ACT IV

=4. 1. 1 referring to Commissioners.= In the lists of patents we frequently read of commissions specially appointed for examination of the patent under consideration. The King’s seal was of course necessary to render the grant valid.

=4. 1. 5 S^r. Iohn Monie-man.= See Introduction, p. lxxiii.

=4. 1. 37 I will haue all piec’d.= Cf. _Mag. La._, _Wks._ 6. 50:

_Item._ I heard they were out. _Nee._ But they are pieced, and put together again.

=4. 1. 38 ill solder’d!= Cf. _The Forest_, 12, _Epistle to Elizabeth_, etc.; ‘Solders cracked friendship.’

=4. 2. 11 Haue with ’hem.= ‘An idea borrowed from the gaming table, being the opposite of “have at them.”’--C.

=4. 2. 11 the great Carroch.= See note 1. 6. 214.

=4. 2. 12 with my Ambler, bare.= See note 4. 4. 202.

=4. 2. 22 I not loue this.= See note 1. 6. 14.

=4. 2. 26 Tooth-picks.= This was an object of satire to the dramatists of the period. Nares says that they ‘appear to have been first brought into use in Italy; whence the travellers who had visited that country, particularly wished to exhibit that symbol of gentility.’ It is referred to as the mark of a traveller by Shakespeare, _King John_, 1. 1 (cited by Gifford):

--Now your traveller, He, and his tooth-pick, at my worship’s mess.

Overbury (_Character_ of _An Affected Traveller_, ed. Morley, p. 35) speaks of the _pick-tooth_ as ‘a main part of his behavior.’

It was also a sign of foppery. Overbury (p. 31) describes the courtier as wearing ‘a pick-tooth in his hat,’ and Massinger, _Grand Duke of Florence_, Act 3 (quoted by Nares), mentions ‘my case of tooth-picks, and my silver fork’ among the articles ‘requisite to the making up of a signior.’ John Earle makes a similar reference in his _Character_ of _An Idle Gallant_ (ed. Morley, p. 179), and Furnivall (Stubbes’ _Anatomy_, p. 77) quotes from _Laugh and lie downe_: or _The worldes Folly_, London, 1605, 4to: ‘The next was a nimble-witted and glib-tongu’d fellow, who, having in his youth spent his wits in the Arte of love, was now become the jest of wit.... The picktooth in the mouth, the flower in the eare, the brush upon the beard; ... and what not that was unneedefull,’ etc.

It is a frequent subject of satire in Jonson. Cf. _Ev. Man out_, _Wks._ 2. 124; _Cyn. Rev._, _Wks._ 2. 218, 248; _Fox_, _Wks._ 3. 266. See also Dekker, _Wks._ 3. 280.

=4. 2. 63 What vile Fucus is this.= The abuse of face-painting is a favorite subject of satire with the moralists and dramatists of the period. Stubbes (_Anatomy of Abuses_, Part 1, pp. 64-8) devotes a long section to the subject. Dr. Furnivall in the notes to this passage, pp. 271-3, should also be consulted. Brome satirizes it in the _City Wit_, _Wks._ 2. 300. Lady Politick Would-be in the _Fox_ is of course addicted to the habit, and a good deal is said on the subject in _Epicoene_. Dekker (_West-ward Hoe_, _Wks._ 2. 285) has a passage quite similar in spirit to Jonson’s satire.

=4. 2. 71 the very Infanta of the Giants!= Cf. Massinger and Field, _Fatal Dowry_ 4. 1: ‘O that I were the infanta queen of Europe!’ Pecunia in the _Staple of News_ is called the ‘Infanta of the mines.’ Spanish terms were fashionable at this time. Cf. the use of _Grandees_, 1. 3. It is possible that the reference here is to the Infanta Maria. See Introduction, p. xviii.

