¶ Of the corrupte man of lawe. xxii.
¶ There was a man of lawe, whiche on a tyme shulde be iudge betwene a poure man and a ryche: the poure man came, and gaue hym a glasse of oyle (whiche was as moche as his power wold stretche to) and desyred, that he wolde be good in his matter. Yes, quod he, the matter shall passe[175] with the. The riche man, perceyuynge that, sente to the same iudge a fatte hogge, and prayed hym to be fauorable on his syde. Wherfore he gaue iudgement agaynst the poure man. Whan the poure man sawe that he was condemned, pytously complaynyng he sayd to the Judge: syr, I gaue you a glasse of oyle, and ye promysed by your faith, the matter shulde passe with me. To whom the iuge sayde: for a trouth there came a hogge into my house, whiche founde the glasse of oyle, and ouerthrewe and brake it: and so through spyllynge of the oyle I cleane forgot the.
Wherby ye may se, that euermore amonge
The ryche hath his wyll, the pore taketh wronge.
¶ Of kynge Lowes of France, and the husbandman. xxiii.
¶ What tyme kynge Lowes of Fraunce, the xi of that name, bycause of the trouble that was in the realme, kepte hym selfe in Burgoyne, he chaunced by occasion of huntinge to come acqueynted with one Conon a homely husbande man, and a plaine meanynge felowe, in whiche maner of men the hygh princes greatly delyte them. To this man's house the kynge ofte resorted from huntynge. And with great pleasure he wolde eate radysshes rotes with hym. Within a whyle after, whan Lowes was restored home, and had the gouernaunce of France in his hande, this husbandeman was counsailed by his wyfe to take a goodiy sorte of radysshe rotes and to go and gyue them to the kyng, and put him in mind of the good chere, that he had made hym at his house. Conon wolde nat assente therto. What folysshe woman! quod he, the greate princes remembre nat suche smalle pleasures. But for all that she wolde not reste, tyll Conon chose out a great syght[176] of the fayrest rootes, and toke his iourney towarde the courte. But as he went by the way, he yete vp all the radysshes save one of the greattest.
Conon peaked[177] into the courte, and stode where the kynge shulde passe by: By and by the kynge knewe hym, and called hym to hym. Conon stepte to the kynge and presented his rote with a gladde chere. And the kynge toke it more gladly, and bad one, that was nerest to hym, to laye it vp amonge those iewels that he best loued; and than commaunded Conon to dyne with hym. Whan dyner was done, he thanked Conon: and whan the kyng sawe that he wolde departe home, he commaunded to gyue hym a thousande crownes of golde for his radisshe rote. Whan this was knowen in the kinges house, one of the court gaue the kyng a propre mynion[178] horse. The king, perceiuing that he dyd it, bicause of the liberalite shewed vnto Conon, with very glad chere he toke the gyft, and counsailed with his lordes, howe and with what gyft he myght recompence the horse, that was so goodly and faire. This meanewhile the picke-thank had a meruailous great hope, and thought in his mynde thus: if he so wel recompensed the radysshe rote, that was gyuen of a rusticall man, howe moche more largely wyl he recompence suche an horse, that is gyuen of me that am of the courte? Whan euery man had sayde hys mynde, as though the kynge had counsayled aboute a great weyghty matter, and that they hadde longe fedde the pycke thanke with vayne hope, at last the kyng sayd: I remembre nowe, what we shal gyue hym; and so he called one of his lordes, and badde hym in his eare go fetche hym that that he founde in his chambre (and told hym the place where) featly[179] folded vp in sylke. Anone he came and brought the radysshe roote, and euen as it was folded vp, the kyng with his owne hand gaue it to the courtier, sayenge: we suppose your horse is well recompensed with this iewell, for it hath cost vs a thousande crownes. The courtier went his way neuer so glad, and whan he had vnfolded it, he found none other treasure but the radysshe rote almoste wethered.[180]
¶ Of an other picke-thanke, and the same kinge. xxiiii.
¶ Vpon a time a seruant of the fornamed kinges, seynge a louce crepe vpon the kynges robe, kneled downe and put vp his hande, as though he wolde do somwhat, and as the kynge bowed hym self a lyttell, the man toke the louce, and conueyed her away priuely. The kynge asked hym what it was, but he was ashamed to shew. So moche the kyng instanted[181] hym, that at laste he confessed hit was a louce. Oh! quod the kynge, it is good lucke: for this declareth me to be a man. For that kynde of vermyne principally greueth mankynde, specially in youth. And so the kynge commanded to gyue him fyfty crownes for his labour.