CHAPTER XVI

THE DOMESTIC UFE OF SHAKSPERE'S TIME— U
ANNOUNCED in my last lecture that the present one would consist of I romance which 1 had made, in which, taking Shakspere for a hero, I pro- posed to weave a picture of the man- ners of his contemporaries, and so complete my account of Domestic Life in Shaksperc's Time. In coming to put together the facts that I had col- lected with the story wherein I wished to embody them, I have found that the limits to which my lecture is confined would be wholly insufficient to develope the narrative with any satisfaction. Of course under these circumstances I sacrifice the story. I wish to give you as many of the facts of Shakspere's environment and of his age as possible ; and, as it is, there will be a melancholy overplus, when 1 am done, of interesting matters which I should have liked to, present to you, but which I must suppress for lack of time.
Instead of entirely sacrificing my story of Shakspere, however, I can, without developing it, at least give you as I go along a sort of ground-plan, or, rather, architect's
74 SHAKSPERE AND HIS FORERUNNERS
bill, of It, that will serve to show how it could be con- structed from the materials which I shall lay before you in the shape of facts.
Without more ado, then, fancy that on the night of Friday, July 8, in the year 1575, about twelve o'clock, when all the good burgesses in Stratford were comfortably asleep, the family of John Shakspere, residing in a double- tenement house in Henley Street, were awakened by a furious knocking at the fi-ont door. The eldest son of the family — then only a couple of months past eleven years of age — was the first to hear the noise. He was, indeed, always a light sleeper — as if Destiny intended he should lose as little as possible of the world which he was afterwards to weave into his poems. And so, hastily spring- ing from his bed, he knocked at his father's door. His mother answered — for Mary Shakspere, like most mothers who have brought up children, started from sleep at slight sounds; and distinguishing his mother's vigorous shake of the stout alderman by her side, followed by the sudden stoppage of the snores with which honest John Shakspere was bugling the progress of the night, William passed quickly down the steps, and was in the act of unbarring the front door when his father called to him : " Hold, William ! wouldst thou unbar the door to every knock, like a dicing-house ? Let him thunder; perhaps it is some gallant, or drunken roisterer, that would have a night's lodging and defile the house. I'll speak him from the window." Hereupon John Shakspere thrust his head from the window of a low chamber in the second story, which projected over the lower part of the house, at the same time calling out, " Who is this below there that beats honest folk out of bed in the midnight ? "
" Marry, one that wishes he was where ye have just come from," replied a voice from the street, where the
DOMESTIC LIFE OF SHAKSPERE'S TIME 75
family could dimly perceive a horseman who had dis- mounted and was holding the bridle of his horse with one hand while he banged the door with his riding-whip in the other. " Open your door, Master Shakspere ; here is a great ado as far off as Killingworth" — which was the com- mon pronunciation of Kenilworth in those days — "and Ichington, and there is no man but thee can mend it ; to wit, the Queen, God save her Grace, is to be at Killingworth to-morrow, and my lord of Leicester hath had in a great army of new serving-men and folk of all degree for his pageants and his shows and his devil-may-tell-'em-alls, and there is more men than gloves, and the usher must needs have his gloves, and even he that is to play the sal- vage man in the woods before the Queen must have his gloves before her Grace's grace, and thou art to send by me straightway all the gloves in thy shop to Killingworth, or else, by the usher's moaning, the heaven and the earth will clap together and Domesday come a thousand year afore his time, — for lack of some dozen pieces of leather, — and I would the usher were doomed to eat 'em, for send- ing me on a fool's errand at night; and — hold." But John Shakspere had by this time hurriedly descended and opened his door, whereupon the servant — for they recog- nised him as such by his blue livery — entered and fin- ished his story. " And again. Master Shakspere, and mind thou do this, or we will have two Domesdays to- gether, grinding us like the upper and nether millstone. My lord of Leicester's gentleman hath come flying to me as I rode out of Killingworth Great Gate, and saith ; My lord of Leicester to-morrow at Long Ichington shall feast the ^eeny and they will hunt from there to Killingworth in the afternoon^ and my lord of Leicester will call for his bravest new pair of hunting-gloves ^ andy by the MasSy I cannot find them to have them ready y for belike some of these new gentry
78 SHAKSPERE AND HIS FORERUNNERS
Flight," he said to the horse, patting his neck, " though I cared not to munch by the roadside with Jack and Jill," — and sat down on the bank. Here, with a little laugh of luxury, he drew ofF his girdle and loosened his doublet. He had caused his mother, some time previously, to sew him up a sort of leathern pouch of a size sufficient to hold two or three books which he owned and which he was accustomed to carry with him in his long and lonesome excursions about the country. As he opened the pouch he perceived that his good mother, in her hurry, had stuffed the pasty in with his books, and so he took all out to- gether. He had recently made a great acquisition : this was a copy of TotteFs Miscellany of Uncertain Authors (the first printed book of modern poetry) ; and he now eagerly embraced the chance to read a poem or two while he was chewing his pasty. So he spread the book open before him, and fell to, feeding body and soul at the same time. Presently he came to that perfect parting-song of Wyatt's, " And wilt thou leave me thus," which first appeared in this book. Now Shakspere, though but eleven years old, was completely gone in love. I do not know why I should say though but eleven years old ; the man knows not love who has not loved at eleven. Love at eleven is like a dewdrop on the end of a grass-blade before the sun is up, questioning neither its source nor its fate, limpid, brilliant, round, perfect. Of course the lady was older than himself, being Mistress Anne Hathaway, whom he had but recently seen and fallen a victim to. Now the tender words of the poem seemed to have been written for him : he had rushed out of Stratford without a chance to bid an eternal farewell to the goddess over at Shottery. "And wilt thou leave me thus," he repeated aloud,
DOMESTIC UFE OF SHAKSPERE'S TIME 79
And wilt thou leave me thus ? Say nay ! say nay ! for shame, To save thee from the blame Of all my grief and grame. And wilt thou leave me thus ? Say nay ! Say nay !
And wilt thou leave me thus, That hath loved thee so long In woe and wealth among ? And is thy heart so strong As for to leave me thus ? Say nay ! Say nay !
At this moment, while he was making fantastic application of the poem to his own case, longing that he might have heard such words as these fall from the red lips of Mis- tress Anne, a small bird flew into the green Paradise of leaves just over his head and began to warble ; with a smile, the boy gently leaned backward until he lay on the grass, flat of his back, watching the bird. And so pres- ently the rhythm of the poem melted vaguely into the warble of the bird ; the plashing of the brook, the drowsy swell and passing away of breaths of warm air among the leaves, the mysterious under-lull of the noontide, came over him with power ; the boy's eyes, unaccustomed to the vigils and excitements of the day before, slowly closed, and he passed away into a blissful slumber, in which, with the fantastic absurdity of dreams, he found that Anne Hathaway 's name was changed to Elizabeth, and he was seated by her, wildly declaring his passion.