=4. 3. 5, 6 It is the manner of Spaine, to imbrace onely, Neuer to kisse.= Cf. Minsheu’s _Pleasant and Delightfull Dialogues,_ pp. 51-2: ‘_W._ I hold that the greatest cause of dissolutenesse in some women in England is this custome of kissing publikely.... _G._ In Spaine doe not men vse to kisse women? _I._ Yes the husbands kisse their wiues, but as if it were behinde seuen walls, where the very light cannot see them.’

=4. 3. 33 f. Decayes the fore-teeth, that should guard the tongue;= etc. Cf. _Timber_, ed. Schelling, 13. 24: ‘It was excellently said of that philosopher, that there was a wall or parapet of teeth set in our mouth, to restrain the petulancy of our words; that the rashness of talking should not only be retarded by the guard and watch of our heart, but be fenced in and defended by certain strengths placed in the mouth itself, and within the lips.’

Professor Schelling quotes Plutarch, _Moralia, de Garrulitate_ 3, translated by Goodwin: ‘And yet there is no member of human bodies that nature has so strongly enclosed within a double fortification as the tongue, entrenched within a barricade of sharp teeth, to the end that, if it refuses to obey and keep silent when reason “presses the glittering reins” within, we should fix our teeth in it till the blood comes rather than suffer inordinate and unseasonable din’ (4. 223).

=4. 3. 39 Mad-dames.= See variants. The editors have taken out of the jest whatever salt it possessed, and have supplied meaningless substitutes. Gifford followed the same course in his edition of Ford (see Ford’s _Wks._ 2. 81), where, however, he changes to Mad-dam. Such gratuitous corruptions are inexplicable. Cf. _Tale Tub_, _Wks._ 6. 172:

Here is a strange thing call’d a lady, a mad-dame.

=4. 3. 45 Their seruants.= A common term for a lover. Cf. _Sil. Wom._, _Wks._ 3. 364.

=4. 3. 51.= See variants. There are several mistakes in the assignment of speeches throughout this act. Not all of Gifford’s changes, however, are to be accepted without question. Evidently, if the question _where?_ is to be assigned to Wittipol, the first speech must be an aside, as it is inconceivable that Merecraft should introduce Fitzdottrel first under his own name, and then as the ‘Duke of Drown’d-land.’

My conception of the situation is this: Pug is playing the part of gentleman usher. He enters and announces to Merecraft that Fitzdottrel and his wife are coming. Merecraft whispers: ‘Master Fitzdottrel and his wife! where?’ and then, as they enter, turns to Wittipol and introduces them; ‘Madame,’ etc.

=4. 4. 30 Your Allum Scagliola=, etc. Many of the words in this paragraph are obscure, and a few seem irrecoverable. Doubtless Jonson picked them up from various medical treatises and advertisements of his day. I find no trace of _Abezzo_, which may of course be a misprint for Arezzo. The meanings assigned to _Pol-dipedra_ and _Porcelletto Merino_ are unsatisfactory. Florio gives ‘_Zucca_: a gourd; a casting bottle,’ but I have been unable to discover _Mugia_. The loss of these words is, to be sure, of no moment. Two things illustrative of Jonson’s method are sufficiently clear. (1) The articles mentioned are not, as they seem at first, merely names coined for the occasion. (2) They are a polyglot jumble, intended to make proficiency in the science of cosmetics as ridiculous as possible. It is worth while to notice, however, that this list of drugs is carefully differentiated from the list at 4. 4. 142 f., which contains the names of sweetmeats and perfumes.

=4. 4. 32, 3 Soda di leuante, Or your Ferne ashes.= Soda-ash is still the common trade name of sodium carbonate. In former times soda was chiefly obtained from natural deposits and from the incineration of various plants growing by the sea-shore. These sources have become of little importance since the invention of artificial soda by Leblanc toward the end of the eighteenth century (see _Soda_ in _CD._). Florio’s definition of soda is: ‘a kind of Ferne-ashes whereof they make glasses.’ Cf. also W. Warde, Tr. _Alessio’s Secr._, Pt. 1 fol. 78^{m} 1º: ‘Take an vnce of Soda (which is asshes made of grasse, whereof glassemakers do vse to make their Cristall).’ In Chaucer’s _Squire’s Tale_ (11. 254 f.) the manufacture of glass out of ‘fern-asshen’ is mentioned as a wonder comparable to that of Canacee’s ring.

