The English Folk-Play

THE ENGLISH
FOLK-PLAY

ST. GEORGE AND THE DRAGON

THE ENGLISH
FOLK-PLAY

By
E. K. CHAMBERS

OXFORD

AT THE CLARENDON PRESS
1933

OXFORD
UNIVERSIXY PRESS

AMEN HOUSE, E.G. 4.

London Edinburgh Glasgow-
Leipzig; New York Toronto

Melbourne Capetown Bombay
Calcutta Madras Shanghai

HUMPHREY MILKORD

PUBLISHER TO THE
UNIVERSITY

PRINTED TN GREAT BRITAIN AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS, OXFORD
BY JOHN JOHNSON, PRINTER TO THE TJNIVERSIXV

ANALYSIS

THE MUMMERS' PLAY AND ITS CONGENERS

PAGE

THE MUMMERS 9 PLAY ..... 3

THE PRESENTATION . . . . .13

THE COMBATANTS . . . . .23

THE DISPUTE . . . . . -33

THE LAMENT . . . . . .38

THE tTESTON-SUB-EDGE PLAT . . .41

THE CURE . . . . . .50

JACK FINNEY ...... 57

MULTIPLIED COMBATS . . . 59

THE QUfiTE . . . . . .63

THE MYLOR PLAY . . . . .71

COSTUME . . . . . .83

ABNORMAL MUMMERS' PLAYS . . .87

THE PLOUGH PLAY . . . . .89

THE REVESBY PLAY . . . . .104

THE SWORD DANCE . . . . .123

THE AMPLEFORTH PLAY . . . .131

THE MORRIS DANCE . . . . .150

JACK OF LENT . . . . .153

MEDIEVAL PARALLELS . . . .160

vi ANALYSIS

PAGE

SAINT GEORGE 170

THE SEPEN CHAMPIONS . . . .174

THE STAGE AND THE FOLK . . . .185

THE RESIDUAL PROBLEM . . .192

THE PROBLEM OF ORIGIN

PARALLELS FROM WESTERN EUROPE . . 197

PARALLELS FROM THE BALKANS . . .206

A PRIMITIVE LUDUS . . . . .211

THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE LUDUS . .216

WOOING PLATS . . . . .229

1/52" OF TEXTS 236

INDEX 245

ILLUSTRATIONS

1. ST. GEORGE AND THE DRAGON. Drawing by THOMAS

FISHER in J. G. Nichols, Ancient Paintings at Stratford-
upon-dvon (1838), from Fresco in the Chapel of the
Gild of Holy Cross. frontispiece

2. A KIRMESS IN THE NETHERLANDS. Engraving in the
British Museum from Painting by PIETER BRUEGHEL
(c. I53~ 6 9)- facing p. 204

THE MUMMERS' PLAY AND ITS
CONGENERS

The Mummers' Play.

years ago, I attempted, in The Medi-
aeval Stage, to give an account of the Mummers'
Play, as one of several ludi of the folk which involve
an element of mimesis. Since then, much additional
material has been collected on the play and its
congeners, notably by the late Reginald Tiddy and
Cecil Sharp, and by Professor C. R. Baskervill,
Mr. Douglas Kennedy, and Mr. Stuart Piggott;
and fresh light has been thrown on the possible
origin of such ludi by the discovery of close analogues
still surviving in various parts of the Balkans. It
seems, therefore, worth while to go over the ground
again, and to bring together the threads of the
old and the new evidence with regard to this singular
and long-enduring seasonal ceremony. In 1903
I was able to make use of twenty-nine examples of
the play. I can now draw upon well over a hundred,
more or less complete, together with a few entangled
in ludi of other types. Probably there are others,
even in print, which have eluded my search, and
there are references, in Tiddy's valuable study and
elsewhere, to performances at various places from
which no texts, so far as I know, are upon record.
But my hundred or so examples cover the greater
part of the country, and extend to Wales, the Isle
of Man, the eastern coast-line of Ireland, and the
Lowlands of Scotland. From the more purely Celtic

4 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

parts of Scotland and Ireland I have none. In
England itself, they seem to come most thickly from
Wessex and from the areas of Oxfordshire and
Gloucestershire about the Cotswolds, but that may
be largely due to accidents of collection. The plays
are known in Surrey and Essex, but I have no texts. 1
No evidence is at present forthcoming for their
existence in Suffolk and Norfolk. Elements from
them form part of the composite Plough Monday
plays of Lincolnshire and Nottinghamshire, and
sometimes invade the characteristic Sword Dances
of Yorkshire, Durham, and Northumberland. The
performances are seasonal. The usual date, in most
districts, is Christmas, but in Cheshire All Souls'
Day (2 November), and in some other parts of the
north-west Easter. The Easter plays are called
'Pace Egg* plays. It should be 'Pasch Egg', from
Pascha, the liturgical name for Easter. In Derbyshire
Beelzebub sometimes gives a title. But generally
one is borrowed from the actors. They are normally
'Mummers', which may be perverted into 'Mum-
mies', but often also 'Guisers' or 'Guizards', which
only means 'Disguisers'. In Cornwall they become
'Geese-dancers' and the play is a 'Giz-dance'. In
Sussex they are 'Tipteers' or 'Tipteerers', possibly
from the 'tip' asked as a reward, but more likely
from 'tip', a dialectic form of 'tup', which is a
common name for a ram. 2 Other names are 'The

1 Lady Gomme in F.L. xl. 293 (Barnes, Surrey). Miss E. H. Evans
tells me of a performance at South Weald, Essex. 2 Cf. p. 21 5.

THE MUMMERS' PLAY 5

Seven Champions' in Kent, Johnny Jacks' in Hants
and Wilts, 'Soulers' or 'Soul-Cakers' in Cheshire,
'Paceakers' in Yorkshire, ' Christmas Boys' in Wilts
and the Isle of Wight, 'Christmas Rhymers' in
Belfast, 'White Boys' in the Isle of Man, 'Galatians'
in Scotland. Analogous customs have lent 'Sword
Dancers' in Cumberland and Durham, and 'Morris
Dancers', 'Murry Dancers' or 'Merry Dancers' in
Shropshire. Mummers' Plays, Plough Plays, and
Sword Dances are exclusively male performances,
even when there is a woman among the characters.
I owe to Dr. Marett the saying of an Oxfordshire
participant, 'Oh, you wouldn't have women in
that; it's more like being in church'; but I do not
suppose any such subconscious atavism, if it is
that, to be usual. Tiddy writes of the Mummers'
Play. 1

It is now performed by young lads, sometimes by the
schoolboys of a village ; while for the last fifty years it has
been unusual for married men to take part. Farmers, for
instance, never perform in the South or Midlands. Nor
have I any evidence that it was at any time performed by
the more well-to-do.

This is no doubt true, so far as the past fifty years,
or even more, are concerned. But it may be
doubted whether it was equally true of earlier
periods, before the present sharp social distinction
between tenant farmers and labourers had estab-
lished itself.

1 Tiddy, 89.

6 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

A normalized text may be given at the outset, as
a basis for discussion.

[Enter the Presenter]

Presenter. I open the door, I enter in ;
I hope your favour we shall win.
Stir up the fire and strike a light,
And see my merry boys act to-night.
Whether we stand or whether we fall, 5

We'll do our best to please you all.

[Enter the actors, and stand in a clump]

Presenter. Room, room, brave gallants all,
Pray give us room to rhyme ;
We're come to show activity,

This merry Christmas time; 10

Activity of youth,

Activity of age,
The like was never seen

Upon a common stage.

And if you don't believe what I say, 1 5

Step in St. George and clear the way.

