Chapter II: Part 2

As he and I were parting, a lusty Country lasse being among the people, cal'd him faint hearted lout, saying, "If I had begun to daunce, I would haue held out one myle though it had cost my life." At which wordes many laughed. "Nay," saith she, "if the Dauncer will lend me a leash of his belles, Ile venter to treade one mile with him my selfe." I lookt vpon her, saw mirth in her eies, heard boldnes in her words, and beheld her ready to tucke vp her russet petticoate; I fitted her with bels, which [s]he merrily taking, garnisht her thicke short legs, and with a smooth brow bad the Tabrer begin. The Drum strucke; forward marcht I with my merry Maydemarian, who shooke her fat sides, and footed it merrily to Melfoord, being a long myle. There parting with her, I gaue her (besides her skinfull of drinke) an English crowne to buy more drinke; for, good wench, she was in a pittious heate: my kindnes she requited with dropping some dozen of short courtsies, and bidding God blesse the Dauncer. I bad her adieu; and to giue her her due, she had a good eare, daunst truely, and wee parted friendly. But ere I part with her, a good fellow, my friend, hauin writ an odde Rime of her, I will make bolde to set it downe.

A Country Lasse, browne as a berry,
Blith of blee{10:15}, in heart as merry,
Cheekes well fed, and sides well larded,
Euery bone with fat flesh guarded,
Meeting merry Kemp by chaunce,
Was Marrian in his Morrice daunce.
Her stump legs with bels were garnisht,
Her browne browes with sweating varnish[t];
Her browne hips, when she was lag
To win her ground, went swig a swag;
Which to see all that came after
Were repleate with mirthfull laughter.
Yet she thumpt it on her way
With a sportly hey de gay{10:27}:
At a mile her daunce she ended,
Kindly paide and well commended.

At Melford diuers Gentlemen met mee, who brought me to one Master Colts, a very kinde and worshipfull Gentleman, where I had vnexpected entertainment till the Satterday. From whose house, hauing hope somewhat to amend my way to Bury, I determined to goe by Clare, but I found it to be both farther and fouler.

The sixt dayes iourney, being Satterday of the second weeke.

From Wednesday night til Satterday hauing bin very troublesome but much more welcome to master Colts, in the morning I tooke my leaue, and was accompanied with many Gentlemen a myle of my way. Which myle master Colts his foole would needs daunce with me, and had his desire, where leauing me, two fooles parted faire in a foule way; I keeping on my course to Clare, where I a while rested, and then cheerefully set forward to Bury.

Passing from Clare towards Bury, I was inuited to the house of a very bountifull widdow, whose husband during his life was a Yeoman of that Countrie; dying rich no doubt, as might well appeare, by the riches and plentie that abounded in euery corner of the house. She is called the widdow Eueret.

At her house were met aboue thirty Gentlemen. Such, and so plentifull variety of good fare I haue very sildome seene in any Commoners house. Her behauiour being very modest and freendly, argued her bringing vp not to be rude. She was a woman of good presence, and, if a foole may iudge, of no smal discretion.

From this widdowes I daunst to Bury, comming in on the Satterday in the afternoone, at what time the right Honorable the Lord Chiefe Justice{11:25} entred at an other gate of the towne. The wondring and regardles multitude making his honor cleere way, left the streetes where he past to gape at me; the throng of them being so great that poore Will Kemp was seauen times stayed ere hee could recouer his Inne. By reason of the great snow that then fell, I stayd at Bury from Satterday in the second week of my setting foorth til Thursday night the next weeke following.

The seauenth dayes iourney, being Friday of the third weeke.

Vpon Fryday morning I set on towardes Thetford, dauncing that tenne mile in three houres; for I left Bury somewhat after seauen in the morning, and was at Thetford somewhat after ten that same forenoone. But, indeed, considering how I had been booted the other iourneys before, and that all this way, or the most of it, was ouer a heath, it was no great wonder; for I far'd like one that had escaped the stockes, and tride the vse of his legs to out-run the Constable: so light was my heeles, that I counted the ten mile no better than a leape.

At my entrance into Thetford the people came in great numbers to see mee; for there were many there, being Size time. The noble Gentleman, Sir Edwin Rich{12:13}, gaue me entertainment in such bountifull and liberal sort, during my continuance there Satterday and Sunday, that I want fitte words to expresse the least part of his worthy vsage of my vnworthines; and to conclude liberally as hee had begun and continued, at my departure on Munday his worship gaue me fiue pound.

The eyght dayes iourney, being Munday of the fourth weeke.

On Munday morning I daunst to Rockland ere I rested, and comming to my Inne, where the Hoast was a very boone companion, I desired to see him; but in no case he would be spoken with till he had shifted himselfe from his working dayes sute. Being armed at all poyntes, from the cap to the codpeece, his blacke shooes shining and made straght with copper buckles of the best, his garters in the fashion, and euery garment fitting Corremsquandam (to use his owne word), hee enters the Hall, with his bonnet in his hand, began to crye out:

"O Kemp, deere Master Kemp! you are euen as welcome as--as--as--," and so stammering he began to study for a fit comparison, and, I thanke him, at last he fitted me; for saith he, "thou art euen as welcome as the Queenes best grey-hound." After this dogged yet well-meaning salutation, the Carrowses were called in; and my friendly Hoast of Rockland began withall this, blessing{13:5} the houre vppon his knees, that any of the Queenes Maiesties well-willers or friends would vouchsafe to come within his house; as if neuer any such had been within his doores before.