Leaving him sound asleep in the gentle care of the greenwood, let us now see what is toward at Long Ichington. Here Leicester had received the Queen with a
8o SHAKSPERE AND HIS FORERUNNERS
great feast, and after she had rested during the heat of the day, about five o'clock they set out for Kenilworth Castle. It had been arranged that they should hunt the hart on the way ; and as it was but seven miles from Long Ichington to Kenilworth, Leicester had planned that the wayside hunt would bring them to the Great Gate of lus castle about eight in the evening, where he had in wuting for the Queen the most magnificent preparations that had ever been seen in England. Soon after the brilliant cavalcade left Long Ichington, the Queen spurred her horse into the forest. A great longing to be quite alone among the great oaks possessed her ; and so, waving her hand to her attendants, with instructions to Leicester to follow, she galloped forward until she found herself out of sight of humanity. Then she tossed the reins on her horse's neck and slowly walked him over the turf betwixt the oaks, inhaling the sweet pungent breaths that floated about the forest, and saying to herself, " Would God the air of courts was so sweet! Why be men's souls so foul^ and trees so fresh ? " Then she fell to meditating upon Leicester and his love. Shall /, shall I not? ran her mind, in one of those inward debates between the woman and the queen which she had so often to carry on. Presently, while she was* absorbed in thought, vrith head declined on her bosom, her horse pointed his ears forward, lifted his head, and stopped, in such a way as, though gentle enough, had nearly thrown her from the saddle. " What, Roger ! " she said, and, quickly recovering herself, looked forward. A few feet distant she saw a slender- limbed boy lying stretched on the green bank of a brook, one hand resting on an open volume of poems, the other lying near an undevoured slice of venison pasty. The Queen's eyes sparkled ; she had all a woman's eye for a cunning sight or a pretty situation. Dismounting from her
Queen Elizabeth
From Ihi picture fotmirly /« Ike niy.il (olUilion at St. Jam
DOMESTIC LIFE OF SHAKSPERE'S TIME 8i
horse, she stole on tiptoe to young Shakspere, — for it was he, still dreaming of his love, — knelt by him, and bent over to kiss the lips which were parted in the ravishing smile of a dream. The rustle of her long drapery half awoke the boy, and with eyes partly open, though not yet freed from his dream, he murmured, " Elizabeth ! " Then, coming to full consciousness, he opened his great eyes wide on the radiant face which was bending over him, and lay still, in a maze of wonder and pleasure. " Thou hast the best taste of any lad in England ! " said the Queen, and broke into peals of laughter which rang through the forest. " To murmur Elizabeth at waking ! Do the very boys in Warwickshire dream of me, Leicester ? " she cried, as the earl made his appearance between the trees, and rapidly advanced, in almost as great a maze as Shak- spere's at seeing the figure of the Queen bending over what seemed in the distance like the figure of a man. " Leicester, here is thy most dangerous rival ! Do not eye his book ! Here's a lad that eats his very venison pasty seasoned with sonnets, sleeps by the sweetest pool in all thy Warwickshire woods, and, to crown all, breathes Elizabeth's name when he is but half awake ! "
" I pray Heaven the venison be not out of my park, got by night ! " said Leicester, coming up to the Queen.
" Nay," she rejoined ; " we shall have thee claiming the poetry next ; but thou canst not, for it is Wyatt's, God rest his soul ! and not Leicester's."
At the second sound of his name young Shakspere for the first time remembered his errand.
" I pray you," he said, "are you my lord of Leicester ? "
" Yea," cried the Queen, with a roguish tone, " and would be my lord of the Universe an he had but his way ! "
" Then," continued Shakspere, " here is a packet for
82 SHAKSPERE AND HIS FORERUNNERS
your Grace," and herewith he pulled out the hunting- gloves and presented them to the earl. The Queen's mirth deepened, while a slight shade of half-amused chagrin crossed Leicester's face, as the boy proceeded to relate the history of the packet. " Last night," he said, ** about midnight came one from Kenilworth to my father, John Shakspere, the glover, of Stratford, and banged us out of our beds at midnight, and said the Earl of Leices- ter would hunt with the Queen to-day, and his Grace's brave hunting-gloves were stolen, and his Grace's gentle- man therefore bid my father send him a pair of the bravest hunting-gloves to Long Ichington to-day against his Grace's calling for them ; and here are they, worked with his Grace's arms, and the two ragged staves of silver in white silk," finished Shakspere, with some pride in the prompt performance of his commission.
The Queen laughed, as this narrative concluded, till the forest echoed, and rallied Leicester unmercifully. Pres- ently she took up Shakspere's books and cried : " Mark you, my lord of Leicester, upon what milk this baby feeds ! Here is Kit Marlowe's tragedy of Tamburlaine and of Edward the Second ; and thumbed, too ; and do but listen, my lord of Leicester, to this " ; and here the Queen struck an attitude and recited :
^^ And wilt thou leave me thus, That hath loved thee so long In woe and wealth among i And is thy heart so strong As for to leave me thus i Say nay ! Say nay !
Nay," continued the Queen, in a sudden caprice, as Leicester moved with impatience to get her forward, " nay, thine Elizabeth will not leave thee thus ; if thou drinkest
i
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RobeH Dudley Eai\ oi' Lewelii-r.
From a,, (fn^^a/ irFZan ■Airr-
'/Z/rt>^ t^-i*^?:,;\-a-'M ^
The E«rl of Leitcsier
DOMESTIC LIFE OF SHAKSPERE'S TIME 83
in Marlowe and Wyatt, — thou hast a deep eye, look at me straight! — if thou drinkest Marlowe so early, come with me ; I hear my lord Leicester hath prepared me such shows and plays and poesies at Kenilworth as never mortal beheld. Mount, young Brakespere — " Shakspere," corrected the lad.
Nay, if thou shake a spear, thou shouldst break it, lad ; but come, Shakspere, with thine Elizabeth, to Kenil- worth ! " And hereupon the Queen mounted with speed and dashed ofF for Kenilworth at such a round pace that Shakspere had great ado in following at a respectful distance.
And thus it was that young William Shakspere came to see the " princely pleasures of Kenilworth," which he afterwards recalled to the mind of Queen Elizabeth by Oberon's vision of Cupid, all armed, flying betwixt the cold moon and the earth, in that passage of the Midsum- mer Night's Dream which I read in my last lecture.