[Enter St. George]

St. George. In come I, Saint George,

The man of courage bold ;
With my broad axe and sword

I won a crown of gold. 20

I fought the fiery dragon,

And drove him to the slaughter,
And by these means I won

The King of Egypt's daughter.
Show me the man that bids me stand; 25

I'll cut him down with my courageous hand.
Presenter. Step in, Bold Slasher.

THE MUMMERS' PLAY 7

[Enter Bold Slasher]

Slasher. In come I, the Turkish Knight,

Come from the Turkish land to fight.
I come to fight St. George, 30

The man of courage bold;
And if his blood be hot,

I soon will make it cold.
St. George. Stand off, stand off, Bold Slasher,

And let no more be said, 35

For if I draw my sword,

I'm sure to break thy head.
Thou speakest very bold,

To such a man as I ;
I'll cut thee into eyelet holes, 40

And make thy buttons fly.
Slasher. My head is made of iron,

My body is made of steel,
My arms and legs of beaten brass ;

No man can make me feel. 45

St. George. Then draw thy sword and fight.

Or draw thy purse and pay;
For satisfaction I must have,

Before I go away.
Slasher. No satisfaction shalt thou have, 50

But I will bring thee to thy grave.
St. George. Battle to battle with thee I call,

To see who on this ground shall fall.
Slasher. Battle to battle with thee I pray,

To see who on this ground shall lay. 55

St. George. Then guard thy body and mind thy head,

Or else my sword shall strike thee dead.
Slasher. One shall die and the other shall live;
This is the challenge that I do give.

[They fight. Slasher falls']

THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Presenter. O cruel Christian, what hast thou done ? 60

Thou hast wounded and slain my only son.
St. George. He challenged me to fight,

And why should I deny't ?
Presenter. O, is there a doctor to be found

To cure this deep and deadly wound. 65

Doctor, doctor, where art thee ?

My son is wounded to the knee.

Doctor, doctor, play thy part,

My son is wounded to the heart.

I would put down a thousand pound, 70

If there were a doctor to be found.

[Enter the Doctor]
Doctor. Yes, there is a doctor to be found,

To cure this deep and deadly wound.

I am a doctor pure and good,

And with my hand can stanch his blood. 75

Presenter. Where hast thou been, and where hast come

from ?
Doctor. Italy, Sicily, Germany, France and Spain,

Three times round the world and back again.
Presenter. What canst do and what canst cure ?
Doctor. All sorts of diseases, 80

Just what my physic pleases;

The itch, the stitch, the palsy and the gout,

Pains within and pains without;

If the devil is in, I can fetch him out.

I have a little bottle by my side; 85

The fame of it spreads far and wide.

The stuff therein is elecampane;

It will bring the dead to life again.

A drop on his head, a drop on his heart.

Rise up, bold fellow, and take thy part. 90

[Slasher rises]

THE MUMMERS' PLAY 9

[Enter Big Head]
Big Head. In come I, as ain't been yet,

With my big head and little wit,
My head so big, my wit so small,
I will dance a jig to please you all.

[Dance and Song ad libitum]
[Enter Beelzebub"]

Beelzebub. In come I, old Beelzebub. 95

On my shoulder I carry a club,
In my hand a dripping-pan.
Don't you think I'm a jolly old man?

[Enter Johnny Jack]

Johnny Jack. In come I, little Johnny Jack,

With my wife and family at my back, roo

My family's large and I am small,
A little, if you please, will help us all.

[Enter Devil Dout]

Devil Dout. In come I, little Devil Dout;

If you don't give me money, I'll sweep you out.
Money I want and money I crave; 105

If you don't give me money, I'll sweep you to the
grave.

When I call this a normalized text, I do not mean
that anything just like it is found anywhere, or even
that I regard it as an archetype from which all the
existing texts were derived, but merely that it is
put together, as far as possible, from constantly
recurring formulas, and represents the general succes-
sion of incidents and run of dialogue which one may
conceive to lie behind the widely variant versions.

4024

io THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

An archetype, in any strict sense, is unattainable.
There have been too many cross-currents for that.
No doubt there was a common original, but it has
been much corrupted. The order of incidents has
been dislocated, and speeches have been transferred
from character to character. The result is often
incoherent. There is also, of course, much verbal
degradation. It is interesting to observe, however,
how rhyme helped the memory of the folk. A
rhyme-pair, or at least a rhyme-sound, often clings,
when the sense of the context has been hopelessly
perverted. But there must also have been a good
deal of deliberate rehandling, both in shortening
and in lengthening. One may guess at some of the
reasons. Shortening may be due, not merely to
lapse of memory, but also to a desire to get round
as many houses as possible, in the interests of the
qufae or collection of gifts, for which the perform-
ance had come to be little more than an excuse.
Lengthening, on the other hand, would provide
better entertainment for larger audiences. I am
not sure whether there was originally one combat or
more. 1 But in any case the sword-play, which per-
haps proved more exciting than the dialogue, has
often been much prolonged. For this additional
characters are brought in. Others appear, who are
altogether superfluous to the action; they merely
come and go. They are borrowed from related ludl*
or they are personages much in the national or local

1 Cf. p. 192.

THE MUMMERS' PLAY n

eye at this or that epoch. The dialogue also has
been much farced. Fragments have been written in
from Robin Hood and other ballads or from popular
songs, and from the repertories of travelling profes-
sional actors. And there are many bits, especially
in the Doctor episode, of purely rustic humour. On
the whole, the versions tend to be longer than my
norm, although some are much shorter, and so
logical a dialogue as mine is rarely preserved in full.
Some of the accretions are themselves so widespread
as to indicate much give and take among places,
even far apart. The migrations of individual per-
formers may help to account for this. The duplica-
tion of the fighting is sometimes effected by putting
together two distinct versions as two acts of a play.
And it is occasionally varied by letting one or more
contemplated combat come to nothing. An extreme
case of fertilization from a distance is at Icomb in
Gloucestershire, where a second act must have been
added from a Scottish source. Something must be
allowed for the dissemination of chap-book versions
of the play, such as emerge in the eighteenth century.
These are known to have been used, for example,
by local players in the West Riding of Yorkshire.
There is more trace of their influence in the north
than in the midlands and the south. They were
themselves, however, generally based on traditional
versions, with a certain amount of literary sophistica-
tion. The same version was often printed for book-
sellers in different towns. One type is found in

12 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Lancashire and Yorkshire, another in Newcastle and
Whitehaven, a third in Belfast. There is not much
evidence for individual attempts at regularizing the
language of the plays by local parsons or school-
masters. For the most part the folk had it its own,
way. Clearly it was an illiterate folk, very differenf
from that which in earlier days became responsible
for the variations, often very beautiful, in the
medieval ballads. The original text, indeed, is no*
likely to have had the quality of a ballad. But in.
many versions it has suffered almost incredible-
degradation, both through the familiar processes of
oral transmission, and at the stage when one per-
former, for the benefit of his successors, or at the
request of Tiddy or another, tried to write down not
only his own part but also those of his fellows, which
he naturally knew even less well than his own. One
must remember that the life of the plays endureds
well into the middle of the nineteenth century, when
the advance of enclosures, in the interests of high
farming, had brought about the ultimate degenera-
tion of the agricultural labourer. In the remarks that
follow, by way of a commentary on my normalized
version, I shall not concern myself so much with the
state of the text, although that will incidentally
appear, as with the general structure and the nature
of the characters represented. It is, after all, the
origin of the play, rather than its latter end, which
is of interest to the folk-lorist.