I tooke his good meaning, and gaue him great thankes for his kindenesse; and hauing rested mee well, began to take my course for Hingham, whether my honest Hoast of Rockland would needs be my guide: but, good true fat-belly, he had not followed mee two fieldes, but he lyes all along, and cryes after me to come backe and speake with him. I fulfild his request: and comming to him, "Dauncer," quoth hee, "if thou daunce a Gods name, God speede thee! I cannot follow thee a foote farther; but adieu, good dauncer; God speed thee, if thou daunce a Gods name!"

I, hauing haste of my way, and he being able to keep no way, there wee parted. Farewell he: he was a kinde good fellow, a true Troyan; and if euer be my lucke to meete him at more leasure, Ile make him full amendes with a Cup full of Canarie. But nowe I am a little better aduis'd, wee must not thus let my madde Hoast passe; for my friend, late mentioned before, that made the odde rime on my Maide-marian, would needes remember my Hoast. Such as it is, He bluntly set downe.

He was a man{13:26} not ouer spare;
In his eyebals dwelt no care.
"Anon, anon," and "Welcome{13:28}, friend,"
Were the most words he vsde to spend,
Saue sometime he would sit and tell
What wonders once in Bullayne fell{13:31},
Closing each Period of his tale
With a full cup of Nut-browne Ale.
Turwin and Turneys siedge were hot{14:1},
Yet all my Hoast remembers not:
Kets field{14:3} and Muscleborough{14:3} fray
Were battles fought but yesterday.
"O, 'twas a goodly matter then
To see your sword and buckler men!
They would lye heere, and here and there,
But I would meete them euery where:
And now a man is but a pricke;
A boy, arm'd with a poating sticke{14:10},
Will dare to challenge Cutting Dicke{14:11}.
O 'tis a world{14:12} the world to see!
But twill not mend for thee nor mee."
By this some guest cryes "Ho, the house!"
A fresh friend hath a fresh carouse:
Still he will drinke, and still be dry,
And quaffe with euery company.
Saint Martin send him merry mates,
To enter at his hostree gates!
For a blither lad than he
Cannot an Inkeeper be.

Well, once againe farewell mine Hoast at Rockland. After all these farewels, I am sure to Hingham I found a foule way, as before I had done from Thetford to Rockland.

Yet, besides the deep way, I was much hindred by the desire people had to see me. For euen as our Shop-keepers will hayle and pull a man with "Lack ye? what do you lack, Gentlemen?"{14:27} "My ware is best," cryes one, "Mine best in England," sayes an other, "Heere shall you haue choyse," saith the third; so was the dyuers voyces of the young men and Maydens, which I should meete at euerie myles ende, thronging by twentie, and sometime fortie, yea, hundreths in a companie; one crying "The fayrest way was thorow their Village," another, "This is the nearest and fayrest way, when you haue past but a myle and a halfe;" an other sort{15:2} crie "Turne on the left hand," some "On the right hand;" that I was so amazed I knewe not sometime which way I might best take; but haphazard, the people still accompanying me, wherewith I was much comforted, though the wayes were badde; but as I said before at last I ouertooke it.

The ninth dayes iourney, being Wednesday of the second weeke.

The next morning I left Hingham, not staying till I came to Barford-bridge, fiue young men running all the way with me, for otherwise my pace was not for footemen.

From Barford bridge I daunst to Norwich; but comming within sight of the Citty, perceiuing so great a multitude and throng of people still crowding more and more about me, mistrusting it would be a let{15:15} to my determined expedition and pleasurable humour, which I long before conceiued to delight this Citty with (so far as my best skill and industry of my long trauelled sinewes could affoord them), I was aduised, and so tooke ease by that aduise, to stay my Morrice a little aboue Saint Giles his gate, where I tooke my gelding, and so rid into the Citty, procrastinating my merry Morrice daunce through the Citty till better opportunitie.

Being come into the Citty, Master Roger Wiler the Maior{15:23}, and sundry other of his worshipfull Brethren, sent for me; who perceiuing howe I intended not to daunce into the Cittye that nyght, and being well satisfied with the reasons, they allotted me time enough not to daunce in till Satterday after; to the end that diuers knights and Gentlemen, together with their wiues and children (who had beene many dayes before deceyued with expectation of my comming), might nowe haue sufficient warning accordingly by satterday following.

In the meane space, and during my still continuaunce in the Cittye afterwardes, they not onely very courteously offered to beare mine owne charges and my followers, but very bountifully performed it at the common charges: the Mayor and many of the Aldermen often times besides inuited vs priuately to theyr seuerall houses.

To make a short end of this tedious description of my entertainment; Satterday no sooner came but I returned without the Citty through Saint Giles his gate, and beganne my Morrice where I left at that gate, but I entred in at Saint Stephens gate, where one Thomas Gilbert in name of all the rest of the Cittizens gaue me a friendly and exceeding kind welcome; which I haue no reason to omit, vnlesse I would condemne my selfe of ingratitude, partlye for the priuate affection of the writer towardes me, as also for the generall loue and fauour I found in them from the highest to the lowest, the richest as the poorest. It followes in these few lynes.

Master Kemp his welcome to Norwich.

W With hart, and hand, among the rest,
E Especially you welcome are:
L Long looked for as welcome guest,
C Come now at last you be from farre.
O Of most within the Citty, sure,
M Many good wishes you haue had;
E Each one did pray you might indure,
W With courage good the match you made.
I Intend they did with gladsome hearts,
L Like your well willers, you to meete:
K Know you also they'l doe their parts,
E Eyther in field or house to greete
M More you then any with you came,
P Procur'd thereto with trump and fame.
your well-willer,
T. G.