=4. 4. 33 Beniamin di gotta.= The _Dict. d’Histoire Naturelle_, Paris, 1843, 2. 509, gives: ‘Benjoin. Sa teinture, étendue d’eau, sert à la toilette sous le nom de _Lait virginal_.’ See 4. 4. 52.

=4. 4. 38 With a piece of scarlet.= Lady Politick Would-be’s remedies in the _Fox_ are to be ‘applied with a right scarlet cloth.’ Scarlet was supposed to be of great efficacy in disease. See Whalley’s note on the _Fox_, _Wks._ 3. 234.

=4. 4. 38, 9 makes a Lady of sixty Looke at sixteen.= Cunningham thinks this is a reference to the _In decimo sexto_ of line 50.

=4. 4. 39, 40 the water Of the white Hen, of the Lady Estifanias!= The Lady Estifania seems to have been a dealer in perfumes and cosmetics. In _Staple of News_, _Wks._ 5. 166, we read: ‘Right Spanish perfume, the lady Estifania’s.’ Estefania is the name of a Spanish lady in B. & Fl.’s _Rule a Wife_.

=4. 4. 47 galley-pot.= Mistresse Gallipot is the name of a tobacconist in Dekker’s and Middleton’s _Roaring Girle_.

=4. 4. 50 In decimo sexto.= This is a bookbinder’s or printer’s term, ‘applied to books, etc., a leaf of which is one-sixteenth of a full sheet or signature.’ It is equivalent to ‘16mo.’ and hence metaphorically used to indicate ‘a small compass, miniature’ (see _Stanford_, p. 312). In _Cyn. Rev._, _Wks._ 2. 218, Jonson says: ‘my braggart in decimo sexto!’ Its use is well exemplified in John Taylor’s _Works_, sig. L_1 v^{0/1}: ‘when a mans stomache is in Folio, and knows not where to haue a dinner in Decimo sexto.’ The phrase is fairly common in the dramatic literature. See Massinger, _Unnat. Combat_ 3. 2; Middleton, _Father Hubburd’s Tales_, _Wks._ 8 64, etc. In the present passage, however, the meaning evidently required is ‘perfect: ’spotless,’ and no doubt refers to the comparative perfection of a sexto decimo, or perhaps to the perfection naturally to be expected of any work in miniature.

=4. 4. 52 Virgins milke for the face.= Cf. John French, _Art Distill._. Bk. 5. p. 135 (1651): ‘This salt being set in a cold cellar on a marble stone, and dissolved into an oil, is as good as any _Lac virginis_ to clear, and smooth the face.’ _Lac Virginis_ is spoken of twice in the _Alchemist_, Act 2, but probably in neither case is the cosmetic referred to. See Hathaway’s edition, p. 293. Nash speaks of the cosmetic in _Pierce Pennilesse_, _Wks._ 2. 44: ‘She should haue noynted your face ouer night with _Lac virginis_.’

=4. 4. 55 Cataputia.= Catapuce is one of the laxatives that Dame Pertelote recommended to Chauntecleer in Chaucer’s _Nonne Preestes Tale_, l. 145.

=4. 4. 63 Doe not you dwindle.= The use of _dwindle_ in this sense is very rare. _NED._ thinks it is ‘probably a misuse owing to two senses of _shrink_.’ It gives only a single example, _Alch._, _Wks._ 4. 163: ‘Did you not hear the coil about the door? _Sub._ Yes, and I dwindled with it.’ Besides the two instances in Jonson I have noticed only one other, in Ford, _Fancies chaste and noble_, _Wks._ 2. 291: ‘_Spa._ Hum, how’s that? is he there, with a wanion! then do I begin to dwindle.’