It will be observed that there is a good deal of

THE PRESENTATION 13

metrical variation. Couplets, decasyllabic and octo-
syllabic, and quatrains all appear. I have given the
preference to decasyllabic couplets, where possible,
but the variation may quite well have been a charac-
teristic of the original. There is no prose, except a
lew words in the Doctor episode. Structurally, the
piece falls into three parts: the Presentation (11. i-
k i6), the Drama (11. 17-90), the Qufae (11. 91-106).
p\nd the Drama may further be resolved into the
Vaunts (11. 17-59) at the entry of the combatants
)eind in their dispute, the Combat or Agon, which is
dumb sword-play, the Lament (11. 60-71), and the
Cure (11. 72-90). On each of these sections much
comment is necessary.

The Presentation.

At Sudbury there is an opening 'promenade* of
performers with a Christmas wish, and at Ross they
l^ush in suddenly without knocking. But as a rule
they are introduced by a Presenter, and stand in a
clump by the door until each in turn is called upon
to step forward and take his part. At Rogate the
Presenter blows a cow-horn to announce the ap-
proach. The Presenter himself is often anonymous,
or has such colourless appellations as Caller, First
Man, First Speaker, Foreman, Headman, Leader,
Leading Man, Marshal, No. i , Open-the-Door, Page,
Prologue, Ringer-in, Talking Man. No doubt,
if we had descriptions as well as texts, his nature
would sometimes be clearer. At West Wittering

H THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

the First Man is addressed as Prince Feather*
In the south and midlands, by far the most common
presenter is Old Father Christmas. I believe him
to be an intruder upon the original play, but that
must be considered later. At Ovingdean Father
Christmas calls himself the Noble Captain. In the
north a more usual type is the Fool, Clown, Jester,
Punch, Hunchback or Johnny Funny. I think that
the Old Hind-before of Icomb is also a Fool. 1 The
midlands know the Fool as Hey Down Derry at
Wooburn and Old Don Derry at Penn. In the text
of the Lancashire and Yorkshire chap-books he
becomes Old Bold Ben. The Jack of Skelton is less
distinctive, since all the characters of the plays,
whatever their proper names, have a way of address-
ing each other as 'Jack'. The Fool presenter is clearly
related to the personages of the Quete. From here too
come the Beelzebub of Coxwold and Thenford and
the Little Devil Doubt of Leigh; from the Cure, as we
shall see, the John Finney of Weston-sub-Edge, who
may not be distinct, by origin, from Johnny Funny;
and from the combatants the Captain Slasher of Lut-
terworth, the Sambo of the Isle of Man, the Knight
of an unlocated Oxfordshire version, and the Alex-
ander of the Newcastle and Whitehaven chap-books,
and of an early Scottish version. The Rim Rhu of
Dundalk is probably a projection from the words
of the Presenter's speech, although the collector sug-
gests that Rhu may represent the Irish ruad^ 'red*.

1 Cf. p. 227.

THE PRESENTATION ij

An even more surprising projection, the Rumour
of Overton, may be helped by the use of Rumour
or Fame as a prologue-speaker in more sophisticated
drama. Very occasionally the Presenter is a woman,
who comes in as an anonymous old woman or girl at
Lower Heyford, Chiswick, Sudbury, and Halton,
as Molly at Islip and in Berkshire, as Old Molly at
Chesterfield, and as the Caller and Old Mother
Christmas at Ilmington. Occasionally one of the
combatants is introduced or referred to as the son
or eldest son of the Presenter. 1

The words of the Presentation show much diver-
gence. The two formulas I have given occur to-
gether at Newport, but more often singly. I will not
quote, here or elsewhere, too many trivial or merely
stupid variants. But there are some which illus-
trate the way in which, as already noted, the rhyme-
sound of a couplet persists in memory and leads
to the substitution of an alternative line when the
original one has been forgotten. Thus for line 2
we get:

Whether I lose or whether I win,
or,

To see a merry act begin,

or,

I hope the game will soon begin ;

and for line 4:

To see my merry active knight,
1 Cf. p. 225.

16 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

or,

For in this house there will be a fight,
or,

And see King George and the Turkey fight.

The second formula may be earlier than the first. Its
'room', 'gallants', Activity' are used in old-fashioned
senses which have puzzled the transmitters. 'Room'
is a good medieval term, which survives into the
seventeenth century, for the floorspace required
by dancers or other performers. Shakespeare has it
in Much Ado, n. i. 87, 'The revellers are entering,
brother: make good room', and with an alternative
in Romeo and yuliet y i. v. 28:

A hall, a hall ! give room ! and foot it, girls.

A call for room opens three of Ben Jonson's masks,
Pleasure Reconciled to Virtue (1619), The Meta-
morphosed Gipsies (1621), and The Masque of Owls
(1626). In our texts 'Room' often becomes 'a
room', and further misconceptions, both of 'room'
and of 'gallants', yield some delightful results. Thus
Sapperton has:

A room for gallant store.
Sudbury has:

A room, a room, a garland room.
Overton has:

There 's room and room and gallons of room.

Camborne puts it into prose, 'I am come to ask you to
favour us with a few gallons of room in your house'.

THE PRESENTATION 17

If 'rum* is in the speaker's mind there may be a touch
of rustic humour, or even a hint at the quQte. A Hants
version regards 'acres' of room as more natural. A
variant of lines 8 and 10 links 'ride' and 'Christmas-
tide'. Tiddy suggested that this might be the original
form and a reminiscence of the St. George ridings.
Alternatively, the players might have come in on
hobby-horses. But it is better to regard the more
usual 'rhyme' and 'Christmas time' as original.
Sapperton, in fact, has 'rhyme' and 'tide'. Another
stumbling-block is 'activity'. Elizabethan 'common
stage' players used the term for acrobatic perform-
ances, which were often mimetic, and might, no doubt,
include sword-play. But it became obsolete, and
many curious variants emerge. Lines 1 1 and 1 2
become:

Activity of you, activity of me,
or,

Acting youth and acting age,
or,

I've acted youth, I've acted age,
or,

Acting well or acting vain,
or,

The night is young, and an act is old,
or,

Apt to the aged, apt to the life,

or even

Act Timothy of youth, act Timothy of age.
So, too, 'common stage* is replaced by 'public stage'

4024

i8 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

or Christmas stage or Christian stage* or King
George's stage' or by some name of local signi-
ficance, such as 'Andrew's stage' or 'St. Mary
Andrew's stage'.

There are several other formulas, and a good deal
of give and take between them. I need only quote
those which are fairly distinct. Some are much
shortened, but the call for 'room' is generally
preserved. The following furnishes another example
of a substituted rhyme-word.

Room, room, gallant room do I require;

Step in, King George, and show thy face like fire.

Another is:

I beg your pardon for being so bold,

I enter your house, the weather 's so cold.

Room, a room ! brave gallants, give us room to sport,

For in this house we do resort.

and another:

Room, gentlemen, room I pray,

And we'll quickly have the fighting men this way.

and another:

A room, a room,

I do presume,

For me and my brave men.

But this, as the failure to rhyme shows, is corrupt.
Elsewhere it is:

Room, room,

For me and my broom.

And in fact the Presenter sometimes comes in with

THE PRESENTATION 19

a broom in his, or her, hand, sweeping. Thus we
get:

In comes I, Old Hind-before,

I comes fust to open your door.

I comes fust to kick up a dust,

I comes fust to sweep up your house ;

and,

In comes I hind before.

With my broad broom to sweep up the floor;

and,

A room, a room, a rousty toust, 1

I've brought my broom to sweep the house;

and,

A room, a room,
A douse, a douse, 2
I'll sweep your house,
So clane, so dace,
So hansom nice.