Passing the gate, Wifflers{17:1} (such Officers as were appointed by the Mayor) to make me way through the throng of the people which prest so mightily vpon me, with great labour I got thorow that narrow preaze{17:4} into the open market place; where on the crosse, ready prepared, stood the Citty Waytes, which not a little refreshed my wearines with toyling thorow so narrow a lane as the people left me: such Waytes (under Benedicite be it spoken) fewe Citties in our Realme haue the like, none better; who, besides their excellency in wind instruments, their rare cunning on the Vyoll and Violin, theyr voices be admirable, euerie one of them able to serue in any Cathedrall Church in Christendoome for Quiristers.

Passing by the Market place, the presse still increasing by the number of boyes, girles, men and women, thronging more and more before me to see the end; it was the mischaunce of a homely maide, that, belike, was but newly crept into the fashion of long wasted peticotes tyde with points{17:17}, and had, as it seemed, but one point tyed before, and comming vnluckily in my way, as I was fetching a leape, it fell out that I set my foote on her skirts: the point eyther breaking or stretching, off fell her peticoate from her waste, but as chance was, thogh hir smock were course, it was cleanely; yet the poore wench was so ashamed, the rather for that she could hardly recouer her coate againe from vnruly boies, that looking before like one that had the greene sicknesse, now had she her cheekes all coloured with scarlet. I was sorry for her, but on I went towards the Maiors, and deceiued the people by leaping ouer the church-yard wall at S. Johns, getting so into M. Mayors gates a neerer way; but at last I found it the further way about, being forced on the Tewsday following to renew my former daunce, because George Sprat, my ouer-seer, hauing lost me in the throng, would not be deposed that I had daunst it, since he saw me not; and I must confesse I did not wel, for the Cittizens had caused all the turne-pikes to be taken vp on Satterday that I might not bee hindred. But now I returne againe to my Jump, the measure of which is to be seene in the Guild-hall at Norwich,{18:2} where my buskins, that I then wore and daunst in from London thither, stand equally deuided, nailde on the wall. The plenty of good cheere at the Mayors, his bounty and kinde vsage, together with the general welcomes of his worshipful brethren, and many other knights, Ladies, Gentlemen and Gentlewomen, so much exceeded my expectation, as I adiudg'd my selfe most bound to them all. The Maior gaue me fiue pound in Elizabeth angels{18:10}; which Maior (faire Madame, to whom I too presumptuously dedicate my idle paces) is a man{18:11} worthy of a singuler and impartiall admiration, if our criticke humorous mindes could as prodigally conceiue as he deserues, for his chast life, liberality, and temperance in possessing worldly benefits. He liues vnmarried, and childlesse; neuer purrchased house nor land, the house he dwels in this yeere being but hyred: he liues vpon marchandies, being a Marchant venturer. If our marchants and gentlemen wold take example by this man, Gentlemen would not sell their lands to become banckrout Marchants, nor Marchants liue in the possessions of youth-beguiled gentlemen, who cast themselues out of their parents heritages for a few out-cast commodities{18:22}. But, wit, whither wilt thou?{18:22} What hath Morrice tripping Will to do with that? it keeps not time w^t his dance; therefore roome, you morral precepts, giue my legs leaue to end my Morrice, or, that being ended, my hands leaue to perfect this worthlesse poore tottered{18:26} volume.

Pardon me, Madame, that I am thus tedious; I cannot chuse but commend sacred liberality, which makes poore wretches partakers of all comfortable benefits: besides the loue and fauour already repeated, M. Weild the mayor{18:30} gaue me 40.s. yeerely during my life, making me a free man of the marchant venterers. This is the substance of al my iourney; therefore let no man beleeue, how euer before by lying ballets and rumors they haue bin abused, y^t either waies were laid open for me, or that I deliuered gifts to her Maiesty. Its good being merry, my masters, but in a meane, and al my mirths, (meane though they be) haue bin and euer shal be imploi'd to the delight of my royal Mistris; whose sacred name ought not to be remembred among such ribald rimes as these late thin-breecht lying Balletsingers haue proclaimed it.

It resteth now that in a word I shew what profit I haue made by my Morrice. True it is I put out some money to haue threefold gaine at my returne{19:8}: some that loue me, regard my paines, and respect their promise, haue sent home the treble worth; some other at the first sight haue paide me, if I came to seek them; others I cannot see, nor wil they willingly be found, and these are the greater number. If they had al usd me wel, or al ill, I would haue boldly set downe the true sum of my smal gain or losse; but I wil haue patience, some few daies longer: at y^e end of which time, if any be behinde, I wil draw a cattalogue of al their names I ventur'd with; those y^t haue shewne themselues honest men, I wil set before them this Caracter, H. for honesty; before the other Bench-whistlers{19:19} shal stand K. for ketlers and keistrels{19:19}, that wil driue a good companion without need in them to contend for his owne; but I hope I shall haue no such neede. If I haue, your Honourable protection shall thus far defend your poore seruant, that he may, being a plain man, call a spade a spade. Thus fearing your Ladyship is wearier with reading this toy then I was in all my merry trauaile, I craue pardon; and conclude this first Pamphlet that euer Will Kemp offred to the Presse, being thereunto prest on the one side by the pittifull papers, pasted on euery poast, of that which was neither so nor so, and on the other side vrg'd thereto in duety to expresse with thankefulnes the kind entertainment I found.

Your honors poore seruant,
W. K.

Kemps humble request to the impudent generation of Ballad-makers
and their coherents; that it would please their rascalities to
pitty his paines in the great iourney he pretends{20:3}, and not
fill the country with lyes of his neuer done actes, as they did in
his late Morrice to Norwich.

To the tune of Thomas Delonies Epitaph.