=4. 4. 69 Cioppino’s.= The source of this passage, with the anecdote which follows, seems to be taken from Coryat’s _Crudities_ (ed. 1776, 2. 36, 7): ‘There is one thing vsed of the Venetian women, and some others dwelling in the cities and towns subject to the Signiory of Venice, that is not to be obserued (I thinke) amongst any other women in Christendome: which is so common in Venice, that no woman whatsoeuer goeth without it, either in her house or abroad; a thing made of wood, and couered with leather of sundry colors, some with white, some redde, some yellow. It is called a Chapiney, which they weare vnder their shoes. Many of them are curiously painted; some also I haue seene fairely gilt: so vncomely a thing (in my opinion) that it is pitty this foolish custom is not cleane banished and exterminated out of the citie. There are many of these Chapineys of a great heigth, euen half a yard high, which maketh many of their women that are very short, seeme much taller then the tallest women we haue in England. Also I haue heard that this is obserued amongst them, that by how much the nobler a woman is, by so much the higher are her Chapineys. All their Gentlewomen, and most of their wiues and widowes that are of any wealth, are assisted and supported eyther by men or women when they walke abroad, to the end they may not fall. They are borne vp most commonly by the left arme, otherwise they might quickly take a fall. For I saw a woman fall a very dangerous fall as she was going down the staires of one of the little stony bridges with her high Chapineys alone by her selfe: but I did nothing pitty her, because shee wore such friuolous and (as I may truely term them) ridiculous instruments, which were the occasion of her fall. For both I myselfe, and many other strangers (as I haue obserued in Venice) haue often laughed at them for their vaine Chapineys.’

=4. 4. 71, 2 Spanish pumps Of perfum’d leather.= Pumps are first mentioned in the sixteenth century (Planché). A reference to them occurs in _Midsummer Night’s Dream_, 1593-4, 4. 2. They were worn especially by footmen.

Spanish leather was highly esteemed at this time. Stubbes (_Anat. of Abuses_, Part 1, p. 77) says: ‘They haue korked shooes, pinsnets, pantoffles, and slippers, ... some of spanish leather, and some of English lether.’ Marston (_Dutch Courtezan_, _Wks._ 2. 7) speaks of a ‘Spanish leather jerkin,’ and Middleton (_Father Hubburd’s Tales_, _Wks._ 8. 70) of ‘a curious pair of boots of King Philip’s leather,’ and a little farther on (_Wks._ 8. 108) of Spanish leather shoes. Fastidious Brisk’s boots are made of the same material (_Ev. Man out_, _Wks._ 2. 147). Cf. also Dekker, _Wks._ 2. 305.

Perfumes were much in fashion, and Stubbes’ _Anatomy_ has a great deal to say on the subject. We hear of perfumed jerkins in Marston’s _Malcontent_ (_Wks._ 1. 314) and in _Cynthia’s Revels_ (_Wks._ 2. 325). Spanish perfume for gloves is spoken of in the latter play (p. 328) and in the _Alchemist_ (_Wks._ 4. 131) ‘your Spanish titillation in a glove’ is declared to be the best perfume.

=4. 4. 77, 8 The Guardo-duennas, such a little old man,= =As this.= Minsheu gives the definition: ‘Escudero, m. An Esquire, a Seruingman that waits on a Ladie or Gentlewoman, in Spaine neuer but old men and gray beards.’

=4. 4. 81 flat spred, as an Vmbrella.= The umbrella of the seventeenth century seems to have been used exclusively to protect the face from the sun. Blount, _Glossographia_, 1670, gives: ‘_Umbrello_ (Ital. Ombrella), a fashion of round and broad Fans, wherewith the Indians (and from them our great ones) preserve themselves from the heat of the sun or fire; and hence any little shadow, Fan, or other thing wherewith women guard their faces from the sun.’

It was apparently not in use in England when Coryat published his _Crudities_, which contains the following description (1. 135): ‘Also many of them doe carry other fine things of a far greater price, that will cost at the least a duckat, which they commonly call in the Italian tongue _vmbrellaes_, that is, things that minister shadow unto them for shelter against the scorching heate of the sunne. These are made of leather something answerable to the forme of a little cannopy, & hooped in the inside with diuers little wooden hoopes that extend the _vmbrella_ in a pretty large compasse.’

