Transcriber's Note:

The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.

THE

MARVELLOUS ADVENTURES

AND RARE CONCEITS OF

MASTER OWLGLASS.

THE
MARVELLOUS ADVENTURES
AND
RARE CONCEITS
OF
Master Tyll Owlglass.
Newly collected, chronicled and set forth, in our English tongue,

By KENNETH R. H. MACKENZIE,

FELLOW OF THE SOCIETY OF ANTIQUARIES.

And Adorned with many most Diverting and Cunning Devices,

By ALFRED CROWQUILL.

LONDON:

TRÜBNER & CO. 60, PATERNOSTER ROW.

1860.

LONDON:

PRINTED BY WERTHEIMER AND CO.

CIRCUS PLACE, FINSBURY CIRCUS.

AM GANZEN RHEINE AUF UND AB

DER MENSCHEN GEDÄCHTNISS IST SEIN GRAB.

WHERE’ER THE WAVE OF RHINE DOTH LAVE.

MAN’S MEMORY IS STILL HIS GRAVE.

Fischart, p. 179.

PREFACE.

“Wit, an’t be thy will, put me into good fooling! Those wits that think they have thee do very oft prove fools; and I that am sure I lack thee, may pass for a wise man: For what says Quinapalus? Better a witty fool than a foolish wit.”

Clown in “Twelfth Night,” Act I., Scene 5.

Among the folkbooks of the German nation, not one has obtained so general a circulation as that now presented in an English form. It has been deemed worthy, as by the Appendix may be perceived, of being translated into French, Dutch, Danish, Polish, nay, even Hebrew, and honoured by being reprinted on every kind of paper, good and bad. A favourite among the young for its amusing and quaint adventures, and a study among those who strive, by the diligent comparison of different eras of national literature, to arrive at a due appreciation of national character, Eulenspiegel, or Owlglass the boor (peasant), possesses a peculiar value for the old. I well remember how, as a very little child, I first made the friendship of the lithe though clumsy hero; and to the present time do not feel that I can say I have lost my interest in the humourous quips and quiddities of the strolling vagabond. I little thought, when I then read the German book, that it would be my privilege to introduce him to other readers in my own language.

The Gil Blas of German mediæval story, there is deep instruction in the pungent jests and literal ways of the man who held up his mirror for owls to look in, and each of whose tricks might form the groundwork of a moral reflection. And for the early times in which it appeared, there was not a little courage in the author of it. Strange to say, this person appears to have been a Franciscan friar, Thomas Murner, who, in other matters, made not a little stir in his own day. He visited this country, and wrote a book in defence of our good King Hal the Bluff against that famous monk, Luther; and he received some assistance in a substantial gift from that monarch. An account of him will be found in the Appendix; we have here only to deal with the significance of the book itself.

Like the deep searching work of Rabelais, the book is a satire, not upon human life only, but upon special and dangerous topics. Very early editions contain the story of how Eulenspiegel procured an old skull from a churchyard, and turned the passion for worshipping relics to profitable account;[^[1]] and the priests and would-be learned men of his time continually appear in ludicrous, undignified, or humiliating positions. Rank was not respected, nor was vice in high places passed by with (so-called) discreet silence. Yet with all the graver objects in the book, the immediate aim of amusement was never forgotten; and, letting us into the secrets of peasant life in Germany at an era when peasants had little to rejoice over, we almost imagine that we can hear the shouts of laughter with which the blunt outspoken jokes of this sly clown were received. But Mr. Hallam does justice to a higher appreciation of this kind of literature among the better classes of the time.

“They had a literary public, as we may call it,” says this distinguished writer,[^[2]] “not merely in their courts and universities, but in their respectable middle class, the burghers of the free cities, and perhaps in the artizans whom they employed. Their reading was almost always with a serious end: but no people so successfully cultivated the art of moral and satirical fable. These in many instances spread with great favour through Cisalpine Europe. Among the works of this kind, in the fifteenth century, two deserve mention; the Eulenspiegel, popular afterwards in England by the name of Howleglass, and a superior and better known production,[^[3]] the Narrenschiff, or Ship of Fools, by Sebastian Brandt of Strasburg.... It is a metrical satire on the follies of every class, and may possibly have suggested to Erasmus his Encomium Moriæ. But the idea was not absolutely new; the theatrical company established at Paris under the name of Enfans de Sans Souci, as well as the ancient office of jester or fool in our courts and castles, implied the same principle of satirising mankind with ridicule so general, that every man should feel more pleasure from the humiliation of his neighbours than pain from his own.... The influence such books of simple fiction and plain moral would possess over a people, may be judged by the delight they once gave to children, before we had learnt to vitiate the healthy appetite of ignorance by premature refinements and stimulating variety.”[^[4]]

Yet with all the repute which the book must have had among the boors and country louts of what people choose, with doubtful taste or insight, to call the “dark ages,” Owlglass, if it had not contained within itself great vitality, might have lain in the obscurity which surrounds many a contemporary work. Of the three great philosophers then extant, I have somewhere read a kind of parallel, that Rabelais in his work satirised fantastically, and with peculiar reference to the more educated and scholarly readers of his time. Erasmus, on the other part, struck at the monks with vigorous hand in other fashion; while both Brandt and Murner took a more popular form in their compositions: yet, while Brandt is now scarce remembered, Eulenspiegel remains, a striking and applicable book, setting forth, indeed, in a good light, the truth everywhere, that “the letter killeth but the spirit giveth life.” In this may be found the reason of its wonderful popularity in Germany—in this is the secret of its constant reproduction in so many languages.

The fool in idle hour claims our attentive ear, charms, instructs, enchains the mind, when the sonorous voice and weighty arguments of the preacher would have no greater effect than the production of a yawn, or, at most, a fugitive repentance. The fact of the subjection of the letter to the spirit must be borne in mind throughout. Mighty times were those when, by sturdy hands and wise pates, the world was ridding itself of the rule of monks and literal interpreters of the universe and of the duties of society. Yet Murner, as has been mentioned, fought against Luther; nor, indeed, could Rabelais or Erasmus perceive, save somewhat dimly, whither their words tended. Perhaps, in secret, they saw, in fitful glimpses, the truth that history proceeds according to progressive laws of development; and when the monks, who at one time had done good service, were no longer useful to mankind, they decayed from inherent fitlessness, and so vanished, overcome by the light of such lamps as these.

A remarkable feature in the adventures of Owlglass must not be passed over without notice, viz., the very few allusions anywhere made to the occult sciences, or to similar subjects. In the story of the invisible picture there is one slight reference to alchymy; and in that where he is led forth to the gallows, the multitude regard Owlglass as a magician, who will rescue himself by the aid of demons. But so real is the character everywhere, that not even by the many editors has any tale been introduced connecting the hero with such matters. Yet the absence of such a colouring displays a greater skill and a deeper purpose in the author; from the tendency of the age in which it was written, any mention of occult science would have been excusable, nay, almost natural. If we remember that the era of its publication was rife with magicians, astrologers, and alchymists; that Cornelius Agrippa very shortly afterwards found it necessary to protest against the abuse of such subjects in his treatise “Of the Uncertainty and Vanity of the Sciences and Arts,” that Trithemius was then Abbot of the Benedictine Monastery of Spanheim: all these considerations would have caused no surprise at the introduction of scenes of enchantment, or, at least, an employment of them allusively or by implication. But no; true to its mission of a folk-book, filled with the manners and customs of its time, Owlglass is thoroughly worldly, and for us, therefore, possesses greater interest and value.

It may be interesting for a moment to set side by side the jester exhibited in the pages of Shakspere and the good Master Owlglass. Historical Owlglass there certainly was at some time of the fourteenth century, his tomb yet standing at Möllen, as will be seen; but the pranks of many excellent jesters were all centred in the book telling of Owlglass; so that he has been overlaid with jokes, not in his own power to perform. Indeed, in the present edition, from a respect I have for chronology, I have been obliged to extrude two or three which would have involved anachronisms. However, they were somewhat dull, and therefore need not be regretted.

The first English version of Owlglass (as to which see the Appendix, p. [220]) having been published early in the sixteenth century, in a “little dumpy quarto,” by Master William Copland, its fame might, without much difficulty, have infiltrated the country parts of England; and, if we regard the clowns of Shakspere, Touchstone, in “As You Like It,” for example, it might appear that Shakspere had seen this Black Letter of William Copland: yet, while the humour of Owlglass consists in his stolid performance of the exact words commanded him, there is clearly a quite other appreciation of wit in the English writer. It is, in fact, the polished foil beside the homely cudgel—both effective weapons, but one of them far more glittering, swift, and murderous. The cudgel may be warded off by a less skilful hand, the glancing steel hath made a wound, and been withdrawn in the very flash of its own rapidity. Dogberry and Verges, Costard perhaps, nay, even Sir Toby Belch, have points of character more resembling Owlglass than do the clowns of our great poet. The Fool in King Lear, has some kin to him, but is infinitely wiser. Indeed, we might perhaps rather class Bardolph, Pistol, and Nym, humourists in their way, with Master Owlglass than the subtle wits Shakspere brings upon the stage. Yet has Owlglass an existence beyond and outside all question of contrast, all opinion of similarity. Gervinus, in his comprehensive History of German Fiction[^[5]] has well defined Owlglass to be “the personified quip and crank” (der personificirte Schwank). In fact, he is a Gothic Diogenes set in a Teutonic frame, living, moving, and having his being in an atmosphere as peculiarly distinct in its grotesque and massive proportions, as was the earlier Hellenic age, in its union of elegance and power. No previous time could have produced such an out-birth, and, with all our modern tendencies towards humour, fostered by the constant study of our quainter dramatists, another Owlglass would be a distortion, if not an impossibility.

That, even in grave England, and with quaint Ben Jonson, Master Owlglass was a favourite, we may see from two allusions which he makes to him; one in the “Poetaster,” Act the Third, Scene the Fourth, where Tucca exclaims: “What, do you laugh, Owlglass?” And again in the “Masque of the Fortunate Isles,” produced in 1626, Ben Jonson introduces Howleglass; and Johphiel says to Merefool:—

Or what do you think

Of Howleglass instead of him?

Merefool.—No him

I have a mind to.

Johphiel.—O, but Ulen-spiegle,

Were such a name—but you shall have your longing.

And later on, the remark is made:—

Whether you would present him with an Hermes

Or with an Howleglass?

Skelton.—An Howleglass

To come to pass

On his father’s ass;

There never was,

By day, nor night,

A finer sight,

With feathers upright

In his horned cap,

And crooked shape,

Much like an ape,

With owl on fist.

And glass at his wrist.[^[6]]

A most unjustifiable libel, by the way, is committed here, for Owlglass was always a “proper” gentleman, having no crook-back or ape-like appearance.[^[7]]

One of the most thoughtful and philosophic writers of our day, Mr. Carlyle, has a few noteworthy sentences regarding this strange book, which we shall do well to transfer to these pages:—

“Lastly, in a third class, we find in full play that spirit of broad drollery, of rough saturnine humour, which the Germans claim as a special characteristic; among these, we must not omit to mention the Schiltbürger correspondent to our own Wise Men of Gotham; still less the far-famed Tyll Eulenspiegel (Tyll Owlglass), whose rogueries and waggeries belong in the fullest sense to this era.

“This last is a true German work; for both the man, Tyll Eulenspiegel, and the book which is his history, were produced there. Nevertheless, Tyll’s fame has gone abroad into all lands; thus, the narrative of his exploits has been published in innumerable editions, even with all manner of learned glosses, and translated into Latin, English, French, Dutch, Polish; nay, in several languages, as in his own, an Eulenspiegelerei and Espiéglerie, or dog’s trick, so named after him, still by consent of lexicographers, keeps his memory alive. We may say, that to few mortals has it been granted to earn such a place in universal history as Tyll; for now, after five centuries, when Wallace’s birth-place is unknown even to the Scots; and the admirable Crichton still more rapidly is grown a shadow; and Edward Longshanks sleeps unregarded save by a few antiquarian English, Tyll’s native village is pointed out with pride to the traveller, and his tombstone, with a sculptured pun on his name,—namely, an Owl and a Glass,—still stands, or pretends to stand, at Möllen, near Lübeck, where, since 1350, his once nimble bones have been at rest. Tyll, in the calling he had chosen, naturally led a wandering life, as place after place became too hot for him; by which means he saw into many things with his own eyes; having been not only over all Westphalia and Saxony, but even in Poland, and as far as Rome. That in his old days, like other great men, he became an autobiographer, and in trustful winter evenings, not on paper, but on air, and to the laughter-lovers of Möllen, composed this work himself, is purely a hypothesis; certain only that it came forth originally in the dialect of this region, namely, the Platt-Deutsch; and was therefrom translated, probably about a century afterwards, into its present High German, as Lessing conjectures, by one Thomas Murner, who, on other grounds, is not unknown to antiquaries. For the rest, write it who might, the book is here, ‘abounding,’ as a wise critic remarks, ‘in inventive humour, in rough merriment, and broad drollery, not without a keen rugged shrewdness of insight; which properties must have made it irresistibly captivating to the popular sense; and with all its fantastic extravagancies, and roguish crotchets, in many points instructive.’”[^[8]]

Mr. Carlyle then cites one adventure, that of the Easter Play, which has not been included in the present version; for although it illustrates well enough the interior of a parson’s household of the fourteenth century, there is a smack of profanity about it which it is well to avoid. And, indeed, it is due to the reader of this volume, to inform him, that our present chronicle differs in one material point from all former editions. While it has been my object everywhere to tell the story of Owlglass in a quaint and simple manner, modern good taste required a special duty at the chronicler’s hands: viz., that of purification and modification, for it may readily be believed that a book written of the fourteenth century, for the sixteenth century, would abound with homely wit, not quite consonant with the ideas of the nineteenth. Therefore several stories of a somewhat indelicate, and generally pointless, character have been omitted, and their place supplied with matter obtained by a collation of several editions in the German, French, and Flemish languages.

And another aim which I have had in view has been, where good taste and opportunity admitted, to apply, in a veiled manner, the axioms and quips of our knight-errant of roguery, to subjects and follies not banished from our own more polite age. The reader will thus be able to judge in how far this modern Owlglass differs from its predecessors. In no instance, however, have I permitted myself to lose sight of the object in view, which was to give as good a picture of the original as might be, and that in spirit rather than in letter. This spirit has been so justly estimated by M. Robin, a clever and dashing French critic, whose sad death may still be remembered by a few, that, at the risk of adding too much to this preface, I subjoin an epitome of his remarks:—

“It is quite true,” says he, “that glory is nothing but vanity. I have seen in the sepulchral silence of libraries, names quite unknown, on the backs of gigantic volumes, the librarians could tell me nothing of these, except that they were the authors of these books. I have seen, on the pavement of ancient churches, pompous epitaphs, and heraldic arms, and the nails of the peasant’s shoe tread them under foot. Be then in life a man of learning, knowing every language, be a noble of Spain, a Knight of the Golden Fleece, Viceroy of Mexico or Peru, say you have the right of keeping your hat on in the presence of the King, yet it will scarcely be known that you have lived, while a vaurien, a man who had neither hearth nor home, a practical joker, a drunkard, having the devil in his purse, living from hand to mouth, sleeping to-day in the streets, and to-morrow in the bed of his host, whom he never pays, and understanding too well the buffoonery of life ever to have thought of glory; as soon as this man is dead, and ignobly buried, he enters at once into immortality, bequeathing to the people a name which they will never forget, and, to the Attic language of the moderns, a word of which they stood much in need. Who can boast of having invented a word? Very few of the greatest writers can arrogate to themselves this most rare glory. But to leave one’s name to the most grave and self-sufficient language in Europe, to force it to say espiègle, because one’s name was Ulenspiegel; and to pass fifty years in practical joking and laughter; to be able to call oneself the father of the great family of Mystificators, surely this is no common fate, and doubtless the contemplator of it will cry out: ‘Where doth Immortality dwell? Poor author, it was well worth thy pains to wear out thy brain in writing folios! Unfortunate hidalgo, it was well worth the trouble of being puffed up with pride at a long name unpronounceable in a breath, that this name should be forgotten, and that the name of a boorish jester should be transmitted almost intact to the most distant posterity.”

The best test of the worth of a book, whether it be several centuries old, or, as it were, a production of our own day, is the proportion of times that it has been reproduced or imitated. Singularly enough, while, in most continental languages, such translations and imitations have been frequent, in two instances only has this celebrated folk-book appeared in an English dress; first, as has been already stated, in Black Letter, in 1528–1530, and again in a modified form in 1720. With a description of these two editions I will not trouble the reader here, as in the Appendix at the end an accurate account of them will be found; and I will merely add, in this place, that of the Black Letter translation only two copies are known to exist, both in the British Museum; and that of the second, a copy of which is now in my own possession, I have only been able to find one other, which is in the Douce Collection in the Bodleian.

It was originally in contemplation to reprint the scarce Black Letter edition; but, on a careful examination, I found this an impossibility, as the contents, for reasons already hinted at, would have shocked good taste; nor, in point of fact, would that edition have offered so great a variety as in this volume has been presented; which may be understood when it is explained, that of all kinds of stories, good and bad, the Black Letter gives but forty-eight; while in the present chronicle there are—such questionable adventures being omitted—no less than one hundred and eleven. Although the idea of such reprint was thus abandoned, there appeared no reason, however, why the old-fashioned form should not be adopted in the telling of the tale. For this and any other faults which the reader may detect I hold myself responsible; and I may mention, that so careful have I been to imitate the style of the time in which it is supposed to be written, that I have even followed the confusion between the use of the “thee” and “thou” and “you” and “ye” common in early books, especially at the transition era of the Stuarts.