My notable Shakerags, the effect of my sute is discouered in the Title of my supplication; but for your better vnderstandings, for that I know you to be a sort{20:9} of witles beetle-heads that can understand nothing but what is knockt into your scalpes, These are by these presentes to certifie vnto your block-headships, that I, William Kemp, whom you had neer hand rent in sunder with your vnreasonable rimes, am shortly, God willing, to set forward as merily as I may; whether I my selfe know not. Wherefore, by the way, I would wish ye, imploy not your little wits in certifying the world that I am gone to Rome, Jerusalem, Venice, or any other place at your idle appoint. I knowe the best of ye, by the lyes ye writ of me, got not the price of a good hat to couer your brainles heads: if any of ye had come to me, my bounty should haue exceeded the best of your good masters the Ballad-buiers, I wold haue apparrelled your dry pates in party coloured bonnets, and bestowd a leash of my cast belles to haue crown'd ye with cox-combs. I haue made a priuie search what priuate Jigmonger{20:24} of your jolly number hath been the Author of these abhominable ballets written of me. I was told it was the great ballet-maker T. D., alias Tho. Deloney, Chronicler of the memorable liues of the 6. yeomen of the west, Jack of Newbery, the Gentle-craft{20:26}, and such like honest men, omitted by Stow, Hollinshead, Grafton, Hal, froysart, and the rest of those wel deseruing writers; but I was giuen since to vnderstand your late generall Tho. dyed poorely, as ye all must do, and was honestly buried, which is much to bee doubted of some of you. The quest of inquiry finding him by death acquited of the Inditement, I was let to wit y^t another Lord of litle wit, one whose imployment for the Pageant was vtterly spent, he being knowne to be Eldertons immediate heyre{21:7}, was vehemently suspected; but after due inquisition was made, he was at that time knowne to liue like a man in a mist, hauing quite giuen ouer the mistery{21:11}. Still the search continuing, I met a proper vpright youth, onely for a little stooping in the shoulders, all hart to the heele, a penny Poet, whose first making{21:14} was the miserable stolne story of Macdoel, or Macdobeth{21:15}, or Macsomewhat, for I am sure a Mac it was, though I neuer had the maw to see it; and hee tolde me there was a fat filthy ballet-maker, that should haue once been his Journeyman to the trade, who liu'd about the towne, and ten to one but he had thus terribly abused me and my Taberer, for that he was able to do such a thing in print. A shrewd presumption! I found him about the bankside{21:21}, sitting at a play; I desired to speake with him, had him to a Tauerne, charg'd a pipe with Tobacco, and then laid this terrible accusation to his charge. He swels presently, like one of the foure windes; the violence of his breath blew the Tobacco out of the pipe, and the heate of his wrath drunke dry two bowlefuls of Rhenish wine. At length hauing power to speake, "Name my accuser," saith he, "or I defye thee, Kemp, at the quart staffe." I told him; and all his anger turned to laughter, swearing it did him good to haue ill words of a hoddy doddy{21:29}, a habber de hoy{21:30}, a chicken, a squib, a squall{21:30}, one that hath not wit enough to make a ballet, that, by Pol and Aedipol, would Pol his father, Derick{21:32} his dad, doe anie thing, how ill so euer, to please his apish humor. I hardly beleeued this youth that I tooke to be gracious had bin so graceles; but I heard afterwards his mother in law was eye and eare witnes of his fathers abuse by this blessed childe on a publique stage, in a merry Hoast of an Innes part. Yet all this while could not I finde out the true ballet-maker, till by chaunce a friend of mine puld out of his pocket a booke in Latine, called Mundus Furiosus{22:6}, printed at Cullen, written by one of the vildest and arrantest lying Cullians{22:7} that euer writ booke, his name Jansonius, who, taking vpon him to write an abstract of all the turbulent actions that had beene lately attempted or performed in Christendome, like an vnchristian wretch, writes onely by report, partially, and scoffingly of such whose pages shooes hee was vnworthy to wipe, for indeed he is now dead: farewell he! euery dog must haue a day. But see the luck on't: this beggerly lying busie-bodies name brought out the Ballad-maker{22:13}, and, it was generally confirmd, it was his kinsman: he confesses himselfe guilty, let any man looke on his face; if there be not so redde a colour that all the sope in the towne will not washe white, let me be turned to a Whiting as I passe betweene Douer and Callis. Well, God forgiue thee, honest fellow, I see thou hast grace in thee; I prethee do so no more, leaue writing these beastly ballets, make not good wenches Prophetesses, for litle or no profit, nor for a sixe-penny matter reuiue not a poore fellowes fault thats hanged for his offence; it may be thy owne destiny one day; prethee be good to them. Call vp thy olde Melpomene, whose straubery quill may write the bloody lines of the blew Lady, and the Prince of the burning crowne; a better subiect, I can tell ye, than your Knight of the Red Crosse. So, farewel, and crosse me no more, I prethee, with thy rabble of bald rimes, least at my returne I set a crosse on thy forehead that all men may know thee for a foole.

WILLIAM KEMP.

FOOTNOTES:

[3:1] Sion neere Brainford, and Mount Surrey by Norwich _(Marg. note in old ed.)_.

[4:1] A great spoone in Ilford, holding aboue a quart _(Marg. note in old ed.)_.

NOTES.

Page 1, line 2, Mistris Anne Fitton, Mayde of Honour to ... Queene Elizabeth.]--A _Mary_ Fitton, daughter to Sir Edward Fitton, of Gawsworth, and _maid of honour to Queen Elizabeth_, is mentioned by Ormerod, _Hist. of Cheshire_, iii. 293; and "_Mrs._ Fitton" is noticed as holding that office in several letters of Rowland Whyte, printed among the _Sydney Papers_. It seems unlikely that the Queen should have had two maids of honour called Fitton; and yet we can hardly suppose that Kemp mistook the Christian name of his patroness. I may add, that an examination of Sir E. Fitton's will in the Prerogative Court has proved to me that his daughter was named _Mary_.