‘As a defense from rain or snow it was not used in western Europe till early in the eighteenth century.’--_CD._

=4. 4. 82 Her hoope.= A form of the farthingale (fr. Sp. _Verdugal_) was worn in France, Spain, and Italy, and in England as early as 1545. It gradually increased in size, and Elizabeth’s farthingale was enormous. The aptness of the comparison can be appreciated by reading Coryat’s description of the umbrella above.

=4. 4. 87 An Escudero.= See note 4. 4. 77, 8.

=4. 4. 97 If no body should loue mee, but my poore husband.= Cf. _Poetaster_, _Wks._ 2. 444: ‘Methinks a body’s husband does not so well at court; a body’s friend, or so--but, husband! ’tis like your clog to your marmoset,’ etc.

=4. 4. 134 your Gentleman-vsher.= ‘Gentleman-Usher. Originally a state-officer, attendant upon queens, and other persons of high rank, as, in Henry VIII, Griffith is gentleman-usher to Queen Catherine; afterwards a private affectation of state, assumed by persons of distinction, or those who pretended to be so, and particularly ladies. He was then only a sort of upper servant, out of livery, whose office was to hand his lady to her coach, and to walk before her bare-headed, though in later times she leaned upon his arm.’--Nares.

Cf. Dekker, _West-ward Hoe_, _Wks._ 2. 324: ‘Weare furnisht for attendants as Ladies are, We have our fooles, and our Vshers.’

The sources for a study of the gentleman-usher are the present play, _The Tale of a Tub_, and Chapman’s _Gentleman Usher_. In the _Staple of News_ the Lady Pecunia is provided with a gentleman-usher. The principal duties of this office seem to have consisted in being sent on errands, handing the lady to her coach, and preceding her on any occasion where ceremony was demanded. In Chapman’s play Lasso says that the disposition of his house for the reception of guests was placed in the hands of this servant (cf. Chapman, _Wks._ 1. 263 f.). Innumerable allusions occur in which the requirement of going bare-headed is mentioned (see note on 4. 4. 202). Another necessary quality was a fine pace, which is alluded to in the present character’s name (see also note 4. 4. 201). An excellent description of the gentleman-usher will be found in Nares’ _Glossary,_ quoting from Lenton’s _Leasures_, a book published in 1631, and now very rare.

=4. 4. 142 the Dutchesse of Braganza.= Braganza is the ruling house of Portugal. Dom John, Duke of Braganza, became king of Portugal in 1640.

=4. 4. 143 Almoiauna.= The _Stanford Dictionary_ gives: ‘Almojabana, Sp. fr. Arab. _Al-mojabbana_: cheese-and-flour cake. Xeres was famed for this dainty, which is named from Arabic _jobn_ = “cheese.”’

=4. 4. 147 Marquesse Muja.= Apparently a Spanish marquise, occupying a position in society similar to that of Madame Récamier.

=4. 4. 156 A Lady of spirit.= With this line and lines 165 f. cf. _U._ 32, _Wks._ 8. 356:

To be abroad chanting some bawdy song, And laugh, and measure thighs, then squeak, spring, itch, Do all the tricks of a salt lady bitch! --For these with her young company she’ll enter, Where Pitts, or Wright, or Modet would not venture; (Fol. reads ‘venter’) And come by these degrees the style t’inherit Of woman of fashion, and a lady of spirit.

=4. 4. 164 Pimlico.= See note 3. 3. 170.

