Apon Alhollenday in the morning last Anno domini. 1566, or my[100] booke was halfe printed, I meane the first impression, there came earely in the morninge a Counterfet Cranke vnder my lodgynge at the whyte Fryares, wythin the cloyster, in a lyttle yard or coorte, where aboutes laye two or thre great Ladyes, beyng without the lyberties of London, where by he hoped for the greatter gayne; this Cranke there lamentably lamentinge and pitefully crying to be releued, declared to dyuers their hys paynfull and miserable dysease. I being rysen and not halfe ready, harde his dolfull wordes and rufull mornings, hering him name the falling sicknes, thought assuredlye to my selfe that hée was a depe desemblar; so, comminge out at a sodayne, and beholdinge his vgly and yrksome attyre, hys lothsome and horyble countinance, it made me in a meruelous parplexite what to thinke of hym, whether it were fayned or trouth,—for after this manner went he: he was naked from the wast vpward, sauyng he had a old Ierken[101] of leather patched, and that was lose[102] about hym, that all his bodye laye out bare; a filthy foule cloth he ware on his head, { 52} being cut for the purpose, hauing a narowe place to put out his face, with a bauer made to trusse vp his beard, and a stryng that tyed the same downe close aboute his necke; with an olde felt hat which he styll caried in his hande to receaue the charytye and deuotion of the people, for that woulde he hold out from hym; hauyng hys face, from the eyes downe ward, all smerd with freshe bloud, [leaf 15, back] as thoughe he had new falen, and byn tormented wyth his paynefull panges,—his Ierken beinge all be rayde with durte and myre, and hys hatte and hosen also, as thoughe hée hadde wallowed in the myre: sewerly the sighte was monstrous and terreble. I called hym vnto me, and demaunded of hym what he ayled. “A, good maister,” quoth he, “I haue the greuous and paynefull dyseas called the falynge syckenes.” “Why,” quoth I, “howe commeth thy Ierken, hose, and hat so be rayd with durte and myre, and thy skyn also?” “A, good master, I fell downe on the backesyde here in the fowle lane harde by the watersyde; and there I laye all most all night, and haue bled all most all the bloude owte in my bodye.” It raynde that morninge very fast; and whyle I was thus talkinge with hym, a honest poore woman that dwelt thereby brought hym a fayre lynnen cloth, and byd hym wype his face therewyth; and there beinge a tobbe standing full of rayne water, offered to geue hym some in a dishe that he might make hym selfe cleane: hée refuseth[103] the same. “Why dost thou so?” quoth I. “A, syr,” sayth he, “yf I shoulde washe my selfe, I shoulde fall to bléedinge a freshe againe, and then I should not stop my selfe:” these wordes made me the more to suspecte hym.