Chapter 58

_Enter_ GRIM, _with_ JOAN.

GRIM. Nay, but, Joan, have a care! bear a brain[475] for all at once. 'Tis not one hour's pleasure that I suspect more than your mother's good, countenance. If she be asleep, we may be bold under correction; if she be awake, I may go my ways, and nobody ask me, _Grim, whither goest thou_? Nay, I tell you, I am so well beloved in our town, that not the worst dog in the street will hurt my little finger.

JOAN. Why speak you this? You need not fear my mother, For she was fast asleep four hours ago.

GRIM. Is she, sure? Did you hear her snort in her dead sleep? Why then, Joan, I have an hour's mirth for thee.

JOAN. And I a mess of cream for thee.

GRIM. Why, there is one for another then: fetch it, Joan; we will eat and kiss, and be as merry as your cricket. [_Exit_ JOAN _for the cream_.] Art thou gone for it? Well, go thy ways for the kindest lass that ever poor collier met withal? I mean for to make short work with her, and marry her presently. I'll single her out, i'faith, till I make her bear double, and give the world to understand we will have a young Grim between us.

_Enter_ JOAN _with the cream_.

JOAN. Look here, my love, 'tis sweeten'd for thy mouth.

GRIM. You have put none of your love-powder in it, to make me enamourable of you, have you, Joan? I have a simple pate, to expect you! [_One knocketh at the door_.] Joan, hark, my brains beat, my head works, and my mind giveth me: some lovers of yours come sneaking hither now; I like it not, 'tis suspectious.

[_One knocketh again_.

JOAN. You need not fear it; for there is none alive Shall bear the least part of my heart from thee.

GRIM. Say'st thou so? hold there still, and whoe'er he be, open door to him.

_She openeth the door. Enter_ SHORTHOSE, _and_ ROBIN _after him_.

JOAN. What, Master Parson, are you come so late? You are welcome; here's none but Grim and I.

SHO. Joan, I'll no more a-nutting go, I was so beaten to and fro; And yet who it was, I do not know.

GRIM. What, Master Parson, are you come so late to say eveningsong to your parishioners? I have heard of your knavery. I give you a fair warning; touch her no lower than her girdle, and no higher than her chin: I keep her lips and her hips for my own use. I do; and so welcome.

ROBIN. This two hours have I dogg'd the parson round about all Croydon, doubting some such thing. [_Aside_.]

SHO. No, Grim, I here forswear to touch Thy Joan, or any other such: Love hath been so cudgell'd out of me, I'll go no more to wood with thee.

ROB. 'Twas Robin beat this holy mind into him. I think more cudgelling would make him more honest. [_Aside_.]

GRIM. You speak like an honest man and a good parson, and that is more. Here's Joan's benevolation for us, a mess of cream and so forth. Here is your place, Master Parson. Stand on the t'other side of the table, Joan. Eat hard to-night, that thou may marry us the better to-morrow.

ROB. What, is my brother Grim so good a fellow. [_They fall to the cream_. I love a mess of cream as well as they; I think it were best I stepp'd in and made one. [_Aside_.] Ho, ho, ho,[476] my masters! No good fellowship! Is Robin Goodfellow a bugbear grown, [ROBIN _falleth to eat_. That he is not worthy to be bid sit down?

GRIM. O Lord, save us! sure, he is some country-devil; he hath got a russet coat upon his face.

[GRIM _and_ SHORTHOSE _retire to the back of the stage_.]

SHO. Now, _benedicite_! who is this? I take him for some fiend, i-wis;[477] O, for some holy-water here Of this same place this spirit to clear!

ROB. Nay, fear not, Grim, come fall unto your cream: Tut, I am thy friend; why dost not come and eat?

GRIM. I, sir? truly, master devil, I am well here, I thank you.

ROB. I'll have thee come, I say. Why, tremblest thou?

GRIM. No, sir, not I; 'tis a palsy I have still. Truly, sir, I have no great acquaintance with you.

ROB. Thou shalt have better, man, ere I depart.

GRIM. I will not, and if I can choose.

ROB. Nay, come away, and bring your love with you.

GRIM. Joan! you were best go to him, Joan.

ROB. What, shall I fetch thee, man? The cream is sweet.

GRIM. No, sir, I am coming: much good do't you. I had need of a long spoon, now I go to eat with the devil.[478]

ROB. The parson's penance shall be thus to fast. Come, tell me, Grim, dost thou not know me, man?

GRIM. No, truly, sir; I am a poor man fetcheth my living out of the fire; your worship may be a gentleman devil, for aught I know.

ROB. Some men call me Robin Goodfellow.

GRIM. O Lord, sir! Master Robert Goodfellow, you are very welcome, sir.

ROB. This half year have I liv'd about this town, Helping poor servants to despatch their work, To brew and bake, and other husbandry. Tut, fear not, maid; if Grim be merry, I will make up the match between ye.

GRIM. There will be a match in the devil's name!

ROB. Well, now the night is almost spent, Since your affections all are bent To marriage and to constant love, Grim, Robin doth thy choice approve; And there's the priest shall marry you: Go to it, and make no more ado: Sirrah, sir priest, go get you gone, And join both her and him anon; But ne'er hereafter let me take you With wanton love-tricks, lest I make you Example to all stone-priests ever, To deal with other men's loves never.

