Of the friere that gaue scrowes agaynst the pestilence. xxxvii.

¶ Amonge the limitours[196] in the cyte of Tiburtine (Tivoli), was a certayne friere, which vsed to preache about in the villages to men of the countrey: and for as moch as they greately suspecte[d] that a plague of pestilence shulde come amonge them, he promysed eche of them a lytell scrowe:[197] which he sayde was of suche a vertue, that who so euer bare hit hangynge aboute his necke xv dayes shulde nat dye of the pestilence. The folisshe people trustynge herevpon, euerye one after his power gaue him money for a scrowe; and with a threde of a mayden's spynninge, they hanged hit aboute their neckes. But he charged them that they shuld nat open it tyll the xv dayes ende: for, if they did, he sayde hit had no vertue. So whan the frire hadde gathered moche moneye, he wente his waye. Soone after (as the desyre of folkes is to knowe newes) the sayd scrowes were redde, in which was writen in Italian speche:

Donna, si fili et cadeti lo fuso,
Quando ti pieghi, tieni lo culo chiuso.[198]

Which is to saye in englysshe: woman, if thou spynne, and thy spyndell falle awaye, whan thou stoupest to reache for him, holde thyne **** close. He sayde, that this passed all the preceptes and medicines of the phisitians.

By whiche tale one may lerne, that all is nat gospell that suche wanderers about saye, nor euerye word to be beleued: For often tymes:—

Gelidus jacet anguis in herbâ.

Of the phisitian, that vsed to write bylles ouer eue. xxxviii.

¶ A certayne phisitian of Italy vsed ouer night to write for sondry diseasis diuers billes, called resceitz, and to put them in a bag al to gether. In the morning whan the vrins (as the custome is) were brought to him, and he [was] desired to showe some remedy, he wolde put his hand in to the bag, and at al auentures take oute a bille. And in takinge oute the bille he wolde say to him that came to seke remedye in their language: Prega dio te la mandi bona. That is to saye: Praye God to sende the a good one.

By this tale ye may se, that miserable is their state whiche fortune muste helpe and nat reason. Suche a phisitian on a tyme sayde to Pausanias: Thou aylest nothinge. No, sayde he, I haue nat had to do with thy phisicke. And an other tyme a frende of his sayde: Syr, ye ought not to blame that phisitian: for his phisicke dyd you neuer hurte. Thou sayest trouthe, quod he: for, if I hadde proued his phisicke, I shulde nat nowe haue been alyue. And ageyne to an other that sayde: Syr, ye be an olde man, he answered: yea, thou were nat my phisitian. Such maner [of] checkes are to lyttell for the leude foles, that wyll practise phisicke, before they knowe what [be]longeth to theyr name.