The object of sweeping here might be merely to
clear a space or to reduce the dust made by the
leaps of the combatants. I may again quote Shake-
speare, M.N.D. v. i. 396, where Puck, introducing
a mask, says:

I am sent with broom before,

To sweep the dust behind the door.

But sweeping is also found in the Quete, and I shall
have to recur to it. 3

Another type of opening has nothing about

1 rouse, touse, 'bustle' (Wright, Dialect Dictionary).

2 douse, 'dust* (UU.). 3 cf. pp. 67, 211.

20 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

'room', but introduces the actors as a c jolly family'

or * merry* men.

We are the merry actors that traverse the street;
We are the merry actors that fight for our meat;
We are the merry actors that show pleasant play;
Step in, St. George, thou champion, and clear the way.

This is a chap-book version, but the following is
more traditional.

In comes I that 's never been before.
Six merry actors stand at your door,
They can merrily dance and sing,
And by your leave they shall walk in.

When Old Father Christmas is the Presenter, he
often works in one or more of the formulas already
quoted. But he also has, almost invariably, distinc-
tive lines of his own.

In come I, old Father Christmas,
Welcome or welcome not,
I hope old Father Christmas
Will never be forgot.

Tiddy would trace in the second line a hint of the
puritan hostility to Christmas rejoicing in the seven-
teenth century. Great Wolford has a special variant
of its own.

In comes I, Old Father Christmas,

In comes I to make the fun.

My hair is short, my beard is long,

And me hat 's tied on with a leathern throng.

To his normal lines Father Christmas may add others
which are not really 'proper* to the play, but are

THE PRESENTATION *i

also found as independent gwlfc-songs of the Christ-
mas season, and are indeed sometimes relegated in
the play itself to the Qu$te. Such are:

Christmas comes but once a year,

And when it comes it brings good cheer. 1

To this the Newcastle chap-book prefixes:
Bounser Buckler, velvet 's dear,

which was a seventeenth-century proverb of scorn as:

Bounce Buck-ram, velvet's dear. 2
An alternative is:

We wish you a merry Christmas and a happy new year,
A pocket full of money, and a cellar full of beer,
And a good fat pig to last you all the year. 3

Cornwall prefers 'a skin full of beer'. Father
Christmas does not, I think, sweep, although he has
a 'pop and touse' at Camborne. But at Cinderford
he makes room with a sword.

At the close of the harangue the first actor is sum-
moned forward, and each in turn may be similarly
introduced by his predecessor or by the Presenter.
Common signals are 'Step in', 'Walk in', 'Come in',
'I call in'. Possibly 'Enter' shows the influence of
a chap-book. Overton has 'Fall from the door',
where Tiddy thinks that 'Fall' may be an error for
'Forth'. In any case, the actors are probably already
in the room, huddled near the entrance, and each, as

1 J. Ray, A Collection of English Proverbs (1670), 211.

2 John Clarke, Pammiologia Latina (1639), 71.

3 G. F. Northall, English Folk-Rhymes, 183.

22 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

summoned, steps into the open space. I take 'clear
the way' to be addressed to the spectators. The
Nuntius in the Chester Nativity says :

Make rowme, lordinges, and geve us waie,
And let Octavian come and plaie. 1

But the Presentation is not always over yet. Before
the Drama begins, there are sometimes super-
numeraries to be introduced. We may call them sub-
Presenters. Father Christmas may be only a sub-
Presenter; it is another hint of his intrusive character.
Stragglers from the combat or the Quete bring their
normal rhymes with them. Mince Pie at Cocking,
St. Mary Bourne, and in Wiltshire, and probably
Fly at Wooburn are projections from the dialogue.
More interesting is the King of Egypt. He is fairly
widespread, although not common. It is just possible
that he is of chap-book origin. Occasionally he uses
borrowed lines, but his proper speech is as follows:

Here am I, the King of Egypt,

As plainly doth appear;
St. George he is my only son,

My only son and heir.

At Lutterworth he is replaced by the King of
England, with similar lines, and at Bampton by
the King of Prussia, with lines that savour of the
Napoleonic wars. Bearsted has a Guard. A Molly,
in two very corrupt versions from Badby and
Ilmington, seems to be mother of one of the com-
batants. At Stourton Miss Duchess and at Bovey

1 Chester Plays (ed. Deimling), vi. 177.

THE COMBATANTS 23

Tracey Mother Dolly sweeps as a sub-Presenter.
The Bovey Tracey lines run:

In comes I Mother Dolly.
Drinking gin is all my folly.
Before I begin I likes to make room;
I'll sweep it away with my little broom.

In the Scottish Galations the Presenter calls in
before the fighters a 'farmer's son*, who is 'afraid
he'll lose his love because he is too young'. This
appears to be a stray from the 'calling on' lines usual
before Sword Dances. 1 The Ripon play, which is
called a Sword Dance, similarly opens with 'calling
on' lines, which are sung by the whole company,
and the characters named are irrelevant to the
subsequent action.

The Combatants.

The culminating point of the Drama is of course
the Combat. It will be convenient to call the
champion who falls the Agonist and his vanquisher
the Antagonist. As a rule, each combatant enters
with a 'Here come I' or similar phrase and a lauda-
tory self-description. There are many of them, but
four are outstanding: St. George, Slasher, the
Turkish Knight, the Black Prince of Paradise.
George appears in almost all normal plays; I have
only seen about a dozen that lack him. He is apt
to be called King rather than Saint, once King
George the Third, once King George of Paradise,

1 Cf. p. 128.

*4 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

sometimes Prince George, twice Prince George of
Ville, once simply Great George. He is more often
Antagonist than Agonist, in the proportion of two
to one. His commonest opening speech is that given
in my normal text. It is often fragmentary, and has
minor variants. The 'crown of gold* (1. 20) may be
c three golden crowns', 'ten crowns of gold', c ten
tons of gold', 'ten thousand pounds in gold'. At
Chithurst the three crowns are:

The He, the She, and the Shamrock,
and at Hamstall Rid ware:

The emer-she-mer, sham-mer rock-a.

The 'daughter' (1. 24) may be 'King George's
daughter', 'King William's daughter', 'the King of
Briton's daughter', 'the queen's eldest daughter',
'Queen Alice's fairest daughter', and even, in a
performance of 1870, 'the Queen of Denmark's
daughter'. Once only, in Cornwall, is the lady
named, as

fair Sabra,
The King of Egypt's daughter.

The 'hand' (1. 26) may be 'bold', 'iron', 'mighty',
Victorious', and by more obvious auditory errors,
'creatious', 'creeagus', 'created', 'graded', 'gracious',
'audacious'. St. George has, however, an alternative
and longer narrative in decasyllabic lines. This also
is fairly widespread. It is fullest, but already corrupt,
in the Belfast chap-book, but there are fragments
also in other north-western and western versions,

THE COMBATANTS 25

and as far away as Mylor in Cornwall, Sudbury in
Middlesex, and Selmeston in Sussex, so that one can
hardly take it as a chap-book invention. I think it
originally went somewhat as follows:

I am St. George, who from Old England sprung,

My famous name throughout the world has rung.

Full seven years in prison I was kept,

And out of that into a cave I leapt,

And out of that into a rock of stone;

'Twas there I made my sad and grievous moan.

Many were the giants that I did subdue;

I ran the fiery dragon through and through,

'Twas I that freed fair Sabra from the stake.

What more could mortal man then undertake ?

Eccleshall misunderstands:

It's I who slew Slabberer from the stake;
and Broadway:

I have led the fair Sarepta from the snake.