SHO. _Valete vos_, and God bless me, And rid me from his company! Come, Grim, I'll join you hand in hand, In sacred wedlock's holy band. I will no more a-nutting go, That journey caused all this woe.

GRIM. Come, let's to hand in hand quickly. Master Robert, you were ever one of the honestest merry devils that ever I saw.

JOAN. Sweet Grim, and if thou lovest me, let's away.

GRIM. Nay, now, Joan, I spy a hole in your coat: if you cannot endure the devil, you'll never love the collier. Why, we two are sworn brothers. You shall see me talk with him even as familiarly as if I should parbreak[479] my mind and my whole stomach upon thee.

JOAN. I prythee, do not, Grim.

GRIM. Who? not I? O Lord, Master Robert Goodfellow, I have a poor cottage at home, whither Joan and I will jog us merrily. We will make you no stranger, if you come thither. You shall be used as devilishly as you would wish, i'faith. There is never a time my cart cometh from London, but the collier bringeth a goose in his sack, and that, with the giblets thereof, is at your service.

ROB. This is more kindness, Grim, than I expected.

GRIM. Nay, sir, if you come home, you shall find it true, I warrant you. All my whole family shall be at your devilship's pleasure, except my poor Joan here, and she is my own proper nightgear.

ROB. Gramercies, but away in haste; The night is almost spent and pass'd.

GRIM. God be with you, sir; I'll make as much haste about it as may be; for, and that were once done, I would begin a new piece of work with you, Joan.

[_Exeunt all but_ ROBIN.

ROB. Now joy betide this merry morn, And keep Grim's forehead from the horn: For Robin bids his last adieu To Grim and all the rest of you. [_Exit_ ROBIN.

_Enter_ CLINTON _alone_.

CLIN. Bright Lucifer, go couch thee in the clouds, And let this morning prove as dark as night! That I unseen may bring to happy end The doctor's murder, which I do intend. 'Tis early yet: he is not so soon stirring. But stir he ne'er so soon, so soon he dies. I'll walk along before the palace gate; Then shall I know how near it is to-day, He shall have no means to escape away.

[_Exit_ CLINTON.

_Enter_ CASTILIANO.

CAS. My trunk's broke open, and my jewels gone! My gold and treasure stol'n: my house despoil'd Of all my furniture, and nothing left? No, not my wife, for she is stol'n away: But she hath pepper'd me, I feel it work-- My teeth are loosen'd, and my belly swell'd; My entrails burn with such distemper'd heat, That well I know my dame hath poison'd me: When she spoke fairest, then she did this act. When I have spoken all I can imagine, I cannot utter half that she intends; She makes as little poisoning of a man, As to carouse; I feel that this is true.

_Enter_ CLINTON.

Nay, now I know too much of womankind. 'Zounds, here's the captain: what should he make here With his sword drawn? there's yet more villany.

CLIN. The morning is far spent; but yet he comes not. I wonder Marian sends him not abroad. Well, doctor, linger time, and linger life; For long thou shalt not breathe upon the earth.

CAS. No, no, I will not live amongst ye long: Is it for me thou wait'st, thou bloody wretch? Her poison hath prevented thee in murther.

_Enter_ EARL MORGAN, ST DUNSTAN _with_ HONOREA _fainting, and_ MARIAN.

Now here be they suppose Earl Lacy dead. See how this lady grieveth for that she wisheth.

DUN. My Lord of London, by his sudden death, And all the signs before his late departure, 'Tis very probable that he is poison'd.

MAR. Do you but doubt it? credit me, my lord, I heard him say that drink should be his last: I heard my husband speak it, and he did it.

CAS. There is my old friend, she always speaks for me. O shameless creature, was't not thy device?

MOR. Let not extremity of grief o'erwhelm thee, My dearest Honorea; for his death shall be Surely reveng'd with all severity Upon the doctor, and that suddenly.

CLIN. What fortune's this, that all these come this way To hinder me, and save thy life to-day?

HON. My gracious lord, this doleful accident Hath robb'd me of my joy: and, royal earl, Though in thy life thou didst suspect my love, My grief and tears suspicions shall remove.

MAR. Madam, to you and to your father's love I owe as much and more than my own life. Had I ten husbands should agree to do it, My gracious lord, you presently should know it.

CAS. Ay, there's a girl! think you I did not well, To live with such a wife, to come from hell.

MAR. Look, look, my lord, there stands the murderer!

CAS. How am I round beset on every side! First, that same captain here stands to kill me; My dame she hath already poisoned me; Earl Morgan he doth threaten present death; The Countess Honorea, in revenge Of Lacy, is extremely incens'd 'gainst me. All threaten--none shall do it; for my date Is now expired, and I must back to hell. And now, my servant, wheresoe'er thou be, Come quickly, Akercock, and follow me. Lordings, adieu, and my curs'd wife, farewell, If me ye seek, come follow me to hell.

[_The ground opens, and they both fall[480] down into it_.

MOR. The earth that opened now is clos'd again.

DUN. It is God's judgment for his grievous sins.

CLIN. Was there a quagmire, that he sank so soon?

HON. O miracle! now may we justly say, Heavens have reveng'd my husband's death this day.

MOR. Alas, poor Marian! we have wrong'd thee much To cause thee match thyself to any such.