P. 1, l. 6, sort.]--set, band.

P. 1, l. 11, Kery, mery, Buffe.]--Compare Nash's _Haue with you to Saffron-walden_, 1596, "Yea, without _kerry merry buffe_ be it spoken," &c. Sig. F. 4; and Middleton's _Blurt Master Constable_, "Tricks, tricks; _kerry merry buff_." Act i. sc. 1; _Works_, i. 235, ed. Dyce.

P. 1, l. 14. Trenchmore.]--a boisterous sort of dance to a lively tune in triple time.

P. 2, l. 2, Jigges.]--See Introduction.

P. 2, l. 8, I could flye to Rome (at least hop to Rome, as the olde Proverb is) with a morter on my head.]--So in Fletcher's _Fair Maid of the Inn_, "He did measure the stars with a false yard, and may now _travel to Rome with a mortar on 's head_, to see if he can recover his money that way," Act v. sc. 2, _Works_, ix. 498, ed. Weber; and in Middleton and Rowley's _Spanish Gipsy_, "A cousin of mine in _Rome, I['ll] go to him with a mortar_," Act ii. sc. 2, Middleton's _Works_, iv. 135, ed. Dyce.

P. 2, l. 11, huntsup.]--a tune played to rouse the sportsmen in a morning.

P. 3, l. 10, Thomas Slye.]--A relation, probably, of William Slye, the actor.

P. 3, l. 15, bel-shangles.]--A cant term, which is also used by Nash: "Canonizing euerie _Bel-shangles_ the water-bearer for a Saint."--_Haue with you to Saffron-walden_, 1596, Sig. I.

P. 4, l. 18, Bauines.]--small faggots.

P. 4, l. 30, hey-de-gaies.]--a kind of rural dance: the word is variously written.

P. 6, l. 9, dy-doppers.]--didappers, dabchicks.

P. 6, l. 13, a noted Cut-purse, such a one as we tye to a poast on our stage, for all people to wonder at, when at a play they are taken pilfring.]--Mr. Collier, who has cited the present passage, observes, that this method of treating cutpurses, when detected at theatres, is no where else adverted to by any writer.--_Hist. of Engl. Dram. Poet._ iii. 413.

P. 6, l. 18, Trenchmore.]--See note, p. 25.

P. 6, l. 22, companions.]--scurvy fellows--a play on the word.

P. 7, l. 7, Sir Thomas Mildmay, standing at his Parke pale.]--Sir Thomas Mildmay, Knt., of Moulsham-hall. He married the Lady Frances, only daughter, by his second wife, of Henry Ratcliffe, Lord Fitzwalter and Earl of Sussex; from which marriage his descendants derived their title and claim to the Barony of Fitzwalter. He died in 1608.--Morant's _Hist. of Essex_, ii. 2; Dugdale's _Baron._ ii. 288.

P. 7, l. 9, points.]--tagged laces.

P. 7, l. 9, being my ordinary marchandize, that I put out to venter for performance of my merry voyage.]--This "marchandize" was instead of a deposit in money: but we learn from a passage towards the end of the tract (p. 19), that our Morrice-dancer had also "put out some money to have threefold gain at his return,"--it being then a common custom for those who undertook expeditions to put out sums of money on condition of receiving them back trebled, quadrupled, or quintupled, at the completion of the voyages or journies. Kemp (_ibid._) complains that the greater number of those with whom he had deposited money would not "willingly be found:" compare _A Kicksey Winsey, or, A Lerry Come-twang; Wherein John Taylor hath Satyrically suted seuen hundred and fifty of his bad debtors, that will not pay him for his returne of his iourney from Scotland_. Taylor the Water-poet's _Workes_, 1630, p. 36.

P. 7, l. 26, bels.]--"The number of bells round each leg of the morris-dancers amounted from twenty to forty. They had various appellations, as the fore-bell, the second bell, the treble, the tenor, the base, and the double-bell. Sometimes they used trebles only; but these refinements were of later times. The bells were occasionally jingled by the hands, or placed on the arms or wrists of the parties."--Douce's _Illust. of Shakespeare_, ii. 475. The same writer mentions that in the time of Henry the Eighth the Morris-dancers had "garters to which bells were attached," 473.

P. 7, l. 26, the olde fashion, with napking on her armes.]--"The handkerchiefs, or napkins, as they are sometimes called, were held in the hand, or tied to the shoulders." Douce, _ubi supra_, 475.

P. 8, l. 8, The hobby-horse quite forgotten.]--When the present tract was written, the Puritans, by their preachings and invectives, had succeeded in banishing this prominent personage from the Morris-dance, as an impious and pagan superstition. The expression in our text seems to have been almost proverbial; besides the well-known line cited in Shakespeare's _Hamlet_, Act iii. sc. 2, (and in his _Love's Labours Lost_, Act iii. sc. 1.)

"For, O, for, O, the hobby-horse is forgot,"

parallel passages are to be found in various other early dramas. As the admirable scene in Sir Walter Scott's _Abbot_, I. ch. xiv. (_Wav. Novels_, xx.) must be familiar to every reader, a description of the hobby-horse is unnecessary.