The edition which I have adopted as a guide or clue-line, is the Low German original of 1519 in the excellent and exhaustive work of Dr. Lappenberg; and I need not here especially refer to any other, save that of M. Octave Delepierre, long time a zealous antiquary, who argues for a Flemish origin for our hero, an origin in which, giving every meed of praise to that gentleman for the singular ingenuity and complete localization which his book exhibits, I need scarcely say that I cannot coincide. Nay, it may even be suspected that he himself is but in jest with his argument.

I have also to draw the notice of the reader to the Appendices at the end of this volume, which enter into the bibliographical and other history of the book, and to mention that I am greatly indebted to the Rev. Dr. Bandinel, the venerable Librarian of the Bodleian Library at Oxford, and also to my friends, the Rev. Alfred Hackman, M.A., Precentor of Christ Church, and the Rev. John S. Sidebotham, M.A., Chaplain of New College, and Preacher at St. Martin’s, Carfax, Oxford, for much valuable assistance in searching for Eulenspiegel literature amidst the treasures contained in that valuable library.

This is all, I think, which need here be said touching the task I have here completed; for the reader need not be asked to appreciate the artistic skill of my friend and coadjutor, Mr. Alfred Crowquill. If the reader does but experience in the perusal of this singular book—practically the first English edition of it—one tithe of the pleasure I have had in preparing it, all that was to be accomplished will have been duly fulfilled.

Kenneth Robert Henderson Mackenzie.

35, Bernard Street, Russell Square, W.C.

October 3, 1859.

[1]. See Adventure the 36th, p. [63].

[2]. Introduction to the Literature of Europe, vol. i. p. 235 (Library ed.); vol. i. p. 240 (Cabinet ed.).

[3]. Matter of doubt to the present writer whether it be thus superior; in any case, it would be scarcely so interesting to people now-a-days. But see the Appendix.

[4]. Bouterwek, in his “History of German Poetry and Eloquence” (Geschichte der deutschen Poesie und Beredsamkeit), vol. ix. p. 336, confirms the observations of Hallam, and lends additional testimony to the popularity of the Eulenspiegel. Adolf Rosen von Kreutzheim, in the Preface to his poem, the Esel-König (Ass-King), alludes to the general dispersion of Eulenspiegel, Marcolphus, Katziporo, and other works, and abuses them in set terms as shameful, mischievous, and dangerous.

[5]. History of German Fiction, vol. ii. p. 298.

[6]. Jonson’s Works, p. 650.

[7]. An Howleglass is mentioned as being in the library of a Captain Cox. On which, see the Appendix, p. [221].

[8]. Carlyle, Miscellaneous Essays, Edition 1857, Vol. II. pp. 287–288.

CONTENTS.

ILLUSTRATIONS.

THE

MERRY ADVENTURES AND JESTS

OF

MASTER OWLGLASS.

The Introduction touching Master Tyll Owlglass.

With what joy and inward content do I not greet ye, my masters, bringing with me for your sweet delectation and delightful comfort the history, the which I have most diligently written, and out of many learned and wise books gathered together, and which indeed telleth of the merry jests, rare conceits, and subtile cony-catching of that renowned Master Tyll Owlglass, who in the Brunswick land was born. And i’ faith, ye do owe me not a little grace and thankfulness for that which I have now finished,—but an if my pains had been a thousandfold greater than they have been, I would not have spared myself. This is mine answer unto ye. And my desire hath been, that ye shall most merrily sit ye round the fire and laugh until that your sides shall ache, and your inner man be shaken with the continual reverberation of your delighted spirit. For an ill heart is such an one that doth never rejoice, but trembleth ever and anon at the wonders with the which we be encompassed, so do ye now, without any other speech from me, accept this little book, and therein read, and ponder well the deeds of this noble master, who from low estate and boorish condition rose to be the companion of princes and dukes, and, by his infinitude of rare parts, remaineth well known and beloved of all men in divers countries and lands all over the fair domain of Christendom. And now do I bid ye farewell, and leave ye with a companion less tedious than am I, and in the reading of his life will ye not lose your labour, that know I well.

The First Adventure.
How Tyll Owlglass was born and was in one day three times christened.

As verily all creatures must have a beginning of their lives, so that they may come into this world to abide therein, so also must it be with the famous Master Owlglass, who lived in Germany many years, and of whom many notable adventures are told and noised about all over that country. In the land of Brunswick, in the deep wood named Melme, lieth a village named Kneitlingen, and there was born the pious child Owlglass. And the name of his father was Nicolaus, commonly said Claus, Owlglass, and his mother’s name was Anna Wertbeck. It fortuned, that when the child was born that they made a great feast, and sent the child to be christened in the village of Amptlen; hard by the castle of Amptlen, which was after destroyed by the people of Magdeburg. And when the child was baptised, he was called Tyll Owlglass. Truly, however, after that the feast had come to an end, the godfathers and godmothers of the child having eaten and drunken right lustily (for it was the custom of that place most heartily to do these things), set forth on their way homeward, and the sun being hot, they were tired and they minded not their steps to be careful of them, and so it came to pass, that one of them carrying the child caught her foot upon a stone and fell into a ditch, so child and all were quickly covered with mud. But as weeds cannot so easily come to harm, the child was not hurt, but only thus christened in the mire.

When they got home, the child was washed clean in hot water. Thus was Owlglass in one day three times christened, first in the church, then in the mud of the ditch, and at last in warm water. So is it always shown with great and famous persons, that, in their infancy, strange and most wonderful things do foreshow their future greatness.

The Second Adventure.
How that Owlglass when that he was a child did give a marvellous answer to a man that asked the way.

Upon a time went the father and mother of Owlglass forth, and left Owlglass within the house. Then came a man riding by, and he rode his horse half into the house in the doorway, and asked: “Is there nobody within?” Then answered the child: “Yea, there is a man and a half, and the head of a horse.” Then asked the man: “Where is thy father?” and the child made answer and said: “My father is of ill making worse; and my mother is gone for scathe or shame.” And the man said to the child: “How understandest thou that?” And then the child said: “My father is making of ill worse, for he plougheth the field and maketh great holes, that men should fall therein when they ride. And my mother is gone to borrow bread, and when she giveth it again and giveth less it is a shame, and when she giveth it and giveth more it is scathe.” Then said the man: “Which is the way to ride?” And the child answered and said: “There where the geese go.” And then rode the man his way to the geese, and when he came to the geese they flew into the water; then wist he not whither to ride, but turned again to the child and said: “The geese be flown into the water, and thus wot I not what to do nor whither to ride.” Then answered the child: “Ye must ride where the geese go and not where they swim.” Then departed the man and rode his way, and marvelled of the answer of the child. Thus from the mouths of babes cometh forth wisdom and ready conceit.

The Third Adventure.
How all the boors did cry out shame upon Owlglass for his knavery; and how he rode upon a horse behind his father.

Now when Owlglass had come to an age to run about, he began playing divers tricks and knavish actions among the boys of his village; and he fought and tumbled about upon the grass, that he looked more like a monkey than a boy. But when it came to pass that he was four years old, his malice waxed greater and greater, so that his father was ever being disputed with by the neighbours, who cried out shame upon Owlglass, as being so great a knave; and though it happened that his father did scold him with many words, Owlglass did always excuse himself by knavish answers. Thereat the father thought he would quickly learn the verity of these sayings of the neighbours, and at a time when the boors were all walking in the streets, he did set his son Owlglass behind him on his horse. Then, also, he commanded Owlglass that he should be most quiet and silent. What, then, did the pious and good child? He did silently play tricks and mocked the people, whereon they did most loudly cry out upon Owlglass: “Fie upon the little malicious knave!”

Now as Owlglass spake never a word in all this time, his father did not know how it came to pass that the people did cry out so loudly; and Owlglass complained to him, and said: “Hearest thou, father! Here sit I silently behind thee upon thy horse and say no word, and yet the people cry out against me for my knavery.” Then the father sayeth but little, and taketh Owlglass and setteth him upon the horse in front of him. Then did Owlglass open his mouth wide, and did stretch forth his tongue, in mockery of the people. And the people did run forth, crying: “Out upon the little knave!” Yet did not the father see the knavery, but said: “Alas for thee, that thou shouldst have been born in an unhappy hour!” So much did he love Owlglass, that he then departed out of the land of Brunswick, and he did abide in the land of Magdeburg, hard by the river Saale.

In a little time thereafter, so sorrowful was he, that he gave up the ghost, and left his wife and child in great poverty. Thus it is that great men are often persecuted and smitten with many blows in their own land, nor do they find good comfort therein! Owlglass, although he knew not any handicraft, did grow up and wax older in knavery; and when that he was sixteen years old, did excel in tricks, quips, and quiddities.

The Fourth Adventure.
How Owlglass did learn to dance upon a rope, and did fall therefrom into the river Saale.

It hath been said of old time, by the wise and cunning: “When that the cat is out of the house, then play the mice.” Thus fared it with Owlglass after that his father was dead. His mother had become old and full of years, and she could no longer have the mastery over Owlglass, and he did learn many greatly knavish conceits. And his mother was sorely troubled of Owlglass, and bore not with his knavery.

Now it fortuned, that the house where Owlglass and his mother did live, lay hard by the river Saale, and Owlglass did go up into the garret of the house, and there did learn to dance upon a rope, until that his mother did find him going to and fro upon the rope, and did so belabour him with a cudgel, that he fled through the window of the garret on to the roof, where she could not follow him. And this often came to pass, until he grew older, and she became weak and of no strength to have power over him. Then thought he, it was time that he should in open day render it manifest unto all, how great was his perfection in the art of dancing upon the rope, and he did stretch the rope across the river Saale, from one house even unto a house which lay over against them on the other side. And when that the people beheld such unwonted sport, they did run together, old and young, in a great crowd, and did marvel much that Owlglass should go hither and thither in so sure a manner upon the rope.

Happiness is, however, but for the few, and seldom doth evil fortune fail to sow sorrowful seeds in the midst of joyous doings; and thus fortuned it, that the mother of Owlglass did hear the shouting of the people at the feats of Owlglass, and that she might reprove with heavy punishment the knavery of her son, she hastened to the place where the rope was tied, and cut it through with a knife secretly. Then did good Master Owlglass plump into the water with much mockery and despite; and all the people did laugh greatly thereat, and Owlglass was vexed, so that he could speak no word; nor did he fear the bath and the peril of drowning as much as the jests of the people, who ran after him, blessing the bath with much outcry. Thus did Master Owlglass come evilly off in his first undertaking.

The Fifth Adventure.
How Owlglass did move two hundred young people, that they did give unto him their shoes, with the which he made rare sport upon his rope.

In no long space of time thereafter, Owlglass did desire to avenge him, concerning the mockery which befel him after the bath, therefore did he tie the rope across unto another house, and once again told the people that he would dance to and fro upon the rope. Soon did the people come together in great multitude, and there were in that place both old and young; then Owlglass spake unto the young people, and said that he would show unto them a most rare device upon the rope with their shoes. Then did they believe him, and with that put their shoes off their feet and gave them unto Owlglass, and he did put them all together upon a string and went up on to the rope; and all the people thought that he was going to make some wonderful stroke therewith. But the boys were sad, and would fain have received their shoes again.

When, therefore, Owlglass was sitting upon the rope and had ended his trickery, he cried out with a loud voice and spake these words: “Be ye now every one in readiness, and let him seek his shoes again;” and he cut the string and threw all the shoes upon the ground, in such wise that one shoe fell upon another into a great heap, and none could be distinguished. Then did the people, old and young, come in great crowds, and caught a shoe here and another there; and one spake and said this was his shoe, whereat another did make answer that it was his; and then fell they to fisticuffs, and with great blows they pulled out the hairs from their heads: one lay on the ground, and the other belaboured him with sturdy strokes; and one wept with a loud voice while another did laugh, and a third screamed like a peacock. Thus went things forward, until the old men began also to give many stripes to the crowd.

But Owlglass, sitting upon his rope, laughed until his stomach shook again, and cried out: “Right merry may ye be! Seek ye your shoes again in that wise in which I sought my way forth from the bath.” Then did he come down from his rope, and left them in contention; nor did he again come forth, for fear of the people, but abode at home with his mother. Thereover did his mother greatly rejoice, and thought that now he was a wise and gentle person, and soon, therefore, would things go better with them all. Yet knew she not of his knavery, and wherefore he dared not go out. But the wisdom of Owlglass was great; for it is better to abide in darkness with a whole skin, than live in a palace of light and be beaten with many stripes. Thus did, therefore, our great example of wit and judgment.

The Sixth Adventure.
How that Owlglass his mother did move him that he should learn a handicraft.

The mother of Owlglass was right glad that her son was so still, and chid him only for that he would learn no handicraft. Yet answered he never a word unto all her reproofs, the which she was never tired of bestowing upon him. At last he opened his mouth and spake unto her, saying: “Dear mother, as it happeneth that one beginneth action, so also is the ending thereof.” For he knew in his wisdom, that if he had begun with knavish doings, and should turn therefrom and live honestly, yet in the world would no one give heed unto him, but the rather regard him as a greater knave than before, esteeming him to be a hypocrite as well as a knave. “That believe I right truly,” answered his mother; “and thus have I seen no bread in my house these four weeks gone by, nor have I had thereof any.” “That toucheth not my speech,” said Owlglass. “But with Saint Nicolaus must the poor man fast upon his even; and if perchance he should have bread, he may feast right merrily with Saint Martin on his day. Therefore will we also eat.”

The Seventh Adventure.
How Owlglass did deceive a baker at Strasfurt, and gat bread for his mother.

Then thought Owlglass: “God help us, how shall I compass it that my mother may be rendered quiet? Where shall I get me bread for her needs?” Thus went he forth from the village where they abode, and departed on the way towards the town of Strasfurt, and there beheld he a baker’s shop. Then went he in unto the baker, and asked him, saying: “Would he for a crown send bread unto his lord?” Then named he the name of a lord who abode in that town, and also the place where he lay, that the baker might send with Owlglass a boy to carry the bread and receive the money therefor.

Thereat answered the baker, that he would do everything that he commanded, and Owlglass gave him a sack wherein to count the loaves; but this sack had a secret hole, not to be seen. The baker sent with him a lad to receive the money.

Now when Owlglass had gat him a bow-shot from the house of the baker, he privily let a wheaten loaf fall down into the mire, and thereat set he the bag down and said unto the baker’s lad: “Alas! the bread which is thus made dirty I can never bring in unto my lord. Run quickly home and get for it another loaf, and I will wait here till that thou dost come again.” Then hasted the good lad to his master’s house, and did get another loaf for him; but Owlglass secretly hid himself in a house outside the town until that a cart came by, which did receive him and his bag; and he returned unto the house of his mother.

When that the lad came back unto the place where Owlglass had let the loaf fall, he found that he was beguiled; and he went back and told his master, who speedily ran unto the inn where lay the worshipful lord of whom Owlglass spake, and he asked the serving-men of that lord for Owlglass; but they knew him not. Then the baker perceived that he was cheated of his bread, and so returned home. But Owlglass gave the bread to his mother, and bade her to feast with Saint Martin. Thus can a great man ever overcome the besetting evils of life.

The Eighth Adventure.
How Owlglass with other children, was forced to eat fat soup, and gat blows likewise.

There was in the village where Owlglass lived with his mother, a custom that when anyone killed a pig, the neighbour’s children came to him in his house to eat a soup or broth, which was called the butcher-broth. Now there lived in this village a farmer who was avaricious, and yet he dared not to refuse the children the soup; then thought he of a cunning way by which he might make them sick of the soup-eating; and he cut into it the sour crumb of the bread.

When the boys and girls came, Owlglass also was among them, and he let them come in, and closed the doors and poured out the soup, and the broth was more than the children could eat; when one of them was full and was going away, the farmer had a rod with the which he struck him, so that each child was forced to eat more than it wished. The host knew well of the knavery of Owlglass, and therefore when that he was beating another child he always bestowed some hearty strokes upon him. And this did he for so long, as that they had ended all the eating, and that they felt like the dogs after grass-grazing. Thereafter would no one go unto the stingy farmer’s house to eat the butcher-broth.

The Ninth Adventure.
How Owlglass brought it about that the stingy farmer’s poultry drew for baits.

The next day, when he that had beaten the children went forth, Owlglass met him, and he said unto Owlglass: “Dear Owlglass, when wilt thou come again to eat the butcher-soup at my house?” “Yea, that will I,” answered Owlglass, “when thy poultry draw for baits, and four and four together fight for a little bread.” Then said the other: “Wilt thou be so long?” But Owlglass said: “An if I came ere the time of the fat soup hath come?” Then he went on his way and thought over it until the time that the man’s poultry ran about the streets; then had Owlglass some twenty strings tied together at the midst, and at either end of the string was a morsel of bread hanging. These took he and threw to the poultry. When then the fowls here and there picked up and swallowed the bread, they could not keep hold, for at the other end another fowl was pulling, so that they were contending, and thus from the size of the bread they could not get rid of it, and so stood more than thirty fowls one over against the other and in throttling ran a wager.

The Tenth Adventure.
How Owlglass was again moved of his mother to depart to a foreign land, that he might learn a handicraft.

After that Owlglass had played a bitter knavery somewhere, so that he might not dare show himself, he sat at home with his mother; and she, with many words, continually chid him, in that he would learn no craft to get money thereby. And she spake unto him saying, that he should depart into a foreign land, that he might there profit somewhat. But his mother had just killed a pig and so long as our good master Owlglass knew that any of it remained he would not quit. The mother of Owlglass thereat scolded him, until that he agreed to set forth, and made a small bundle of clothes and food, and, at length, went his way. Soon our wise master felt hungry, and thereat took forth from his wallet the provision he had, and did eat until there was none left. Thereafter did he not tarry long on thought, but when that it was dark, came again to the house of his mother. Then went he up to the garret and lay among the straw, where he slept lustily until the day had broken, then wake he up by reason of a noise he did hear in the neighbour’s court. And Owlglass did look forth, and beheld a fox stealing the poultry from the roosting place. Then could Owlglass no longer keep silent, but cried with a loud voice: “Alas! thou cunning thief, an if I were not in a far country from this, it would go hard with thee but I would kill thee.” Then heard the mother of Owlglass what he said, and came and marvelled not a little at beholding him.

