I give you many thanks for your good advice, but one thing more I have to say unto you, What is your name? and where do you live? that I may come to see you again for I shall think the time long. Why I tell thee, daughter, my name is Mother Bunch and I live at a place called Bonny Venter, and if thou wilt but take the pains to come thither thou shalt be welcome, and so farewell.
Now Mother Bunch being departed from the maid, and going homeward she meets with another pretty young girl. Good morrow, Mother Bunch. Good morrow, pretty maid, whither are you going this morning? methinks you are very fine to-day. Fine, Mother Bunch, you do but think so. Nay I cannot discommend you; for such young maids as you must go handsome, or you will have much ado to get good husbands; for I know you think the time long. No, no, Mother, I am too young yet. Why daughter how old are you? Why I am but eighteen. But eighteen, never but it for I know thou think’st thou hast stayed long enough, and would as fain have a good husband as another. Aye, but Mother Bunch, good husbands are ill to find out, and especially with such as I am which has no skill in chusing, or else it may be I would fain have a husband as another. Why then daughter take my advice: if thou would have a good husband thou must be sure to be wise in chusing, that is to say take not one that hath a red head; for to be sure he will be one to love the smock so well, that he will be loth to let his wife have a good one to her back; neither take one that has yellow hair, for he will be apt to be jealous; no nor a black man, for they oft prove dogged. Ay, but hark you Mother Bunch if I must have neither red nor yellow nor black, what colour must I have then? It may be I have set my love on a yellow haird man already—Why, daughter, if it be so I can [tell] thee what will follow: if he prove jealous of thee thou wilt be driven into such a condition with his speeches that thou may very well make his words good, for how should a woman forbear that which she is always told of? for to be sure if he be jealous of thee, thou hast cause to be jealous of him, for there is no man or woman that is jealous the one of the other but they are false themselves, for whores and thieves think all is alike. But hold a little, daughter, one thing more I have to say unto thee, and that is this. Take notice of thy sweethearts, when they come a wooing unto thee (I mean of their civil behaviour), for if they swear, and bow, and make great protestations, then have a care of thyself, for many words breed dissimulation; therefore have a care of such. But if a man come unto thee that is sparing of his words and very civil in his carriage, there is hopes he will prove a loving man and love passeth above all the meanes in the world. Well now Mother Bunch I must take my leave of you, giving you many thanks for your good advice; and so farewel, until I see you again, and I do intend to take your counsel.
Another time Mother Bunch was in a little meadow, not far from her own house, and it was on the 20th day of April very early in the morning before sunrising. A handsome young maid seeing her all alone, came unto her, and said, Mother Bunch, good morrow, how do you do? pray what makes you abroad so early this morning? I am persuaded you are in a study. Daughter you say very true; I am studying who must be my next husband; and if thou but please to stay a little while, thou shalt see a pretty art, which thou never saw before, for to teach thee to know thy sweetheart. That is a pretty art indeed, and I should be very glad to learn that art.
Hark! Hark! daughter, is not yonder the cuckoo singing? Yes, yes, and I have not heard her sing this year before now. Then, daughter, sit thee down by me, but hark you daughter, are you fasting? Yes, I have neither eat nor drank yet. Ay, but hath no young man kist thee to-day? No I did see no man to-day. Then sit thee down by me. I think the cuckoo is mad; what a life she leads; I think she is a witch and knows what we’re doing, but no matter; put off thy right foot shoe and stocking, and let me look between thy great toes. Now, daughter, see, this hair (which is a good long one); look well at it, and what colour it is (I think it is partly yellow). The very same colour will thy husband’s hair be. But, Mother Bunch I do not matter the colour so much as I do his condition. I will tell thee his condition; he may prove surly enough, but thou must strive to please him as much as you can both night and day for he will be very apt to go astray, and if he do thou must not much heed him but give him good words for thou hast very bad luck if thou cannot do him one good turn for another; but as for that thou must keep that to thyself; an ill bird befoules its own nest; kiss and tell is base play. Mother Bunch you make me smile, you talk so merrily. Come, daughter, ’tis no great matter; merry talk does do no harm, but drives the time away; but as for the deed doing, I leave that to your own discretion. But hark you! daughter, I have had three husbands myself, and I think to have another yet, and do you think I am so mad to tell him all that I do? no I am not so mad and I think thou wilt be a little wiser and yet daughter, I have another way for to teach thee how thou shalt come to know who must be thy husband, and I have approved it true; for I tryed it myself, and now is the best time of the year to try it, therefore take notice of what I say: Take a St. Thomas onion, and peel it, and lay it in a clean handkerchief and lay it under your head; and put on a clean smock, and be sure the room be clean swept where you lye, and as soon as you be laid down, be sure lay thy arms abroad, and say these words:
Good St. Thomas do me right,
And bring my love to me this night,
That I may look him in the face,
And in my arms may him embrace.
Then lying on thy back, with thy arms abroad, fall asleep as soon as thou can, and in thy first sleep thou shalt dream of him which shall be thy husband, and he will come and offer to kiss thee, but do not hinder him, but strive to catch him in thy arms, and if thou do get hold of him that is he which must be thy husband but if thou get not hold of him thou must try another night, and if thou do get hold of him hold him fast, for that is he. This I have try’d, and it has prov’d true. Yet I have another pretty way for a maid to know her sweetheart, which is as followeth: Take a summer apple, of the best fruit you can get, and take three of the best pins you can get, and stick them into the apple close to the head, and as you stick them in take notice which of them is in the middle, and what name thou fancies best give that middle pin and put it into thy left handed glove, and lay it under thy pillow on a Saturday at night, but thou must be in bed before thou lays it under thy head, and when thou hast done, clasp thy hands together, speaking these words:—
If thou be he that must have me