P. 8, l. 23, plash.]--pool.

P. 10, l. 15, blee.]--complexion, countenance.

P. 10, l. 27, hey de gay.]--See note, p. 26.

P. 11, l. 25, the Lord Chiefe Justice.]--Sir John Popham: he was appointed Chief Justice of the King's Bench in 1592.

P. 12, l. 13, Sir Edwin Rich.]--Third son of Robert Lord Rich, was knighted at Cadiz in June 1596: see Account of the expedition to Cadiz in Hakluyt's _Voyages_, I. 617. ed. 1599 (where, by mistake, he is called Sir _Edmund_), and Stow's _Annales_, p. 775. ed. 1631. About three years after, he purchased the manor of Mulbarton in Norfolk from William Gresham, Esq. In 1604, when Sir Anthony Shirley went as ambassador from the Emperor of Germany to the King of Morocco, in his suite was Sir Edwin Rich, "whose behauiour was good, and well spoken of in euery place where he came," &c. He married Honora, daughter of Charles Worlick, Esq.; and died, and was buried (I know not in what year) at Hartlepool. A monument is erected to his memory, and to that of his sons, Robert and Sir Edwin, in Mulbarton church. Collins's _Baron._ III. P. ii. 592. ed. 1741; Le Neve's _Mon. Angl._ Suppl. 113; Purchas's _Pilgrimes_, Sec. Part. p. 863. ed. 1625; Blomefield's _Hist. of Norf._ III. 52.

P. 13, l. 5, began withall this, blessing, &c.]--Old ed. "began with. All this: blessing," &c.

P. 13, l. 26, He was a man, &c.]--Warton thinks that this description of the Innkeeper at Rockland, "which could not be written by Kemp, was most probably a contribution from his friend and fellow player Shakespeare [?]. He may vie with our Host of the Tabard." _Hist. of Eng. Poet._ IV. 63, ed. 4to.

P. 13, l. 28, Welcome.]--"coming," apud Warton (ubi supra, 64,) by mistake.

P. 13, l. 31, What wonders once in Bullayne fell.]--At the siege of Boulogne: on the 14th of Sept. 1544, it surrendered to Henry the Eighth, who entered it in triumph on the 18th of the month.

P. 14, l. 1, Turwin and Turneys siedge were hot.]--After the Battle of the Spurs, which took place August 16th, 1513, Terouenne surrendered to Henry the Eighth on the 22nd of that month, and on the 27th its defences were razed to the ground: Tournay surrendered to the English monarch on the 29th of the ensuing September. Historians differ somewhat as to the dates of these events: I have followed Lingard.

P. 14, l. 3, Kets field.]--The battle near Norwich, August 27th, 1549, when the Earl of Warwick routed Ket and the Norfolk rebels.

P. 14, l. 3, Muscleborough fray.]--The battle of Pinkey, in which the Protector Somerset defeated the Scots with great slaughter, September 10th, 1547.

P. 14, l. 10, poating sticke.]--Or _poking-stick_, an instrument for setting the plaits of ruffs. Poting-sticks were originally made of wood or bone; afterwards of steel, that they might be used hot.

P. 14, l. 11, Cutting Dicke.]--Is thus mentioned by Wither:

"Yet this is nothing; if they looke for fame,
And meane to haue an everlasting name
Amongst the Vulgar, let them seeke for gaine
With Ward the Pirat on the boisterous maine;
Or else well mounted keepe themselues on land,
And bid our wealthy trauellers to stand,
Emptying their full-cram'd bags; for that's a tricke
Which sometimes wan renoune to _Cutting Dicke_."

_Abvses Stript and Whipt_, Lib. II. Sat. 2. Sig. P. ed. 1613.

From the following entry by Henslowe we learn that this worthy figured in a play: "Pd. unto Thomas Hewode, the 20th of september [1602], for the new adycions of _Cutting Dick_, the some of xxs." Malone's _Shakespeare_, (by Boswell,) III. 333.

P. 14, l. 12, 'tis a world.]--Equivalent to--it is a wonder.

P. 14, l. 27, Lack ye? what do you lack, Gentlemen?]--The usual address of the London tradesmen to those who passed by their shops, which were formerly open like booths or stalls at a fair.

P. 15, l. 2, sort.]--set, band.

P. 15, l. 15, let.]--hindrance.

P. 15, l. 23, Master Roger Wiler the Maior.]--An error, it would seem, not of the author, but of the printer, for afterwards (p. 18), the name is given more correctly, _Weild_. In the list of Mayors of Norwich during Elizabeth's reign, drawn up by Blomefield, we find--

"1598, Francis Rugg, 2.
1599, _Roger Weld_.
1600, Alex. Thurston."

_Hist. of Norf._ ii. 252.

P. 17, l. 1, Wifflers.]--Persons who clear the way for a procession: see Douce's _Ill. of Shakespeare_, I. 506. I may just notice that when Grose compiled his _Prov. Gloss._, the word _whifflers_ had not become obsolete in the city of which Kemp is now speaking.

P. 17, l. 4, preaze.]--press.

P. 17, l. 17, points.]--tagged laces.

P. 18, l. 2, my Jump, the measure of which is to be seene in the Guild-hall at Norwich, &c.]--It is hardly necessary to inform the reader that no memorial of Kemp is now extant in that building.

P. 18, l. 10, angels.]--Gold coins, worth about 10s. each.

P. 18, l. 11, is a man.]--Old ed. "as _a man_."

P. 18, l. 22, commodities.]--goods, in which needy prodigals took either part or whole of the sum they wanted to borrow, and for which they gave a bond: these commodities (sometimes consisting of brown paper!) they were to turn into ready money. Our early writers have innumerable allusions to the custom.

P. 18, l. 22, wit, whither wilt thou?]--A kind of proverbial expression, by no means unfrequent: see, for instance, Shakespeare's _As you like it_, Act iv. sc. 1.

P. 18, l. 26, tottered.]--tattered.

P. 18, l. 30, M. Weild the mayor.]--See note, p. 29.

P. 19, l. 8, I put out some money to haue threefold gaine at my returne.] See note, p. 26.

P. 19, l. 19, Bench-whistlers.]--perhaps, sottish idlers on ale-house benches; see Gifford's note in B. Jonson's _Works_, i. 103.

