story. This the listeners were slow to take in, and he, vexed at not being understood, jumped into the water, when wonderful to relate he became once more man, and could step forth and use his power of speech to reveal the truth about the warwolf. The erewhile ass was instantly a popular hero, the monster was dragged about on the ground by the indignant multitude, and "from his bones the flesh in collops cut."
"The subsequent proceedings interested him no more,"
but I may mention that the collops were carried in triumph on the points of the weapons, and that amidst a song of victory the ass-man was borne aloft.
Gammer Gurton[1] said she would moral the story, and so she did. The "war-wolf" was a cruel, blood-thirsty man; the spring, the manner in which such an one would contrive to evade the ill-repute attaching to his deeds; the ass, some poor despised soul who by the will of God brings all the evil practices to light.
"Quoth Mother Howlet, 'You have hit the white';"
indeed no Max Müller or Cox could explain away a tale of horror better. This is the more to the Gammer's credit, seeing that at the latter end of the sixteenth century lycanthropy, or what was called so, was especially rife in France, and there must have been much talk concerning the trials of the beings who were suspected of it. Drayton was, probably, with those who held that the bestial change of form was mere hallucination.
We are indebted to Mother Bumby[2] for a picture of the contemporary astronomer who was hardly of the same pattern as those of Greenwich. He was
"skilful in the planetary hours,
The working knew of their celestial powers;
And by their ill or by their good aspect,
Men in their actions wisely could direct;
And in the black and gloomy arts so skill'd
That he even Hell in his subjection held.