It is now proper I should give you some account of what these princely pleasures were. For this purpose I have selected some passages from a description of them, written by one of the most conceited, asinine, mirth-pro- voking dandies that ever handled a goose-quill, whose acquaintance I cannot bear you should be without. I mean Robert Laneham, who was usher to Queen Eliza- beth's privy council, and who, as soon as he could get time from the Kenilworth festivities, wrote a letter con- taining a detailed account of them to his friend Master Humphrey Martin, a " citizen and Merchant of London."
To introduce this fop — who, I have always thought, must have sat as model for that heartbreaking fantastico, Don Adriano de Armado, in Shakspere's Love's Labour s Lost — before reading from his account of the Kenilworth pageants, I must give you an unconscious portrait he has
84 SHAKSPERE AND HIS FORERUNNERS
drawn of himself in the last part of the same letter — in which, too, many items of the domestic life of the court of Queen Elizabeth come out here and there :
" And yet you, being a mercer, a merchant, as I am, my countryman born, and my good friend withal, whereby I know you are compassioned with me ; methought it my part somewhat to impart unto you how it is here with me, and how I had my life, which indeed is this :
" A-mornings I rise ordinarily at seven o'clock ; then ready, I go into the chapel ; soon after eight, I get me commonly into my Lord's chamber, or into my Lord's presidents. There at the cupboard, after I have eaten the manchet served over night for livery, (for I dare be as bold, I promise you, as any of my friends the servants there ; and indeed I could have fresh, if I would tarry ; but I am of wont jolly and dry a-mornings) ; I drink me up a good bowl of ale ; when in a sweet pot it is defecated by all night's standing, the drink is the better, take that of me ; and a morsel in a morning, with a sound draught, is very wholesome and good for the eyesight ; then I am as fresh all the forenoon after, as I had eaten a whole piece of beef. Now, sir, if the council sit, I am at hand ; wait at one inch, I warrant you : If any make babbling, * Peace,' say I, * wot ye where ye are ? ' If I take a lis- tener, or a pryer in at the chinks or at the lock-hole, I am by and by in the bones of him ; but now they keep good order, they know me well enough : If he be a friend, or such a one as I like, I make him sit down by me on a form or a chest ; let the rest walk, in God's name.
" And here doth my languages stand me in good stead, my French, my Spanish, my Dutch, and my Latin ; some- time among Ambassadors' men, if their masters be within the council ; sometime with the Ambassador himself, if he bid call his lacquey, or ask me what's o'clock ; and I war-
DOMESTIC LIFE OF SHAKSPERE'S TIME 85
rant you I answer him roundly, that they marvel to see such a fellow there : then laugh I, and say nothing. Din- ner and supper I have twenty places to go to, and heartily prayed to ; sometimes I get to Master Pinner ; by my faith a worshipful gentleman, and as careful for his charge as any her Highness hath. There find I always good store, of very good viands ; we eat, and be merry, thank God and the Queen. Himself in feeding very temperate and moderate as you shall see any; and yet, by your leave, of a dish, as a cold pigeon or so, that hath come to him at meat more than he looked for. I have seen him even so by and by surfeit, as he hath plucked off his napkin, wiped his knife, and eat not a morsel more. . . .
"In afternoons and at nights, sometimes am I with the right worshipful Sir George Howard^ as good a Gentle- man as any that lives. And sometime at my Lady Sid- neys chamber, a Noblewoman that I am as much bound unto, as any poor man may be unto so gracious a Lady ; and sometime in some other place. But always among the Gentlewomen by my good will ; (O you know that comes always of a gentle spirit) ; and when I see company according, then can I be as lively too. Sometimes I foot it with dancing, now with my gittern, or else with my cittern, then at the virginals ; you know nothing comes amiss to me. Then carol I up a song withal ; that by and by they come flocking about me like bees to honey ; and ever they cry, * Another, good Laneham^ another ! ' Shall
I tell you ? When I see Mistress (Ah ! see a mad
knave ; I had almost told all !) that she gives me once but an eye or an ear ; why, then, man am I blest ; my grace, my courage, my cunning is doubled ; she says sometime, * She likes it,' and then I like it much the better ; it doth me good to hear how well I can do. And to say truth ; what with mine eye, as I can amorously glint it, with my
86 SHAKSPERE AND HIS FORERUNNERS
Spanish sospires, my French heighes, mine Italian dulcets, my Dutch hones [D. hoofshiedy courtship], my double releas [roulays — roulades ?] , my high reaches, my fine feigning, my deep diapason, my wanton warbles, my run- ning, my timing, my turning, and my twinkling, I can gracify the matters as well as the proudest of them, and was never yet stained, I thank God : by my troth, coun- tryman, it is sometimes high midnight ere I can get from them. And thus have I told you most of my trade, all the livelong day ; what will you more, God save the Queen and my Lord. I am well, I thank you.
" Herewith meaned I fully to bid ye farewell, had not this doubt come to my mind, that here remains a doubt in you which I ought (methought) in anywise to clear. Which is, ye marvel perchance to see me so bookish. Let me tell you in few words : I went to school, forsooth, both at Paul's and also at St. Anthony's ; In the fifth form passed iEsop's fables, I wis, read Terence vos istac intro anfertCy and began with my Virgil Tityre tu patulae. I conned my rules, could construe and parse with the best of them ; since that, as partly you know, have I traded the feat of merchandise in sundry countries, and so got me languages, which do so little hinder my Latin as, I thank God, have much encreased it. I have leisure sometimes, when I tend not upon the council ; whereby now I look on one book, now on another. Stories I delight in ; the more ancient and rare, the more irksome to me. If I told you I liked William of Malmesbury so well, because of his diligence and antiquity, perchance you would construe it because I love malmsey so well : But faith, it is not so ; for sift I no more sack and sugar (and yet never but with company) than I do malmsey, I should not blush so much adays as I do ; you know my mind.
"... Well, once again, fare ye heartily well.
DOMESTIC LIFE OF SHAKSPERE'S TIME 87
" From the Court, At the City of Worcester, the twentieth of August, 1575.
" Your Countryman, companion, and friend assuredly ; Mercer, Merchant-adventurer, and Clerk of the Council chamber-door, and also Keeper of the same :
" El Principe NegrOy Par me^R.L. Gent. Mercer " ^ (ending with a Latin verse).
This same coxcomb has much to say of the eatables and drinkables :
" And how bountiful Ceres in provision was, guess by this, that in little more than three days space, seventy-two tuns of ale and beer were piped up quite ; . . . and yet the Master Comptroller, Master Cofferer, and divers Officers of the court, some honorable and sundry right worshipful were placed at Warwick, for more room in the castle. But here was no ho ! Master Martin^ in devout drinking alway ; that brought lack unlooked for ; which being known to the worshipful my lord's good neighbors, came there in two days' space, from sundry friends, a relief of forty tuns, till a new supply was got again ; and then to our drinking afresh as fast as ever we did."