=4. 4. 164 daunce the Saraband.= The origin of the saraband is in doubt, being variously attributed to Spain and to the Moors. It is found in Europe at the beginning of the sixteenth century, and its immoral character is constantly referred to. Grove (_Dict. of Music_ 3. 226) quotes from chapter 12, ‘Del baile y cantar llamado Zarabanda,’ of the _Tratado contra los Juegos Publicos_ (‘Treatise against Public Amusements’) of Mariana (1536-1623): ‘Entre las otras invenciones ha salido estos años un baile y cantar tan lacivo en las palabras, tan feo en las meneos, que basta para pegar fuego aun á las personas muy honestas’ (‘amongst other inventions there has appeared during late years a dance and song, so lascivious in its words, so ugly in its movements, that it is enough to inflame even very modest people’). ‘This reputation was not confined to Spain, for Marini in his poem “L’Adone” (1623) says:

Chiama questo suo gioco empio e profano Saravanda, e Ciaccona, il nuova Ispano.

Padre Mariana, who believed in its Spanish origin, says that its invention was one of the disgraces of the nation, and other authors attribute its invention directly to the devil. The dance was attacked by Cervantes and Guevara, and defended by Lope de Vega, but it seems to have been so bad that at the end of the reign of Philip II. it was for a time suppressed. It was soon, however, revived in a purer form and was introduced at the French court in 1588’ (Grove 3. 226-7).

In England the saraband was soon transformed into an ordinary country-dance. Two examples are to be found in the first edition of Playford’s _Dancing Master_, and Sir John Hawkins (_Hist. of the Science and Practice of Music_, 1776) speaks of it several times. ‘Within the memory of persons now living,’ he says, a Saraband danced by a Moor was constantly a part of the entertainment at a puppet-show’ (4. 388). In another place (2. 135), in speaking of the use of castanets at a puppet-show, he says: ‘That particular dance called the Saraband is supposed to require as a thing of necessity, the music, if it may be called so, of this artless instrument.’

In the _Staple of News_, _Wks._ 5. 256, Jonson speaks of ‘a light air! the bawdy Saraband!’

=4. 4. 165 Heare, and talke bawdy; laugh as loud, as a larum.= Jonson satirizes these vices again in _U. 67_ (see note 4. 4. 156) and _Epigrams_ 48 and _115_. Dekker (_Guls Horne-booke_, _Non-dram. Wks._ 2. 238) advises the young gallant to ‘discourse as lowd as you can, no matter to what purpose, ... and laugh in fashion, ... you shall be much obserued.’

=4. 4. 172 Shee must not lose a looke on stuffes, or cloth.= It being the fashion to ‘swim in choice of silks and tissues,’ plain woolen cloth was despised. =4. 4. 187 Blesse vs from him!= Preserve us. A precaution against any evil that might result from pronouncing the devil’s name. Cf. _Knight of the Burning Pestle_ 2. 1: Sure the devil (God bless us!) is in this springald!’ and Wilson, _The Cheats_, Prologue:

No little pug nor devil,--bless us all!

=4. 4. 191, 2 What things they are? That nature should be at leasure= =Euer to make ’hem!= Cf. _Ev. Man in_, _Wks._ 1. 119: ‘O manners that this age should bring forth such creatures! that nature should be at leisure to make them!’

=4. 4. 197 Hee makes a wicked leg.= Gifford thinks that _wicked_ here means ‘awkward or clownish.’ It seems rather to mean ‘roguish,’ a common colloquial use.

=4. 4. 201 A setled discreet pase.= Cf. 3. 5. 22; 2. 7. 33; and Dekker, _Guls Horne-booke_, _Non-dram. Wks._ 2. 238: ‘Walke vp and downe by the rest as scornfully and as carelesly as a Gentleman-Usher.’

=4. 4. 202 a barren head, Sir.= Cf. 2. 3. 36, 7 and 4. 2. 12. Here again we have a punning allusion to the uncovered head of the gentleman-usher. ‘It was a piece of state, that the servants of the nobility, particularly the gentleman-usher, should attend bare-headed.’ Nares, _Gloss._ For numerous passages illustrating the practice both in regard to the gentleman-usher and to the coachman, see the quotations in Nares, and Ford, _Lover’s Melancholy_, _Wks._ 1. 19; Chapman, _Gentleman-Usher_, _Wks._ 1. 263; and the following passage, _ibid._ 1. 273:

_Vin._ I thanke you sir. Nay pray be couerd; O I crie you mercie, You must be bare. _Bas._ Euer to you my Lord. _Vin._ Nay, not to me sir, But to the faire right of your worshipfull place.