MAR. Nay, let him go, and sink into the ground; For such as he are better lost than found. Now, Honorea, we are freed from blame, And both enrich'd with happy widow's name[481].

_Enter_ EARL LACY, _with_ FORREST _and_ MUSGRAVE.

LACY. O, lead me quickly to that mourning train, Which weep for me, who am reviv'd again.

HON. Marian, I shed some tears of perfect grief. [_She falleth into a swoon_.

MOR. Do not my eyes deceive me? liveth my son?

LACY. My lord and father, both alive and well, Recover'd of my weakness. Where's my wife?

MAR. Here is my lady, your beloved wife, Half dead to hear of your untimely end.

LACY. Look on me, Honorea; see thy lord: I am not dead, but live to love thee still.

DUN. 'Tis God disposeth all things, as he will: He raiseth those the wicked wish to fall.

CLIN. 'Zounds, I still watch on this enclosed ground; For if he rise again, I'll murder him.

HON. My lord, my tongue's not able to report Those joys my heart conceives to see thee live.

DUN. Give God the glory: he recovered thee, And wrought this judgment on that cursed man, That set debate and strife among ye all.

MOR. My lord, our eyes have seen a miracle, Which after ages ever shall admire. The Spanish doctor, standing here before us, Is sunk into the bowels of the earth, Ending his vile life by a viler death.

LACY. But, gentle Marian, I bewail thy loss, That wert maid, wife, and widow, all so soon.

MAR. 'Tis your recovery that joys me more, Than grief can touch me for the doctor's death. He never lov'd me whilst he liv'd with me, Therefore the less I mourn his tragedy.

MOR. Henceforth we'll strictlier look to strangers' lives, How they shall marry any English wives. Now all men shall record this fatal day; Lacy revived, the doctor sunk in clay.

[_The trumpets sound, exeunt omnes nisi_ DUNSTAN.

DUN. Now is Earl Lacy's house fill'd full of joy, He and his lady wholly reconcil'd, Their jars all ended: those, that were like men Transformed, turn'd unto their shapes again. And, gentlemen, before we make an end, A little longer yet your patience lend, That in your friendly censures you may see What the infernal synod do decree; And after judge, if we deserve to name This play of ours, _The devil and his dame_. [_Exit_.

_It thunders and lightneth. Enter_ PLUTO, MINOS, AEACUS, RHADAMANTHUS, _with Fury bringing in_ MALBECCO'S _Ghost_.

PLU. Minos, is this the day he should return, And bring us tidings of his twelvemonth spent!

_Enter_ BELPHEGOR, _like a devil, with horns on his head, and_ AKERCOCK.

MIN. It is, great king, and here Belphegor comes.

PLU. His visage is more ghastly than 'twas wont. What ornaments are those upon his head?

BEL. Hell, I salute thee! now I feel myself Rid of a thousand torments. O vile earth, Worse for us devils than hell itself for men! Dread Pluto, hear thy subject's just complaint [BELPHEGOR _kneeleth to_ PLUTO. Proceeding from the anguish of my soul. O, never send me more into the earth! For there dwells dread and horror more than here.

PLU. Stand forth, Belphegor, and report the truth Of all things have betide thee in the world.

BEL. When first, great king, I came into the earth, I chose a wife both young and beautiful, The only daughter to a noble earl; But when the night came that I should her bed, I found another laid there in her stead: And in the morning when I found the change, Though I denied her, I was forc'd to take her. With her I liv'd in such a mild estate, Us'd her still kindly, lov'd her tenderly; Which she requited with such light regard, So loose demeanour, and dishonest life, That she was each man's whore, that was my wife. No hours but gallants flock'd unto my house, Such as she fancied for her loathsome lust, With whom, before my face, she did not spare To play the strumpet. Yea, and more than this, She made my house a stew for all resorts, Herself a bawd to others' filthiness: Which, if I once began but to reprove, O, then, her tongue was worse than all the rest! No ears with patience would endure to hear her, Nor would she ever cease, till I submit[ted]: And then she'd speak me fair, but wish me dead. A hundred drifts she laid to cut me off, Still drawing me to dangers of my life. And now, my twelvemonth being near expir'd, She poison'd me; and least that means should fail, She entic'd a captain to've murdered me. In brief, whatever tongue can tell of ill, All that may well be spoken of my dame.

AKER. Poor Akercock was fain to fly her sight, For never an hour but she laid on me; Her tongue and fist walked all so nimbly.

PLU. Doth then, Belphegor, this report of thine Against all women hold in general?

BEL. Not so, great prince: for, as 'mongst other creatures, Under that sex are mingled good and bad. There are some women virtuous, chaste, and true; And to all those the devil will give their due. But, O, my dame, born for a scourge[482] to man! For no mortality [I] would endure that, Which she a thousand times hath offered me.

PLU. But what new shapes are those upon thy head?

BEL. These are the ancient arms of cuckoldry, And these my dame hath kindly left to me; For which Belphegor shall be here derided, Unless your great infernal majesty Do solemnly proclaim, no devil shall scorn Hereafter still to wear the goodly horn.