The Eleventh Adventure.
How Owlglass crept into a bee-hive, how two thieves came by night to steal honey, what honey they did steal, and how Owlglass made it to come to pass, that the thieves did fight one with the other, and did leave the bee-hive standing.

Upon a time went Owlglass with his mother to the dedication of the church.[^[9]] And at the feast there he drank so much, did our good Owlglass, that he was tired, and he sought a place where he might lie down to sleep in peace. Then found he a yard where stood many bee-hives, and some were empty, and into one of these crept he privily and thought to sleep awhile; behold he slept from midday till midnight, and his mother thought surely that he had departed homeward again, as she nowhere could see him. That same night came two thieves and they had it in mind to steal a hive of honey, and they conferred together, in that they heard it said that the heaviest is also the best.

HOW OWLGLASS CATCHETH THE THIEVES.

Then did they lift up one after the other to see the which might be the most heavy, and at last came they to the one in which lay good master Owlglass; and it was the heaviest of all. Then spake the one to the other, saying: “Here is the best among the bee-hives.” So took they that one and carried it away, but wist not what good burden they bare. Good Master Owlglass, feeling the motion, thereupon awoke up, and heard what they said about stealing honey; and he rejoiced in himself to think what honey they had stolen. It was now so dark that ye could not see your hand before ye, an if ye even held it up to your eyes. Then put Owlglass his hand from out of the bee-hive, and caught hold of the foremost thief by the hair and pulled it until he roared. And the thief was very angry at the one who was behind, and thought it was he who had plucked him by the hair. Then spake the one who was behind him, saying: “Dost thou dream, or goest thou to sleep? How could I pluck thee by the hair? Hardly, is it possible for me to hold the bee-hive with both my hands.” Then laughed Owlglass within himself at what the thief said, and thought that the game would go better in a while after, and waited till they had got a fine distance further forward. Then put he out his hand again, and plucked the hindmost smartly by the hair; and the hindmost man became yet more angry and said: “Thou sayest I pluck thee by the hair and I bear the bee-hive till I break my neck, and now thou pluckest me by the hair thyself.” Then answered the foremost: “I pull thee by the hair? thou liest in thy throat. I cannot see my way before my face, and yet sayest thou: I pluck thine hair, quotha!” Thus with many revilings did they carry the hive along. And, as they were thus quarreling the one with the other in great choler and wrath, Owlglass plucked the foremost one by the hair again, and that so hard that he knocked his head against the hive. Thereat grew he angry, and let down the hive, and took his fellow by the head. That did also the other, and did manfully resist the blows of his comrade. Then fought they until they fell down in the dark and neither of them could behold the other, for the darkness continued very thick. Thus lost they their way and fled asunder with a great cry, and the bee-hive stood in the place where they had left it. Then Owlglass lay down again at ease to sleep until dawn; and when that it was light he thanked his stars that by this adventure it was shown him that he should see the world. And then gat he up from out of the bee-hive and did take a road, which lay before him, having a good heart that by his wit, wisdom, and knavery, he would live a merry and happy life in his time, and not die unhonoured of those that should come after him.

[9]. Feasts of the Dedication. These feasts, common in Germany, were also not uncommon, even to the present century, in parts of England. They were held in the churchyard on the anniversary of the day of the parish church being dedicated for divine service. See in Tom Brown’s School Days (p. 30), a recent eloquent country-book, for a mention of this as applying to Berkshire.

The Twelfth Adventure.
How Owlglass for little money did have a singing bird for his dinner.

In no long time thereafter, came Owlglass to Würzburg and there entered he into a good inn. Now the host of the inn had a singing bird hanging up in the house by the which he set great price, for it could sing divers merry ditties and songs of marvellous choiceness. Then said Owlglass unto him: “What take ye for this bird!” Then the host, who was of a miserly mind, answered him a great sum, the which Owlglass would not give him, yet at last they agreed that Owlglass should have the bird for four shillings. Then spake Owlglass: “Take ye the bird and roast it for my dinner, I would fain have a bit of him.” Thereat marvelled the host, and did much pity the bird; but his miserly love overcame him. Then was the bird killed, plucked, and made ready. When that it was roasted, the landlord brought it on a dish to Owlglass; then spake Owlglass, and commanded the host that he should cut him therefrom a piece for six pennies; for he had not said he would pay for a whole bird, but only for a part thereof which he was fain to eat. Thereat marvelled the host still more, yet what could he say thereupon. He that is wise sayeth but little when the beguiler is nigh at hand, so the host held his tongue and the knave Owlglass departed thence in haste.

The Thirteenth Adventure.
How Owlglass did eat the roasted chicken from off the spit.

In the land of Brunswick there lieth a village, within the government of Magdeburg, and the name of it is called Budenstadt; thither came Owlglass and did present himself unto the priest there, and the priest, thinking our wise and pious master Owlglass a good and proper fellow, did then hire him for a servant in his house, but little did he know him. And the priest spake unto him, saying that he should have a good time of it and a good service. Also should he have meat and drink as good as his maid-servant, and all that he did should be done with half labour. Then did Master Owlglass agree with him, and said that he would do according to his word. Then he saw that the cook had but one eye. On that day took she two young chickens and she put them on the spit to roast over the fire. And she bade Owlglass turn, and so he did; and when the chickens were roasted, he brake one away off from the spit, and did eat it without any bread, for he remembered well what the priest had told him as to faring as well as himself and the maid-servant, and he thought it might be that he would lose his part of the dinner. And when that it was dinner-time, there came into the kitchen the one-eyed cook-maid to baste the chickens. Then beheld she but one chicken on the spit. Then spake she to Owlglass: “Behold, there were two chickens on the spit, and now there is but one, and tell me now where is the fellow that was beside it.” Then answered Owlglass: “Woman, do but open your other eye, and you will behold the other chicken on the spit.” Now when he thus spake of the want of her eye, she waxed wroth, and ran unto the priest, and said unto him that he might look how his new serving-man was doing. That she had put two chickens on the spit, and lo! there was but one at this time. And she said: “Then he mocked me, and said that I had but one eye.” Thereat went the priest into the kitchen, and spake unto Owlglass, saying: “Hearest thou, Owlglass! wherefore didst thou mock my serving-maid? I see well that only one chicken is now upon the spit, and yet know I truly that there were two. Where then is now the other?” Then said Owlglass: “It is yet thereon; open both your eyes, and you will well see that there be the twain upon the spit. So said I also to thy maid, and thereat grew she quite angry and wroth.” Then the priest laughed, and said: “The serving-maid cannot open both her eyes, for in good truth she hath but one.” Owlglass made answer to the priest, saying: “That sayest thou, not I.” But then said the priest: “Yet it is so; but the one chicken is in any wise gone.” Owlglass spake then and said: “That chicken have I eaten myself, according unto thy words. For ye said unto me that I should fare as well as your maid-servant; and much grief would it have caused me had ye eaten the chickens without me, and made your words vain and a lie. Therefore for your honour’s sake have I eaten the chicken, that ye might not fall into evil reputation for speaking that which is untruth.” Then the priest was content and said: “Dear serving-man, I care not for the roasted chicken; but after this time do ye always according to the will of my cook.” And Owlglass said: “Yea, holy father and worshipful master, be it so done as you will.” Then whatsoever the cook-maid commanded Owlglass that he should do, that did he but in the half. An if she did bid him to bring a pail of water from the well, he brought but the half thereof, and if he should fetch two faggots from the wood pile then brought he but one. And so did he, and she saw well that it was all performed in that she might be spited thereat. Then spake the priest once again unto him, and said: “Lo, my well beloved serving-man Owlglass, let me tell ye that my maid doth complain right grievously of thee.” Thereat said Owlglass: “Yea, master, yet have I never done except according unto thy words. For thou didst say, that all I did should be done with but half labour. Well would your serving maid desire to see with both eyes and yet hath she but one—which is but half-seeing, and therefore did I but half-labour.” And thereat was the priest right merry, and laughed much; but his servant was full of wrath, and said: “Master, an if ye keep yon knavish rogue any longer then will I depart from ye.” Thus came it that the priest was fain to send Owlglass away, yet forgat he him not; and it fortuned that the parish clerk died, so he made Owlglass clerk in his room. Thus, by foolishness and little knaveries, do men come in this world to dignities and honours.

The Fourteenth Adventure.
How that Owlglass did publish abroad that he would fly from off the roof of the town-house at Magdeburg.

After that Owlglass had some time been clerk of the parish at Budenstadt, came he into the great and famous town of Magdeburg, and there did he fix upon the church doors letters of great import, so that the name of Owlglass became well known and noised abroad through the streets of that city of Magdeburg; and it was in the mouths of all the gossips, that the noble Master Owlglass did purpose the doing of some marvellous strange feat. And so it came to pass, that when the people were all full of great wonder, that Owlglass spake unto them, saying: “I will flee down through the air from the roof of the town-house.” Thereat was there a great outcry through the city; and both young and old did in great multitude crowd unto the market-place, that by them might this most marvellous wonder be seen; for, in the memory of man, had not any person ever done so strange a thing before, nor had without wings so fled down through the air from that high place.

Then came Owlglass and stood upon the roof of the town-house, and did make motion with his arms, waving them hither and thither, as if he would flee down. And all the people gazed at his motion in great marvel, for they thought he would flee down presently. Thereat laughed Owlglass right merrily, and said unto the people: “Truly thought I, that nowhere in the world was there a fool so great as am I. Yet here in this city do I well see that ye are almost every one of ye fools; for when that ye did say that I could flee down from where I stand, then believed I ye not. I am not a goose, nor a bird, nor have I either feathers or wings to flee with, without the which can nobody flee. Therefore manifestly now do ye well see, that it is a deceit and a lie.”

Then came he down away from the roof of the town-house in the same manner that he had gone up, and left the people standing. And some of them laughed, and others said: “Although he is both knave and fool, yet hath he spoken the truth.” Thus is it with many besides the people of Magdeburg, who rush eagerly to believe that the which they might see is most plainly untrue; while what is possible and within their means to make them good sport, and serve them with good service, that neglect they with great scorn and contempt.

The Fifteenth Adventure.
How Owlglass did cure the sick folks in the hospital at Nürnberg in one day, and what came thereafter.

On a time came Owlglass to Nürnberg, where he did again set upon the church doors letters of great import, in the which he did publish abroad that he was a learned physician, more learned than in the world had yet been known; and that in all sicknesses, whosoever should turn to him should have content and his health again.

Now in the hospital at the town were there a multitude of people, who lay sick unto death, and of them did the master of that house crave in great truth to be relieved. Right verily would this benevolent man have given them their health and made them whole, and, if he could, have got ridden of them in the house. Then went he unto Owlglass, the learned physician, and spake with him, asking him whether he could, as in his letters he set forth, work such marvellous cures. And Owlglass answered and said: “Yea, if that the hospital-master would give unto him two hundred pieces.” Then upon that conference did the master agree and promise him the money; and Owlglass said unto him, that he would not receive from him one penny, if the people did not all, within a few days, leave the hospital of their own desiring and action. Thereat was the master of the hospital very content, and gave unto Owlglass twenty pieces as a hansell.

Thereafter went Owlglass into the hospital, and took with him two servants; and he asked of each person that was sick, what it was that he lay sick of, and they answered. And at the last he said unto each, that he should not betray the secret which he should then tell unto them, and that swore they all. Then he spake unto each secretly, saying: “If that I should make ye whole, and give back unto all health and strength, then must I needs burn one of ye into powder, the which to mingle with your drink and give you to swallow, and with that will ye be made whole. Now I will take from among ye the one that is most sick, and him will I burn to powder. And I will stand at the door of the hospital, with the master of the hospital near at hand, and I will cry with a loud voice: ‘He that is not sick, let him now go forth from the house quickly.’ And that one which is last within the hospital door, him will I take. Forget ye not that in your sleep.”

Thus it came to pass, that all did remember his words; and when he stood with the master at the door, the sick and lame, and halt and dying, all came forth in haste, for none would be that one who should be burned in fire. So the hospital was quite empty, for many which had not for ten years arisen from their beds, now found their legs and departed thence.

Then did Owlglass demand from the master of the hospital that he should receive his reward, and the master with gracious thanks did present it unto him; then rode he forth from that city, and returned not again. In three days thereafter, came all the sick folk back again unto the hospital, and complained sorely of their sickness. Then said the master: “What will ye? Have I not brought unto ye a physician of skill, who did marvellously make you whole, that ye could all depart hence?” Then the sick folk discovered to the master the knavery that Owlglass had done, in that he had threatened them, that the last that should depart should be burned. So the master of the hospital perceived that he had been beguiled of Owlglass, and the sick folk abode in the house: yet was the money lost. Owlglass still was a great physician, for he had for three days cured them; and how many learned doctors are there who cure not in any wise?

HOW OWLGLASS TURNETH DOCTOR.

The Sixteenth Adventure.
How Owlglass bought bread according to the proverb: “To him that hath bread is bread given.”

Trusty faith giveth bread. And now that Owlglass had deceived the hospital-master, came he unto Halberstadt, and went round about the market, and saw that it was cold and winter time. Thought he, cold and hard is the winter, thereto bloweth a strong wind, and thou hast often heard that to him that hath bread is bread given. Then for a few pence buyeth Owlglass bread, borroweth also a table, and sitteth down in the front of St. Stephen’s Dome. There held he up his knavery so long until a dog came by, the which caught me up a loaf from the table, and ran toward the cathedral court. While Owlglass ran after the dog, there passed by a sow with ten young pigs; these overthrew the table, and each, seizing a loaf, departed.

Then laughed Owlglass and said: “Now do I see that the words are not true: ‘To him that hath bread is bread given;’ for mine is taken.” Thereat he departed from Halberstadt unto Brunswick.

The Seventeenth Adventure.
How Owlglass became a doctor, and did cure many folk.

The City of Frankfort is a great and handsome city, and in it do dwell many worshipful burghers, whose riches are many, and they eat and drink much, as is the custom with citizens; thus it fortunes that they are often ill. No marvel therefore that in Frankfort abide many doctors, who gain much money. Owlglass when that he came there, by his ready wit soon perceived the better part to take, and hired himself to be a doctor’s man, and soon it was meet that he should go with his master to visit the patients. The good Owlglass would much have desired to know something of the names on the bottles which stood in the house of his master; but that could he not do, and therefore of all that his master did he could learn nothing but that when people were sick, they should drink warm water and be blooded. It fortuned in no long time thereafter, that his master had on a sudden to take a journey, in such wise that he had no time to tell the patients thereof. Then spake he unto Owlglass saying: “Go thou about the city unto the sick, and say unto them that in no long time shall I return unto them.”

Yet the cunning Master Owlglass followed not his master’s saying, but put on his head the wig of his master, and on his shoulders he bare his mantle. Then, with a grave and noble demeanour, he departed unto the houses of the sick patients who sent for him. When that he arrived, he sat gravely down with a serious face, felt their pulses, and after much heavy thought, he ordered them always to be blooded and to drink warm water. Thereafter he departed from them.

Then, marvellous to tell, all his patients grew wondrously well in no long time, and they paid him much money for his pains. When that his master returned, the knavery of Owlglass was soon discovered, and he was fain to depart. Yet such was the wisdom of good Master Owlglass, that it is related that his master thereafter followed no other art than had been thus invented by Owlglass; and after that time the doctor became famous, and wrote a large book upon the virtue of warm water and blood-letting.

The Eighteenth Adventure.
How that Owlglass became a drawer of teeth and cured all by a wondrous pill.

As Owlglass was going along the road, he met upon the highway, a man whose face was overcome with misery. Owlglass thereat gazed upon him for a season, and after some time spake unto him these words: “Worthy fellow! thou dost seem so wrapped in melancholic humour, would’st tell me what aileth thee?” “Everything in the wide world,” the other made answer: “for I have no money, which is the joy of all worldly business; for it maketh learned, maketh noble, maketh lovely, and merry. Also, maketh it an end of hunger and thirst which now sorely assail me.” Then Owlglass bethought himself for a while, and presently took up from the next field some clay, whereof he made little pills, which he then wrapped in pieces of paper, and said to his comrade: “Be of good cheer, friend! Soon will we have money. Lo, in yonder city, the towers of which we can now see, are there fools in number great. Enter thou in before me, and there go forward till thou seest the best inn in the town, and therein do thou stay. At dinner stay thou as long as thou canst and be merry; yet after a while do thou cry out in great agony, as if thou hadst the tooth-ache. Then will I not be far from thee; and when I come in, be thou ready, and make answer to everything I say: ‘Yea.’ But do not thou let it be perceived that thou knowest me.”

Then did the twain go forward into the town, and as Owlglass had commanded, so all things came to pass. Owlglass told the people that he was a dentist of great skill, and they called him to the man who was ill. Then took he from his pocket the pills which he had made of the clay, and laid one in the man’s mouth. “Art not thou well now”? said he unto him. “Yea, truly,” answered the other, “all the pain is gone.” Then all the people in the inn came round the doctor in great multitude, and demanded that he should sell unto them his pills. And Owlglass sold what he had for a great sum of money, and an he had had clay enough he could have sold many more. Then shared he the gain with his comrade, and they departed hastily from that place.

The Nineteenth Adventure.
How that Owlglass did at Brunswick hire him to a baker, and did there bake owls and monkeys.

