of all sayntes thorowowt all the world.  He after that he had vysytyd many places, contrayes, and regyones, at the laste came to Costantynenople.  For Wylhelmes brother was there byshope, whiche dyd make hym pry to a certayne mayde, whiche had professyd chastyte, that hadde parte of oure ladyes mylke, which were an excedynge precyous relyque, if that other with prayer, or monaye, or by any crafte it myghte be gotte.  For all the reliques that he hadde gotte before were but tryfles to so holy 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