PLU. This for thy service I will grant thee freely: All devils shall, as thou dost, like horns wear, And none shall scorn Belphegor's arms to bear. And now, Malbecco, hear thy latest doom. Since that thy first reports are justified By after-proofs, and women's looseness known, One plague more will I send upon the earth! Thou shalt assume a light and fiery shape, And so for ever live within the world; Dive into women's thoughts, into men's hearts; Raise up false rumours and suspicious fears; Put strange inventions into each man's mind; And for these actions they shall always call thee By no name else but fearful Jealousy. Go, Jealousy, begone; thou hast thy charge; Go, range about the world that is so large. And now, for joy Belphegor is return'd, The furies shall their tortures cast away, And all hell o'er we'll make it holiday.

[_It thundereth and lightneth. Exeunt omnes_.

FINIS.

FOOTNOTES:

[1] Cooper's "Athenae Cantabrig," ii. 306.

[2] Nash seems to have boasted of his birth earlier than the date of his "Lenten Stuff," for G. Harvey, in his "Four Letters," &c., 1592, says: "I have enquired what speciall cause the pennyless gentleman hath to brag of his birth, which giveth the woeful poverty good leave, even with his Stentor's voice, and in his rattling terms, to revive the pitiful history of Lazarillo de Thormes."

[3] Not of Hertfordshire, a mistake originally made by Shiel in his "Lives of the Poets," thence copied into Berkenhout's "Biographia Literaria," and subsequently into the last edition of the "Biographia Dramatica." [It is copied also by the editor of a reprint of Nash and Marlowe's "Dido," 1825.]

[4] Sig. Q 4.

[5] "For coming from Venice the last summer, and taking Bergamo in my way homeward to England, it was my hap, sojourning there some four or five days, to light in fellowship with that famous _Francattip_ Harlequin, who, perceiving me to be an Englishman by my habit and speech, asked me many particulars of the order and manner of our plays, which he termed by the name of representations. Amongst other talk he enquired of me if I knew any such _Parabolano_ here in London as Signior _Chiarlatano_ Kempino. 'Very well,' quoth I, 'and have been often in his company.' He hearing me say so began to embrace me anew, and offered me all the courtesy he could for his sake, saying although he knew him not, yet for the report he had heard of his pleasance, he could not but be in love with his perfections being absent."

Many of Nash's works furnish evidence that he was well acquainted with Italian poets and writers. Some allusions and translations are pointed out in the notes to the present reprint of "Summer's Last Will and Testament."

[6] It is called "A counter-cuff to Martin junior," &c.

[7] It may be doubted whether Greene and Nash did not contribute to bring the occupation of a _ropemaker_ into discredit. Marston, in his "_Parasitaster_," printed in 1606, for some reason or other, speaks of it in terms of great contempt.

"Then must you sit there thrust and contemned, bareheaded to a grogram scribe, ready to start up at the door creaking, prest to get in, with your leave sir, to some surly groom, _the third son of a ropemaker_."

[8] There is a MS. poem in the Brit. Mus. (Bibl. Sloan. 1489) entitled "The Trimming of Tom Nash," written in metre-ballad verse, but it does not relate to our author, though written probably not very long after 1600, and though the title is evidently borrowed from the tract by Gabriel Harvey. Near the opening it contains some notices of romances and works of the time, which may be worth quoting--

"And he as many authors read As ere Don Quixote had. And some of them could say by heart To make the hearers glad.

"The valiant deeds of Knight o'th' Sun And Rosicleer so tall; And Palmerin of England too And Amadis of Gaul.

"Bevis of Hampton he had read And Guy of Warwick stout; Huon of Bordeaux, though so long, Yet he had read him out.

"The Hundred Tales and Scoggin's Jests And Arthur of the Round Table, The twelve Wise men of Gotham too And Ballads innumerable."

[9] It is unnecessary to quote the passage, as the whole tract is reprinted both in the old and new editions of the "Harleian Miscellany." In his "Almond for a Parrot," Nash adverts to the ticklishness of the times, and to the necessity of being extremely guarded in what he might write. "If thou (Kemp) will not accept of it in regard of the envy of some citizens that cannot away with arguments, I'll prefer it (the book) to the soul of Dick Tarlton, who I know will entertain it with thanks, imitating herein that merry man Rabelais, who dedicated most of his works to the soul of the old Queen of Navarre, many years after her death, for that she was a maintainer of mirth in her life. Marry, God send us more of her making, and then some of us should not live so discontented as we do, for nowadays a man cannot have a bout with a ballader, or write _Midas habet aures asininas_, in great Roman letters, but he shall be in danger of a further displeasure."

Nash's "Isle of Dogs" was doubtless a satire upon the age, which "touched too near" some persons in authority. In the last act of "The Return from Parnassus" the Isle of Dogs is frequently spoken of, and once as if it were a place of refuge. _Ingenioso_ says: "To be brief, _Academico_, writs are out for me to apprehend me for my plays, and now I am bound for _the Isle of Dogs_."

[10] Sir J. Harington has an epigram upon the paper war between Harvey and Nash.

TO DOCTOR HARVEY OF CAMBRIDGE.

"The proverb says, who fights with dirty foes Must needs be soil'd, admit they win or lose: Then think it doth a Doctor's credit dash To make himself antagonist to Nash."

--B. II., _Epigr_. 36.

[11] _Tergimini_ means the three Harveys, for Gabriel took up the cudgels for himself and his two brothers.