It fortuned upon a time that Owlglass came into Brunswick city, and unto an inn where bakers met together; and hard by lived a baker, who called upon Owlglass to enter into his house, and made inquiry of him, as to the business he might follow. Then answered Owlglass to the baker, and spake, for our noble and well beloved master of jests was wily, and, indeed, all things unto all men: “I am a baker’s man.” Thereat said the baker: “Even now have I not any man in my house to serve me; wilt thou come to me, for I have need of thee?” Owlglass at that answered: “Yea.” And when that he had been with him two days, the baker commanded him to bake at eventide, for that he could not help him until the morning. Then said Owlglass: “But what would ye have me to bake?” Thereat waxed the baker wroth, for he was a man soon hot i’ the head, and he made answer in scorn, and said: “Art a baker’s man, and askest thou what ye should bake? What do ye bake? Owls and monkeys bake ye?” And thereafter gat he him to bed.

Then departed Owlglass into the bake-room, and made the dough into nought but the shape of owls and monkeys, and these did he bake in the oven. At morning time arose the master baker, and went into the bake-room to aid his man. Then cometh he, and findeth neither rolls nor loaves, but rather a goodly mass of owls and monkeys. And he opened his mouth in great rage and said unto Owlglass: “What is it that thou hast baken?” And Owlglass did answer him and said: “Verily have I done that which thou didst tell me to do.” And the baker, in great wroth, said: “What shall I do with this foolish knave? Such bread will no one have?” And therewith took he him by the head, and said unto him: “Pay me for the dough thou hast spoiled!” Then said Owlglass: “And if I pay ye for the dough, will the goods be mine?” And the master answered: “What care I for such bread?” So Owlglass paid the baker for his dough, and he took the owls and monkeys in a basket, and he carried them away unto the inn, the sign of which was the Wild Man. And Owlglass thought within himself: “Thou hast often heard it said, that to Brunswick canst thou bring nothing novel or strange, but therefrom mayst thou draw great profit for thy pains.” And it was Saint Nicholas’ even. Then stood Owlglass with his store hard by the church gate; and he sold all his owls and monkeys at great price, and therefrom drew he a much greater profit than what he had paid unto the baker for his dough. This was noised about, and soon came it heard of the baker, who waxed very angry thereupon, and he ran unto Saint Nicolas’ Church, and would have demanded either his share, or the charges of baking. But Owlglass had already departed with the money, and the baker might look far and wide for him. This feat of our good exemplar showeth plainly, that there is nothing so vain or foolish in this world, but that it hath profit contained within it for those who study to arrive thereat.

The Twentieth Adventure.
How Owlglass did again hire him unto a baker, and how he bolted meal in the moon’s light.

Thereafter departed Owlglass, and wandered hither and thither in the land; and at last came he toward Oltzen, and entered into the village there. And when he was besought of the people to say what trade he exercised, he told them that he was a baker. Then did a master baker in the village hire him; and when that Owlglass was with him present in his house, his master did make ready that he should bake, and he spake unto Owlglass, and did enjoin him that he should bolt the meal, so that it might be prepared against the morning. Then Owlglass answered, and said: “Master, I would fain have a candle, that I may see with, and so diligently do your bidding.” “Nay,” answered the baker; “but that will I not do. No candle shalt thou have, nor have I at any time given unto my serving-men any such candle. Always did they bolt the meal in the moon’s light, and verily must thou likewise do this. And this charge I thee to do.” And Owlglass made answer, saying: “An if your former servants did bolt the meal in the moon’s light, truly then will I also do it.” At that was the master content, and he gat him to bed for a short while.

Thereafter taketh good Master Owlglass the bag, and he openeth the window and putteth forth the bag, until the moon’s light doth shine thereupon, and then letteth he all the meal fall out on the ground where that the moon shone. And in the morning cometh the master, who desireth to bake, and he findeth Owlglass still casting out the meal. And the baker marvelled much when that he beheld Owlglass, for Owlglass was white with the meal. Then said the master, who was full of anger: “What do ye here, ye knave? Think ye that yon meal cost me nought, that ye throw it in the dirt there?”

Then answered Owlglass: “Did not ye command me that I should, without a candle, bolt the meal in the moon’s shine, and have not I fulfilled this according to your words?” Then said the baker: “I said you should bolt the meal by the moon’s light.” And Owlglass answered him: “Be then of good cheer, master; verily thy meal is bolted both in and by the moon’s light, and with much pains and weariness have I done this labouring. Nor is there much lost thereby; scarce a handful. Soon will I gather it up again, and the meal will not be in any wise made the worse.” Thereat sayeth the baker: “In that time that thou dost gather up the meal, will it grow too late to make the dough, and then fall to baking.” Then said Owlglass: “Behold, master, I know a piece of counsel, how we may bake as soon as our neighbour yonder. His dough lieth ready in the trough, and I will go thither and quickly fetch it, and carry our meal thither in place thereof.” Thereat grew the master of Owlglass right angry, and said unto him: “May the evil one have thee! Get thee to the gallows-tree, thou knave, and fetch thee thence the first thing that thou dost find; and let the neighbour’s dough lie where it be.” “Yea,” answered Owlglass.

Then departed he out of the house and went unto the gallows-tree, and there lay the skull of a thief, which had fallen down. This took Owlglass and bare it unto his master, and brought it into his house and said: “Here bring I from the gallows-tree the first thing that I did find. Wherefore would ye have this? Of a truth know I not what may be the best thing it is fit for.” And then the baker spake in anger, and said: “Lo! bringest thou me nothing more than this?” Then Owlglass answered and said: “If that any other thing had been there, I would also have brought it for thee; but no other thing was lying there.” Then waxed the baker more wroth, and said unto Owlglass: “Behold, thou hast robbed the law and the gallows; that will I tell unto the burghmaster, and thou shalt answer it.”

And the baker departed from out of the house to the market-place, and Owlglass followed him. So hastily, howsoever, went the baker, that he looked not round, and knew not that Owlglass was following him. Then stood the baker before the burghmaster, who was on the market-place, and he began to make complaint against Owlglass. And Owlglass was lithe and nimble, and when that the baker began his words, he stood hard by and opened his eyes very wide. And when the baker beheld Owlglass, he clean forgat, in his anger, what it might be that he would make complaint of, and said to Owlglass, with great malice: “What wilt thou have?” Owlglass made answer to him: “I desire not to have anything, than that I should behold what complaint you make against me to the burghmaster. And that I might see your words, do I open mine eyes very wide, for words are most difficult to see.” Then said the baker: “Get out of my sight, thou knavish beguiler, I desire nought else!” Owlglass then said: “If that I should get out of thy sight, then needs must I get my body into thine eyes; and if ye shut your eyes, must I come through thy nostrils.” Then went the burghmaster on his way, for he perceived that it was but foolishness; and he left them both standing. And when Owlglass saw that, he followed the baker, and spake unto him, saying: “Master, when shall we bake? It is time now, for the sun shineth no more.” Then departed he, and left the baker standing in the market-place.

The Twenty and First Adventure.
Telleth of what manner of thinking was Owlglass, and how he formed his life according unto principles of virtue and goodness.

Of our most noble and beloved Master Owlglass, have I now told ye not a few truthful and diverting histories and adventures; but, yet have I not said any word in respect of his ways of thinking, gathered by great experience out of many lands, in his continual travel to and fro, up and down in his country. Now he loved much to be always among friends and in company, and as long as he lived were there three things, which with great avoidance he did always run from and leave undone. The first thing was, that he never did ride a horse which was gray, but at all times a bay horse, for the gray horse did mind him of an ass, the which animal held he in great scorn. The second thing which he could not bear to be with him was the company of little children, for that wheresoever he found them, there was more care taken of them than of his own noble person. The third thing was, that he would never lie in an inn where that he found an old mild host; for a host that was old and mild held Owlglass in but little esteem, and was thereto also for the most part nought but a fool.

Every morn when that he rose up from his bed, he blessed himself against healthy victual, great happiness, and strong drink, in which three blessings none can deny that he was a wise man. And when it fortuned that he passed by an apothecary’s house, did he bless himself against healthy victual, for it mote truly be a healthy place whence victual might issue; yet it was a sign of sickness before. Good fortune was it when a stone fell from the house top and struck him not down; for then might he of a truth cry, with great praise: “If that I had myself been standing on that place, so would it have fallen upon me and killed me;” and such fortune would he most willingly not have. The strong drink against which he blessed himself, was water, for it be so strong as soon to drive round great mill-wheels, and to the good fellow that drinketh thereof cometh death. It was also told of Owlglass that he wept always when that he did go down a hill, and he laughed when he climbed one. For truly wist he, in the descending, that soon would he come again unto a mountain, while in climbing knew he that soon would he come again to the top, whence to pass down into the valley. In fine weather, or at a time when summer began, then did he also weep with many tears, and when that winter approached, laughed he. And ye that read herein may, in your wisdom, answer the reason why he did this thing.

The Twenty and Second Adventure.
How that Owlglass did hire him to the Count of Anhalt to blow the horn on a tower, and when that enemies did approach, then blew he not; and when that they came not, then blew he.

Not long thereafter, came Owlglass unto the Count of Anhalt, and he did hire him unto the count as a tower watchman. And the count at that time had enemies in great multitude, so that he had with him in number not small, both horsemen and foot folk, unto whom he must needs give meat and drink every day. And Owlglass sat up on the tower, and he was clean forgat of them that should give him provision. And on that day it came to pass, that the enemy did, in strong force, come unto the town and castle of the count’s grace, and they took therefrom all the cattle, and drave them off. Owlglass then lay still upon the tower, and he looked through the window and made not any outcry, either in that he blew, or in that he did cry aloud. But it did come unto the ears of the count that he heard the enemy, and with his folk he quickly gat him forth, and pursued them and drave them before his face. Then saw some of the folk, that Owlglass lay in the window of the tower, and laughed. Thereat did the count cry out unto him: “Wherefore liest thou on the tower and art so still?” And Owlglass made answer unto the count, saying: “Ere dinner time do I not with grace and comfort ever delight in crying out.” Then cried the count back unto him: “Wilt thou, when the enemy cometh, blow thy horn?” Thereat said Owlglass: “Enemies dare I not blow, or would the field be full, and with the cows would they depart. And if I blew enemies a second time, in such multitude would they come, that they would fight with thee, and overcome thee even in thine own gate.” Therewith ended they their conference. Then departed the count in great haste after his enemies, and contended with them with much strife; and Owlglass was again forgotten as he lay upon his tower.

But the count was greatly content with his prowess, and with him brought back from the field of battle a goodly heap of pork, the which did they thereafter cut up, and some roasted they and other did they boil. And Owlglass would most willingly have had thereof as he sat on his tower. Then did he begin to plan how that he might get thereof, and he did watch when that it should be dinner time. And when that it had become dinner time, he began to blow his horn, and to cry with a loud voice: “The foe cometh! The foe cometh!” Then the count gat him up with his arms, and put on his harness, and took his weapons, and departed quickly forth from the castle into the field. Thereat rejoiced our noble Master Owlglass, and quickly did he get him down from the tower, and came unto the count’s table, and took therefrom boiled and roast, in the which delighted he, and he returned back on his steps, and gat him to the tower. And, when that the horsemen and foot folk came again unto the castle, and of enemies had found not a hair, then murmured they one to the other, saying: “This hath the watchman done to mock us with great scorn and knavery.” And the count cried aloud unto Owlglass, and said unto him: “Wherefore hast thou become foolish and mad?” And Owlglass said: “If that hunger and thirst drive mad, then do I not marvel at my madness.” Thereat said the count: “Why didst thou blow on thy horn for enemies, and there were none?” Then spake Owlglass, and made answer unto the count, saying: “Whereas it fortuned that no enemies were present, I thought in my mind that it would be well to blow on my horn, for that they might come.” Then said the count unto him: “Thou goest about to deceive us with knavish beguiling. When that the enemy cometh, thou wilt not blow; yet when no enemy is nigh at hand, then blowest thou. Of a truth, it is a matter of treachery.” Therewith relieved he Owlglass of lying in the tower, and appointed thereunto another watchman.

Then came it to pass, that Owlglass should run with the foot folk to strive in battle with the enemy. And thereat was good Master Owlglass moved to anger, and cast about in his mind to discover how he might be relieved, and obtain other service. And when the count’s folk departed out from the castle to fight with the foe, then was Owlglass always the last man; and when they returned back unto the castle, was he truly likewise the first man to enter therein. Then spake the count unto him, saying: “How shall I understand this thing? Wherefore art thou always last to depart from the castle, and the first to return back again?” And Owlglass answered and said: “Let not thine anger fall upon me, noble lord; for when that thou and all thy people sat and ate and drank, with great feasting, then lay I upon the tower and fasted so that I fainted thereby, and lost much strength. If therefore ye should be minded, that I should be the first in the field to encounter the foe, I pray thee that ye do let me eat now that with strength may I be filled, and then will I do it, and ye shall perceive that I shall be the first against the enemy and the last to depart from him.” “I mark well,” spake the count, “that thou wilt be a long time in doing this thing, and as long as thou didst sit on the tower.” Thereat said Owlglass: “That which belongeth of right unto a man do others take from him most willingly.” And the count said: “Long shalt thou not be my servant,” and therewith gave him leave to depart. And thereat rejoiced Owlglass, for he cared not every day to fight with the enemy.

The Twenty and Third Adventure.
How that Owlglass did have golden shoes struck unto his horse’s feet.

Owlglass was one of those men that the fame of his holy doings came unto the ears of many great lords. The princes, also, loved him much, and did give unto him garments, horses, money, and provision. And he came unto the King of Denmark, who said unto him, that he should do for him a wondrous strange thing, having his horse shod with the best shoes that could be found. Then answered Owlglass to the king, and spake unto him and asked him: “If that he should believe him?” And the king answered and said: “Yea, and if he did according unto his word, it should come to pass as he had promised him.” Then Owlglass did ride his horse unto the goldsmith’s house, and there had golden shoes, with nails of silver, struck unto his horse’s feet, and gat him home again unto the king’s presence, and asked him if that he would pay for the shoeing of his horse? The king said: “Yea, that would be right truly;” and said unto his treasurer, and commanded him, that he should pay for the shoeing of the horse of Owlglass. The treasurer thought that it had been done by a blacksmith. And Owlglass led him unto the goldsmith’s house, and the goldsmith demanded of him one hundred golden marks therefor. The treasurer would not pay this; but went and told the king thereof. Then sent the king for Owlglass, and said unto him: “Owlglass, how dear hast thou made this horse shoeing to be? If that all my horses were shod as thou hast had thine, soon should I have to sell my country and my people!” Then Owlglass answered and spake unto him: “My gracious lord and king, thou didst say I should have my horse to be shod with the best shoes, and have I not done according unto thy words, for would ye have better shoeing than silver and gold.” Then said the king: “Thou art my dearest servant, thou dost that I tell thee to do.” And the king laughed at the merry jest, and did pay the hundred marks. Then Owlglass brake off the golden shoes from his horse’s feet, and had shoes of iron struck on, and he abode with the king unto the day of his death.

The Twenty and Fourth Adventure.
How that Owlglass did have a great contention before the King of Poland with two other fools.

While that the noble Prince Casimir, King of Poland, yet lived, there came unto him at his court, good Master Owlglass. And Casimir (blessed be his memory!) did have two fools there, who, in knavery, could not be overcome. And the king of Poland had heard much said of Owlglass, that, in truth, he was not in any way to be quipped or deceived. Nor did Owlglass agree with the fools of the king, and that beheld the king right soon. Then spake the king unto Owlglass and the two fools, saying: “Behold! unto that one of ye the which can wish the greatest wish will I give a coat and twenty gold pieces thereto, and this shall be within my presence.” Then said the first fool: “I would have that heaven were nothing but paper, and the sea nothing but ink, that therewith might I in figures write down how much money I would have, and that it came unto me.” The second spake, saying: “I would have as many towers and castles as there be stars in heaven, so that therein might I hold all the money that my fellow here would have.” Then was it time that Owlglass should speak, and the king thought that in truth he could not wish anything greater. But Owlglass opened his mouth and spake, saying: “I, in truth, would desire that after ye two have made me your heir, that the king would yet on this day hang ye both.” Thereat laughed the king right merrily, and Owlglass won the coat and the twenty gold pieces, with the which he departed in joy.

The Twenty and Fifth Adventure.
How Owlglass did make confession to a priest, and took from him a silver box.

On a time it happened that Owlglass thought to go to confession, for his sins were many, and therewith was his soul sore laden, so that he meditated much on the badness of his ways. Then came he to the church, where sate the priest in the confessional, and before him stood a silver box, by which he set great store. Then Owlglass began a long speech, in the which he told the good priest his heavy sins, so great in number; and at last, the saying of Owlglass was so long, that the priest did lean back and slept, for he was weary of the knaveries of Owlglass. Then Owlglass took the box away, and did put it in pouch.

When that the priest again awoke he did rub his eyes with his fingers, and spake unto Owlglass, saying: “Where stood we, my son?” Then answered Owlglass, and said unto the priest: “We stood at the eighth commandment, father.” Then said the priest: “Speak on, my son; fear not, nor in any wise conceal what lieth upon thy conscience.” Then continued Owlglass, saying: “Alas! holy father, on a time I did steal a silver box from a person, and I will now give it unto thee.” Then said the priest: “Nay, my son, stolen goods will I not have; give the box unto him that owneth it.” “That would I already do,” answered Owlglass; “but he refused me, saying that he would not receive it.” Thereat spake the priest, and said: “Then canst thou keep it with a good conscience; go in peace, thy sins are forgiven thee.”

Then Owlglass departed, and sold the box unto a Jew for several pieces of silver. But the priest slept not again in confession; and thus Owlglass gat for others more sins forgiven than before, which did great good unto all men.

