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poor Joan fell into a violent fit of tantrians, tearing her hair, wringing her hands, crying, what will become of my poor cobler? be will be hang'd.
For what? ſaid the innkeeper.
But Joan had not patience to tell him her lamentation, crying. O the tannar! O the tanner is gone, and in this condition, raving like a fury, or like a lunatic perſon broken out of bedlam, the ran back to Weſtminſter, with a multitude of men, women, and children, after her, who wanted to know the cauſe: but Joan continued crying, O the tanner is gone! und my poor Criſpin, what will become of thee
Which words her huſband hapened to hear, juſt as ſhe entered the door, and cried, dear Joan, save you brought them with you?
With me, quoth Joan, no, no, they are gone, and you are left aloud to ſuffer. Now h d it not been better to work turn to follow every one that ſends for you now you may ſee what you have brought yourſelf to. Nothing would ſerve you, it ſeems, the other day, but to be courtier, ſuch was your ambition: but let me tell you, if they have a fancy to hang you, then I may ſay, you have made a fine piece of work on't; I can't but think how like a courtier you are now. But while ſhe was inſulting over poor Criſpin the King was informed of all their tranſactions, and therefore feat that they might be brought before him, which was done accordingly, but the cobler approached in the preſence of the King, every joint about him trembled, for he expected to find no favour. The King, with an angry countenance, ſaid, how came you by my ſignet?
The poor cobler, falling on his knees, and wringing his hands, cried, may it pleaſe your grace, may it please your honour, I had it fom a tanner, who ſent for me to the Bell, in the ſtrand to buy a parcel of leather he had brought out of the country, The King replied, this is a