[12] The death of Nash is spoken of in the address to a tract, which is the more curious, as it forms a second part to "Pierce Penniless." It has been assigned to Decker, under the title of "News from Hell;" [and it was reprinted under the title of "A Knight's Conjuring." This issue is included in the Percy Society's series.]

[13] [See the list, however, in "Ath. Cantab.," ii. 307-9, and in Hazlitt's "Handbook," in v.]

[14] In 1589 Nash wrote the address prefixed to Robert Greene's "Menaphon," which contains notices of various preceding and contemporary poets, and which has been admired by all but Mr Malone, for the general purity of its style and the justness of its criticism. As Nash was born in November 1567, he was only in his twenty-second year when it was published.

[15] Parts of "Pierce Penniless, his Supplication to the Devil," are written by Nash in a similar strain of bitter grief for past errors, especially a poem inserted near the commencement. [As to Nash's withdrawal of his apology, see Hazlitt in v.]

"Why is't damnation to despair and die When life is my true happiness' disease? My soul! my soul! thy safety makes me fly The faulty means that might my pain appease. Divines and dying men may talk of hell, But in my heart her several torments dwell.

"Ah, worthless wit, to train me to this woe! Deceitful arts that nourish discontent. Ill thrive the folly that bewitch'd me so, Vain thoughts, adieu, for now I will repent. And yet my wants persuade me to proceed, Since none takes pity of a scholar's need."

The last two lines of the first stanza are given to the Father in "The Yorkshire Tragedy," attributed to Shakespeare.

[16] This play (if it do not more properly come under the class of _shews_, as Nash himself calls it) was not printed until 1600; but internal evidence proves that it was written, and probably performed, as early as the autumn of 1592. Various decisive marks of time are pointed out in notes in the course of the play, the principal of which are, the great drought, the progress of Queen Elizabeth to Oxford, and the breaking out of the plague. The piece was presented at Croydon, at the residence of some nobleman, who is mentioned in many places. The theatres in London were closed at this date in consequence of the mortality. (See Malone's Shakespeare, by Boswell, in. 299, note). In the prologue we are told that the representation was not on a _common stage_.

[17] The subsequent account of Will Sommers, or Summer, King Henry the Eighth's celebrated fool, is from the pen of Robert Armin, an author and actor, who himself often played the clown's part in the time of Shakespeare. It is in his "Nest of Ninnies, _simply of themselves, without compound_," 1608, 4to--

"Will Sommers born in Shropshire, as some say, Was brought to Greenwich on a holiday, Presented to the King; which Fool disdain'd To shake him by the hand, or else asham'd: Howe'er it was, as ancient people say, With much ado was won to it that day. Lean he was, hollow-eyed, as all report. And stoop he did too; yet in all the court, Few men were more belov'd than was this Fool, Whose merry prate kept with the King much rule. When he was sad, the King and he would rhime; Thus Will exiled sadness many a time. I could describe him as I did the rest, But in my mind I do not think it best: My reason this--howe'er I do descry him, So many knew him, that I may belie him; Therefore, to please all people, one by one, I hold it best to let that pains alone. Only thus much: he was a poor man's friend, And help'd the widow often in the end. The King would ever grant what he did crave, For well he knew Will no exacting knave; But wish'd the King to do good deeds great store, Which caus'd the court to love him more and more."

Some few of the personal particulars, here omitted, Nash supplies in the course of this play. [In 1676 a pamphlet was printed, purporting falsely to be] "A pleasant History of the Life and death of Will Summers; how he came first to be known at court, and by what means he got to be King Henry the Eighth's 'Jester.'" It was reprinted by Harding in 1794, with an engraving from an old portrait, supposed to be Will Summer; but if it be authentic, it does not at all support Armin's description of him, that he was "lean and hollow-eyed." Many of the jests are copied from the French and Italian; and [almost all] of them have been assigned also to Scoggin and Tarlton. One or two of these are introduced into S. Rowley's "When you see me you know me," a historical comedy, first printed in 1605, in which Will Summer plays a prominent part.

[18] Hor. Lib. i. Epist. 16, I, 62.

[19] Dick Huntley was, perhaps, the book-holder or prompter who is subsequently mentioned, and whom Will Summer, in the licence of his character, calls by his name. Perhaps his "cousin Ned" was another of the actors. Harry Baker is spoken of in the scene, where Vertumnus is despatched for Christmas and Backwinter.

[20] [The tract here referred to is Robert Copland's poem, called "Jyl of Breyntford's Testament." See Hazlitt's "Handbook," p. 122.] Julian of Brentford, or, as she is here called, Gyllian of Braynford, seems to have been an old woman who had the reputation of possessing supernatural power. In Henslowe's MSS., a play by Thomas Downton and Samuel Ridley, called "Friar Fox and Gillian of Brentford," is mentioned under date of February 1598-9, but it was acted, as appears by the same authority, as early as 5th January 1592. She is noticed in "Westward Hoe!" 1607, where Clare says: "O Master Linstock, 'tis no walking will serve my turn: have me to bed, good, sweet Mistress Honeysuckle. I doubt that _old hag Gillian of Braineford_ has bewitched me." Sig. G 4.

Julian of Brentford's will had been spoken of before by Nash in his epistle "to the Gentlemen Students of both Universities," prefixed to Greene's "Menaphoii," in 1589. "But so farre discrepant is the idle vsage of our unexperienced and illiterated Punies from this prescription, that a tale of Joane a Brainfords Will, and the vnlucky frumenty, will be as soone entertained into their Libraries as the best Poeme that euer Tasso eternisht."