The Twenty and Sixth Adventure.
How that Owlglass was forbidden the dukedom of Lunenburg, and how he did cut open his horse and stand therein.

In the land of Lunenburg, near unto Zell, did Owlglass work some great knavery on a time. Therefore did the Duke of Lunenburg forbid him the land; and he gave commandment to his servants, if that Owlglass should be found therein they should seize him, and, without any mercy or shrift, hang him up. Yet did not Owlglass in any manner forsake the land, or in his journeyings avoid it, so as to come round through any other country; but when that it came in his way to be convenient to pass through Lunenburg, did he nevertheless ride or walk through it when he would.

Thus it came to pass on a time, that Owlglass had much reason to ride through Lunenburg, and it fortuned that as he was riding along, he saw the duke with many folk riding the same way. Then thought he within himself: “Lo! it is the duke; and if that thou dost hasten away to fly from before his face, then with their horses will they soon come up with thee, and they will take thee; then will the duke with great anger come and command them to hang thee up unto a tree.” Then did he confer within himself what thing it were best that he should do; and he gat him down from his horse, and took a knife, and quickly cut open the horse’s belly, casting forth the entrails, and then gat he in and stood within the four legs in the midst. Then when the duke came riding by with his horsemen, and gat to the place where sat Owlglass in his horse’s belly, then the servants of the duke spake unto him, saying: “Behold, gracious lord, here sitteth Owlglass within his horse.” Thereat did the duke ride up to Owlglass, and say unto him: “Art thou there, Owlglass? What bringeth thee into my country when that I did warn thee with great punishment not to come thither? Did I not say, if ye came therein I would have thee hanged on a tree?” Then said Owlglass to the duke: “Noble and gracious lord, I pray thee that thou wilt be pleased to spare my life, for I have not done so evilly as to be punished with death.” Then said the duke unto Owlglass: “Come thee hither unto me, and do thou make thy innocence plain unto me, or what meanest thou that thou dost so stand in the belly of thy horse?” And Owlglass answered, and said: “Most high and gracious lord! have I not heard it always said of all that from old time between his own four posts is a man safe? Now do I stand in such wise between my four posts, as ye can see; for I feared the displeasure with the which I knew in my heart that ye would visit me,” Then did the duke laugh right merrily, and said unto Owlglass: “Yea, this time will I excuse thee. But wilt thou henceforward stay far away from my land, nor enter it at any time?” And Owlglass answered and said: “Gracious lord, so mote it be as ye would have.” Thereat rode the duke away from him, saying: “Stay as ye now be.” But Owlglass leaped quickly forth from his horse’s skin, and spake unto the dead horse: “I thank thee, my good beast, for thou hast preserved my neck from great danger of the halter, and through thy death am I made alive. From a hunted donzel hast thou changed me into a gentleman; therefore, lie thou there, for it is better that the crows eat thee than that they should tear me.” Then departed he out of the land on foot.

The Twenty and Seventh Adventure.
How that Owlglass did buy an inheritance in land from a boor, and how he sate therein in a cart.

In no long time thereafter came Owlglass again into the land of Lunenburg, and he tarried in a village near unto Zell, until the time came in the which the Duke should again ride that way. And it came to pass that a boor did come by Owlglass as he went along to plough his land. And by that time had Owlglass gotten him another horse, and a cart therewith, and he came unto the boor, and spake unto him, saying: “Whose land is this that thou ploughest?” Then answered the boor and said: “Truly is it mine, and I did have it in inheritance from my forbears.” Thereat said Owlglass unto the boor: “What money wilt thou have for as much earth as would fill my cart?” Then said the boor: “Truly will I have a shilling therefor.” And Owlglass gave unto him what he demanded, and filled his cart therewith, and crept into it, and drove his cart into Zell unto the castle there, unto the Aller water. And when that it came to pass that the duke rode by, did he behold Owlglass as he sate in the cart with the earth up to his shoulders. Then spake the duke unto Owlglass, and said unto him: “How comest thou here again? Have I not forbidden thee to come into my land, and did not I say thou shouldst suffer death? And now, after that I pardoned thee when thou didst stand in thy horse, thou dost again tempt my wrath with thee?” Then spake Owlglass unto the duke in answer, saying: “My gracious lord, I am not in your land but in mine own, wherein do I sit; and I bought it of a boor for a shilling, and rightfully could he sell it, for from his forbears hath he inherited it. So is this truly my land.” Then spake the duke, and laughed the while: “Depart ye now straightway with thy land out of my land, and come not again, or will I have thee hung up, with thy horse and thy cart beside.” Then leaped Owlglass on to his horse from out of the cart, and left the cart with his land standing before the castle.

The Twenty and Eighth Adventure.
How that Owlglass painted the forbears of the Landgrave of Hessen, and told him that an if he were ignobly born, he might not behold his painting.

Many marvellous things did Owlglass bring to pass in the land of Hessen. After that he had journeyed up and down in the country of Saxony, and his fame had spread so abroad that no longer dare he work his knaveries and beguilings in that land, came our worshipful Master forth from Saxony, and did enter into the land of Hessen, and came therein unto Marburg, unto the Landgrave where that he kept his court. Then inquired the landgrave of Owlglass, what manner of man he was and what he could do. Then answered Owlglass, and said: “Lord, I know the arts, and that manner of man am I, and your humble servant.” Thereat rejoiced the landgrave greatly, for he thought that Owlglass was an alchymist, and in alchymy had the landgrave much delight. Then spake he unto him, saying: “Art thou an alchymist?” And Owlglass answered: “Nay, that am I not, in good sooth, for of dross make not I gold, but rather quite the other thing. Yet am I a painter, the equal unto whom can be nowhere found in any country, for my work is far better than the work of any other painter.” Then said the landgrave: “Come, let us now look upon some of thy work.” And Owlglass said: “Yea, my lord.” And he had with him some paintings cunningly devised, the which he had brought out of Flanders. These took he from his wallet, and displayed them before that prince. These pleased the lord much, and he said unto Owlglass: “Worshipful sir painter, what money will ye have if that ye would paint on the wall of our castle hall the story of the family of the landgraves of Hessen, and how that through them I became friendly unto and with the King of Hungary, and other lords and princes, and how long the land of Hessen hath been established? And that must ye tell me in the wise that will be most costly and precious.” Then answered Owlglass: “Behold, most gracious prince, if that ye would have it so rarely done, it might truly cost not less than four hundred marks.” Then answered the landgrave, and said unto Owlglass: “Master, an if you do but make it rarely, the money shall not fail, nor will we forget to reward thee as ye shall deserve.” Then did Owlglass consent to become the painter of the picture; and thereat gave the landgrave unto Owlglass one hundred marks so that he might buy colours therewith.

But when that Owlglass came with three servants he had found, to see what the work was which was to be done, he gat him unto the landgrave, and spake unto him, and entreated him, saying: “Behold, noble prince, I would crave a grace from ye, which I would ask that ye should grant unto me.” Then spake the landgrave: “Yea, that I will grant thee. Speak on.” And Owlglass answered, and said: “The grace I crave from thee is, that, while my work is going forward, no one shall enter without that they ask of me whether they may enter therein.” And therewith the landgrave granted Owlglass the grace he desired. Then conferred Owlglass with his men, and said unto them, that they must take an oath unto him not to betray him; and so did they. And he said unto them, that they need not do any kind of labour, but they might play at tables and chess and other merry pastimes. And thereat were the men content; nor was it greatly marvellous that in such wise they should be, for Owlglass did promise to pay them for serving him after this manner.

Then it came to pass, after some three or four weeks had gone by, that the landgrave craved much to see in what measure the painting of Owlglass was ready, and whether, of a truth, it did resemble the ensamples which Owlglass had shewn unto him, which were so goodly and fair. Thereat gat he him to Owlglass, and said unto him: “Alas, most worshipful master, I would fain come into the hall and see in what measure my picture doth grow ready.” Then Owlglass spake unto the landgrave, and answered him, and said: “Yea, and that shall ye also do. But I must tell unto thee a marvellous secret which doth touch all my painting, in that no one, if he be ignobly born, or not according unto the ordinance of Holy Church, can behold my painting to see it.” The landgrave said thereafter: “Truly that is a marvellous thing.” Yet, my masters, ye may perceive in that the landgrave was an alchymist, so had he also more belief in such affairs than cometh unto the lot of all men. And then went he with Owlglass into the hall, and there had Owlglass hanged up a white cloth, that he should have painted. And with a white wand did he point to the wall when that he had with his hand put the cloth somewhat aside, and then spake he to the landgrave, and said unto him: “Most noble landgrave, look upon this painting, so marvellous well done and with fair colours, and behold here in this corner he that was first lord of Hessen and earl of the land. And here perceive ye one that was an earl of Rome thereunto, and he had a princess and a wife, who was duchess of Bavaria and a daughter of the mild and good Justinian, who afterwards became emperor. And look ye, noble lord; of them was born Adolphus. And of Adolphus came William the Swart; and this William had a son Ludwig, who was named the Pious; and so forward until that we come down unto your lordship’s grace. And I know well that there is no person living that can reprove my work, so curiously have I made it, and with such fair and goodly colours.” Yet saw the lord nought before his face but the white wall, and he thought unto himself: “Though I see nothing but the wall, yet will I say nought unto the master, else will he know full well that I am not nobly born, but basely and vilely.” Therefore said the landgrave unto Owlglass: “Learned and cunning master painter, your work pleaseth me marvellously well, yet is my understanding very small therein.” Therefore departed he out of the hall.

And when that he did come unto the princess his wife, she spake unto him, and asked him, saying: “How goeth it with the master painter? Ye have seen his work and devices, and how are ye pleased therewith? Truly have I but small belief in him; for he seemeth unto me a rare and most cunning knave and beguiler.” And the landgrave answered her: “I have shrewd trust in him; and therein is displayed great cunning and mastery: I like it well. Would it please thee also to look thereon?” And she said: “Yea, that it would.” And the landgrave said: “Then, with the master’s consent, shall ye do it.” Then sent she for Owlglass, and said unto him, that she did desire to behold his painting. And that did Owlglass grant unto her; but he told her likewise the marvellous secret which did hang upon his painting. And they entered in, and with the princess came eight maidens of her women and her woman-fool, which did everywhere be in her company. And Owlglass put back the cloth with his hand, and with his wand told them the same story which he had told unto the landgrave. Yet perceived they nothing; but being ashamed, spake not any word, neither praising nor blaming the picture. But then did the woman-fool open her mouth, and spake, and said unto Owlglass: “Worshipful master, an if it be that I am basely born, yet see I nothing of thy device upon the wall.” And Owlglass thought: “Now goeth the matter not so rarely on as before; for if the fools speak truth, then truly must I depart hence:” and laughed thereat within himself.

Thereafter departed the princess, and went unto her lord and husband, and he spake unto her, and asked her how that the work liked[^[10]] her. And she answered and said: “Most gracious lord, it liketh me as well as it did you, and truly is most rare. But my woman-fool it liketh not; and she saith that she cannot see any painting there at all. And she and my maidens think that there lieth hid some knavish practice therein.” Thereat began the landgrave to take counsel within himself, if it might be that he was beguiled; but he sent word unto Owlglass that he should make ready his work, for that all his court was coming to behold the picture, and that if any among them fortuned to be base-born, then should their lands be escheated unto the landgrave. Thereat gat him Owlglass unto his fellows and discharged them, and gave them money, and they departed. And then went he unto the treasurer, and of him gat he other hundred marks; and then went he forth from the castle, and so departed on his way.

And it came to pass that on the morrow the landgrave demanded where that his painter might be—but he had departed. Thereat went he with all his lords into the hall where that the master had exercised his cunning device, but there saw they no painting; so they spake no words, but kept their mouths shut. Thereat said the landgrave, for he beheld the sign which Owlglass did always write where that he had worked any knavery, which was that he wrote up the device of an owl and a glass: “Now do we know that we are beguiled; and with Owlglass have we but little for to be moved, but rather for the two hundred marks, but the loss thereof can we likewise bear. But a great knave is he, and must henceforth remain far from our lands.”

Thus did our noble Master Owlglass everywhere teach wisdom unto the lieges; but from Marburg had he gat him forth, nor would he again have to do with the painter’s mastery.

[10]. i.e. Pleased.

The Twenty and Ninth Adventure.
How that Owlglass was for little money well entertained of two innkeepers.

It fortuned that in a village were there two innkeepers, who did with great hatred pursue each other, and they could not bear to live in friendship, or as neighbours should. And if it came to pass, that the one did have in his house more custom than the other, then was there much anger and envy therefrom, and they grew ever more enemies thereafter.

On a time it came to pass, that Owlglass came thither, although thereby he ran great danger. And he entered into the house of one of these twain, and he spake unto the host, and asked of him, whether for twelve pennies he might have wine? “Yea,” answered the host, “that he might in good truth;” and went and brought him speedily a measure of wine. Thereafter asked Owlglass again, whether he might for twelve pennies have beef and salad? “Yea,” said the host; and brought beef and salad, the which did Owlglass eat with rare enjoyment. And as he was eating, the cook carried a fowl by on a plate, and Owlglass saw it, and he called for the host, and asked him, if for twelve pennies he might have a part thereof? “Most truly,” said the host. And behold his measure of wine was empty, and Owlglass moreover called the host unto him, and said: “Can I for twelve pennies again have wine?” “Yea,” answered the host, and rejoiced in his good visitor, and brought him a fresh measure of wine. And Owlglass was full and fairly provisioned within, and he prepared to depart, and rose up, and he laid twelve pennies on the table, and then he would have departed out of the door. Thereat the host held him back, and said unto him, that the money was not enough, and that he must pay four times as much. “What mean ye?” said Owlglass. “Did not I ask ye every time, if that I might have for twelve pennies that which I required? And now would ye have much more? How mean ye? There is my debt, and is it to be laid unto my charges that ye have not understood me?” Then saw the host that it was most plain he had been beguiled; and he spake unto Owlglass, that he would forgive him the debt and add thereto the present of a piece of money, if that he would go unto his neighbour hard by and there work the same thing. Then Owlglass put the piece of money in his doublet, and laughed, and said unto the host: “Verily have I already done thus at your neighbour’s house, and he it was that did give me a piece of money an if I would but come to you.” And therewith departed our well beloved brother Owlglass, and the host marvelled with great marvel.

The Thirtieth Adventure.
How that Owlglass did tell his master how he might scape giving pork unto his neighbours.

On a time Owlglass was servant unto a boor, who was a man of great avarice, and did never like to give unto others anything he might have. Now it fortuned that he killed a pig, and as he had received from others pieces of bacon when that they killed, so now would they expect that he would give unto them in return. Then he spake unto Owlglass, saying: “Truly art thou of a quick wit and ready invention. Tell me how shall I escape giving unto my neighbours.” Thereat said Owlglass: “In truth, nothing is more easy. Behold, when it is night-time hang thy pig without thy door upon a hook, and when that it cometh unto midnight take it secretly away, and make great complaint that it hath been stolen.” And the boor did according unto the words of Owlglass, for he was content.

When that he came in the night to take his pig secretly away, he found it not, and did cry out woundily that robbers had taken it. And truly our good Master Owlglass had conveyed the pig away himself. And when he heard the boor cry, he came up to him, and asked what might have happened. And the boor answered Owlglass, and said: “The thieves have come and taken away my pig.” Then answered Owlglass: “Excellently spake! So tell thou unto all thy neighbours.” But the other said: “Nay; but the matter hath not ended as I desired. The pig hath truly been stolen.” And Owlglass answered him: “An if ye speak thus well, all the town will believe you. Most excellent, by my halidom!” And although the boor would have persuaded Owlglass of the truth, did that great master only laugh. And thereafter did he tell unto the neighbours what he had advised; and no one would believe the boor.

The Thirty and First Adventure.
How that Owlglass conferred with the rector and masters of the University of Prague in Bohemia, and how he did make answer unto their questions, and therein came off most wisely.

And Owlglass departed and came unto the city of Prague in Bohemia, and there he set letters upon the church-doors, and therein said unto all that might read, that of a truth was he a most famous master, and one that could make answer unto all questions. And the rector and masters of the university heard that this learned man had come; and they were troubled thereat, and they took counsel how that they might put such questions unto him as he could not resolve, and thus might they cause him to be cast forth from the town with much mockery and shame. And so did they agree. And they sent the bedell of the university unto the inn where Owlglass lay, and charged the host that he should bring his guest into the chamber of the rector and masters; and he promised to do this thing. And they charged Owlglass that the next day he should give answers unto the questions which they had writ down, and if he could not answer, then should he be declared unworthy. And Owlglass answered, and said: “Tell the most learned rector and masters that I will do it straightway as they do require of me; and I trust to prove myself a pious man as from old time have I done.”