P. 19, l. 19, ketlers and keistrels.]--The first of these terms I am unable to explain; but it occurs in Middleton's _Black Book_, "So, drawing in amongst bunglers and _ketlers_ under the plain frieze of simplicity, thou mayest finely couch the wrought velvet of knavery;" and in his _Father Hubburd's Tales_, we find "like an old cunning bowler to fetch in a young _ketling_ gamester:" see Middleton's _Works_, v. 543, 589, ed. Dyce. _Keistrels_ are hawks of a worthless and degenerate breed.

P. 20, l. 3, pretends.]--intends.

P. 20, l. 9, sort.]--set, band.

P. 20, l. 24, Jigmonger.]--ballad maker.

P. 20, l. 26, the great ballet-maker T. D., alias Tho. Deloney, Chronicler of the memorable liues of the 6. yeomen of the west, Jack of Newbery, the Gentle-craft.]--Thomas Deloney succeeded Elderton as the most popular ballad-writer of the time: for an account of his poetical pieces, see Ritson's _Bibl. Poet._ and Collier's _Hist. of Engl. Dram. Poet._ iii. 100. The pleasing ballad of _Fair Rosamond_, reprinted in Percy's _Rel. of An. Engl. Poet._ ii. 143. ed. 1794, is probably the composition of Deloney, as it is found in more than one of his publications. In 1596, had he not eluded the search of the Mayor of London, he would have been punished for writing "a certain Ballad, containing a Complaint of great Want and Scarcity of Corn within the Realm ... bringing in the Queen speaking with her People Dialogue-wise, in very fond and undecent sort," &c., Stow's _Survey_, B. v. 333. ed. 1720, where he is described as "an idle Fellow, and one noted with the like Spirit in printing a Book for the Silk Weavers, wherein was found some such like foolish and disorderly matter." Nash terms him "the Balletting Silke-weauer," _Haue with you to Saffron-walden_, 1596, Sig. N. 3. Deloney was no less celebrated among the vulgar for his prose-romances than for his ballads. _Thomas of Reading, or the sixe worthie Yeomen of the West_, is noticed in the present passage as a well-known work, and was dramatized in 1601 (Malone's _Shakespeare_, by Boswell, iii. 325-6; Collier's _Hist. of Engl. Dram. Poet._ iii. 99), but no impression has been discovered earlier than the fourth, 1612, 4to: this tale is reprinted in Thoms's _Early Prose Rom._ i. Of _The pleasant Historie of John Winchcomb, in his younguer yeares called Jack of Newbery, the famous and worthy Clothier of England; declaring his life and loue, together with his charitable deeds and great Hospitalitie_, &c., the earliest edition extant is the eighth, 1619, 4to: its entry in the Stationers' Books stands thus:

"7 Maii [1596].

"Tho. Millington Entered for his copie a book }
called Jack of Newbery So } vi^d."
that he haue yt lawfully aucthorised }

(_Liber_ C. fol. 19)

_The Gentle Craft, A most merry and pleasant History, not altogether vnprofitable, nor any way hurtfull: very fit to passe away the tediousnes of the long winters euenings_, in Two Parts, 1598, 4to., is probably the first edition, for the following entry in the Stationers' Books seems to relate to it:

"19^o Octobris [1597]

"Raphe Blore Entred for his copie vnder thande }
of Mr. Dix and Mr. Man a booke } vi^d."
called The gentle crafte intreatinge }
of Shoomakers.... }

(_Liber_ C. fol. 25.)

Verses of various kinds are inserted in these novels.

P. 21, l. 7, one whose imployment for the Pageant was vtterly spent, he being knowne to be Eldertons immediate heyre.]--An allusion to Anthony Munday. During a long life he figured in various capacities,--as a player, an apprentice to Allde the printer, a retainer of the Earl of Oxford, a Messenger of her Majesty's Chamber, Poet to the City, dramatist, writer in verse and prose, and draper. He also excited considerable attention, and drew much trouble on himself, by his efforts in detecting the treasonable practices of the Jesuits. According to the inscription on his monument in the church of St. Stephen, Coleman Street, he died in his 80th year, August 10th 1633. (Stow's _Survey_, B. iii. 61. ed. 1720.) For a fuller account of Munday and his writings, see Chalmers's _Biog. Dict._, Collier's _Supplementary volume to Dodsley's Old Plays_, Warton's _Hist. of Engl. Poet._, iii., 290, _seq._ ed. 4to., _Ritson's Bibl. Poet._, and Lowndes's _Bibl. Man._ His _Downfall of Robert Earl of Huntington_, and _Death of Robert_, &c. (in the latter of which, if not in the former, he was assisted by Chettle) are reprinted by Mr. Collier in the volume just mentioned; his _English Romayne Life; Discovering the Lives of the Englishmen at Rome, the orders of the English Seminarie, &c._ and his _Banquet of daintie Conceits, &c._ may be found in _The Harl. Miscell._ VII. 136, IX. 219, ed. Park; his _Triumphes of Reunited Britania_, _Metropolis Coronata_, and _Crysanaleia, the Golden Fishing_, are included in Nichols's _Prog. of K. James_, i. 564, iii. 107, 195; and extracts from his translations of various romances are given in Sir E. Brydges's _Brit. Bibl._ i. 225, 135, ii. 561.

Gifford thinks it probable that most of the annual pageants from 1591 to the death of Elizabeth were produced by Munday (Note on B. Jonson's _Works_, vi. 328). Though Kemp declares here that his "imployment for the pageant was utterly spent," yet Anthony furnished the city shows for 1605, 1611, and (in spite of an attack made on him by Middleton in 1613--see my ed. of Middleton's _Works_, v. 219, note), for 1614, 1615, and 1616.

