Part 18 (2/2)

In a winter night, coming home very late, Tom Tram fell with his arms before him, and at the last run his nose against a post. ”What,” quoth Tom, ”is my nose longer than my arms?” And afterwards he dropped into a well that was in the yard, and crying out, ”Help, help.” All is not well that is in the well. The neighbours came and pulled him out, and he dropped like a pig that had been roasted on a spit; but he was then in a cold condition, so he went to bed, and covered himself, but before morning Tom became unwell; and when some had discovered this, he told them that if he died of that sickness he should be buried by torchlight, because none should see him go to his grave. Just as he had said, in came a hot water man, of whom he requested to give him a sup, which having tasted, he feigned himself to be in a hot fever, and rose up in his clothes, ran away with the acqua vitae man's bottle of hot water, and took his mother's trevot, and sold it for a long hawking pole, and a falconer's bag, which being tied to his side, and having drank up the poor man's hot water, he came reeling home with an owl upon his fist, saying, ”It is gentlemanlike to be betwixt hawk and buzzard;” and he told the acqua vitae man that he had sent the trevot, with three legs, to the next town to fill you bottles again.

CHAPTER IX.

_How he Hired himself to the Justice, and what Pranks he played while with him._

The justice at this time being without a man, and finding Tom to be a lively fellow, asked him if he would serve him. ”Yes,” quoth Tom, ”for I am a great many miles from the country.” As soon as they had agreed for wages, Tom was immediately entertained. But he had not lived long there before the justice and his family were obliged to go to London, leaving n.o.body at home but Tom. Now in the justice's absence, an officer brought a l.u.s.ty young woman and a little man with a complaint. So they knocked at the door, and Tom let them in; then placing himself in his master's chair, he asked the woman what she had to say, who told him that the man whom she had brought before him ill-used her. ”Adzooks,” quoth Tom, ”is it possible that such a little fellow as this could ill-use such a strapping dame as you.” ”Alas! sir,” said she, ”although he is little he is strong.” ”Well, little whipper-snapper,” quoth Tom, ”what do you say to this.” He replied, ”Like your wors.h.i.+p it is false what she says. The truth is, I have been at sea, and coming ash.o.r.e, where I received my pay, I met with this woman, and agreed with her for a pair of shoes for half a crown, and when they were put on, I pulled out my purse to pay her honestly what I had agreed for; but she seeing that I had a considerable sum of money, contrary to our bargain, would force me to give her ten s.h.i.+llings, and because I would not, but struck her as she deserved, she has brought me before your wors.h.i.+p.” ”Have you got that purse of money?” quoth Tom. ”Yes, sir,” said the seaman. ”Give it into my hand,” said Tom. He receives it, and turning to the woman, said, ”Here take it and get about your business.” She replied, ”I thank your wors.h.i.+p, you are an honest good man, and have done me justice.” The little seaman the meanwhile wrung his hands and bitterly cried out, ”I am ruined, for it is every penny I had in the world.” ”Well,” quoth Tom, ”haste after her, and take it from her again.” According to Tom's order he runs after her, and when he came after her, he said, ”I must, and will have my purse again.” Then she fell about his ears and cuffed him.

Nay, this did not satisfy her, but she dragged him back again to Tom, who sat as justice, and told him that the fellow followed her for the purse, which he in justice gave her. ”Well,” said Tom, ”and has he got it?” ”No,” said she, ”I think not; before he should take it from me, I'd tear out both his eyes.” ”Let me see it again,” says Tom. She gives it to him. ”Is all the money in it?” quoth he. ”Yes, sir,” said she, ”every penny.” ”Why then,” said he, ”here little whipper-snapper, take your purse again; and as for you Mrs. Impudence, had you kept your word as well as you did the money, I never had been troubled with this complaint. Here, Mr. Constable, give her a hundred lashes at the town's whipping post.” Which was accordingly done, and Tom was applauded for his just proceedings.

CHAPTER X.

_How Tom used a Singing Man of a Cathedral Church in the West._

Once there was a cathedral singing man that had very much angered Tom, and had made songs and jests upon him, whereupon Tom got on his back an ox-hide, with the horns set upon his head, and so lay in a hedge bottom, waiting till the singing man came by, who he was sure must pa.s.s that way. At last name the singing man. Up started Tom out of the hedge bottom in his ox-hide, and followed him, the singing man cried out, ”The devil! the devil!” ”No,” quoth Tom, ”I am the ghost of goodman Johnson, living hard by the Church stile, unto whose house ye came and sung catches, and owes me five pounds for ale, therefore appoint me a day when ye will bring me my money hither, or else I will haunt thee still.”

The singing man promised that day se'enight, and accordingly he did; and Tom made himself brave clothes with the money, and sweethearts came about him as bees do about a honey pot. But Tom wore a rope in his pocket, and being asked if he would marry, he would pull it out, and laugh, saying, ”I have broken my s.h.i.+ns already, and will be wiser hereafter; for I am an old colt, and now may have as much wit as a horse.”

CHAPTER XI.

_Of Tom Tram's wooing Cicily Summers, the neat Wench of the West._

Cicily Summers, whose nose was then as fair as the midnight sun, which s.h.i.+ned as bright as Baconthine, was beloved of young Tom Tram; and a sad story to tell, he grew not worth the bread he ate, through pining away for her love. Tom was loath to speak but still whistled. At last, when Cicily made no answer, he burst out in thus:--”O Cicily Summers, if I Tom Tram, son of Mother Winter, and thou Cicily Summers be joined together what a quarter shall we keep, as big as three half years; besides Cicily Summers when thou scoldest, then Winter shall presently cool thy temper; and when we walk on the street they'll say yonder goes Summer and Winter; and our children, we shall call a generation of almanacks. So they went to the parson and were married; but they fell out so extremely that they scolded all the summer season; and Tom drank good ale, and told old tales all the winter time, and so they could never but thrive all the year through. Tom lived by good ale, and his wife by eating oat-meal; and when Tom went to be drunk in the morning, she put oat-meal in the ale, and made caudle with mustard instead of eggs, which bit Tom so by the nose, that it would run water; but the next day he would be drunk again.”

TOM TRAM'S

MERRY TALES.

TALE I.

_Of a Scholar and a Tapster on a Winter Night._

The tapster said, ”Sir, will you go to bed.” ”No,” quoth the scholar, ”There are thieves abroad, and would not willingly be caught napping.”

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