I now read a passage or two to show what young Will Shakspere saw or might have seen as he rode behind Queen Bess and Leicester toward the Great Gate of Kenil- worth Castle.
"On Saturday the ninth of July," says Laneham, "at Long Ichington, a town and lordship of my Lord's, within seven miles of Killingworth, his Honour made her Majesty great cheer at dinner, and pleasant pastime in hunting by the way after, that it was eight o'clock in the evening ere her Highness came to Killingworth ; where in the park, about a flight-shoot from the brays and first gate
^ Compare this letter with Don Adriano's in Lovers Labour's Lost,
addressed to the King.
88 SHAKSPERE AND HIS FORERUNNERS
of the Castle, one of the ten Sibyls, that we read were all Fatidica and Theobula^ as parties and privy to the Gods' gracious good wills, comely clad in a pall of white-silk pronounced a proper poesy in English rhyme and metre : of effect, how great gladness her goodness' presence brought into every stead where it pleased her to come, and espe- cially now into that place that had so long longed after the same ; ending with prophecy certain of much and long pros- perity, health and felicity. This her Majesty benignly accepting, passed forth unto the next gate of the brays, which for length, largeness and use, (as well it may so serve) they now call the tilt-yard, where a porter tall of person, big of limb, and stern of countenance, wrapped also all in silk, with a club and keys of quantity according, had a rough speech full of passions, in metre aptly made to the pur- pose : Whereby (as her Highness was come within his ward) he burst out in a great pang of impatience to sec such uncouth trudging to and fro, such riding in and out, with such din and noise of talk within the charge of his office, whereof he never saw the like, nor had any wamii^ afore, nor yet could make to himself any cause of the mat- ter. At last, upon better view and avisement, as he pressed to come nearer, confessing anon that he found himself pierced at the presence of a personage so evidently express- ing an heroical sovereignty over all the whole estates, and by degrees there beside, calmed his astonishment, pro- claims open gates and free passage to all, yields up his club, his keys, his office and all, and on his knees humbly prays pardon of his ignorance and impatience ; which her Majesty graciously granting, he caused his trumpeters that stood upon the wall of the gate there, to sound up a tune of welcome ; which, beside the noble noise, was so much the more pleasant to behold, because these trumpeters, being six in number, were every one eight feet high, in
Lcimur mmi ihc Queen A ttnva) Prnerff» nf I.ulyHainid
(wunl, in from Quccn Eliubcth Hwidun >i>d wire of Adminl
Lord Boteifh. with awbiM Howird
BefoR bin Adnin] tord ftvm a fiain/inir (uwd, iintl
!n of ibc
DOMESTIC LIFE OF SHAKSPERE'S TIME 89
due proportion of person beside, all in long garments of silk suitable, each with his silvery trumpet of five feet long, formed taper-wise and straight from the upper part unto the lower end, where the diameter was 1 6 inches over ; and yet so tempered by art, that being very easy to the blast, they cast forth no greater noise, nor a more unpleas- ant sound for time and tune, than any other common trumpet, be it never so artificially formed. These har- monious blasters, from the foreside of the gate, at her Highness' entrance, where they began : walking upon the walls unto the inner (court), had this music maintained from them very delectably, while her Highness all along this tilt-yard rode unto the inner gate, where the Lady or the Lake, (famous in King Arthur's book) with two nymphs waiting upon her, arrayed all in silks, awaited her Highness's coming : From the midst of the pool, where upon a movable island, bright blazing with torches, she floated to land, and her Majesty with a well-penned metre and matter after this sort : (viz.) First, of the ancestry or the Castle, who had been owners of the same e'en till this day, most always in the hands of the Earls of Leicester ; how she had kept this Lake since King Arthur's days ; and now, understanding of her Highness's hither coming, thought it both her office and duty in humble wise to dis- cover her and her estate : offering up the same, her lake, and power therein, with promise of repair unto the Court. It pleased her Highness to thank this lady, and to add withall : * We had thought indeed the Lake had been ours, and do you call it yours now ? Well, we will herein com- mune more with you hereafter.*
" This pageant was closed up with a delectable har- mony of hautboys, shalms, cornets, and such other loud music, that held on while her Majesty pleasantly so passed from thence toward the Castle-gate; whereunto.
DOMESTIC LIFE OF SHAKSPERE'S TIME 91
upon depending bows, arrows, spears, shield, head-piece, gorget, corslets, swords, targets, and such like, for Mars^ gifts, the God of war. On the seventh post the last and next to the Castle, were there pight two fair bay branches of four feet high, adorned on all sides with lutes, viols, shalms, cornets, flutes, recorders and harps, as the presents of PhcebuSj the God of music, for rejoicing the mind, and also of physic, for health to the body.
" Over the Castle-gate was there fastened a table beau- tifully garnished above with her Highness's arms, and featly with ivy wreaths bordered about, of ten feet square : the ground black, whereupon, in large white capital Roman fairly written, was a poem mentioning these gods and their gifts, thus presented unto her Highness : which, because it remained unremoved, at leisure and pleasure I took it out, as followeth :
AD MAJESTATEM REGIAM
Jupiter hue certos cernens te tendere gressus, Cselicolas PRINCEPS actutum convocat Omnes : Obsequium praestare jubet TIBI quenque benignum. Unde suas Sylvanus Aves, Pomonaque fructus, Alma Ceres fruges, hilarantia vina Liseus, Neptunus pisces, tela et tutantia Mavars, Suare Melos Phcebus^ solidamque ; longamque ; salutem. Dii TIBI REGINA hac (curu sis DIGNISSIMA)
praebent : Hoc TIBI, cum Domino, dedit se et werda KENELMI.
All the letters that mention her Majesty, which are here put in capitals, for reverence and honour, were there made in gold.
" But the night well spent, for that these verses by torch-light could easily be read ; a poet, therefore, in a
92 SHAKSPERE AND HIS FORERUNNERS
long, ceruleous garment, with side (i.e., long) and wide sleeves, Venetianwise drawn up to his elbow, his doublet sleeves under that, of crimson, nothing but silk ; a bay garland on his head, and a scroll in his hand, making first an humble obeisance at her Highness's coming, and point- ing unto every present as he spake, the same were pro- nounced. Thus receiving the gifts, as she passed, and how the posts might agree with the speech of the poet : At the end of the bridge and entry of the gate, was her Highness received with a fresh delicate harmony of flutes, in performance of Phcebus* presents.
" So passing into the inner court, her Majesty (that never rides but alone) there, set down from her palfrey, was conveyed up to her chamber : When after did follow so great a peal of guns, and such lightning by fire-work a long space together, as though Jupiter would have shown himself to be no further behind with his welcome than the rest of his Gods : and that he would have all the country to] know, for indeed the noise and flame were heard and seen twenty miles off. Thus much. Master Martin^ (that I remember me) for the first day's bien venu. Be you not weary, for I am scant in the midst of my matter.