[21] Camden, in his "Annals of the Reign of Queen Elizabeth," thus speaks of the ravages of the plague in 1592-3, "For this whole year the sickness raged violently in London, Saturn passing through the extreme parts of Cancer and the head of Leo, as it did in the year 1563; in so much, that when the year came about, there died of the sickness and other diseases in the city and suburbs, 17,890 persons, besides William Roe, Mayor, and three Aldermen; so that Bartholomew Fair was not kept, and Michaelmas term was held at St Alban's, twenty miles from London."

[22] Vertumnus enters at the same time, but his name is not mentioned in the old 4to at the opening of the scene. He acts the part of a messenger, and, as appears afterwards, was provided with a silver arrow.

[23] Well-flogged.

[24] Hor. lib. i. car. 28--

"Sed omnibus una manet nox, Et calcanda semel via leti."

[25] "The Queen in her summer progress passed through Oxford, and stayed there several days, where she was agreeably entertained with elegant speeches, plays, and disputations, and received a splendid treat from the Lord Buckhurst, Chancellor of the University."--_Camden's "Annals of Elizabeth_." Her progress is again alluded to in that part of the play where Summer makes his will--

"And finally, O words, now cleanse your course, Unto Eliza, that most sacred dame, Whom none but saints and angels ought to name, All my fair days remaining I bequeath, To wait upon her, _till she be return'd_," &c.

[26] The following passage in Gabriel Harvey's "New Letter of Notable Contents, 1593," speaking of Nash, confirms the conjecture that _Falantado_ or _Falanta_ was the burden of a song or ballad at the time:--"Let him be the _Falanta_ down-diddle of rhyme, the hayhohaliday of prose, the welladay of new writers, and the cutthroat of his adversaries."

[27] The hobby-horse was a basket-horse used in morris-dances and May games. See note 37 to Greene's "Tu Quoque."

[28] [Hall, the taborer, mentioned in "Old Meg of Herefordshire," 1609. See the reprint in "Miscellanea Antiqua Anglicana," 1816.]

[29] A vulgar colloquialism for laying a girl on the grass.

[30] He ran in debt to this amount to usurers, who advanced him money by giving him _lute-strings and grey paper_; which he was obliged to sell at an enormous loss. There is a very apposite passage in Nash's "Christ's Tears over Jerusalem," 1593, where he is referring to the resort of spendthrifts and prodigals to usurers for supplies: In the first instance, they obtain what they desire, "but at the second time of their coming, it is doubtful to say whether they shall have money or no: the world grows hard, and we are all mortal: let them make him any assurance before a judge, and they shall have some hundred pounds (_per consequence_) in silks and velvets. The third time if they come, they have baser commodities: the fourth time _lute-strings and grey paper_; and then, I pray pardon me, I am not for you: pay me that you owe me, and you shall have anything."

So also in Greene's and Lodge's "Looking Glass for London and England," 1594, a gentleman thus addresses a usurer, in hopes of inducing him to relent: "I pray you, sir, consider that my loss was great by the commodity I took up: you know, sir, I borrowed of you forty pounds, whereof I had ten pounds in money, and thirty pounds in _lute-strings_, which when I came to sell again, I could get but five pounds for them."

[31] Some case of horse-stealing, which had lately taken place, and which had attracted public attention.

[32] See Collier's "Bibliogr. Catal.," ii. 512. Extr. from Stat. Reg., i. 184, and a woodcut in his "Book of Roxburghe Ballads," 1847, p. 103.

[33] The title of an old ballad. Compare Collier's "Extr. from Stationers' Registers," i. 7, 19, and Rimbault's "Book of Songs and Ballads," p. 83.

[34] The words of Aulus Gellius are these: "Neque mihi," inquit. "aedificatio, neque vasum, neque vestimentum ullum est manupreciosum, neque preciosus servus, neque ancilla est: si quid est," inquit, "quod utar, utor: si non est, egeo: suum cuique per me uti atque frui licet." Tum deinde addit: "Vitio vertunt, quia multa egeo; at ego illis quia nequeunt egere."--Noct. Attic., lib. xiii. c. 23.

[35] Ovid "Rem. Am." l. 749.

[36] Nash seems, from various parts of his works, to have been well read in what are called, though not very properly in English, the burlesque poets of Italy. This praise of poverty in the reply of Ver to the accusation of Summer is one proof of his acquaintance with them. See "Capitolo sopra l'epiteto della poverta, à Messer Carlo Capponi," by Matteo Francesi in the Rime Piacevoli del Berni, Copetta, Francesi, &c., vol. ii. p. 48. Edit. Vicenza, 1609--

"In somma ella non ha si del bestiale, Com' altri stima, perche la natura Del poco si contenta, e si prevale," &c.

[37] [Jesus.]

[38] Sir J. Hawkins, in his "Hist. Music," iv. 479, contends that the _recorder_ was the same instrument as that we now term a _flageolet_. Some have maintained that it is the _flute_. [See Dyce's "Glossary" to his second edit. of _Shakespeare_, in v.]