For 'giants' the Isle of Man has 'lions'. Either would
fit, but the 'many a gallant' of Belfast points to
'giants', and so does a further confusion at Eccleshall.

It 's many a joint where I so do,
Where I'd ram the fiery dagger through.

The Isle of Man omits the Sabra couplet, and
substitutes:

With a golden trumpet in my mouth
I sounded at the gates divine the truth.

This might be a perversion of the Newcastle chap-

4024

?6 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

book, which has the normal shorter narrative, but

adds:

In Egypt's fields I prisoner long was kept,

But by my valour I from them soon 'scaped :

I sounded at the gates of a divine,

And out came a giant of no good design ;

He gave me a blow, which almost struck me dead,

But I up with my sword, and did cut off his head.

Here, too, 'divine* can hardly be right. 1 The
Yorkshire chap-book has neither of the usual narra-
tives, but has:

I followed a fair lady to a giant's gate,
Confined in dungeon deep to meet her fate ;
Then I resolved, with true knight-errantry,
To burst the door and set the prisoner free,
When a giant almost struck me dead,
But by my valour I cut ofF his head.

The traditional biography, in whichever form, may
be followed or replaced by a bit of patriotic fervour.

I am Prince George, a worthy knight,
I'll spend my blood for England's right,
England 's right I will maintain,
I'll fight for old England once again.

Or it may be:

For England's rights, for England's wrongs,
For England 's my salvation.

A memory, clinging to the rhyme-sound, substitutes
at Mylor:

England's wright, England admorration,
and in the Isle of Man:

Right from Egypt's station.
' Cf. p. 177-

THE COMBATANTS 27

Mr. Piggott finds at Hoe Benham:

With ist manells so brave and vallets so true.

and as it follows the daughter* line, conjectures
'menials' or 'meinie' and 'varlets'. But, as he notes,
Burghclere has :

Manhood so free and valiant of old.
Another phrase is :

I fought them all courageously,
And still have gained the victory,
And will always fight for liberty.

Stanford-in-the-Vale has:

I fought the man at Tollatree,
And still I gained the victory.

At Selmeston it is Tillowtree and at Tenby Tillotree.
One might conjecture Talavera (1805). But the
Stanford reporter, whose version apparently came
from Tetbury in Gloucestershire, said, 'You can
say what you like, but we always said Tollatree*.
Broadway makes of it:

Stand forth! thou figure of a tree,
And see who gains the victory !

St. George goes in the popular mind with the
Turkish Knight, who is by no means so omnipresent,
but where he comes generally takes part in the
primary combat, if there is more than one. His
gambit is:

In come I, the Turkish Knight,
Come from the Turkish land to fight.

28 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

He is almost invariably Agonist. The name is some-
times Turkish Champion, or by corruption, Turkish
or Turkey Snipe. A Bulgard at Hamstall Ridware
and a Boldgier at Repton are both 'from Turkey
land*. Perhaps Bulgarians and Turks have been
confused or perhaps a descriptive Bold Soldier has
become Boldgier and that Bulgard. In Cheshire the
Turkish Knight is addressed as 'black Morocco dog';
and in fact he is generally replaced in the north,
perhaps under chap-book influence, by a very
similar personage, the Black Prince of Paradise,
Paradine, or Paladine, who is also 'Morocco dog'
or 'Morocco King'. A version, rather doubtfully
ascribed to north Somerset, makes him also Black
Prince of Darkness, and here the insult is 'black
and American dog'. His opening lines are usually:

I am Black Prince of Paradise, born of high renown,
Soon I will fetch St. George's lofty courage down.

In the north Somerset version he is 'born in a fiery
hole'.

In some ways the most interesting combatant is
Slasher. This is a description rather than a name,
and has many variants; Captain Slasher, Valiant
Slasher, Bold Slasher, Beau Slasher, Bue Slash, Bull
Slash, Stacker (perhaps a mere misprint in a chap-
book), Bold Slaughterer, Bold and Slalter, Bold
Striker, Bold Captain Rover, Bold Roamer, Bold
and Hardy, Cuterman Slasherman, Cutting Star,
Whip him and Slash Him, Swish Swash and Swagger,

THE COMBATANTS 29

Tall and Smart, Flashard. Sometimes he is merely
Valiant Soldier. His opening lines are those of my
text. The buckler being obsolete, we get c sword
and buckle', 'sword and drawn buckle', 'bockel
and staff', 'broadsword and cutlash and buckle',
'broadsword and spear', 'broadsword and bayonet',
'broadsword and jolly Turk' (dirk), 'bow and jolly
Turk', 'sword and pistol', and even 'gold-laced
hat and dagger'. Slasher is more widespread than
the Turkish Knight, coming in the north as well as
elsewhere. He more often comes in a secondary
combat, and is Agonist and Antagonist in about
equal proportions. The two types remain fairly dis-
tinct, although very occasionally Slasher is also called
a Turkish Knight or a Turkey dog, or comes from
Turkey land.

One would expect the Dragon to be among the
combatants, but as a rule he is remarkably successful
in concealing himself. 1 Naturally where he does
appear, he is Agonist. Probably, although his vaunt
is borrowed and he describes himself as the biggest
man in Northumberland, he is the Speckleback who
fights Slasher at Sapperton. He was in a perform-
ance at South Weald in Essex, of which I have
not the text. In three other cases his opponent is
George. At Swallowfield he is again a borrower, and
in Cornwall, although he has a distinctive speech,
neither this nor that of St. George, to which it is a
reply, is quite free from echoes.

' Cf.p.i 77 .

30 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

St. George. Here come I, St. George, from Britain did I
spring,

I'll fight the Dragon bold, my wonders to begin,

Pll clip his wings, he shall not fly;

I'll cut him down, or else I die,
Dragon. Who 's he that seeks the Dragon's blood,

And calls so angry, and so loud ?

That English dog, will he before me stand ?

I'll cut him down with my courageous hand.

With my long teeth and scurvy jaw,

Of such I'd break up half a score,

And stay my stomach, till I'd more.

Much the same dialogue, with 'scurly' for 'scurvy'
and 'mourn' for 'more', passes at Weston-sub-Edge
between George and the Turkish Knight, who must
have inherited it from the Dragon, and at the Cure
in this play a wolf's tooth is removed from the
Agonist. At Bovey Tracey some one wore 'a wooden
thing for a head with bullock's teeth', and after the
Drama comes:

Here am I the Giant from the Giant's rest,
With my long teeth and scury jaws
I'll tear the flesh from off thy nose.

There are many other fighters, some of whom only
take part in secondary combats. Probably they are
all either perversions or accretions. A few are heroic.
Singuy, also called Singhiles, at Newport, Sing Ghiles
at Eccleshall and St. Gay in Derbyshire probably
represent Sir Guy of Warwick, who like St. George
was a dragon-slayer. Giant Turpin appeared fitfully
in Cornwall. The Newcastle-Whitehaven chap-

THE COMBATANTS 31

book has Alexander, who is also found at Peebles in
Scotland, and by some accident at Icomb in
Gloucestershire. Falkirk has St. Lawrence. But the
chief feature of the Scottish versions is the regular
replacement of St. George by a hero called Galatian,
Galations, Golashans, Galacheus, or Galgacus. Pre-
sumably this last is the original form, since Tacitus
makes Galgacus or Calgacus the leader of the Picts
in their battle with Agricola at the Mons Graupius.
Irish versions naturally introduce St. Patrick, with
a gibe in which St. George is called St. Patrick's
boy. But Braganstown deals more honestly with the
source by putting it the other way round. 1 King
Charles at Skelton is presumably a derivative from
King George, who is also called 'the druded White
King* at Repton. Later substitutes are King William
and even the Royal Prussian King. And here, per-
haps, comes in the influence of the Napoleonic wars,
which also give Bonaparte, 'just come from Thum-
berloo', and a Noble Captain or French Officer.