" On Sunday, the forenoon occupied as for the Sabbath-day, in quiet and vacation from work, and in divine service and preaching at the parish church : the afternoon in excellent music of sundry sweet instruments, and in dancing of Lords and Ladies, and other worshipful degrees, uttered with such lively agility, and commendable grace, as whether it might be more strange to the eye or pleasant to the mind, for my part indeed I could not discern ; but it was exceedingly well, methought, in both.
" At night, late, as though Jupiter the last night had forgot for business, or forborne for courtesy and quiet, part of his welcome unto her Highness appointed, now entering at the first into his purpose moderately (as mor-
DOMESTIC LIFE OF SHAKSPERE'S TIME 93
tals do), with a warning piece or two, proceeding on with increase, till at last the Altitonant (i.e.. High Thunderer) displays me his main power ; with blaze of burning darts flying to and fro, beams of stars coruscant, streams and hail of fiery sparks, lightnings of wildfire on water and land, flight and shooting of thunderbolts, all with such continuance, terror and vehemency, that the heavens thundered, the waters surged, the earth shook, and in such sort surely, as had we not been assured that the fulminant Deity was all hot in amity, and could not otherwise testify his welcome unto her Highness, it would have made me for my part, as hardy as I am, very vengeably afraid. This ado lasted until the midnight was passed that it seemed well with me soon after, when I found me in my cabin. And this for the second day.
" Monday was hot, and therefore her Highness kept in till five o'clock in the evening, what time it pleased her to ride forth into the chase to hunt the hart of force : which found anon, and after sore chased, and chafed by the hot pursuit of the hounds, was fain of fine force, at last to take soil.
The following passage I take from Gascoigne, who relates the festivities at length, and who, with Goldingham and Ferrers, had been sent for to arrange the poetic devices and addresses.
There met her in the forest, as she came from hunting, one clad like a savage man, all in ivy, who, seeming to wonder at such a presence, fell to quarrelling with Jupiter as foUoweth :
" Ho Echo — Echoy ho,
where art thou, Ecbo^ where ? Why, Echoy friend, where dwell'st thou now ! thou wont'st to harbour here. {^Ecbo answered.)
riere. ...
94 SHAKSPERE AND HIS FORERUNNERS
** But thou me help,
I say my heart will break; And therefore even of courtesy,
I pray thee. Echo speak. Echo, Speak.
" I speak ? yes, that I will,
unless thou be too coy. Then tell me first what is the cause that all the people joy ? Echo. Joy.
" Joy ? surely that is so,
as may full well be seen : But wherefore do they so rejoice ? is it for King or Queen ? Echo. Queen.
" Queen ? what, the Queen of Heaven ? they knew her long agone : No, sure, some Queen on earth,
whose like was never none. Echo. None.
" O then it seems the Queen
of England for to be, Whose graces make the Gods to grudge : methinks it should be she. Echo. She.
"And is it she indeed ?
then tell what was meant By every show that yet was seen, good Echo be content. Echo. Content."
And here is a scene from the domestic life of our ancestors — all too common — which makes us a little
(icirgf Cianiiitrtitf
DOMESTIC LIFE OF SHAKSPERE'S TIME 95
comfort that the times have surely bettered in some mat- ters since then. Laneham's record says :
" Thursday J the fourteenth of this July, and the Sixth day of her Majesty's coming, a great sort of Ban-dogs were there tied in the outer court, and thirteen bears in the inner. Whosoever made the pannel, there were enough for the guest, and one for challenge, an need were. A wight of great wisdom and gravity seemed their fore- man to be, had it come to a jury ; but it fell out that they were caused to appear there upon no such matter, but only to answer to an ancient quarrel between them and the Ban-dogs, in a cause of controversy that had long de- pended, been obstinately full often debated, with sharp and biting arguments on both sides and could never be decided : grown now to so marvellous a malice, that with spiteful upbraidings and uncharitable chaffings, always they fret, as any where the one can hear, see, or smell the other : and indeed at utter deadly feud. Many a maimed member (God wot) bloody face and a torn coat, hath the quarrel cost between them ; so far likely the less yet now to be appeased, as there wants not partakers to back them on both sides.
" Well, Sir, the bears were brought forth into the court, the dogs set to them to argue the points even face to face ; they had learned counsel also on both parts. Very fierce both the one and the other, and eager in argument : if the dog in pleading should pluck the bear by the throat, the bear with traverse would claw him again by the scalp : Confess an he list, but avoid he could not, that was bound to the bar ; and his counsel told him that it could be to him no policy in pleading. Therefore thus with 'fending and proving, with plucking and tug- ging, scratching and biting, by plain tooth and nail on one side and the other, such expense of blood and leather was
96 SHAKSPERE AND HIS FORERUNNERS
there between them, as a month's licking, I ween, will not recover ; and yet remain as far out as ever they were. It was a sport very pleasant of these beasts ; to see the bear with his pink eyes leering after his enemies' approach, the nimbleness and wait of the dog, to take his advantage, and the force and experience of the bear, again to avoid the assault : If he was bitten in one place, how he would pinch in another to get free ; that if he was taken once, then what shift with biting, with clawing, with roaring, tossing and tumbling, he would work to wind himself from them ; and when he was loose, to shake his ears twice or thrice with the blood and slaver about his physiognomy, was a matter of a goodly relief.
" As this sport was held at day-time, in the Castle, so was there abroad at night very strange and sundry kinds of fire-works, compelled by cunning to fly to and fro, and to mount very high into the air upward, and also to burn unquenchably beneath the water, contrary, ye wot, to fire's kind : This intermingled with a great peal of guns, which all gave both to the ear and to the eye the greater grace and delight, for that with such order and art they were tempered, touching time and continuance, that was about two hours space."
But here we have a sweeter scene, which carries us into the fairy-land of the Midsummer Night* s Dream. The Queen is standing on the bridge, looking oflF over the lake. The time is late afternoon, the temperature is heavenly, the green leaves are taking on that deeper air which they assume towards the coming of the evening, the world is so tranquil that voices and all sounds ring musically between the green walls of the foliage and the gray walls of the castle.