A passage from Lenton (see note 4. 4. 134) may also be quoted: ‘He is forced to stand bare, which would urge him to impatience, but for the hope of being covered, or rather the delight hee takes in shewing his new-crisp’t hayre, which his barber hath caused to stand like a print hedge, in equal proportion.’

The dramatists ridiculed it by insisting that the coachman should be not only bare-headed, but bald. Cf. 2. 3. 36 and Massinger, _City Madam_, _Wks._ p. 331: ‘Thou shalt have thy proper and bald-headed coachman.’ Jonson often refers to this custom. Cf. _Staple of News_, _Wks._ 5. 232:

Such as are bald and barren beyond hope, Are to be separated and set by For ushers to old countesses: and coachmen To mount their boxes reverently, etc.

_New Inn_, _Wks._ 5. 374:

_Jor._ Where’s thy hat?... _Bar._ The wind blew’t off at Highgate, and my lady Would not endure me light to take it up; But made me drive bareheaded in the rain. _Jor._ That she might be mistaken for a countess?

Cf. also _Mag. La._, _Wks._ 6. 36, and _Tale Tub_, _Wks._ 6. 217 and 222.

=4. 4. 204 his Valley is beneath the waste.= ‘Waist’ and ‘waste’ were both spelled _waste_ or _wast_. Here, of course, is a pun on the two meanings.

=4. 4. 206 Dulnesse vpon you! Could not you hit this?= Cf. _Bart. Fair_, _Wks._ 4. 358: ‘Now dullness upon me, that I had not that before him.’

=4. 4. 209 the French sticke.= Walking-sticks of various sorts are mentioned during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. ‘In Chas. II.’s time the French walking-stick, with a ribbon and tassels to hold it when passed over the wrist, was fashionable, and continued so to the reign of George II.’ (Planché).

=4. 4. 215, 6 report the working, Of any Ladies physicke.= In Lenton’s _Leasures_ (see note 4.4.134) we find: ‘His greatest vexation is going upon sleevelesse arrands, to know whether some lady slept well last night, or how her physick work’d i’ th’ morning, things that savour not well with him; the reason that ofttimes he goes but to the next taverne, and then very discreetly brings her home a tale of a tubbe.’

Cf. also B. & Fl., _Fair Maid of the Inn_ 2. 2: ‘_Host._ And have you been in England?... But they say ladies there take physic for fashion.’

Dekker, _Guls Horne-booke_, _Non-dram. Wks._ 2. 255, speaks of ‘a country gentleman that brings his wife vp to learne the fashion, see the Tombs at Westminster, the Lyons in the Tower, or to take physicke.’ In the 1812 reprint the editor observes that in Jonson’s time ‘fanciful or artful wives would often persuade their husbands to take them up to town for the advantage of _physick_, when the principal object was dissipation.’

=4. 4. 219 Corne-cutter.= This vulgar suggestion renders hopeless Pug’s pretensions to gentility. Corncutters carried on a regular trade (see _Bart. Fair_ 2. 1.), and were held in the greatest contempt, as we learn from Nash (_Four Letters Confuted_, _Wks._ 2. 211).

=4. 4. 232 The Moone.= I. e., see that the moon and zodiacal sign are propitious.

=4. 4. 235 Get their natiuities cast!= Astrology was a favorite subject of satire. Cf. Massinger, _City Madam_ 2. 2; B. & Fl., _Rollo Duke of Normandy_ 4. 2, etc.

