Part 38 (2/2)

said the bailiff, ”I cannot, for the creditor is at the door.” ”Bid him come in,” said she, ”and I'll make up the matter.” So the creditor came in; but, being found obstinate, she rapped him on the head with a quart pot and bid him go out of doors like a knave. ”He can but go to prison,”

quoth she, ”where he shall not stay long if all the friends I have can fetch him out.”

The creditor went away with a good knock, and the bailiff was going with his prisoner. ”Nay,” said she, ”I'll bring a fresh pot to drink with him.” She came into the parlour with a rope, and, knitting her brows, ”Sir Knave,” said she, ”I'll learn thee to arrest a man in our house.

I'll make thee a spectacle for all catchpoles;” and, tossing the rope round his middle, said to the gentleman, ”Sir, away, s.h.i.+ft for yourself; I'll pay the bailiff his fees before he and I part.” Then she dragged the bailiff unto the back side of the house, making him go up to his chin in a pond, and then paid him his fees with a cudgel, after which he went away with the amends in his hands, for she was so well beloved that no person would meddle with her.

CHAPTER VI.

_Of her meeting with a n.o.bleman, and her Usage to him and to the Watch._

Now it happened she once put on a suit of man's apparel. The same night it fell out that a young n.o.bleman, being disposed for mirth, would go abroad to see the fas.h.i.+ons, and, coming down the Strand, espies her; and, seeing such a tall fellow, asked him whither he was going. ”Marry,”

said she, ”to St. Nicholas's to buy a calve's head.” ”How much money hast thou?” ”In faith,” said she, ”little enough; will you lend me any?”

”Aye,” said he; and, putting his thumb into her mouth, said, ”There's a tester.” She gave him a good box on the ear, and said, ”There's a groat; now I owe you twopence.” Whereupon the n.o.bleman drew, and his man too; and she was as active as they, so together they go. But she drove them before her into a little chandler's shop, insomuch that the constable came in to part the fray, and, having asked what they were, the n.o.bleman told his name, at which they all pulled off their caps. ”And what is your name?” said the constable. ”Mine,” said she, ”is Cuthbert Curry Knave.” Upon this the constable commanded some to lay hold on her and carry her to the compter. She out with her sword and set upon the watch, and behaved very resolutely; but the constable calling for clubs, Meg was forced to cry out, ”Masters, hold your hands, I am your friend; hurt not Long Meg of Westminster.” So they all stayed their hands, and the n.o.bleman took them all to the tavern; and thus ended the fray.

CHAPTER VII.

_Meg goes a shroving, fights the Thieves of St. James's Corner, and makes them restore Father Willis, the Carrier, his hundred marks._

Not only the cities of London and Westminster, but Lancas.h.i.+re also, rung of Meg's fame, so they desired old Willis, the carrier, to call upon her, which he did, taking with him the other la.s.ses. Meg was joyful to see them, and it being Shrove Tuesday, Meg went with them to Knightsbridge, and spent most of the day with repeating tales of their friends in Lancas.h.i.+re; and so tarried the carrier, who again and again inquired how all did there, and made the time seem shorter than it was.

The night growing on, the carrier and the two other la.s.ses were importunate to be gone, but Meg was loath to set out, and so stayed behind to discharge the reckoning, and promised to overtake them.

It was their misfortune at St. James's Corner to meet with two thieves who were waiting there for them, and took a hundred marks from Willis, the carrier, and from the two wenches their gowns and purses. Meg came up immediately after, and then the thieves, seeing her also in a female habit, thought to take her purse also; but she behaved herself so well that they began to give ground. Then said Meg, ”Our gowns and purses against your hundred marks; win all and wear all.” ”Content,” quoth they. ”Now, la.s.ses, pray for me,” said Meg. With that she buckled with these two knaves, beat one and so hurt the other that they entreated her to spare their lives. ”I will,” said she, ”upon conditions.” ”Upon any condition,” said they. ”Then,” said she, ”it shall be thus--

1. That you never hurt a woman nor any company she is in.

2. That you never hurt lame or impotent men.

3. That you never hurt any children or innocents.

4. That you rob no carrier of his money.

5. That you rob no manner of poor or distressed.

”Are you content with these conditions?” ”We are,” said they. ”I have no book about me,” said she, ”but will you swear on my smock tail?” which they accordingly did, and then she returned the wenches their gowns and purses, and old Father Willis, the carrier, a hundred marks.

The men desiring to know who it was had so l.u.s.tily beswinged them, said--”To alleviate our sorrow, pray tell us your name.” She smiling replied--”If anyone asks you who banged your bones, say Long Meg of Westminster once met with you.”

CHAPTER VIII.

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