"... and the Lady, by and by, with her two nymphs floating upon her moveable Islands, Triton on his mermaid
DOMESTIC LIFE OF SHAKSPERE'S TIME 97
skimming by, approached towards her Highness on the bridge, — as well to declare that her Majesty's presence had so graciously thus wrought her deliverance, as also to excuse her not coming to court as she promised, and chiefly to present her Majesty, as a token of her duty and good heart, for her Highness' recreation, with this gift : which was, Ariofiy that excellent and famous musician ; in tire and appointment strange, well seeing to his person, riding aloft upon his old friend the dolphin, that from head to tail was four and twenty feet long, and swam hard by these Islands. Herewith, Ariotiy for these great benefits, after a few well-couched words unto her Majesty of thanks- giving, in supplement of the same, began a delectable ditty of a song well apted to a melodious noise ; com- pounded of six several instruments, all covert, casting sound from the dolphin's belly within : Ariotiy the seventh, sitting thus singing (as I say) without.
" Now, Sir, the ditty in metre so aptly endited to the matter, and after by voice deliciously delivered. The song, by a skilful artist into his parts so sweetly sorted ; each part in his instrument so clean and sharply touched ; every instrument again in his kind so excellently tunable ; and this in the evening of the day, resounding from the calm waters where the presence of her Majesty, and long- ing to listen, had utterly damped all noise and din ; the whole harmony conveyed in time, tune, and temper thus incomparably melodious ; with what pleasure, {Master Martin) with what sharpness of conceit, with what lively delight, this might pierce into the hearers' hearts, I pray ye imagine yourselves, as ye may ; for so God judge me, by all the wit and cunning I have, I cannot express, I promise you."
In these scenes I cannot help finding everywhere the suggestions which, in after years, blossomed out into the
98 SHAKSPERE AND HIS FORERUNNERS
Midsummer Night's Dream. First, for Theseus and Hip- polyta hunting in the Grecian woods, we have Queen Bess and Leicester hunting in the Warwickshire forests. Again, a passage in Laneham's letter (which I did not read) relates how some of the honest souls of Coventry — which was but four miles from Kenilworth — came over one day, and sought out Queen Bess, and offered to play for her one ot the good old Coventry plays; and I always fancy that young Will Shakspere saw these men of Coventry on this errand, and that he afterwards converted them into that sweet company — of Bottom the weaver, and Snug, and Quince, and Flute the bellows-mender — who play Pyramus and Thisbe before Theseus. The ranting of Pyramus, "Approach, ye furies fell," and the like, al- ways makes me think that it must be a relic of young Shakspere's perusal of Marlowe's Tamburlaine and Kyd's Spanish Tragedy y on long summer holidays in the War- wickshire woods ; while the fantastic and unreal woes of Lysander and Demetrius and Hermia and Helena seem to be the man's amplifications of the boy's old reveries when he would tire of his book and lie flat and look into the upward depths of the green oaks and dream of won- ders and love-scenes that might go on in the woods.
Let us now fancy that after having beheld this scene Shakspere returned to his home, to give an account of his adventures to his parents. But on his way back he could not forbear going by Warwick, the county town, only four miles from Kenilworth, where a great crowd of the country people, anxious to get a sight of Queen Bess, had collected, to remain during the nineteen days throughout which the Kenilworth festivities lasted. Of course Shakspere knew that in such a crowd all manner of jugglers and players would be found driving their trades. He is mad to see one of the plays. So, as soon as he canters into Warwick, he
DOMESTIC LIFE OF SHAKSPERE'S TIME 99
makes for the inn. Here he finds that at three o'clock in the afternoon some strolling players are to perform an interlude of John Heywood's, called The Four P's. The hour which is to pass before they begin seems like an eternity to the boy; but it finally expires, and at the first sounding of the horn he pays his pienny and passes into the yard of the inn. As you walk with him into this yard you see the original model upon which our modern theatres are built. The inn-yard of the time was a sort of inner court, enclosed by the rooms of the inn, which looked down upon it, with balconies running along each side, thus :
«, End bakonjr lued o a Kige j j, ode bilconjr oicil bjr genUT I (, counrud lued by the coaunon people.
Shakspere stands on the ground of the yard, along with the most of the audience. Here you see the original of two terms afterwards in very common use : when Shak- spere speaks of a passage which tickles the cars of the groundlings, he means by " groundlings " those who stood on the ground in what was long called the " yard," even in the theatres, but afterwards came to be known as the " pit." The players are on the balcony at the rear ; more
JLO^-J J '^Ci
loo SHAKSPERE AND HIS FORERUNNERS
pretentious visitors among the audience are seated in the rooms here on the sides and at the back of the yard, look- ing through the windows at the performance; hence in Shakspere's time the " boxes," as we call them, and loges of the theatres built in London were called " rooms." At the time when young Shakspere is going into this inn-yard, i.e., in 1575, you should remember, no theatres are built. It was not until the following year, 1576, that James Burbage erected the first theatre in London. But, as I said, while the common sort are here standing in the yard of the inn, and more pretentious ones are in the rooms, the gallants and high-fliers are seated on stools on the balcony or stage, right in the midst of the players.^ Presently the horn sounds for the third time, and this is the signal for the performance to begin.
This interlude, The Four P'sy by the way, represents the spirit of the first formal English Comedy. It was written probably as early as 1 530, and when Shakspere was beginning to write in 1598, decidedly better plays in form were being produced here and there; but it fairly represents the plays we may regard as formative in Shak- spere's plastic time, the kind of play he would have been likely to see in the inn-yards of Coventry and Warwick and Stratford when he was a boy.
The interlude was originally a mere short scrap to be played for amusement between the acts of a mystery play or morality ; but Heywood advanced it into an indepen- dent sort of theatrical representation. This John Hey- wood is mentioned by our old friend Puttenham as " John
^ This golden Asse, in this hard iron age, Aspirith now to sit upon the stage : Lookes round about, then views his glorious selfe. Throws money here and there, swearing hang pelfe.
The Toung Gallant's Whirligig.
John Heywood
DOMESTIC LIFE OF SHAKSPERE'S TIME loi
Hey wood the Epigrammatist who for the myrth and quicknesse of his conceits more than for any good learning was in him come to be well benefited by the King."
I may mention that this interlude particularly con- nects itself with Shakspere by the fact that in one part of it you will find the suggestion which Shakspere probably converted into that strange comical-dreadful soliloquy of the Porter in Macbeth who dreamed he was porter of hell, and describes the people whom he let in the gate. In fact, with a good deal of confidence we may fancy our- selves sitting in a Warwickshire inn-yard three hundred years ago, with the boy Will Shakspere, listening to this very play.
Here, then, advance the four P's upon the balcony of the inn : the four P's being The Palmer^ The Pardoner y The Poticary^ and The Pedler.
