Shakespeare Jest-Books: Reprints of the Early and Very Rare Jest-Books Supposed to Have Been Used by Shakespeare

In Short

This volume is a scholarly compilation of two rare, foundational English jest-books: A Hundred Mery Talys and Mery Tales and Quicke Answeres. Originally circulating in the decades surrounding Shakespeare’s life, these texts are a series of brief, punchy anecdotes—some wise, some bawdy, and many deeply cynical. They have endured because they function as a mirror to the period’s social anxieties, capturing the friction between servants and masters, husbands and wives, and the church and the common man, all delivered with a lean, efficient wit.

The Story

The narrative arc of this collection is not found in a single protagonist’s journey, but in the collective voice of a society navigating its own absurdities. The stories open with the trivial and the pious—a man debating commandments or the simple confusion of a traveler—and quickly descend into the messy, human reality of the English countryside. We encounter John Adroyns, who, while dressed as the devil for a local play, accidentally frightens off a group of thieves and finds himself suddenly mistaken for a supernatural power by the local gentry. His story sets the tone for the entire work: a world where appearances are deceiving, where the weak often outsmart the strong, and where the hierarchy of the village is constantly being undermined by coincidence and quick thinking.

As the collection progresses, the tales grow more pointed. We see the "four elements" defined not by natural philosophy, but by their presence in a woman’s tongue or a flint stone. The domestic sphere becomes a battlefield, as in the story of the man who tries to cure his wife of silence by placing leaves in her mouth, only to be cursed by a devil who refuses to take the gift back because, he notes, not even those in hell can silence a woman once she has begun to speak.

The middle of the collection leans into the darker, more cynical side of life. There is the scholar who loses his money on a foolish bet and is saved only by his wife’s clever trick of stuffing her hand into a pot of "nought," and the nun who receives a harsh penance for her sins only because she chose the wrong season and the wrong partner. The stories move toward a resolution that offers no grand moral redemption, but rather a series of grim, practical lessons. We finish with the traveler who, caught between the warring factions of the Wars of the Roses, identifies himself as the "devil’s man" simply because that master is the only one who doesn't beat him—a bleak, weary acknowledgement of the chaos of the times. The book ends not with a flourish, but with the quiet, resigned wisdom that the world is a place where one must navigate carefully, as even the most devout "cappe and knele" to authority while secretly wishing it would collapse.

How It Unfolds

The comedic setup The stories begin by framing the mundane as a source of humor, using simple, often foolish characters to highlight the gap between intention and outcome. The pacing is rapid, designed to deliver a punchline or a sharp, ironic observation within a few short paragraphs.

The shift toward social critique As the volume moves forward, the humor darkens and turns toward the failures of authority, particularly the clergy and the legal profession. These tales act as a pressure valve, allowing the "uplandish" or rural commoner to expose the hypocrisies of those who hold power over them.

The conclusion of the cycle The collection closes by emphasizing the transience of human endeavor, showing that whether one is a scholar, a knight, or a peasant, fate—or the "devil"—is the only consistent companion. The final entries leave the reader with a sense of the gritty, pragmatic skepticism that defined the era’s humor.

The People

The characters in these pages are archetypes rather than individuals. The "Uplandish man" stands for the common sense of the rural resident, often possessing a sharper tongue than the bishops or scholars who look down on him. He represents the voice of the audience, cutting through the pomposity of the educated. The "Crafty wife" is a recurring figure who repeatedly demonstrates that wit is not the monopoly of the husband; she is the one who solves the unsolvable, often leaving her spouse standing in the dirt while she secures their future. Then there is the "Foolish servant," who, through his sheer ineptitude, exposes the vanity of his master. He is the mirror that reflects the absurdity of any hierarchy that relies on blind obedience. These figures do not grow or change in a traditional sense; instead, they serve as fixed points in a world where the only way to survive is to be the one telling the joke, rather than the one being laughed at.

In Its Own Voice

"The wather sayde: yf ye lyst to seke me, ye shall be sure to haue me under a toft of grene rushes or elles in a womans eye."

In a story assigning the four elements to human traits, the water is found in places of instability or tears.

"He, beynge at his wittes ende what to saye, aunswered: the Dyuelles man. Than the dyuell goe with thee (saide they). Amen (quoth he): For it is the best maister that I haue serued this daie."

A man caught in a civil war tries to survive by claiming a master that neither side can punish.

What It's Really About

At its core, this book is an exploration of power dynamics through the medium of the "quick answer." It is deeply concerned with the tension between the official order of the world—the church, the law, and the aristocracy—and the chaotic, subversive reality of human interaction. The recurring argument is that survival requires a sharp, often cynical intelligence. It questions whether wisdom is found in books or in the pragmatic, sometimes ruthless, observations of the common man. The book suggests that authority is often fragile, held together only by custom, and that a single well-timed laugh can bring the whole structure into question.

Why Read It Today

Readers who enjoy the biting, irreverent side of history will find much to admire here. It is an honest look at the "low" culture that informed the "high" art of the Elizabethan stage. However, it is not a gentle read. The dialect is archaic, the attitudes toward women are frequently misogynistic and dismissive, and the humor is often cruel or scatological. The book demands a reader willing to navigate the difficult, sometimes repetitive prose to find the flashes of authentic voice hidden within. It feels like stepping into a crowded, dimly lit tavern—it is noisy, sometimes offensive, and occasionally profound. What stays with you is the realization that the people of the sixteenth century were not so different from us; they were using humor to cope with the same fundamental anxieties about survival, authority, and the inherent unpredictability of life. If you are looking for a sanitized view of history, look elsewhere; if you want the unfiltered, rough-hewn pulse of the past, this remains a vital, if challenging, document.