And on the next day the rector and masters and students of the university assembled together, and Owlglass came with his host and some few of the citizens, so that all might proceed with good content. And when that he had entered into the assembly, they signified unto him that he should stand upon the stool, and make reply unto the questions so demanded of him. Then the rector opened his mouth, and spake unto Owlglass, and asked him, how many gallons of water there were in the sea; and he charged him to speak the truth and to conceal nothing from him, for an if he could not answer, then would he punish him as an ignorant beguiler, and cast him forth. And Owlglass thereupon answered him and said: “Four hundred and eighty million seven hundred and thirty thousand two hundred and sixty-four gallons and two-thirds of good measure. An ye will not believe what I say, cause ye the rivers and lakes and streams which run therein to stand still, and I will mete it, and if it prove not as I say, then will I confess that I am unwise.” And the rector could not do this thing, and therefore he was obliged to admit the answer of Owlglass; and he next asked him this following question: “Tell me how many days have passed by from Adam’s time until this present hour?” And Owlglass spake unto him, saying: “Most worshipful master rector, the number is not great; only seven have so passed—Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, and Saturday; and when that they have passed, then begin other seven days, and so will it go forward until the end of the world.” Then said the rector: “Now answer me exactly, and say where is the middle of the world?” Then Owlglass answered: “That is here where we now stand; and if ye believe me not, do ye take a cord and mete it, and if it be a hair’s breadth less, then will I stand ashamed.” Then the rector waxed wroth, and asked Owlglass the fourth question: “How far is it from earth to heaven?” And Owlglass made answer: “When that one speaketh in heaven it is easy to hear it down here; therefore get ye one of ye up thither, and I will cry aloud, and if ye hear me not, then will I confess my wrong.” And the rector waxed tired of questioning Owlglass, and asked him: “How great was heaven?” And Owlglass said unto him: “It is a thousand fathoms wide, and a thousand cubits high; and if ye believe me not, take the sun and moon and stars from heaven, and mete it, and ye will find I am right therein.”

And, my masters, I charge ye to tell me, what could the worthy folks answer unto Owlglass? In all things was he too cunning for them; and by knavery had he beguiled them all. Then did he strip off his long coat, and departed from Prague.

The Thirty and Second Adventure.
How that Owlglass did on a time mix him up in a marriage strife, and did soon end it with great renown.

It came to pass on a time, that Owlglass entered into a town where much wine was made, and where the folk of the town did oftentimes drink themselves drunken thereupon. And, my masters, well do you know that when on a time ye have peeped into the glass, so that ye have been not as it would like me an if ye always were; and after that ye come home, ye do not find that your wives receive ye in so goodly and excellent a wise as at other times, so happened it that our noble and beloved Master Owlglass, as he was passing along the street to get him to the inn where he lay, did hear a brawling within a house hard by, as of people disputing the one with the other in great anger. So our good friend therewith stood still, and he hearkened, and perceived that it was the wife of a cobbler who, unto her husband, the which had come back from the winehouse well drunken, was reading the evening blessing, the which doeth such great and excellent good unto all husbands. And with many words contended they until that it was supper time; then the husband took his wife by the head, and said unto her: “Wilt thou cook for me my supper?” And she said: “Nay, that would she not,” and then went they to quarreling again with much contention. At last said the cobbler: “I would have that the devil should come and fly away with thee!” And when that Owlglass heard these words, he took up a large stone which lay in the street, and threw it at the window, so that the frame and glass all fell together, and brake with a loud noise. And the twain who were contending within, thought in truth that the devil had come thither, and were stricken with great terror. But Owlglass gat him away, for that he might not have the charges of the broken window demanded of him. Yet went the story forth with great renown, and even unto this day do the town folk believe that the devil appeared in shape like unto a great stone; and if that ye believe not my saying, get ye thither and ask it of them yourselves.

The Thirty and Third Adventure.
How that Owlglass did cause an ass to read certain words out of a book at the great university of Erfurt.

Now after that Owlglass had departed, and had gat him away, it came to pass that he journeyed until he entered the city of Erfurt, at the which place is a most learned university. And our well-beloved Master Owlglass, like unto some wise men of our days, could not hide his wisdom under a bushel; but wheresoever it fortuned for him to sojourn, there must he teach the people some cunning thing. And after that he had come unto Erfurt, he gat him unto a notary, and with fine writing had he letters marvellously done in goodly and fair manuscript, setting forth therein his wondrous parts. And such letters of challenge he set upon the church doors. And the great fame of Owlglass had come unto Erfurt, where the rector and learned doctors had heard not a little of his knavish beguilings and conceits; thereat conferred they together as to how they might so enjoin him to do a thing the which he might not be able to perform, but have great shame thereby, and that they themselves might not be deceived and mocked. And then they agreed that they would give unto Owlglass an ass to be his scholar, the which he should teach that he might in time become a reader and a wise beast, for of asses were there great plenty in that university.

Thereat went they unto Owlglass, and they spake unto him, saying: “Worshipful master, well know we that you have set letters of art upon the doors of the church, by the which ye say ye can teach unto any beast, both that he shall learn to write and to read; now, therefore, have the doctors of the university resolved, in that among us be no lack of asses, that ye shall receive one to be a scholar and student under thee, and that he shall learn to read. Will ye have him to be a scholar, and receive him and therewith, when that ye have taught him, a great reward?” Then answered Owlglass and said: “Yea, that will I; but thereunto must I have time, for an ass is an animal not wise nor easy to be taught.” So they conferred together, and agreed that he was to be allowed twenty years in the which to teach him. Then thought Owlglass in his own mind: “So there are three of us unto this bargain. If that the rector should die, then am I free. And if it should come to pass that I should die, then can I break the contract. But if my scholar should not live, then am I also quit.” And he agreed with them, and of the money he received some in part. Then he gat him into the inn of the town, and the master of the house was a man of singular mind. And for his scholar did Owlglass hire him a stable, and he gat him a great old book, and laid it into the manger before him, and between each leaf of the book he laid oats, and the ass soon beheld that, and he turned over the leaves with his tongue to eat the oats, and when that the oats were all gone, he cried out with a loud voice: “E, A—E, A!”

And when that Owlglass perceived this, he rose up and gat him unto the rector, and came into his presence, and said unto him: “Worshipful master rector, when will it please ye to come unto me to see how my disciple doth get forward with his book?” Then said the rector: “Doth he agree unto that which thou teachest him?” And Owlglass answered him, and said: “Truly he is a difficult disciple, and one that loveth not his book; yet have I brought it about that by much labour he pronounceth two vowel sounds very well, that is to say, E and A. Will it not make ye pleasure to come and hear him?” And all this time had the good scholar fasted. And when that Owlglass came with the rector, and some of the doctors of the university, he took a book and laid it in the manger before him, and when that the ass beheld it, he turned over the leaves backward and forward, hither and thither, with his tongue to find the oats, but, as he found nothing therein, he cried with a loud voice: “E, A—E, A!” Then said Owlglass: “Behold, most learned doctors, my disciple doth now pronounce well, although yet somewhat broadly, the two vowels E and A, and that can he do. I have great hope of him that he will soon get farther.” In no long time after died the rector; and then Owlglass abode no longer with his disciple, but with his money departed, thinking that in truth it would demand great industry to make all the asses in Erfurt wise. Therefore he did it not; and they be all asses in that city unto this day.

The Thirty and Fourth Adventure.
How that Owlglass did kill a hog, and answered for his evil doing unto the burghmaster.

Now it fortuned, that Owlglass once came unto a village, and did hire him unto a boor to be his serving man. And this boor rejoiced greatly in all the wise sayings of Owlglass; and in no long time was Owlglass the best man in the house. And it came to pass upon one even that the boor made complaint unto Owlglass, and said unto him that he had an evil neighbour who endeavoured with all his might to afflict him in all ways that he might, and who, as the old saw saith, would have given an eye that the boor might be blind. Then Owlglass thought within him: “That will I soon repay with marvellous heavy interest. And so that my master doth thereat have joy and goodly satisfaction, then shall I be content.” And when that he entered into the farm-yard on the next morning to depart about his labour, Owlglass beheld that the neighbour’s hog had broken into that place, and was rolling on the dunghill in the yard; and hard upon the dunghill was there a pond of water, which stood still, and was covered with green. Then took Owlglass a cudgel and did strike the hog therewith, until that the hog ran into the pool and was therein drowned. But privily had the neighbour watched Owlglass, and beheld that which was done; and he cried aloud, and ran unto Owlglass, and demanded money for the hog which he had thus lost. And as Owlglass heeded him not, he came unto his master and desired the same thing. But the master of Owlglass said: “Truly, therewith have I nought to do. My servant man did this thing; go ye therefore unto the burghmaster and speak thereof unto him, and let my man answer it.” Thereat the owner of the hog gat him unto the burghmaster, and complained unto him of what Owlglass had done. Then the burghmaster sent for Owlglass, and spake unto him, and demanded that he should answer it.

And Owlglass did rise up early in the morning, and he saddled a horse, and gave him to eat, and then departed, and gat him unto the house of the burghmaster. And the burghmaster, at that time, fortuned to be at his breakfast, and had before him a porringer of barley broth. And the burghmaster questioned Owlglass how that it had come to pass that he had killed the hog. Then Owlglass answered cunningly, and told him how that the hog brake his way into the yard and wallowed upon the dunghill; and, moreover, he told him how he had struck the hog, that he departed into the pool, and was there drowned. But the burghmaster was a man of slow understanding,—as is in truth not a thing marvellous strange amid people set in authority,—and he demanded of Owlglass that he should tell him the story more plainly. Whereat replied Owlglass and said: “Most worshipful sir, I will set forth unto you this thing very plain and easy to be comprehended of you. Look you, suppose ye that ye were yourself the hog, and your porringer of barley the pool, and suppose that I came after this wise, and with my hand smote you thus”—and therewith fetched Owlglass the burghmaster a great blow over the head—“thou mightest fall therein.” Thereat cried the burghmaster aloud, and would have held Owlglass; but he ran forth and leapt upon his horse and departed thence with great haste.

The Thirty and Fifth Adventure.
How that Owlglass at Nugenstädten, in the land of Thuringia, did wash the women’s furs.

Now after that did Owlglass come into the land of Thuringia, into the village of Nugenstädten, and there he entered and besought the inn-folk that he should receive a night’s lodging. Thereat came the hostess unto him, and asked him, saying: “What manner of trade followest thou?”

And Owlglass answered and said unto her: “Truly am I of no trade, but do in all things accustom myself to speak the truth.” Then said the hostess: “Such do I most gladly receive into my house, and truth-speakers are welcome.” And Owlglass looked round him, and he perceived that the hostess did squint; therefore he said: “Squint-wife, squint-wife, where doth it please ye that I shall sit, and where would ye have me to lay my staff and wallet?” Thereat waxed the hostess very wroth, and said unto him: “May nought good ever happen unto thee; in all my life did no one ever say unto me that I squinted!” But Owlglass answered and said unto her: “Dear hostess, be not angry with me, for an if I do speak the truth, then must I do it at all times, and in all things.” And thereat was her wrath turned away, and she, being merry, laughed and was content.

Now after that Owlglass had abode that night in her inn, they conferred together, and he told her that he could wash old furs so that they became new again. Thereat rejoiced the hostess greatly, and begged that he would do this, and she would tell all her neighbours that they should also bring their furs to be washed. And Owlglass said: “Yea, verily, that would he do.” Then all the women in the village brought unto Owlglass their furs, that they might be washed. And Owlglass said unto them: “Ye must have milk.” And all the women desired greatly to have new furs, and they each gat them home, and brought unto Owlglass all the milk that they had there. And Owlglass set two cauldrons upon the fire, and he poured the milk into them, and then put the furs into the milk, and they were boiled therein.

And it came to pass, that when he thought that they had boiled enough, he said unto the women: “Now must ye bring me young white elm twigs, and peel ye them, and when that ye come again unto me, I will take out the furs, for then will they be boiled enough, and I will wring them; yet must I have wood to do this.” And the women departed right joyfully to fetch the wood, and the children ran with them, and sang and danced, and said: “O beautiful new fur cloaks! O beautiful new fur cloaks!” Then stood Owlglass and laughed, and said: “Wait ye yet a while, the furs be not right yet.” And while they were gone for the twigs, Owlglass piled more wood on the fire, and left the furs boiling, and departed out of the village. And yet hath he not returned to wash the furs. When that the women folk came back, they began to quarrel, and strive one with the other, for each would have her fur first forth from the cauldron; but when that they looked how they were proceeding, lo! they were all boiled to rags and fell to pieces. And Owlglass rejoiced that he had so happily gone forth.

The Thirty and Sixth Adventure.
Telleth how that Owlglass journeyed about the land with a saint’s head, and did beguile many therewith.

Now the malice of Owlglass had been so great that everywhere was he known, and his knavery noised abroad, so that where he once came at any time, to that place durst he not go again, unless it mote be that he disguised himself in strange appearance that others might not know him. And although, with his idleness, he could never have much content, yet from his youth up had he always been one that loved good living, and by his divers beguilings he always had by him good store of money. But by his knavishness he had fallen into such evil repute, that nowhere might he get money, and he began to see the bottom of his money-pouch oftener than it pleased him to do. So he began to consider within himself, how that he might without labour get more money, for he knew that often more money is gained by idle courses than by hard work. Then thought he that he would become a pardoner, and journey to and fro with a holy relic, therewith to persuade the people that they should give him money. Therefore he gat him the long gown of a priest’s scholar, and went unto the sexton, who gave unto him a skull; therewith he departed unto the silversmith, who set it about fairly with brave workmanship in silver. Then came he into the land of Pomerania, where have I also been, my masters. And there are the people right honest and good, brave men and true, believing that which ye say unto them; and their piety is as great as their faith. Yet in that land Owlglass found that the priests cared more for drinking than preaching; and when that a church feast, a wedding, or any other assembly came to pass in a village, then did Owlglass go unto the priest, and entreat of him that he might preach, and shew unto the boors the holy relic which he bare with him; and Owlglass promised to give unto the priest half of whatever offerings the village folk made thereto. The unlearned priest was content enough if that he might only receive money thereby.

And when that there were many folk in the church, Owlglass gat him up into the pulpit, and spake somewhat to them of the old covenant and of the new covenant, of the ark and the golden vessels where lay the holy bread. Thereafter spake he of the head of the holy Saint Brandonus, he that was a sanctified man, and that to his honour was it now resolved, that a church should be builded, and that with money not got by knavery; nor would he receive aught from any that loved not their husbands. Then gave he the head unto the peasants to kiss, and it might have been the head of a thief for what Owlglass knew; and after that he blessed them, and gat him down, and went to the altar, and there began he to sing, and ring the bells. Then came all the women, good and bad, unto him with their offerings; and the bad came twice and thrice, and he received all, nor turned away any. And the women believed in his saying, and thought that one that came not should be reproved. And any woman who had no money brought unto him a golden ring, and they strove together which should offer more often than another, for therewith was their virtue confirmed. And many offered so that all folks might behold it, for charity covereth a multitude of sins. Thus did Owlglass get the fairest offering which in that land had been offered, and all the women of the land held Owlglass in great reverence for his piety. And Owlglass knew how to practise malice with gain. Nor do the folks even unto this day omit with much openness to give unto charitable uses a trifle from their substance, and their names are written in great letters; and some that respect charity have an awe for them, but a few there be that think ye should work goodness in secret.

The Thirty and Seventh Adventure.
How that Owlglass did make the town-watch of Nürnberg to fall into the water which is called the Pegnitz.

Owlglass was most wise in knavery. And when that he had journeyed far and wide with the holy head of Saint Brandonus, and had beguiled the people, so that he felt it in his pocket as a heavier weight than it lay upon his soul, he came unto Nürnberg, where he purposed to make good cheer with the money which the head gat for him. And after that he had lain there for a while, he could no longer live unless that he committed some vile knavery; therefore he looked round as to what he might do. And, behold, it came to pass that the town watchmen slept in a great watch-box, beneath the town-hall, in their armour, and this saw Owlglass. Now Owlglass had learned all the highways and byways at Nürnberg, and he craftily took heed of the small bridge which is called the Hangman’s Bridge, and which leads between the Pig-market and the Little House, where of a night it is ill to pass; and many a one who hath gone thereby to fetch a measure of wine, hath had too great a drink of water. Thereafter waited Owlglass with his knavery, until the people had begun to sleep—and truly watchmen sleep always early; and when that it was quite still brake he craftily from the bridge three planks, and cast them into the Pegnitz, and then departed on his way to the town-hall, and there ’gan he to swear, and with an old knife which he had he struck the stones of the street, that fire flew far round. Now the watch awoke thereat, and they heard him, and gat them up, and followed after him. So Owlglass fled before them, and ran in the way which led to the Pig-market, and when he came unto the bridge he helped himself diligently across as best he might where that he brake away the planks; and after that he had come thereover, he lifted up his voice, and cried unto them: “Ho! ho! ye shamefaced knaves! where be ye that ye follow not?” And thereat were the watchmen angry, and they pursued him yet faster, and each desired to be the first to catch the mocking beguiler. Then fell they one after the other into the Pegnitz; and it fortuned that the hole was so narrow, that they dashed their teeth out as they fell against the other side. Then spake Owlglass unto them, and said: “Ho! ho! come ye not forward yet? To-morrow follow after me yet more hastily.” And one there was of them who brake his leg, and another his arm, and the third knocked a hole in his skull; thus no one came off without some hurt. Now, after that Owlglass had thus accomplished his knavery, he abode no longer in the town of Nürnberg, but gat him forth, and departed; for he was sore afraid, that, if it should be discovered, the lords of the city of Nürnberg might cause him to suffer therefor.

The Thirty and Eighth Adventure.
How that Owlglass did at Bamberg eat for money.