=4. 5. 31, 2 his valour has At the tall board bin question’d.= _Tall board_ is, I think, the same as _table-board_, a gaming-table. In Dyce’s edition of Webster’s _Devil’s Law Case_ (_Wks._ 2. 38) we read: ‘shaking your elbow at the table-board.’ Dyce says in a note that the old folio reads _Taule-board_. _Tables_ is derived from Lat. _Tabularum lusus_ › Fr. _Tables_. The derivation, _table_ › _tavl_ › _taul_ › _tall_, presents no etymological difficulties. A note from Professor Joseph Wright of Oxford confirms me in my theory.

The passage seems to mean that Merecraft was accused of cheating, and, his valor not rising to the occasion, his reputation for honesty was left somewhat in doubt.

=4. 6. 38-41 intitle Your vertue, to the power, vpon a life ... Euen to forfeit.= Wittipol is ‘wooing in language of the pleas and bench.’ Cf. 4. 7. 62.

=4. 6. 42 We haue another leg-strain’d, for this Dottrel.= See variants, and note 2. 2. 49, 50.

=4. 6. 49 A Phrentick.= See note 5. 8. 91-2.

=4. 7. 37-40.= See variants. Gifford silently follows Whalley’s changes, which are utterly unwarrantable. Cunningham points out the wrong division in 37, 8. The scansion is thus indicated by Wilke (_Metrische Untersuchungen_, p. 3):

Of a/ most wor/thy gen/tleman./ Would one Of worth/ had spoke/ it: whence/ it comes,/ it is Rather/ a shame/ to me,/ ͝ then/ a praise.

The missing syllable in the third verse is compensated for by the pause after the comma. This is quite in accordance with Jonson’s custom (see Wilke, p. 1 f.).

=4. 7. 45 Publication.= See 3. 3. 137.

=4. 7. 54 I sou’t him.= See variants. Gifford says that he can make nothing of _sou’t_ but _sought_ and _sous’d_, and that he prefers the latter. Dyce (_Remarks_) confidently asserts that the word is the same as _shue_, ‘to frighten away poultry,’ and Cunningham accepts this without question. There seems, however, to be no confirmation for the theory that the preterit was ever spelt _sou’t_. Wright’s _Dialect Dictionary_ gives: ‘_Sough._ 19. to strike; to beat severely,’ but the pronunciation here seems usually to be _souff_. Professor Wright assures me that _sous’d_ is the correct reading, and that the others are ‘mere stupid guesses.’

=4. 7. 62 in possibility.= A legal phrase used of contingent interests. See note 4. 6. 38, 9.

=4. 7. 65 Duke O’ Shore-ditch.= ‘A mock title of honour, conferred on the most successful of the London archers, of which this account is given:

When Henry VIII became king, he gave a prize at Windsor to those who should excel at this exercise, (archery) when Barlo, one of his guards, an inhabitant of Shoreditch, acquired such honor as an archer, that the king created him _duke of Shoreditch_, on the spot. This title, together with that of marquis of Islington, earl of Pancridge, etc., was taken from these villages, in the neighborhood of Finsbury fields, and continued so late as 1683. Ellis’s _History of Shoreditch_, p. 170.

The latest account is this: In 1682 there was a most magnificent entertainment given by the Finsbury archers, when they bestowed the title of _duke of Shoreditch_, etc., upon the most deserving. The king was present. _Ibid._ 173.’--Nares, _Gloss_.

Entick (_Survey_ 2. 65) gives an interesting account of a match which took place in 1583. The Duke of Shoreditch was accompanied on this occasion by the ‘marquises of _Barlow_, _Clerkenwell_, _Islington_, _Hoxton_, and _Shaklewell_, the earl of _Pancras_, etc. These, to the number of 3000, assembled at the place appointed, sumptuously apparelled, and 942 of them had gold chains about their necks. They marched from merchant-taylors-hall, preceded by whifflers and bellmen, that made up the number 4000, besides pages and footmen; performing several exercises and evolutions in _Moorfields_, and at last shot at the target for glory in _Smithfield_.’

=4. 7. 69 Ha’.= See variants. The original seems to me the more characteristic reading.

=4. 7. 84 after-game.= Jonson uses the expression again in the _New Inn, Wks._ 5. 402:

And play no after-games of love hereafter.