George Play 21
[All the mummers come in singing, and walk round the place in a circle, and then stand on one side. Enter King Alfred and his Queen, arm in arm] I am King Alfred, and this here is my bride.