On a time, did Owlglass receive money through his cunning, when that he had departed from Nürnberg and came unto Bamberg, where that he found that he was an hungered. And in that city of Bamberg entered he into an inn, and the hostess thereof was a good soul and a merry, and she bade him welcome with gay words, for by his clothes perceived she that he was a guest of rare quality. When that the time came in the morning that they should eat, she spake unto Owlglass, and asked him, saying: “Whether would he sit at table to eat, or have a portion for so much money?” And Owlglass answered, and said unto her “I am a poor man and a needy.” Then entreated he her, that she should, for God his sake, give unto him to eat. Thereat said the hostess: “Friend, an if I gave unto thee to eat, I should lose thereby, for the flesher and the baker will demand to have money of me for their wares. Therefore, for eating must I also receive money.” Then said Owlglass: “Alas! my dear woman, to eat for money doth also content me: tell me now how much shall I eat for?” And the woman spake unto him, saying: “At the gentles’ table, four and twenty pence; and the next table thereunto, for eighteen pence; and with my serving people, twelve pence.” Then answered Owlglass unto her words, and said: “Hostess, the table for four and twenty pence is the most, and will best convene unto me.” Therefore sat he down to the gentles’ table, and did eat as much as ever he could. And when that he had eaten and drunken very heartily, he said unto the hostess, and besought her that she would settle with him, for that by poverty it was necessary he should depart. Then answered she unto Owlglass, saying: “Gentle guest, an if ye give unto me twenty-four pence, ye may, in God’s name, depart whither it please ye.” But thereat said Owlglass: “Nay, but ye should give unto me twenty-four pence, for ye said unto me, that for four and twenty pence should I eat; and therefore apprehended I, that ye meant to cause that I should earn money, and most heavily did I earn it, for if life and strength had touched the matter, then could I not have eaten more. Therefore pray I ye, render unto me my hard earnings.” Then said the hostess: “Friend, thou speakest truly, for thou hast eaten as much as any three could have done; but that I should give unto thee money cometh not within my thought. Yet, in so far as toucheth the dinner, that will I excuse thee; go therewith in peace; but I give ye no money, be ye assured. Nor will I demand it of ye; but come not hitherward again, for if that I should with every guest have such, little would come therefrom but loss to me.” Then departed Owlglass, and little thanks gat he.

The Thirty and Ninth Adventure.
How that Owlglass did make a wager with a Jew about a horse, and did deceive him.

In no long time thereafter came Owlglass into Mechlenburg, and there he gat him a horse of excellent goodness. And as he would have departed on his way thence, and rode by an inn, the horse would no longer go forward, for it had an evil habit that at every inn would it stop. Thereat said Owlglass: “In truth, thou canst also drink thee a measure of liquor, for it is hot;” and therefore he gat down from the horse, and tied him up unto the gateway. Then entered he into the inn, and the guest-chamber thereof, and there sat several guests within, making merry. At the table there sat a Jew, who was a dealer in horses; and the Jew had perceived the horse of Owlglass as he came up unto the house. And he spake unto Owlglass, saying: “Wilt thou sell thy horse, and what wouldst thou have in money therefor?” Then Owlglass answered, and said unto the Jew: “This horse canst thou not buy, Jew; it is a Mechlenburg horse, and of a most rare breed, and three hundred nobles would scarce pay for it.” Then said the Jew: “Nay, but what think ye, gracious sir, for twenty nobles would I buy thee such a horse. Wilt thou set a wager upon it?” “Most contemptible son of Moses,” said Owlglass, “thou couldst not. He hath not one fault, and is as gentle as a tender lamb.” “Well,” answered the Jew: “wilt thou take twenty nobles therefor?” Then Owlglass spake unto him, and said: “Look you, Hebrew Jew, an if thou wilt take three strokes from my riding-whip, then will I give thee the horse, and he shall be fairly thine own.” Thereat said the Jew: “Ye would fain jest with me, noble sir; may I trust your word?” And Owlglass said: “Hast thou not heard it?” Then cried the Jew: “Yea; and the gentlefolk yonder will be witnesses thereunto.” Then said Owlglass: “Good: when wilt thou have the three strokes? Wilt thou have it that I begin now at this place and time?” Thereupon the Jew answered Owlglass, and said: “An if that I must have them, it may as well now be as at any other time.” Then Owlglass commanded that the Jew should be tied up, and said unto him: “Now do thou remember. Thou hast to receive from me three strokes, and when thou hast received them, then shalt thou truly become possessor of my horse.”

Then he took his whip, and lifted it, and came down with a great stroke upon the back of the Jew, so that he cried aloud with marvellous pain. Then said Owlglass: “Son of Abraham, art thou content, or wilt thou straightway receive the next stroke?” And the Jew answered, and said: “Gracious sir, the other will I have now; but I entreat thee, for pity’s sake, not to strike me so sore.” And Owlglass spake unto him, and said: “Then make thou thyself ready:” and therewith gave he unto the Jew a yet sorer stroke. The poor Jew thereat bit his tongue woundily with the pain, and cried to Owlglass that he should speedily give him the third stroke. Then said Owlglass: “Nay; but for the third stroke mayest thou stay a while, so long as thou receivest it not is the horse mine. Behold, here are the witnesses.” Thereat, although the Jew scarce could stand with the pain, he entreated Owlglass that he should then give him the third stroke; but Owlglass would not. Then lamented the Jew, and Owlglass gave unto him a measure of wine; but he ceased not to complain in that he had been beguiled of Owlglass. Yet was the Jew justly served, in that, with small pains and labour, he would have received the horse of Owlglass.

O most worthy teacher of wisdom unto the ignorant and sinful, why camest thou not in the days in which I do here chronicle thy marvellous deeds?

The Fortieth Adventure.
How Owlglass did have much money for an old hat.

Money remaineth not always with any of us, my masters; and so truly did Owlglass find, when that he was in the town of Cologne. And he was so poor, that of all his money he possessed only four shillings; and on his head he wore an old hat, with three corners, and thereat did all people laugh. Then Owlglass thought that he would therewith have rare sport and profit. And as he was going along the street of the town, he beheld two officers of the soldiers; and he knew that they had pouches well lined with gold pieces. And they laughed at his hat. Then spake Owlglass unto them: “Behold, ye do laugh at my hat. Verily will I shew unto ye that in no wise is it to be accounted nought, but hath great virtue; and to content you therein, I bid ye both dine with me on this day.” And the soldiers consented, and so gat them with Owlglass. When that they came unto the gate of the best inn, Owlglass said: “What say ye? where shall we dine?” Then they answered and said: “Let us enter herein and dine, if that ye have a good pouch of money?” And Owlglass said: “Be of good cheer, that maketh no matter, let us enter therein.” Then entered they; and Owlglass secretly conferred with the hostess, and gave her the four shillings, therewith to satisfy her for the dinner.

And when that the dinner was served, the officers waxed merry, for it was a very excellent dinner, and they were content. Thereafter did Owlglass say unto the hostess: “What money dost thou want to satisfy thee for thy dinner?” And she answered and said: “Four shillings.” “Four shillings, sayest thou?” answered Owlglass, and therewith he took his little hat and he turned it four times about upon his finger, and asked her if that she were content. And she said: “Yea; and fair thanks unto ye likewise.” And therewith departed she. But the officers, when that they beheld it, said: “But how marvellous is this thing!” And they were most astonished. “Alas! my masters,” said Owlglass unto them: “do not ye now see how great is the value of the hat? With the money that more than twenty times hath been offered me therefor, should I be rich.”

Then said one of his guests: “If that I offered unto thee a good sum, would not ye sell it? For poor soldiers as be we, so great a marvel would be accounted very useful unto us, for then should we never die of hunger.” And Owlglass was persuaded, and he gave them the hat for four hundred marks. And the next day, he who bought it desired to make trial of it; and he went unto the inn and had a great banquet made ready, and he assembled his friends together to eat thereof. Then when the time came for paying the host, he sought to pay the charges by turning the hat about; but the host understood it not. And so the soldier had to pay many marks therefor; and when he looked after Owlglass he found him not.

The Forty and First Adventure.
How that Owlglass journeyed unto Rome to see the Pope, and how his Holiness considered that Owlglass was an heretic.

It hath been every where seen, that Owlglass was a most knavish wight. And when it had come to pass that he had worked these such deceiving actions, he thought of the old proverb which saith:

“If that thou a knave wouldst see,

At Rome eftsoon thou’lt fitted be.”

And Owlglass was aweary of his own devices, and thereat wished that he might find another like unto him. So departed he, and he journeyed forward, and at last came unto Rome. There entered he into an inn, which a widow kept, and she saw that he was a goodly man to look upon, and she spake unto him, and asked him of what country was he. And Owlglass told her that he was of the land of Saxony, and that he had come unto Rome because that he craved to confer with the Pope touching a certain business. Then answered the widow and said unto him: “The Pope canst thou see, but as to speaking with him that mayest thou not do. I have been bred and born in this place, and of gentle birth also, yet have I never spoken with the Pope. How then, think ye, that ye will do this thing? Truly would I give a hundred ducats an if that I could have speech of him.” And Owlglass answered and said: “My good hostess an if I gat ye speech of him would ye give me the hundred ducats?” The woman said: “Marry that would I,” and straightway promised them unto him. But she thought that it could never be that Owlglass would do this thing; for she knew that it was a heavy and long labour to bring it about. But Owlglass said unto her that if he did cause it to come to pass, then would he demand the hundred ducats; and therewith were they both content.

And Owlglass tarried until it fortuned that the Sunday came round, on which the Pope read the mass in the chapel called Jerusalem, in the church of the holy Saint John Lateran, the which he did once in every four weeks. Then gat him Owlglass to the chapel, and thrust himself in as near as might be unto the Pope’s person, and stood there; and when that the host was lifted up, or a blessing given from the altar, then did Owlglass turn his back thereunto, the which was a thing not fit to be done. And thereafter was the Pope told of this, that a very proper handsome man had stood at the mass and so acted. Then said his Holiness that such a thing was an abomination, and that he feared the man who had done so was in unbelief and an heretic. If that this were not punished, it would be a great scandal. Then sent the Pope for Owlglass, and the messengers came unto him and carried him before the Pope. Then said the Pope unto Owlglass: “What manner of man art thou?” And Owlglass answered and said: “I am a good Christian.” Then said the Pope: “What belief hast thou?” To which Owlglass made reply: “That he was of the same belief as his hostess,” and named her by name, and she was a woman well-known. And the Pope commanded that she should be brought to him; and he asked her, saying: “What belief hast thou, woman?” And she made answer unto the Pope and said: “I am a thorough Christian, and a believer in that which the Holy Church ordaineth is to be believed, and no other belief have I.” In the which the good woman did marvellously resemble divers other excellent Christians, which take from the mouth of ignorance the confirming grace of wisdom.

Then stood Owlglass by, and with much humility, did seem to be very pious, and said: “Most gracious Father! this true faith hold I also, and that most firmly, and am a good Christian man.” Then said the Pope unto him: “Wherefore dost thou turn thy back to the altar?” And Owlglass answered and said: “That did I, forasmuch as I am a grievous sinner, and one not worthy to behold the altar, as I have not received absolution for my crimes.” Thereat was the Pope content, and giving him absolution, he let Owlglass go; and he returned unto his inn, and demanded the hundred ducats, the which the widow gave unto him. Yet found not Owlglass the knave he sought, and himself was not a whit more honest than before; so that his Roman journey did him no great good.

HOW OWLGLASS MAKETH THE COCK THE SECURITY FOR THE HENS.

The Forty and Second Adventure.
How that Owlglass without money bought poultry at Quedlingburg, and for security gave unto the farmer’s wife the cock.

In all things of old time were the people not so knavish as is now the case, especially they that are of the boors. On a time came Owlglass unto Quedlingburg, while that it was the weekly market day therein. And Owlglass had little provision; for when that it happened that he had money, in like manner that he wan it, it departed from him again. So he took counsel within himself, how that he might have good provision. And there sate upon the market a woman, and before her had she a large basket of live poultry, all hens; and among them was a cock. And Owlglass spake unto her saying: “How much wilt thou have for thy poultry?” And the woman made answer unto him, and said: “Truly mayest thou have them for a couple of St. Stephen’s pennies.” Then said Owlglass: “Wilt thou not give them cheaper?” But the woman said unto him: “Nay”; and then took Owlglass the basket, and departed therewith unto the town gate. Thereat ran the woman after him, and said unto him: “Merchant, how shall I understand thee? Wilt thou not pay me for the poultry?” Then said Owlglass: “Yea, most cheerily. I am the secretary of my lord’s lady.” “That ask I not,” said the woman; “it brooks not me what noble people thou mayest serve. If that thou wilt have the poultry, then do thou pay me therefor, and with my lord or my lady have I nought to do. My father taught me that with noble folk should I nor buy nor sell, nor lend nor borrow. Therefore pay thou me that which I demand from thee. Dost hear me?” And Owlglass said unto the woman: “Woman, thou art of little faith; if that all folk were like unto thee, the rich needy would not long have their needs answered. But so that ye may, indeed, have surety, give I ye the cock, the which will I fetch when that I bring ye the money and the basket.” Then took the good woman the cock, and bethought her that of a truth was she rarely secured to receive her money. But in all vain hopes can there be no happiness; for Owlglass returned not again, nor had she satisfaction in any wise. And unto such as make themselves so greatly sure, is it given to be disappointed, wherefore when that Owlglass approacheth unto ye, do ye straightway deliver up unto him that which he demandeth, lest with wily ways he doth beguile ye of much more. And Owlglass thereafter departed thence, and the good wife still kept her security.

The Forty and Third Adventure.
How that Owlglass, with a knavish confession, did beguile the priest at Riesenburg of his horse.

Never was Owlglass unready to commit a vile piece of knavery, when that there was opportunity thereunto. Now there abode at Riesenburg the priest thereof, and he had a maid serving-woman, who was of a comely countenance, and thereto also a horse of much beauty, of the which he was greatly fond. And at that time was the Duke of Brunswick at Riesenburg, and had, by the agency of many persons, besought the priest that he should let him have the horse, and for him would he pay many more times than the value. But the priest at all times denied the prince the favour, nor would in any wise grant him his desire, for he loved his horse, and with violence might the horse not be taken.

And it came to pass, that this thing was told unto Owlglass, and he understood it well; and he went unto the duke, and said unto him: “Gracious lord, what wilt thou give unto me if that I bring unto thee the priest his horse?” “If that thou canst do it,” answered the duke, “will I give unto thee the coat which now I wear.” And the coat was of red satin, set and broidered with pearls. And Owlglass accepted this, and gat him away, and departed from Wolfenbüttel unto the village of Riesenburg, and there entered into the priest’s house; for they were well known the twain each to each, for of old times had Owlglass abode with him and been welcome. And after that he had been there some three days, he did bear himself in such wise, that he seemed to be sick unto the death; and he laid himself down, and prepared for his end. And the priest and his serving-maid were greatly vexed thereat, and grieved over him. Thereafter grew Owlglass so ill, that the priest said unto him, that, in truth, for his soul’s comfort, it was meet and fit that he should make confession. And Owlglass grew mightily inclined thereunto, but he begged the priest that he should make inquiry of him most acutely. Then said the priest unto him, that he should discover his soul unto him, and confess, for that in his lifetime had he wrought much evil. And Owlglass made answer, that in his lifetime had he only done one thing evil the which he regretted, and that would he not confess unto him; but if they brought unto him another priest, then would he confess, for he was afraid that the priest might be wroth with him.

Now when that the priest heard this thing, he thought that truly was there somewhat hidden under the words of Owlglass, the which he craved much to know; for priests are greatly more inquisitive than other men. Therefore he opened his mouth, and said unto Owlglass: “Dear Owlglass, the distance is great, and it would take me a long time to find another priest; and if that ye did give up the ghost while that I sought thee such an one, both thou and I would have a heavy sin to answer. Therefore be not afraid, and confess unto me thy sin; and so heavy also it be, will I absolve thee. An if I should grow angry thereover, what doth that matter unto thee, for thy confession may I not tell unto another?” Then answered Owlglass, and said unto him: “Verily, then will I confess unto thee, for the sin is not so heavy that I may not tell it; but only I feared thee, for it concerneth thyself.” Thereat waxed the priest the more anxious to hear what Owlglass said, and he opened his ears to hear him, and said unto him, that if he had stolen aught from him, or wrought him any evil, let him only confess, and he would give him content, nor visit it upon him in any wise. Then said Owlglass unto him: “Alas! reverend sir, well know I that ye will be an angered with me. Yet I feel that soon shall I depart out of this world, and, therefore, must I relieve my soul of this confession. And of that which I did, most reverend sir, must ye shrive me. For I have in thy church kissed thy servant woman, the which I know to be an offence of much gravity against the Church, and against all dignity likewise.” Thereat asked the priest of Owlglass, how often that it might have happened. And Owlglass answered, and said: “But five times.” Then did the priest give unto Owlglass absolution; and he took a stick and departed unto the serving woman, and told her that which Owlglass said. But she answered that it was not so. But the priest said unto her, that Owlglass had confessed it unto him. Thereat said she: “Nay,” and he: “Yea”; and with no more ado, took her and gave unto her a sound beating, until that she was black and blue all over. The while lay Owlglass in bed, and laughed, and thought: “Bravely doth thy purpose go forward, and ere long will thy harvest season approach.”

And he lay still all that night, and when that it was morning he arose, and said: “Now am I whole, and well will it be if I depart unto another country. What have I to pay thee?” And the priest was right glad to be ridden of his guest, and he took his money, when that they reckoned. And the woman-servant was glad also. Then said Owlglass unto the priest: “Wherefore hast thou revealed to another my confession? Truly will I now go unto Halberstadt before my lord the Bishop, and lay a complaint against thee, for that thou hast been unfaithful in thy office.” Then did the priest tremble, and think how he might content Owlglass that he should not complain; and he entreated him and asked what he should give him to be silent thereupon, and would he have twenty pieces to say no word more? But Owlglass said: “An if ye gave unto me one hundred pieces, would I not do this, and verily will I straightway depart thither.” And the priest humbly, and with tears, besought him to refrain, and that he would give him whatever he would have. Thereat said Owlglass: “Give then unto me thy horse, and I will say no more; but the horse will I have.” But the priest loved his beast, and desired not to give it away, and he would rather have given unto Owlglass every penny that he had; but Owlglass demanded that he should have the horse, and would hear no word. So the priest gave unto Owlglass the horse, and he departed therewith, and he came unto Wolfenbüttel, and there upon the bridge stood the duke, and beheld the coming of Owlglass. Then took the duke the coat from off his back and gave it unto him, and received the horse. And the duke rejoiced greatly over Owlglass his cunning in beguiling the priest, and made pleasant sport with the tale; and he gave unto our noble Master Owlglass another horse; and the priest was wroth at losing his horse, and he often did comfort himself by beating the maid sorely, until that she departed from him. So lost the priest both horse and maid.