In comes I, the valiant soldier,
Just arrived from France,
With my broad sword and spear,
I'll make King George to dance.

History may possibly explain a mysterious personage
whom I cannot unravel. At Great Wolford King
George says:

And if any man can conquer me,

The French Captain Collier he shall be.

Cf.p. 182.

32 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

In fact he only fights Slasher. But at Penn he fights
Captain Curly 'from the Isle of Wight', who is
similarly described at Wooburn, where he is 'Kearley'
and fights a Duke of Cumberland, who is also
'George', and at Stourton, where he fights a Duke
of Northumberland. Moreover, the Turkish Knight
is described as 'curly' at Rugby, Beelzebub has a
'curly wig' at Sapperton, and Curly is the name of
the Fool in a Leicestershire Morris Dance. 1 Sir
George Collier (1738-95) was a naval officer, and
so were Sir Robert Calder (1745-1818), Sir Ben-
jamin Caldwell (1737-1820), Sir William Corn-
wallis (1744-1819) and Lord Collingwood (1750-
1810). Any name can be corrupted by the folk,
but none of these heroes were French. Calder,
whose action against Villeneuve helped to stave off
invasion by Bonaparte in 1804, is the most likely.
The only George Duke of Cumberland was Queen
Anne's husband (1689-1708). A more probable
personage is William Augustus, the 'butcher of
Culloden' (1726-65). The Duke of Northumber-
land also appears at Islip. The only military Duke
was Hugh, of the 'Smithson' house (1742-1817).
Scotland has an Admiral of the Hairy Caps, who
'won the battle of Quinbeck'. Is it Quebec (1759),
which is also mixed up with an admiral in the
Mylor text? 2 Anyway, the 'hairy caps' must be
play costume. 3 Combatants who have strayed
from other parts of the play are Father Christmas,

1 Mediaeval Stage, i. 198. 2 Cf. p. 83. 3 Cf. pp. 85, 90, 126.

THE DISPUTE 33

the King of Egypt, Mince Pie, Room, Activity
and Age, who are again 'projections', Beelzebub,
Twing Twang, and Jack Vinney. With Sambo
and Hector I shall deal later. 1 Farmer Dick, in
Cumberland, may have strayed from a Sword
Dance. 2 Prince Valentine, at Ross and in the
Isle of Man, might be a 'projection 5 from Valiant'
or might come from the stage-play of Valentine
and Orson. 3 In Dorset, however, General Valentine
is coupled with Colonel Spring, and suggests St.
Valentine's Day. Hy Gwyer, at Hollington, 'with
my face red as fire' owes his position to a rhyme
which we have also found in the Presentation. The
Bold Prince of Steyning and the Grenadier of Burgh-
clere are quite colourless. But at Hoe Benham the
Grenadier is amusingly transformed into Bold
Granny Dear.

The Dispute.

The distribution in my text of the vaunting which
follows the introductory speeches is an arbitrary one.
The dialogue shows the tendency to cumulative
repetition characteristic both of folk-rhymes and of
ballads. It is seldom so long as I have made it, and
the formulas, or fragments of them, are freely
interchangeable among the participants, with the
exceptions that the warning not to speak so bold is
generally addressed to the Turkish Knight, and that
the lines about iron and steel are nearly always put

1 Cf. p. 60. 2 Cf. p. 128. 3 cf. p. 191.

4024 F

34 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

in Slasher's mouth. To their origin I shall have
to recur. 1 They not unnaturally became unintelli-
gible. The first two lines are fairly well preserved,
although 'brass* or 'lead' or 'cannon-balls' may be sub-
stituted for 'iron* or 'steel', and a touch of rational-
ism may replace 'made of by 'lined with', and even
give:

My hamlet 's (helmet 's ?) lined with steel,

or, still more plausibly:

My body 's not lined with brass,
My head 's not lined with steel.

The two last lines show greater variation. 'Beaten
brass' was thought less plausible than 'knuckle-bones'
or 'crooked bones', although it is not so easy to
explain 'pipe-stalks' and 'paven-stones', and the last
line became:

I challenge thee to feel,
and then,

I challenge thee to field.
There is often a more complete and comic recast:

My trousers touch my ankle-bones.
That thou shalt quickly feel,
or,

My garter fits my legs so tight,
My trousers drag my heel.

There is a similar adaptation to the milieu of the
performers in lines 56-7. Some Bentley, more

1 Cf.p. 178.

THE DISPUTE 35

familiar with fisticuffs than with sword-play, be-
thought him of:

So mind your eyes and guard your blows,
Or else I'll tap you on the nose.

One other passage gets a very odd development.
As it stands in my text, it is:

Pll cut thee into eyelet holes,
And make thy buttons fly.

This is only my reconstruction. The nearest ap-
proach to it is at Mylor.

I will cut thy doublats ful of Hylent hols
And make thy buttens fly.

I think that 'Hylent hols' can only be 'eyelet holes'
and both this and 'doublet' suggest an early date.
I do not find 'eyelet holes' again, although this or
'doublets' may account for the Derbyshire

I'll jam his giblets full of holes,
And in those holes put pebble stones,
or,

I'll fill thy body full of pellets,
And make thy buttons fly.

and the Rogate

I'll cut your driblets through and through,
And make your buttons fly.

Other combinations of 'cut' and 'fly' are not un-
common, especially in outlying areas. Thus, in
Cumberland:

I'll cut his body in four parts,
And make his buttons fly,

36 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

and in the Isle of Man:

He cut my coat so full of rents,
And made my buttons fly.

Lutterworth has:

I'll cut you down the middle,
And make your blood to fly.

Here 'blood', I suppose, might be either a perversion
of the 'buttons' or its origin. And now, at Hepton-
stall, comes, in prose, a link with a very widespread
formula:

I struck his doublet into ten parts and sent 'em over the
sea. I sent 'em over the sea to Jamaica to make mince pies.

There is no 'fly' here, but it is generally part of a
mince-pie threat, in some such form as this:

I'll cut him and slash him as small as flies,
And send him to Jamaica to make mincepies.

The threat is very persistent. I have noted about thirty
examples, from all parts, but largely from the mid-
lands. Very rarely 'flies' becomes 'dust' and even
'mint-dust', and the rhyme is to 'mincepie crust'.
The verb is generally 'cut', sometimes replaced or
supplemented by 'pierce', 'hack', 'hew', 'hit', or 'slay'.
Obviously the connexion with the Christmas season,
as well as the rhyme, helps to explain the mince-pies.
Mylor has 'appel pyes'. I do not think that the
appearance of the formula at Mylor, side by side
with the 'Hylent hols', necessarily militates against
my theory of its origin. Why 'Jamaica', I do not
know, except that criminals were transported to
Jamaica in the seventeenth century. It is the

THE DISPUTE 37

commonest destination for the mince-pies in the
formula, but by no means the only one. They
may be sent, through another association with
Christmas feasting, to Turkey, or again to Gibraltar,
to London, to Yorkshire, to Blacksand, to Black
Sam, to Satan, to the Devil, to the Old Man, to
King George, and more reasonably to the kitchen,
to the bakehouse, to the cookshop. Sometimes there
are repetitive lines, which work in the street-cry
'Mince pies hot, mince pies cold!' and add as a rhyme
'Nine days old*. Mince-pies were a traditional viand
at the London Lord Mayor's feast on November 9.
Mr. Percy Manning would trace a relation to the
Bringing in the Fly, which was a Whitsun custom
of Oxford cooks. He thinks that they ate the fly, and
notes that in Lincolnshire flies were said to disappear
in autumn, because they were made into flies for
Scawby Feast. 1 But surely the Whitsun Fly was the
butterfly, as a symbol of spring, or perhaps, for
cooks, the mayfly, which brings the trout. I have
not used in my text an occasional formula in which
one combatant says that another 'swears he will
come in', and expresses fear that he will 'pierce' or
'brace* or 'tan' his skin. This is certainly an accretion.
It comes from the actors' 'jig' of Singing Simpkin.