Except a "Song of Robin Hood and his Huntesmen" in _Metropolis Coronata_, I am not aware that any of Munday's ballads are extant--unless indeed the "ditties" in _The Banquet of daintie Conceits_ may be regarded as such; but there is no doubt that they were numerous, and hence, in the present passage, he is termed the "immediate heyre" of William Elderton. This personage,--who is said to have been, at different periods of his life, an actor, the master of a company of players, and an attorney in the Sheriff's Court, London,--obtained great notoriety by his ballads. See a list of his pieces in Ritson's _Bibl. Poet._: vide also Warton's _Hist. of Engl. Poet._ iv. 40, ed. 4to. His song "The God of love," &c. (of which a puritanical moralization still exists) is quoted in Shakespeare's _Much ado about Nothing_, act v. sc. 2. His _Verses on the Images over the Guild-hall Gate_ may be read in Stow's _Survey_, B. iii. 41, ed. 1720; his ballad of _The King of Scots and Andrew Browne_, in Percy's _Rel. of An. Engl. Poet._ ii. 207, ed. 1794; his _New Yorkshyre Song_, in Evans's _Old Ballads_, i. 20, ed. 1810; and his _Newes from Northumberland_, _The Dekaye of the Duke_, _The daungerous Shooting of the Gunne at the Court_ and _A moorning Diti upon Henry Earl of Arundel_, in _The Harl. Miscell._ X. 267, _seq._ ed. Park. Elderton appears to have ceased pouring forth his doggrel about the time that Deloney began to write. In 1592 he was dead: see Nash's _Strange Newes, Of the intercepting certaine Letters_, &c., 1592, Sig. D. 4. He was nearly as famous for drinking as for rhyming: of two epitaphs on him, preserved by Camden, I subjoin the first:

"Hic situs est sitiens, atque ebrius Eldertonus;
Quid dico, hic situs est? hic potius sitis est."

_Remaines--Epitaphes_, 56, ed. 1605.

P. 21, l. 11, mistery.]--art, trade.

P. 21, l. 14, making.]--poetical composition.

P. 21, l. 15, Macdobeth.]--This mention of a piece anterior to Shakespeare's tragedy on the same subject has escaped the commentators.

P. 21, l. 21, the bankside.]--In Southwark, where the Globe and other theatres were situated.

P. 21, l. 29, hoddy doddy.]--A term of contempt, which occurs in B. Jonson's _Every Man in his Humour_, Act iv. sc. 8, _Works_, i. 141, ed. Gifford, and is used by a comparatively recent writer, Swift. See Richardson's _Dict._ in v.

P. 21, l. 30, habber de hoy.]--"A _Hober-de-hoy_, half a man and half a boy." Ray's _Proverbs_, p. 57, ed. 1768.--The word is variously written: see Jamieson's _Et. Dict. of Scot. Lang._ in v. _Hobbledehoy_.

P. 21, l. 30, squall.]--probably, poor effeminate creature. Taylor, the water-poet, describes the rich foolish gallant calling his harlot,

"Ducke, Lambe, _Squall_, Sweet-heart, Cony, and his Doue."

_A Whore_, p. 112.--_Workes_, 1630.

and Middleton, who employs the word several times, seems to use it in the sense of wench: see his _Works_, iii. 55, v. 575. ed. Dyce.

P. 21, l. 32, Derick.]--hang,--the name of the common hangman when this tract was written: he is frequently mentioned in our old plays.

P. 22, l. 6, Mundus Furiosus.]--_Mundi Fvriosi sive P. A. Iansonii Narra[tio]nis Rervm Tota Europa Gestarum, Continvatio ab Anno 1597 vsque ad annum præsentem 1600._ _Coloniæ_, 1600, 8vo.

P. 22, l. 7, Cullians.]--scoundrels.

P. 22, l. 13, this beggerly lying busie-bodies name brought out the Ballad-maker.]--Kemp, I conceive, alludes here to Richard Johnson, who is still remembered by his _Famous Historie of the Seuen Champions of Christendome_, in two Parts, of which the earliest extant edition (_what_ edition the title-page does not indicate) was printed in 1608, 4to. Ritson remarks that this celebrated romance is mentioned in Meres's _Palladis Tamia_ (fol. 268), 1598. _Observ. on Warton's Hist. of Engl. Poet._ p. 23; but I can produce a notice of it anterior to that date from the Stationers' Books:

"20 Aprilis [1596]

"Jo Danter Entred for his copie vnder thande of }
the Wardens, A booke Intituled the }
famous Hystory of the Seven Champions }
of Christiandom, St. George of } vi^d."
England, St. Dennys of Fraunce, St. }
James of Spayne, St. Anthony of Italy, }
St. Andrewe of Scotland, St. Patrick }
of Irland, and St. David of Wales, }

"6 Sept. [1596]

"Cuthbert Burby Entred for his copie by assigment }
from John Danter, Twoo }
bookes, viz. the first pte and second }
pte of the vii Champions } vii^d."
of Christiandom. Reservinge }
the workmanship of the printinge }
at all tymes to the said Jo }
Danter.... }

(_Liber_ C. fol. 10 b., fol. 13 b.)

Johnson's _Nine Worthies of London: Explaining the honourable Exercise of Armes, the Vertues of the Valiant, and the memorable Attempts of magnanimous Minds, &c._ (a poem somewhat resembling the _Mirror for Magistrates_,) is reprinted in _The Harl. Miscell._ viii. 437, ed. Park. He was also the compiler, and probably in part the author, of _The Crown Garland of Golden Roses_, &c. See Ritson's _Bibl. Poet._

LONDON: J. B. NICHOLS AND SON, PRINTERS, 25, PARLIAMENT STREET.