They straightway fall to flouting each other, and verily seem to be a quartette of as precious rascals as the world could aflFord. And this reminds me to mention that in reading from this old play I shall not feel quite comfor- table without deprecating any appearance of sympathy with what will seem, until you get to the end of it, its flippant treatment of great matters. We shall hear much joking about the Protestant idea of hell, and as much about the Catholic idea of pardon. Neither of these will admit of any application now; and we may all legitimately allow ourselves to be amused with these old-time witticisms of Heywood without the discomfort of possible irreverence, in which, as to either Protestant or Catholic, your present lecturer would be the last to join, if we reflect, first, that this old sixteenth-century audience, among whom we are now sitting along with young Will Shakspere to witness this interlude, are really mere children who are playing with the names of things which they do not understand, as
I02 SHAKSPERE AND HIS FORERUNNERS
mere toys ; and, secondly, that there is really a moral purpose involved in the presentation, as developed in the last lines. Moreover, and most important of all, I ask you to observe all through how infinitely above this child- ish flippancy is Shakspere's attitude towards all reverential things. Shakspere, indeed, makes us hate the sin and love the sinner. Hey wood is not so large. Shakspere is here moral in the highest degree. How we misdirect our spiritual charities ! The novel shows us a good man struggling, and we sympathise with him, and hate the weak fools in the book. But why should we be sorry for a good man, in whatever stress ? Let us be sorry for nothing in the world but a bad man. Let us extend our sympathetic charity to him who is spiritually weak. Why should we weep for Little Nell ? Let us weep for the old gambler. This is Shakspere's morality.
A thousand details of the life of the time come out in this old interlude :
Palmer. I am a Palmer, as ye se, Which of my lyfe much part have spent In many a fayre and farre countrie. As pilgrims do, of good intent. At Hierusalem have I bene, Before Chryste's blessed sepulture, The mount of Calvary have I sene, A holy place ye may be sure. To Josaphat and Olyvete On fote, god wote, I wcnte ryghte bare Many a salt tere dyd I swete Before thys carkes coulde come thare.
He describes the places where he has been, the saints' shrines, etc.
A Poticary and r Pardoner
DOMESTIC LIFE OF SHAKSPERE'S TIME 103
Pardoner. And when ye have gone as far as ye can For all your labour and gostely intente Ye will cum home as wysc as ye wente.
Palmer. Why, syr, dyspyse ye pylgrymage ?
Pardoner. Nay : I not dyspraise it But yet I discomende your wit : I pray you shew what the cause is Ye wente all these pylgrymages ?
Palmer. Forsoth thys lyfe I dyd begyn To rj-dde the bondage of my syn.
Pardoner. Nowe is your owne confessions lykely To make yourselfe a fole quyckely. Nowe marke in this what wyt ye have, To seeke so farre and helpe so nye : Even here at home is remedy; For at your dore myselfe doth dwell Who could have saved your soule as well As all your wyde wandrynge shall do Though ye wente thryes to Jericho.
Palmer. But let us here fryst what ye are f
Pardoner. Truly I am a Pardoner.
Palmer. Truly a pardoner ! that may be true ; But a true pardoner doth not ensew. Ryght selde is it sene, or never That treuth and pardoners dwell together.
Pardoner. I say yet agayne my pardons are suche That yf there were a thousand soules on a hepe I would brynge them all to heven as good chepe As ye have brought yourselfe on pylgrymage.
After some more squabbling the Palmer addresses the Pedler :
What the devyll hast thou there at thy back ?
Pedler. What dost thou not knowe, that every pedler In all kinds of trifles must be a medler ?
I04 SHAKSPERE AND HIS FORERUNNERS
Specyally in women's tryflingcs ;
Those use we cheefly above all thinges.
. . . Gloves, pynnes, combes, glasses unspottyd,
Pomanders, hookes, and lasses knotted ;
Brooches, rynges and all manner of bedes.
Laces round and flat, for women's hedes ;
Nedyls, threde, thymbell, shers, and all suche knackes ;
Where lovers be, no such thynges lackes ;
Sypers, (Cyprus) swathbandes, rybandes and sieve laces,
Gyrdyls, kyves, purses and pyncases. . . .
Pardoner. I praye you tell me what causeth this, That women after theyr arysynge Be so longe in theyr apparelyng ?
Pedler. Forsoth, women have many lettes. And they be masked in many nettes ;
And he goes on to specify these " lets " and " nets " :
As frontlettes, fyllettes, partlettes, and bracelettes ; And then theyr bonettes and theyr poynettes. By these lettes and nettes the lette is suche. That spede is small whan haste is muche.
Then the Pedler attempts to sell them his wares ; but the
Palmer. Nay, by my trouth, we be lyke fryers ; We are but beggars, we be no byers.
Pedler. Well, though this journey acquyte no coste. Yet thynke I not my labour loste; Devyse what pastyme that ye thynke beste. And make ye sure to find me prest.
Poticary. Why ? be ye so uny versall. That ye can do what so ever ye shall ?
Here this is a kind of interlude in the interlude,^ when we
^ In the anonymous play of Sir ''exhibiting a play within a play." Thomas More (1590?) My Lord (Why not a play within a play Cardinal's players are introduced, within a play, etc. ?) When asked
1
rf-H" ;'''»• V*
,1 riw TltK MOKAUTT ortWA l"J
Stage Directions For m Morality firm tit •• Cmentry Mysliriei "
•^',
DOMESTIC LIFE OF SHAKSPERE'S TIME 105
have a perfect exhibition of the modern circus clown. They proceed to devise some pastime ; the Poticary says to the Pedler :
Then tell me thys, are you pcrfyt in drynkynge ?
Pedler, Perfyt in drynkynge, as may be wysht by thynkynge.
Poticary, Then after your drynking, how fall ye to wynkynge ?
Pedler, Syr, after drynkynge, whyh the shot is tynkynge. Some hedes be swynkynge, but myn will be synkynge. And upon drynkynge, myn eyse will be pynkynge, For wynkynge to drynkynge is alway lynkynge.
Poticary, If ye were desired thereto, I pray you tell me can you synge ?
Pedler, Syr, I have som syght in syngynge.
Poticary, But is your brest * anythynge swete.
Here they fall to discussing the respective merits of their crafts again, till presently the
Poticary, My craft is such that I can ryght well, Sende my fryndes to heven and myselfe to helle. . . . But for good order, at a worde, Twayne of us must wayte on the thyrde And unto that I do agree For bothe you twayne shall wayte on me.
Pardoner, Nay, nay, my frende, that will not be : I am too good to wayte on thee.
And it is only now that the real plot of the play emerges. The four fall to disputing which is the worthiest of them ; and in order to determine, they agree to try their skill in
what plays are ready for representa- Dives and Lazarus^ Lusty Juventus,
tion, the player replies : " Divers, and the Marriage of Wit and Wis-
my lord; The Cradle of Security, dom,^*
Hit nail o' tF head. Impatient ^ CL Twelfth Night, **hTtit:' Poverty, The Play of Four P*s,
io6 SHAKSPERE AND HIS FORERUNNERS
something in which they are all commonly proficient. It is difficult at first to find this something; but presently the Pedler solves the trouble : he says they are all pro- ficient in lying ; and they then agree that he who shall tell the most monstrous falsehood shall be accounted best man. Only compare, in passing, all this low plane with the Midsummer Night's Dream !
