And read it o’re, then thou wilt say,
Thy money is not thrown away.
In the reign before William the conqueror, I have read in ancient histories that there dwelt a man in the marsh of the Isle of Ely, in the county of Cambridge, whose name was Thomas Hic-ka-thrift, a poor man and day labourer, yet he was a very stout man, and able to perform two days works instead of one: He having one son and no more children in the world, he called him by his own name, Thomas Hickathrift. This old man put his son to good learning, but he would take none, for he was as we call them now in this age, none of the wisest sort, but something soft, and had no docility at all in him.
God calling this old man his father out of the world, his mother being tender of him, and maintained him by her hand labour as well as she could; he being sloathful and not willing to work to get a penny for his living, but all his delight was to be in the chimney corner, and would eat as much at one time as might very well serve four or five ordinary men; for he was in length when he was but ten years of age about eight foot, and in thickness five foot, and his hand was like unto a shoulder of mutton, and in all parts from top to toe he was like a monster, and yet his great strength was not known.
How Tom Hic-ka-thrifts strength came to be known, the which if you please but to read will give you full satisfaction.
The first time that his strength was known was by his mothers going to a rich farmer’s house (she being but a poor woman) to desire a buttle of straw to shift herself and her son Thomas. The farmer being an honest charitable man, bid her take what she would. She going home to her son Tom, said, I pray thee go to such a place and fetch me a buttle of straw, I have asked him leave. He swore a great oath he would not go: nay, prithee, Tom go, said his old mother. He swore again he would not go, unless she would borrow him a cart rope. She being willing to please him, because she would have some straw, went and borrowed him a cart rope to his desire.
He taking it went his way; so coming to the farmer’s house, the master was in the barn, and two men a thrashing. Said Tom, I am come for a buttle of straw. Tom, said the master, take as much as thou canst carry. He laid down his cart rope, and began to make his buttle; but said they, Tom, thy rope is to short, and jeer’d poor Tom, but he fitted the man well for it: for he made his buttle, and when he had made it, there was supposed to be a load of straw in it, of two thousand weight. But said they, what a great fool art thou, thou canst not carry the tith on’t? but Tom took the buttle and flung it on his shoulder, and made no more of it then we do of an hundred weight, to the great admiration of master and men.