The Forty and Fourth Adventure.
How that Owlglass did hire him to a smith, and what he did while with him.

And it fortuned that on a time came Owlglass unto Rostock, in the land of Mechlenburg, and hired him unto a smith there. The smith had a favourite saying, when that he would have the bellows blown: “Ha! ho! follow ye with the bellows!” Then stood Owlglass and blew, and the smith spake unto him, saying: “Ha! ho! follow ye with the bellows!” And he gat him into the court thereafter. Then came Owlglass behind him with the bellows on his back, and laid it down beside him, and said: “Master, behold I have done thy bidding! Where would you have me to put it?” Then the master looked upon him and beheld what he had done, and said: “My good man! so did I not mean it. Go thou in again and put it back where it stood.” And Owlglass did as his master bade him, and placed it again where it had been before. But the master thought within himself how he might pay him handsomely for this knavery; and he resolved that for five days he would rise every night at midnight to begin labour in the forge. And he wakened all his men, and they began to labour. Then said Owlglass his comrade unto him: “What is this thing that now we labour at midnight? Wherefore is it; of old did our master not this thing?” And Owlglass said: “Wilt thou that I shall ask of him wherefore it is?” And his fellow said: “Yea;” and then Owlglass asked him. And the smith made answer unto him, and said: “It is my rule that at first my men shall not, for eight days, lie on my bed more than half the night.” And Owlglass held his peace, and his companion dared not to speak.

And it came to pass the next night that Owlglass and his fellow were again awakened by the master; and the other man went down and fell to work. Then took up Owlglass the bed, and, with cords, bound it upon his back, and when that the iron was hot, he cometh down unto the forge, and taketh a hammer, and beginneth to smite the iron, so that the sparks flew into the bed and burned holes therein. Thereat said the smith: “What is’t thou dost? Why didst not thou leave the bed lying in that place where that it should lie?” Then answered Owlglass and spake unto the smith, saying: “Master, be not angry; my rule is it that half the night will I lie upon the bed, and the other half shall it lie upon me.” Then the master waxed wroth, and said unto Owlglass: “Go thou lay the bed where thou tookest it from;” and furthermore said he: “Marry, thou knave, get thee up out of my house, and may I never see thee more, for evil is the day in which I beheld thee.” And Owlglass said “Yea,” unto the master’s commands, and he went and laid back the bed upon its place. Then gat he a ladder, and climbed up into the garret, and he broke through the roof, and mounted up and drew the ladder after him, and so gat him up out of the house as his master told him, and thereafter descended he unto the street, and left the ladder, and so departed. And the smith heard the noise that he made, and ran up stairs, and lo! there was a great hole in the roof.

Then grew he yet more angry, and sought his pike, and departed in haste, and ran after Owlglass. But the other man held him, and said: “Nay, master, do not this thing, for behold, he did but that which thou didst command him. Thou didst say: ‘Get thee up out of my house,’ and that hath he done, for he hath departed through this hole in the roof.” And the smith was persuaded; and was not that the best thing? What booted it unto him; he could not longer lay hands upon Owlglass, for he had departed thence. So he fell to mending his roof, and the fellow of Owlglass said: “With such comrades, can but little be won. And he that knoweth not Owlglass, let him only have to do with him, he shall surely know him well in no long time.”

The Forty and Fifth Adventure.
How that Owlglass did cause all the tools, hammers, and tongs of a smith to be as one mass of iron.

Now when that Owlglass departed away from the smith, it came near unto the winter season, and the weather was very cold. And it did freeze hard, and all things soever waxed very dear, and at great price could you alone get victual, so that serving-men went with scant lining to their stomachs. Like unto many others, Owlglass was without money in his pouch, and he came unto a village, where was another smith. Now Owlglass craved not again to become a smith’s man; but great hunger and thirst and cold drave him thereto, and merciless masters be they. So went he unto the smith, but the smith would have none of him, by reason of little work which there was; yet did Owlglass beseech him, so that at last the smith took him. And Owlglass promised that he would eat whatever that the smith set before him. Now the smith was a knave, and thought in himself, he shall not eat me until that I am poor.

And it came to pass in the morning, that they fell to labour, and laboured very hard until that it was dinner time. Then took the smith Owlglass, and led him unto the court unto the lime-pit, and he said unto him: “Thou didst promise to eat that which I set before thee. Now take, eat, and make thee good cheer.” But he departed into the house, and ate roast and boiled. Then Owlglass abode without, and thought within himself: “Unto many hast thou wrought great knaveries, thou art repaid in that coin which thou didst pass to others. Yet shall master smith dearly pay for this deceitful practise.” And after the dinner hour did Owlglass return in silence unto his labour, and said nought at all, and so went it until supper time. Then had the smith pity for Owlglass, and gave unto him some supper, and said unto him: “Rise ye up early in the morning, and do ye begin in good time. Then shall ye knock together what ye shall find, and make me a round number of horse nails. The maid may stand at the bellows until that I come unto thee.” Then did Owlglass go to rest, and when that it was morning he rose up early, and thought: “Now shall he pay for the dinner.” So he took the tongs and hammers, fire-irons, sand-ladles, and everything that he could find, which was of iron, and hammered it into one mass in the fire. The same did he with the horse-nails; and when that he heard the master coming, departed he.

And when that the smith came in and found the pretty business, he waxed wroth, and asked the maid how it came that this was so, and where might his man be? And the maid answered and said: “He hath gone forth without the door.” The smith said: “Like unto a knave hath he gone; and if that I wist whither that he went, I would beat him with heavy stripes.” Then said the maid: “Before he departed, he wrote somewhat over the door.” Then went the smith and beheld that Owlglass had, as his fashion was, painted over the door an owl and a glass, the which signified his name. Then knew the smith thereby who his man had been, and was glad that Owlglass had done him no worse knavery than that he had practised. But Owlglass returned not again unto that village, or that master. And the smith had heavy work to make his tools again as they should be.

The Forty and Sixth Adventure.
How that Owlglass did speak a word of truth unto a smith, his wife, man, and maid, each one before the house.

Unto Wismar came Owlglass upon a holy day, and when he passed by over against the smithy, he then beheld before the smithy door a good wife standing dressed in her best clothes, and with her was her maid, and she was the smith’s wife. And Owlglass went and lay at the inn opposite that night, and in the night time he brake from off his horse’s feet all his shoes, and the next day went over unto the smithy. On this wise came he to know them. And when that he approached unto the smithy, lo! they perceived that he was Owlglass; and the good wife, and her maid, came forth before the house door, so that they might behold that which Owlglass said and did. And Owlglass lifted up his voice, and spake unto the smith saying: “Wilt thou now shoe these my horse’s feet?” And the smith answered him “Yea”; and it pleased the smith that he should talk with so wonderful a man as was Owlglass. After that they had talked and conferred together awhile, the smith said unto him: “Behold now, if that thou canst unto me say a word of truth, then will I give unto thee a shoe therefor.” And Owlglass answered: “Yea”; and thus spake unto him:

“An if hammer and iron and coals have ye,

And wind enow in the bellows free,

Brave smith of might then can ye be.”

Then said the smith: “That word is truth,” and gave unto him a shoe. Then did the apprentice put the shoe on the horse’s foot; and he spake unto Owlglass and said: “That an if Owlglass would say unto him also such a word of verity, he would likewise bestow upon him a shoe.” Then answered Owlglass: “Yea”; and said unto him:

“The master and the man they two,

If that work they fain would do,

Hard labour should they never rue.”

“True is thy saying,” answered the smith’s man, and gave him a shoe. Thereat marvelled the good wife, and her maid; and they came unto him, and conferred with him, and the good wife said unto him: “That an if he said also to her words of true meaning, she would give unto him a shoe.” And thereat answered Owlglass, and said: “Yea”; and spake thus:

“Good wife, good wife, eye that’s bright,

Sparkling with such knavish light,

Loves a trysting place at night.”

Then said the good wife: “Marry but thou sayest truth,” and therewith gave him a shoe. Then would the maid fain have a true word also spoken unto her; and if that Owlglass did it, she would give him a shoe. And he said:

“When that thou dost dine on veal,

Eat with care, or thou shalt feel

Tooth-ache pangs thee over-steal.”

And the maid said thereat: “O and alas! how true is that saying,” and gave him a shoe. Then departed Owlglass from that place with his horse well shod. But if any of us, my masters, went unto a blacksmith, I fear me greatly we should have no satisfaction, or horseshoes, for telling truths unto him. This sheweth that of old time were the people wiser than now.

The Forty and Seventh Adventure.
How that Owlglass, at Frankfort-on-the-Main, did with guile delude two Jews of rings.

On a time came Owlglass unto the city of Frankfort-on-the-Main, and it was yearly market day when that he entered therein. And in that town dwelt many Jews, and those that dwelt not there, dwelt in other places; and some have come out thence, and go not thither again. Then did Owlglass send for two rich Jews, and he spake unto them, saying: “That he would have two pair of ear-rings of them, beset with precious stones; but they must all be of one pattern and size, nor one in the least larger or smaller than the other.” And it was for a noble lady that he said he would have them. Then the Jews brought a great number of costly rings, and Owlglass dealt with each alone, and of each did he have a pair. But unto the first he gave back a ring, and said: “That he should take it unto the goldsmith and have it made a little larger.” And this the Jew agreed should be done, and departed with the ring, and promised that he would return ere long; but he left the other ring with Owlglass. And Owlglass did likewise with the second Jew, and kept one of the twain rings. And the Jews departed each alone. Then had Owlglass wan him a pair of ear-rings, and therewith did he go forth from Frankfort, and came not again. But the Jews were beguiled; yet cared not Owlglass a jot therefor.

The Forty and Eighth Adventure.
How that Owlglass served a shoemaker, and how that he inquired of him what shapes he should cut; and the master answered him, and said: “Great and small, as the herdsman driveth forth to field.” Therefore cut he oxen, cows, calves, sheep, and pigs.

Now in a place where Owlglass sojourned on a time, was there a shoemaker, who loved rather to walk about in the market than to labour, and he hired Owlglass for his servant, and he bade Owlglass cut out the shapes himself. Then said Owlglass unto him: “Master, what would you have me to cut?” And the shoemaker answered him, and said: “Cut ye out great and small, as the herdsman driveth forth to field.” And Owlglass spake unto him, and said: “Yea, master, that will I.” And therewith departed the master unto the market. Then fell Owlglass to work, and began to cut out pigs, and oxen, and calves, and sheep, and goats, and all kind of cattle. When that it was night, the master returned him home again, and fain would see what his serving-man had done; then found he these animals cut out of the leather. Thereat grew he angry, and said unto Owlglass: “What is it that thou hast done, so to cut and destroy my leather?” And Owlglass said: “Dear master, I have done it as thou wouldst most desire it should be.” The master answered, and said: “Nay, thou liest; I would not have thee to destroy the leather; that did I not command thee that thou shouldst do.” Then answered Owlglass to him: “Master, wherefore be ye angry? Ye commanded me that I should cut the leather great and small, like as the herdsman driveth forth to field; and most truly to be seen is it that I have thus done.” Then said the master: “Nay, but I meant ye should cut out shoes great and small.” Thereupon said Owlglass: “Had ye said that unto me so that I understood it, then would I have done it with great joy; and yet would I do it.” Then agreed Owlglass and his master, the one with the other; and he forgave him the leather he had cut up, for Owlglass promised him that he would do him content thereafter, and as he told him that would he do.

Then did the shoemaker cut a number of soles for shoes, and laid them before Owlglass, and said unto him: “Look ye, sew ye them little and great as they be altogether.” And Owlglass said: “Yea” thereunto, and began to sew them. Then tarried the master awhile, and departed not forth, for he desired to see how Owlglass did sew. For well knew he that which he had told him, and he craved to behold how he would do according to his words. And Owlglass took a small shoe and a great shoe, and with his needle and thread he sewed them together. And thereat stole the master secretly up to him, and he perceived that which he did. Then said he unto Owlglass: “Thou art truly a man after mine own heart; thou doest that which I desire thee to do.” And Owlglass answered, and said unto him: “He that doeth his master’s bidding will receive no stripes.” Then said the master: “Yea, my good servant, my words were so, but my meaning was other. What I meaned was, that thou shouldst first make a pair of small shoes, and then make a pair of large, or the great first and the small ones after; but thou sewest them altogether, according to my words and not my meaning.” And then waxed he wroth, and took the leather which was cut up, and said: “Now take thee other leather, and cut me new shoes on one last.”

Thereafter thought he no more about the matter, and departed forth to walk. And when that he had been out for more than an hour, he remembered him that he had told Owlglass to cut all on one last; and he hastened him home to see what was done. And Owlglass had sate him still the while, and taken a small last, and cut all the shoes thereunto. So that when the master came, he found he had cut it all according to the little last; and he said unto him: “What dost thou mean, that thou hast on the one last cut me all these shoes? How can the great sole belong to the little shoe?” And Owlglass said unto him: “That will I do after, and the other will I cut.” Then said the master: “But thou takest only one last, and makest them all for one foot; what dost thou expect can I do with thy work?” Then answered Owlglass unto him: “Of a truth, master, thou didst bid me to cut them over one last only, and that have I done.” Thereat said the master: “If that I had much to do with thee, should I have to run with thee to the hangman;” and he furthermore said unto him: “Pay thou me for the leather thou hast marred.” Then said Owlglass: “If that I have marred thy leather, the currier can he not make more?” Then arose he, and stood in the door, and turning himself round unto the master, said: “If that I come not again, have I yet been with thee. Farewell.” And he departed from that city.

The Forty and Ninth Adventure.
How that Owlglass bought eggs and had them tightly packed.

On a time Owlglass came into a village in Swabia, where abode a man very stupid, who with lard and eggs drave a trade. And Owlglass did become serving-man unto him, and much business did for his master, by the which he gained greatly. In this wise and after this manner was it that Owlglass did all that his master required. His master sent him unto the market, that he might cheaply buy and dearly sell; for according to such modes grow all merchants rich. And it came to pass on a day, that Owlglass had bought so much, that his baskets, panniers, and chests were all full of lard and butter and eggs, and yet craved he to buy much more. Then lifted he up his voice, and spake unto his master, saying: “Behold, master, between each egg is there a great room; might it not be, that we might get more in if that, like unto cabbages, we trod them closer together?” And the stupid egg-merchant perceived that to be most true; and then bid he the folk which helped him to tread the eggs close together. And so did they; but, lo! then were their feet all yellow, and the eggs were soon broken to pieces. Then did the master of Owlglass cry out upon his man, and despatched him hastily to do business elsewhere; for the egg-trade did he not understand. Yet was the story soon noised abroad; and thenceforward laughed the people, and called the Swabians yellow-feet, the which name remaineth even unto days of this chronicler.

The Fiftieth Adventure.
How that Owlglass made a soup for a boor, and put therein shoemaker’s oil; for that, in his nobility, he thought it good enow for the boor.

Now after these knaveries came Owlglass unto Stade, and there he again hired him unto a shoemaker. And when that he began the first day to work, his master went unto market, and of a boor bought a load of wood, and then came home, and commanded that the boor should have a soup given unto him. But he found no one at home; for the goodwife and the maid had gone forth, and Owlglass was alone within the house; and he was sewing shoes. And the master was obliged again to go to the market. So spake he to Owlglass, and said, that he should make ready a soup for the boor; for that had he promised him into their bargain. And Owlglass answered: “Yea;” then the boor unloaded the wood, and came into the house. But when that Owlglass sought in the cupboard, and had made ready the soup, he found nothing to flavour it save shoemaker’s oil; so he took the bottle, and poured therefrom a goodly measure into the soup, and a fine flavour was there then therein. And when that the boor began to eat, he tasted that it was very evil; but he was an hungered, and he soon ate up the soup. In no long time thereafter came the shoemaker home, and asked the boor how the soup tasted. And the boor answered him: “That it was good all but one thing, and that was, that it savoured woundily of new shoes.” Then departed the boor. And the shoemaker laughed, and said unto Owlglass: “What didst thou put in the soup thou gavest to the boor?” And Owlglass answered, and said: “Thou commandest me that I should take that I found and put in the soup; and I found nought but the shoemaker’s oil. Therefore put I that in.” And the shoemaker said: “It is well, and quite good enough to give for a bargain to a boor.” And so were the two knaves contented; but as two of a trade never can agree together, in no long time parted they, and Owlglass continued his journey.

The Fifty and First Adventure.
This chapter is a special chapter, telling how that a bootmaker sought to beguile Owlglass by greasing his boots, and how that Owlglass looked through the window, and brake it.

Christopher was the name of a bootmaker, who, in Brunswick, lived upon the Cabbage-market. Unto him on a time went Owlglass, that he might have his boots greased. And when that he came into the house, he opened his mouth, and said: “Master, an if ye will smear me these boots well and throughly, I will pay your demand, so that I have them by Monday.” And the master answered, and said: “Yea, truly shall ye have them.” Then departed Owlglass from the house, and thought no longer thereupon; for when wise men say things shall be done, it is the fool’s fault if they be not. And after that he had gone his way, the bootmaker’s man said: “Behold, master, have a care; for that is Owlglass, and to all men doth he work knavery. Do, therefore, that he said, or he will work ye a vile turn.” Then answered the master, and said: “What would he have?” And the man said: “He said, smear me these boots and throughly. Therefore do ye according to his words, and smear ye them within and without.” Then answered the master unto him, and said: “That will I do.” So did he, in truth.