[39] Chaucer [if at least he had anything to do with the poem,] translates _day's-eye_, or _daisy_, into _margarete_ in French, in the following stanza from his "Flower and the Leaf"--

"Whereto they enclined everichon With great reverence and that full humbly, And at the lust there began anon A lady for to sing right womanly A bargaret in praising the _day's-eye_, For as, methought, among her notes swete, She said, _Si douce est la margarete_."

[40] Nash seems often to have quoted from memory, and here he has either coupled parts of two lines, so as to make one, or he has invented a beginning to the ending of Ovid's "Metam.," ii. 137. [The author seems merely to have introduced scraps of Latin, without much regard to their juxtaposition.]

[41] [A common subject at shows.]

[42] [A _jeu-de-mots_ on the scale in music and the Latin word _sol_.]

[43] [Some play on words is here probably meant. _Eyesore_ quasi _eye-soar_.]

[44] It may be doubtful whether this is the right word. Old copy, _sonne_.

[45] [Old copy, _baddest_.]

[46] [Old copy, _Heber_.]

[47] The quarto reads--

"And as for poetry, _woods_ eloquence."

It is no doubt a misprint for _words' eloquence_, or the eloquence of words.

[48] [Old copy, _source_. The emendation was suggested by Collier.]

[49] [Former edits.--"Envy envieth not outcries unrest." And so the 4to.]

[50] [Old copy, _slight_.]

[51] On this subject Camden tells us: "There was both this summer (1592) and the last so great a drought all England over, that the fields were burnt, and the fountains dried up, and a great many beasts perish'd everywhere for want of water. The Thames likewise, the noblest river of all Britain, and which has as full and large a tide as any in Europe (for it flows twice a day above sixty miles from the mouth of it, and receives an increase from the mixture of many other streams and rivers with it), was, however, sunk to that degree (to the wonder of all men) on the 5th September, that a man might ride over it near London Bridge, so shallow was the channel."

[52] There seems to be no account of this flood, unless it was that which occurred in the autumn of 1579. See Stow's "Annals," edit. 1615, fol. 686, and Collier's "Extr. from Stat. Reg.," ii. 105. There was also a great partial flood in 1571; but it is not mentioned as having affected the Thames.

[53] i.e., Persons who had drunk the Thames water fell ill.

[54] Guesses.

[55] _Had I wist_ is _had I thought_; and the words are often met with as the reproof of imprudence. So afterwards again in this play--

"Young heads count to build on _had I wist_."

[56] Skelton wrote a humorous doggrel piece called the "Tunning of Elinor Rummin," which is here alluded to.

[57] This anecdote is from Aulus Gellius, "Noct. Attic.," lib. xvii. c. 9--

"Asiam tune tenebat imperio rex Darius: is Histiaeus, cum in Persia apud Darium esset, Aristagorae cuipiam res quasdam occultas nuntiare furtivo scripto volebat: comminiscitur opertum hoc literarum admirandum. Servo suo diu oculos aegros habenti capillum ex capite omni, tanquam medendi gratia, deradit, caputque ejus leve in literarum formas compungit: his literis, quae voluerat, perscripsit: hominem postea, quoad capillus adolesceret, domo continuit: ubi id factum est, ire ad Aristagoram jubet; et cum ad eum, inquit, veneris, mandasse me dicito, ut caput tuum, sicut nuper egomet feci, deradat. Servus ut imperatum erat, ad Aristagoram venit, mandatumque domini affert: atque ille id non esse frustra ratus, quod erat mandatum, fecit: ita literae perlatae sunt."

Herodotus "Terps," c. 35, tells the story somewhat differently. The following is Mr Beloe's translation of it:--

"Whilst he was in this perplexity, a messenger arrived from Histiaeus at Susa, who brought with him an express command to revolt, the particulars of which were impressed in legible characters upon his skull. Histiaeus was desirous to communicate his intentions to Aristagoras; but as the ways were strictly guarded, he could devise no other method. He therefore took one of the most faithful of his slaves, and inscribed what we have mentioned upon his skull, being first shaved; he detained the man till his hair was again grown, when he sent him to Miletus, desiring him to be as expeditious as possible: Aristagoras being requested to examine his skull, he discovered the characters which commanded him to commence a revolt. To this measure Histiaeus was induced by the vexation he experienced from his captivity at Susa."

It is pretty evident that Nash took Aulus Gellius as his authority, from the insertion of the circumstance of the defective sight of the servant, which certainly is important, as giving Histiaeus an excuse for shaving his head.

[58] Peter Bales, who is here immortalised, has also received honourable mention in Holinshed's Chronicle. He was supposed by Evelyn to be the inventor of shorthand, but that art was discovered some years earlier by Dr Timothy Bright, who is better known as the author of "A Treatise of Melancholy," which was first published in 1586. Bales was born in 1547, and many of the incidents of his life have come down to us; for while the lives of poets and philosophers are left in obscurity, the important achievements of a writing-master are detailed by contemporaries with laborious accuracy. Mr D'Israeli, in his "Curiosities of Literature," has not scrupled to devote many pages to Bales's contests for superiority with a rival penman of the name of Johnson. Bales was the improver of Dr Bright's system, and, according to his own account in his "Writing Schoolmaster," he was able to keep pace with a moderate speaker. He seems to have been engaged in public life, by acting as secretary where caligraphy was required; and he was at length accused of being concerned in the plot of Lord Essex; but he was afterwards vindicated, and punished his accuser. The greatest performance, that in which his exalted fame may most securely rest, was the writing of the Lord's Prayer, Creed, Decalogue, with two Latin prayers, in the compass of a penny. Brachygraphy had arrived at considerable perfection soon after 1600, and in Webster's "Devil's Law Case," there is a trial scene, in which the following is part of the dialogue--

SANITONELLA. Do you hear, officers? You must take special care that you let in No _brachygraphy_ men to take notes.