Servant. He swears and tears he will come in.
And nothing shall him hinder.

Simpkin. I fear hee'l strip me out my skin,
And burn it into tinder.

1 Folk-Lore 9 xxv. 198.

38 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

The jig is in Robert Cox's Acteon and Diana (n.d.,
2nd ed. 1656) and in The Wits, or Sport Upon Sport
(1662), but is already adapted in the German
Engelische Comedien und Tragedien ( 1 620). Perhaps
Professor Baskervill is a little hazardous in identi-
fying it with a jig of William Kempe's, registered
on 21 October 1595.'

The Lament.

This episode is handled in several ways. It often
contains the three formulas of my text, the Re-
proach, the Apology, the Call for the Doctor.
The Reproach and Call may be given either to
the Presenter or to a character, usually the King
of Egypt or a Woman, who may already have been
a sub-Presenter, or, in the north, may now intervene
for the first time. At Frodsham she is Martha. The
'cruel Christian', or, as it may be, 'cursed Christian'
of the Reproach is not, of course, appropriate to
every Antagonist. The Newcastle-Whitehaven
chap-book uses it in error of Alexander. Some-
times it is replaced by 'O George, O George'
or the like, or by 'Horrible, terrible*, on which
we shall come again. The chap-books seem also
to be responsible for some variant forms of
Apology.

He gave me a challenge, no one it denies,
How high he was, but see how low he lies.

1 Baskervill, The Elizabethan Jig, 108, 123, 235, 444 (text).

THE LAMENT 39

and,

Please you, my liege, my honour to maintain ;

Had you been there, you might have fared the same.

There are Scottish versions in which the Antagonist
attempts to throw the blame upon a bystander. 1
The Apology is sometimes omitted, and if so the
Reproach may either remain unaltered, or be merged
in the lamenting Call for the Doctor. The most
constant element in all this variation is the assertion
of the sonship of the Agonist to the lamenter. He
is generally called 'only* son, less often 'eldest* or
'chiefest' son. Multiplied combats produce two sons
at Overton and Witley, and four in the Isle of Wight.
At Overton the Presenter, who is Father Christmas,
says after the first fight, 'Oh dear, oh dear, out of
eleven sons I've only got one left', and after the
second fight, 'Oh dear, oh dear, out of eleven sons
I haven't got one left'. And this links with a set
of rhymes which belongs in the Quete to Beelzebub
at Icomb, and more plausibly to Johnny Jack in
several Wessex plays.

Out of children eleven I've got but seven,
And they be started up to heaven ;
Out of the seven I've got but five,
And they be starved to death alive ;
Out of the five I've got but three,
And they be popped behind a tree;
Out of the three I've got but one,
And he got round behind the sun.

I do not find this in Northall's Folk-Rhymes,

1 Cf. p. 129.

40 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

although there are some sets of numerical rhymes
used in forfeit games to test rapidity and accuracy
of speech. 1 Another, in Lady Gomme's Traditional
Games, is The Twelve Days of Christmas, and possibly
those days or the twelve months may be intended
here. 2 But this hardly explains the sonship of the
laments, since the lamenter is by no means always
Father Christmas. And although he is sometimes
the King of Egypt, it is not so in all cases in which
the King calls George his 'son and heir' in the
Presentation. Nor again, is the son of the Lament
always George. In one exceptional case, at Bearsted
in Kent, the Reproach is simply:

Oh King George, what have you done ?
and the Antagonist himself says:

IVe killed my own beloved son.

Another form of the episode, particularly favoured
in Sussex, but also found so far away as Sudbury,
Leigh, Malvern, and Tenby, has no Reproach and
no Apology in the strict sense. Either the Presenter
or the Antagonist may call the Doctor; but first the
Antagonist, addressing either the Presenter, or occa-
sionally the audience as 'Ladies and gentlemen',
exclaims:

See what I have done,
I have cut him down like the evening sun.

At Ovingdean it becomes 'like a flying eagle in the
sun*. I can only suppose that 'sun' here is a perver-

1 Northall, 405. 2 Gomme, ii. 315.

THE WESTON-SUB-EDGE PLAY 41

sion of a forgotten 'son', and possibly 'evening' of
Eleventh'. There may be a link at Peebles, where
the outcry is:

I've killed my brother Jack, my father's only son.

At Bursledon an eighteenth-century Antagonist sub-
stituted a vaunt:

Oh you turkey snipe,
Go home to your own lands to fight,
And tell the Americans what I have done;
I've killed ten thousand to your one.

Finally, there may be no preliminary dialogue, but
merely the Call to the Doctor by the Presenter or
an intervener or the Antagonist. This is probably
the commonest method, and as it never, I believe,
incorporates any hint of sonship, it may be the
original one. At Pillerton the Doctor comes without
being called. There is no very great variation in the
formulas of the Call, but lines 66-9 of my text
are really a variant of lines 64-5, rather than their
complement. With the offer of a reward I shall
deal presently.

The Weston-sub-Edge Play.

The structure of the Mummers' Play is that of a
melodrama, and it is to the Cure that it looks for
its comic relief. This has led to a good deal of farcing
of the original text. Much of it turns on the social
and professional pretensions of the Doctor, and in
particular on his financial ability, as seen from the

4024

42 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

angle of village humour. But there are other elements
involved, and it will enable me to be more brief,
if I give, for comparison with the normalized text,
a much elaborated version from Weston-sub-Edge
in Gloucestershire.

John Finney. A room, a room, a roust, a roust

I brought this old broom to sweep your house.
Father Christmas. In comes I old Father Christmas,

Christmas or Christmas not
I hope old Father Christmas will never be forgot.
I am not here to laugh or to cheer,
But all I want is a pocket full of money and a cellar full

of beer.
So, Ladies and gentlemen, if you don't believe what

I say,

Step in Turkish Knight and clear the way.
Turkish Knight. Open your doors and let me in
For your favour I am sure to win.
Whether I rise or whether I fall
I do my best to please you all.
For King George is here and swears he will come in,
And if he do he'll pierce me to my skin.
So, Ladies and gentlemen, if you don't believe what I

say,

Step in King George and clear the way.
King George. I am King George, this noble Knight
Came from foreign lands to fight
To fight that fiery dragon who is so bold
And cut him down with his blood cold.
Turkish Knight. Who 's he who seeks the Dragon's blood

And curse so angry and so loud ?
King George. I'm he who seeks the Dragon's blood
And curse so angry and so loud.

THE WESTON-SUB-EDGE PLAY 43

Turkish Knight. You? you black-looking English dog,

will you before me stand ?
I'll cut thee down with my courageous hand.
With my long teeth and scurly jaws I break up half a

score

And stay my stomach till I mourn.
So to battle to battle and you and I will try
To see which on the ground shall lie.
Father Christmas. Oh is there a doctor to be found or any

near at hand
To heal this deep and deadly wound and make this dead

man stand ?
Doctor. Oh yeas, here is a doctor to be found all ready

near at hand
To heal this deep and deadly wound and make this dead

man stand.

