of Phisike Doctour,” by whom the tales were said to have been “gathered together,” was none other than Andrew Borde, or Boorde, a Carthusian friar before the Reformation, one of the physicians to Henry VIII., a great traveller, even beyond the bounds of Christendom, “a thousand or two and more myles,” a man of great learning, withal “of fame facete.”  For to Borde have the Merie Tales of the Mad Men of Gotham been generally ascribed down to our own times.  There is, however, as Dr. F.J.  Furnivall justly remarks, “no good external evidence that the book was written by Borde, while the internal evidence is against his authorship."[5] In short, the ascription of its compilation to “A.B., of Phisike Doctour,” was clearly a device of the printer to sell the book.[6]

The Tales of the Mad Men of Gotham continued to be printed as a chap-book down to the close of the first quarter of the present century; and much harmless mirth they must have caused at cottage firesides in remote rural districts occasionally visited by the ubiquitous pedlar, in whose well-filled pack of all kinds of petty merchandise such drolleries were sure to be found.  Unlike other old collections of facetiae, the little work is remarkably free from objectionable stories; some are certainly not very brilliant, having, indeed, nothing in them particularly “Gothamite,” and one or two seem to have been adapted from the Italian novelists.  Of the twenty tales comprised in the collection, the first is certainly one of the most humorous: 

There were two men of Gotham, and one of them was going to the market at Nottingham to buy sheep, and the other was coming from the market, and both met on Nottingham bridge.  “Well met!” said the one to the other.  “Whither are you a-going?” said he that came from Nottingham.  “Marry,” said he that was going thither, “I am going to the market to buy sheep.”  “Buy sheep!” said the other.  “And which way will you bring them home?” “Marry,” said the other, “I will bring them over this bridge.”  “By Robin Hood,” said he that came from Nottingham, “but thou shalt not.”  “By Maid Marian,” said he that was going thither, “but I will.”  “Thou shalt not,” said the one.  “I will,” said the other.  Then they beat their staves against the ground, one against the other, as if there had been a hundred sheep betwixt them.  “Hold them there,” said the one.  “Beware of the leaping over the bridge of my sheep,” said the other.  “They shall all come this way,” said one.  “But they shall not,” said the other.  And as they were in contention, another wise man that belonged to Gotham came from the market, with a sack of meal upon his horse; and seeing and hearing his neighbours at strife about sheep, and none betwixt them, said he, “Ah, fools, will you never learn wit?  Then help me,” said he that had the meal, “and lay this sack upon my shoulder.”  They did so, and he went to the one side of the bridge and unloosed the mouth of the sack, and did shake out all the meal into the river.  Then said he, “How much meal is there in the sack, neighbours?” “Marry,” answered they, “none.”  “Now, by my faith,” answered this wise man, “even so much wit is there in your two heads to strive for the thing which you have not.”  Now which was the wisest of these three persons, I leave you to judge.