1st OFFICER. No. sir.

SANITONELLA. By no means: We cannot have a cause of any fame, But you must have some scurvy pamphlets and lewd ballads Engendered of it presently.

In Heywood's "Pleasant Dialogues and Dramas," 1637, he complains that some persons by stenography had drawn the plot of his play, and put it into print; but he adds (which certainly does not tell much in favour of the perfection of the art as then practised) that it was "scarce one word true."

[59] In the margin opposite "Sol should have been beholding to the barber, and not to the beard-master," the words "_Imberbis Apollo_, a beardless poet," are inserted in the margin.

[60] From what is said here, and in other parts of the play, we may conclude that it was performed either by the children of St Paul's, of the Queen's Chapel, or of the Revels. Afterwards Will Summer, addressing the performers, says to them: "Learn of him, you _diminutive urchins_, how to behave yourselves in your vocations," &c. The epilogue is spoken by a little boy, who sits on Will Summer's knee, and who, after it is delivered, is carried out.

[61] [See Keightley's "Mythology of Ancient Greece and Italy," p. 411, edit. 1854.]

[62] [In allusion to the proverb.]

[63] _Arre_ is meant to indicate the snarling of a dog.

[64] So Machiavelli, in his complete poem, "Dell' Asino d'Oro," makes the Hog, who is maintaining the superiority of the brute creation to man, say of beasts in general--

"Questa san meglior usar color che sanno Senz' altra disciplina per se stesso Seguir lor bene et evitar lor danno."--Cap. viii.

[65] [Old copy, _I, and his deep insight_.]

[66] An allusion to Sebastian Brandt's "Ship of Fools," translated by Alexander Barclay.

[67] So in "the second three-man's song," prefixed to Dekker's "Shoemaker's Holiday," 1600, though in one case the bowl was _black_, in the other _brown_--

"_Trowl the bowl_, the jolly _nut-brown_ bowl; And here, kind mate, to thee! Let's sing a dirge for Saint Hugh's soul, And drown it merrily_."

It seems probable that this was a harvest-home song, usually sung by reapers in the country: the chorus or burden, "Hooky, hooky," &c. is still heard in some parts of the kingdom, with this variation--

"Hooky, hooky, we have shorn, And bound what we did reap, And we have brought the harvest home, To make bread good and cheap."

Which is an improvement, inasmuch as harvests are not brought home _to town_.

[68] Shakespeare has sufficiently shown this in the character of Francis, the drawer, in "Henry IV. Part I."

[69] [A play on the double meaning of the word].

[70] In the original copy this negative is by some accident thrust into the next line, so as to destroy at once the metre and the meaning. It is still too much in the first line.

[71] This expression must allude to the dress of Harvest, which has many ears of wheat about it in various parts. Will Summer, after Harvest goes out, calls him, on this account, "a bundle of straw," and speaks of his "thatched suit."

[72] A line from a well-known ballad of the time.

[73] [Old copy, _attract_.]

[74] In allusion to the ears of corn, straw, &c., with which he was dressed.

[75] Old copy, _God's_.

[76] The exclamations of a carter to his horse. In "John Bon and Mast. Person" (Hazlitt's "Popular Poetry," iv. 16), it is _haight, ree_.

[77] Old copy, _had_.

[78] i.e., Cheated.

[79] A play upon the similarity of sound between _vetches_ and _fetches_. In the old copy, to render it the more obvious, they are spelt alike.

[80] Mr Todd found this word in Baret's "Alveary," 1580, as well as in Cotgrave; but he quotes no authority for the signification he attaches to it--viz., a _lubber_. Nash could have furnished him with a quotation: it means an idle lazy fellow.

[81] Alluding to the attraction of straw by jet. See this point discussed in Sir Thos. Brown's "Vulgar Errors," b. ii. c. 4.

[82] [Old copy, _I had_.]

[83] [Old copy, _there_.]

[84] This song is quoted, and a long dissertation inserted upon it, in the notes to "Henry IV. Part II." act v. sc. ii., where Silence gives the two last lines in drinking with Falstaff. _To do a man right_ was a technical expression in the art of drinking. It was the challenge to pledge. None of the commentators on Shakespeare are able to explain at all satisfactorily what connection there is between _Domingo_ and a drinking song. Perhaps we should read Domingo as two words, i.e., _Do_ [mine] _Mingo_.

[85] [Old copy, _patinis_.]

[86] Horace, lib. i. car. 37--

"Nunc est bibendum, nunc pede libero Pulsanda tellus."

[87] [Old copy, _epi_.]

[88] [A line out of a ballad.]

[89] Micher, in this place, signifies what we now call a flincher: in general, it means a truant--one who lurks and hides himself out of the way. See Mr Gifford's short note on Massinger's "Guardian," act iii. sc. v., and Mr Steevens' long note on Shakespeare's "Henry IV. Part I."