oly
mylke. Wyllyam wold not rest there tyll that he had
gotte halffe of that holy mylke, but whan he had ||
it, he thoghte that he was richer than Croeseus. _Me._
Why nat, but was it nat withowt any goodhope? _Ogy._ He
went tha streght home, but in hys iornay he fell seke.
_Me._ Iesu there is nothynge in thys worlde that is
other permanent, or alwayes in good state. _Ogy._ But
whan he sawe & perceyuyd that he was in greate ioperdye
of his lyffe, he callyd to him a frenchman, whiche was
a very trusty companyon to hym in hys iornay. And
commaundyd all to auoyd the place, and make sylence, &
pryuyly dyd betake to hym thys mylke, apon this
condycyo, that if it chacyd to come home saffe & sownde
he wuld offre that precyous tresure to our ladyes
aultre in Paryse, whiche standythe in the myddys of the
ryuere Sequana, whiche dothe apere to separat hymselffe
to honor and obaye our blessyd lady. But to make short
tale. Wylyam is deade, & || C iij.|| buryed, the
Frenchman mayd hym redy to departe apon hys iornay,
& sodely fell seke also. And he in great dyspayre of
amendynge, dyd commyth ye mylke to an Englishma, but
nat withowt great instance, and moche prayer he dyd
that whiche he was mouyd to doo. Than dyed he. And ye
other dyd take the mylke, and put it apon an aultre of
ye same place the Chanones beynge present, whiche were
yt as we call Regulares. Thay be yet in the abbaye of
saynt Genofeffe. But ye Englishma obtaynyd the halffe
of that mylke, & caryed it to Walsynga in England, the
holy ghost put suche in hys mynde. _Me._ By my trothe
this is a godly tale. _Ogy._ But lest there shuld be
any doubte of this mater, ye Byshopes whiche dyd grante
pardon to it thayre names be wryten there, as thay came
to vysyte it, nat withowt thayre offerynges, and thay
haue || gyuen to it remyssyon, as moche as thay had to
gyue by thayre authorite. _Me._ How moche is that?
_Ogy._ Fowrty dayes. _Mene._ Yee is there dayes in
hell. _Ogy._ Trewly ther is tyme. Ye but whan thay haue
gratyd all thayre stynte, thay haue no more to grante.
_Ogy._ That is nat so for whan one parte is gone
another dothe encrease, and it chansythe dyuersly euyn
as the tonne of Canaidus. For that althoghe it be
incontynently fyllyd, yet it is alway emptye: and if
thou be takynge owt of it, yet there is neuer the lesse
in the barell. _Me._ If thay grate to an hunderithe
thowsand me fowrty dayes of pardone, wuld euery man
haue elyke? _Ogy._ No doubte of that. _Me._