¶ Of him that kissed the mayd with the longe nose. xi.
¶ A bablynge gentylman, the whiche on a tyme wolde haue bassed[155] a fayre mayde, that had nat the leest nose, sayde: how shulde I kysse you: youre nose wyll not suffre our lyppes to mete? The mayden, waxinge shamfast and angrye in her mynde (for with his scoffe he a lyttell touched her) answered on this wyse: syr, if ye can not kysse my mouth for my nose, ye may kysse me there as I haue nere a nose.
Ye may by this tale lerne, that it is folye so to scoffe, that youre selfe therby shulde be laughed to scorne agayne. One that is ouer-couetous ought nat to attwite[156] an other of prodigalite. Thou arte her brother (sayd Alcmeon to Adrastus) that slewe her husbande. But he blamed nat Alcmeon for an others faute, but obiected against him his owne. Thou hast with thy hande (sayd he) slayne thin owne mother. It is nat ynough to haue rebukes redie, and to speke vyle wordes agaynst other: for he, that so shuld do, ought to be without any vyce. For of all men, sayth Plutarchus, he ought to be innocent and haue the lyfe vnculpable, that wolde reprehende the fautes of other. The lyttell morall boke[157] sayth:
It is a foule thynge worthye rebuke and blame
A vyce to reprehende and do the same.
¶ The Uplandisshe mans answere, concerninge the steple and pulpit. xii.
¶ In a certayne place, on a tyme the perysshyns[158] had pulled downe theyr steple, and had buylded it vp newe agayne, and had put out theyr belles to be newe-founded: and bycause they range nat at the bysshops entrynge into the village, as they were wont and acustomed to do, he asked a good homely man, whether they had no belles in theyr steple: he answered: no! Than, sayde the bysshop, ye may sylle aweye[159] your steple. Why so, and please your lordship, sayd the man? Bycause hit stondeth vacant, said the bysshop. Than sayde the man, we may well sylle away an other thinge, that we haue in our churche. What is that, sayd the bysshop? That is a pulpit, quod he. For this vii yere ther was no sermon made therin.
¶ Of the beggers answere to M. Skelton the poete. xiii.
¶ A poure begger, that was foule, blacke and lothlye to beholde, cam vpon a tyme vnto mayster Skelton the poete, and asked him his almes. To whom mayster Skelton sayde: I praye the, gette the awaye fro me: for thou lokeste as though thou camest out of helle. The poure man, perceyuing he wolde gyue him no thynge, answerd: For soth, syr, ye say trouth, I came oute of helle. Why dyddest thou nat tary styl there, quod mayster Skelton? Mary, syr, quod the begger, there is no roume for suche poure beggers as I am: all is kepte for suche gentyl men as ye be.