Palmer. By mi Lady, and I wolde be loth To wayt on the better of you both.
Pedler, Yet be ye senser, for all thys dout, Thys waytynge must be brought about ; Men cannot prosper wylfully ledde ; All thynge decay when there is no hedde. Synnes ye cannot agree in voyce Who shall be hed, there is no choyce But to devyse some maner thynge Wherein ye all be lyke conneynge. And now have I found one masterye That ye can do indyfFerently ; And is nather sellynge nor byenge But even onely very lyenge. And all ye three can lye as wel As can the falsest devyll in hell.
The Pedler goes on to add that this is a matter in which he can be judge, having some skill in it himself; where- upon they elect him umpire and proceed to try their skill. There is not time for detail, and we must come to the main point.^
Presently the Poticary happens to remark, quite inciden- tally and merely as a sarcastic exclamation, to the Palmer, Forsooth ye be an honest man^ whereupon the others cry out
1 See the subsequent chapter on "The Doctors of Shakspere's Time" for a catalogue of quaint drugs here enumerated by the Poticary.
'd^
A View of ihc Pii's Mouth fraiH Hf " Cmitntry Mystir'ui "
DOMESTIC LIFE OF SHAKSPERE'S TIME 107
that that is certainly the most prodigious falsehood that could be told ; but it is after discussion adjudged not to count, as being an unpremeditated accident, and the Par- doner proceeds to vaunt a wonderful rescue of a soul which he recently performed; and this is the reason of being of the play.
Well syr then marke what I can say : I have been a pardoner many a day, And done greater cures gostely Than ever he dyd bodily. Namely thys one, which ye shall here. Of one departed within thys seven yere,
A female friend of his had died suddenly.
. . . Nothynge could relese my woe Tyll I had tried even out of hande In what estate her soule dyd stande.
He goes first to Purgatory, but she was not there : so
... I from thens to hell that nyght
To help thys woman y£ I myght.
And fyrst to the devyll that kept the gate
I came and spoke after this rate.
All hayle, syr devyll, and made lowe courtesy ;
Welcome, quoth he, thus smilyngly.
He knew me well, and I at laste
Remembered him syns longe time paste. • . .
For oft in the play of Corpus Christi
He hath playd the devyll at Coventry. • . •
And to make my returns the shorter,
I sayd to this devyll, good mayster porter^
For all old love, yf it lie in your power,
Helpe me to speake with my lord and your.
Be sure, quoth he, no tongue can tell
What tyme thou couldest have com so well ;
K
DOMESTIC LIFE OF SHAKSPERE'S TIME 109
With sothery butter theyr bodies anointed. I never sawe devylls so well appoynted. The mayster sat in his jacket And all the soules were playing at racket. None other rackettes they hadde in hande Save every soule a good fyre brand : Wherwyth they played so pretely That Lucyfer laughed merely ; And all the residew of the feends Did laugh thereat ful wel like freends. Anon all this route was brought in silens, And I by an usher brought in presens Of Lucyfer : then lowe, as wel as I could, I knelyd, which he so well alowde, That thus he beckte, and by saint Antony He smyled on me well favourably Bendynge his browes as brode as barn-durres, Shakynge hys eares as ruged as burres, Rolynge hys eyes as round as two bushels, Flashynge the fyre out of his nosethryls ; Gnashinge hys teeth so vayngloriously, That we thought tyme to fall to flatery.
Fie falls to flattery, and then asks for the soul of his lady friend.
So good to graunt the thynge I crave ; And to be shorte, thys wolde I have ; The soule of one which hyther is flytted Delivered hens, and to me remitted. . . . Thorough out the erth my power doth stande Where many a soule lyeth in my hande That spede in maters as I use them. As I receyve them or refuse them. Wherby, what time thy pleasure is, I shall requyte any part of thys.
no SHAKSPERE AND HIS FORERUNNERS
The leste devyll here that can come thyther.
Shall chose a soule and brynge him hyther.
Ho, ho, quoth the devyll, we are well pleased :
What is hys name thou wouldst have eased ?
Nay, quoth I, be it good or evyll,
My comynge is for a she-devyll.
What calste her, quoth he, thou whoorson.
Forsooth, quoth I, Margery Coorson.
Now by our honour, says Lucyfer,
No devyll in hell shall withholde her;
And yf thou woldest have twenty mo,
Wert not for justyce they shoulde goo.
For all we devylls within thys den
Have more to do with two women
(How does this sound compared with Shakspere's Mi- randa, Rosalind, Perdita !)
Then with all the charge we have besyde ; Wherefore yf thou our frende wyll be tryed. Apply thy pardons to women so That unto us there come no mo. To do my beste I promised by othe ; Which I have kept, for as the fayth goth At thys day, to heven I do procure Ten women to one man, be sure. Then of Lucyfer, my leve I take, And streyt unto the mayster coke I was hadde, into the kechyn For Margerie's offyce was therein.
And so he has her forth to the gate, and sets her upon the earth with great joy.
And on the meate were halfe rosted in dede I take her then fro the spit in with spede. But when she sawe thys brought to pas, To tell the joy wherein she was ;
The Locked Door
•r.r.iiii; in th/ " Cv.tiilr)- Mysli
kI
DOMESTIC LIFE OF SHAKSPERE'S TIME iii
And of all the devylls for joy
Did rore at her delyvery
And how the cheynes in hell did rynge ;
And how all the soules therein dyd synge,
And how we were brought to the gate
And how we toke our leve thereat.
But the Palmer wins the prize of worth : he presently declares that he never saw any woman out of patience : this is adjudged the greatest possible falsehood. Finally, after infinite chaffing and flouting, good doctrine comes from the Pedler.
Pedler, Although they be of sundry kinds, Yet be they not used with sundry myndes. But as god onely doth all these move, So every man onely for his love With love and dred obediently Worketh in these vertues unyformly. Every vertue, if we lyste to scan. Is plesaunt to god and thankful to man. And who that by grace of the Holy Goste To any one vertue is moved moste That man by that grace that one apply And therein serve God moste plentyfully. Yet not that one so farre wyde to wreste As lykynge the same to myslyke the reste. For who so wresteth hys worke is in vayne ; And even in that case I perceyve you twayne. . . • Lykynge your vertue in suche wyse That eche other's vertue ye doo dyspyse. Who walketh thys way for god, wold finde hym The further they seke hym the farther behynde hym.