Take one of my pills, bold fellow, rise up and fight
again.

The Turkish Knight and King George fight.
Father Christmas. Oh is there a doctor to be found or any

near at hand
To heal this deep and deadly wound and make this dead

man stand ?
Doctor. Oh yes, here is a doctor to be found all ready near

at hand
To heal this deep and deadly wound and make this dead

man stand.

Ladies and gentlemen, all here a large wolf's tooth
growing in this man's head and must be taken out
before he'll recover.

Father Christmas. What 's thy fee, Doctor ?
Doctor. Ten guineas is my fee,
But fifteen will I take of thee.
Before I set this gallant free.

44 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Father Christmas. Work thy will, Doctor.

Doctor. I will. Where's Jack?

John Finney. Oh yer 's Jack. Jack 's coming.

Doctor. Hold my horse, Jack Finney.

John Finney. My name ain't Jack Finney, my name 's
Mr. John Finney, a man of great strength. Cured an
old magpie of the toothache, twisted his old yud off,
throwed his body in a dry ditch and drowned him; I
went off the morrow about nine days after, picks up this
little yud magpie, romed my arm down his throat,
turned him inside outwards, and made as good a mag-
pie as ever walked in a pair of pattens.

Doctor. Hold my hoss, Mr. John Finney.

John Finney. Will he bite?

Doctor. No.

John Finney. Will he kick ?

Doctor. No.

John Finney. Take tow to hold him ?

Doctor. No.

John Finney. Hold him yourself then.

Doctor. What 's that, you saucy young rascal ?

John Finney. Oh, I hold him, sir.

Doctor. Give him a bucket of ashes and a fusket for his
supper and well rrrrom down with the bissum stick.

John Finney. Do it yerself, sir.

Doctor. What 's that, you saucy young rascal ?

John Finney. Oh, I do it, sir.

Doctor. Bring me my spy glass, Mr. John Finney.

John Finney. Fetch it yerself, sir.

Doctor. What 's that, you saucy young rascal?

John Finney. Oh, I fetch it, sir. There it is, sir.

Doctor. What 's throw it down there for ?

John Finney. Ah, for thee to pick it up agen, sir.

Doctor. What 's that, you saucy young rascal ?

THE WESTON-SUB-EDGE PLAY 45

John Finney. Oh, for me to pick it up agen, sir.

Doctor. Fetch me my lance, John Finney.

John Finney. Fetch it yerself, sir.

Doctor. What 's that, you saucy young rascal ?

John Finney. Oh, I fetch it, sir.

Doctor. What 's throw it down there for ?

John Finney. Ah, for thee to pick it up again, sir.

Doctor. What 's that, you saucy young rascal ?

John Finney. Ah, for me to pick it up again, sir.

Doctor. Fetch me my pinchers, John Finney.

John Finney. Fetch them yerself, sir.

Doctor. What 's that, you saucy young rascal ?

John Finney. Oh, I fetch them, sir.

Doctor. What 's throw them down there for ?

John Finney. Ah, for thee to pick them up agen, sir.

Doctor. What 's that, you saucy young rascal ?

John Finney. Oh, for me to pick them up agen, sir.

Doctor. Fetch me one of the strongest hosses you've got

in yer team.

John Finney. Fetch um yerself, sir.
Doctor. What's that, you saucy young rascal?
John Finney. Oh, I'll fetch him, sir.

John Finney brings in one of the mummers and -pre-
tends he is a horse.

woa, woa, woa; woa, woa, woa.
Doctor. You call that the strongest hoss you've got in the

team ?

John Finney. That's him, sir.
Doctor. Hold him tight then, John Finney.
John Finney. Hold him yerself.
Doctor. What 's that, you saucy young rascal ?
John Finney. Oh, I've got him, sir, fast by the tail.
Doctor. Hold him fast then.

This is repeated until all the other mummers have

46 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

been brought on in turn, with the exception of Father
Christmas who remains in the room watching and
sweeping with his broom to make fun.

Doctor. Now boys, a long pull short pull, pull all together
boys. Oh, we've got him this time, John Finney. Ladies
and gentlemen, all this large wolf's tooth has been
growing in this man's head ninety-nine years before his
great grandmother was born : if it had n't have been
taken out to-day, he would have died yesterday. I've
a little bottle by my side called Eelgumpane, one spot
on the roof of this man's tongue, another on his tooth,
will quickly bring him to life again. Rise up, bold
fellow, and fight again.

King George and the Turkish Knight fight.

Father Christmas. Peace, peace, peace. Walk in Beel-
zebub.
Beelzebub. In comes I old Belzebub

And on my back I carries my club
And in my hand the dripping-pan,
I thinks myself a jolly old man.
Round hole, black as coal,
Long tail and little hole.

I went up a straight crooked lane. I met a bark and he
dogged at me. I went to the stick and cut a hedge, gave
him a rallier over the yud jud killed him round stout
stiff and bold from Lancashire I came, if Doctor has n't
done his part, John Finney wins the game.
Last Christmas night I turned the spit,
I burnt me finger and felt it itch,
The sparks flew over the table,
The pot-lid kicked the ladle,
Up jumped spit jack
Like a mansion man
Swore he'd fight the dripping pan

THE WESTON-SUB-EDGE PLAY 47

With his long tail,

Swore he'd send them all to jail.

In comes the grid iron, if you can't agree

I'm the justice, bring um to me.

As I was going along, as I was standing still,

I saw a wooden church built on a wooden hill,

Nineteen leather bells a going without a clapper

That made me wonder what was the matter.

I went on a bit further, I came to King Charles up a
cast iron pear tree. He asked I the way to get down. I
said put thee feet in the stirrup iron and pitchee poll
headfust into a marl pit where ninety-nine parish
churches had been dug out besides a few odd villages.
I went on a bit further, I came to a little big house, I
knocked at the door and the maid fell out. She asked
if I could eat a cup of her cider and drink a hard crust
of her bread and cheese. I said 'No thanks, yes if yer
please.' So I picked up me latters and went me ways.
I went on a bit further.

I came to two old women winnowing butter.

That made me mum mum mummer and stutter.
I went on a little bit further: I came to two little whipper
snappers thrashing canary seeds: one gave a hard cut,
the tother gen a driving cut, cut a sid through a wall
nine foot wide killed a little jed dog tother side. I went
of the morroe about nine days after, picks up this little
jied dog, romes my arm down his throat, turned him
inside outards, sent him down Buckle Street barking
ninety miles long and I followed after him.
John Finney. Now my lads we've come to the land of
plenty, rost stones, plum puddings, houses thatched
with pancakes, and little pigs running about with
knives and forks stuck in their backs crying 'Who'll
eat me, who'll eat me ?'

48 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Father Christmas. Walk in clever legs.
Cleverlegs. In comes I ain't been hit.

With me big hump and little wit.

Me chump's so big, me wit's so small,

But I can play you a tune to please yer all.
Father Christmas. What tune's that then ?
Cleverlegs. One of our old favourites tunes Ran tan tinder

box Cat in the fiddle bag Jonnie up up the orchard.
Father Christmas. Let 's have him the.

Now the three-handed reel takes place.

Father Christmas. If this old frying pan had but a tongue,
He'd say 'chuck in yer money and think it no wrong.'

Here and elsewhere, the elaborations of the Cure
are mainly, like its nucleus, in prose. There is some
rough fun in the loutish impudence of Jack Finney.
But most of the patter is such as appeals solely to the
unlettered. It is purely verbal jesting, without salt
of mind. It may take the form of an incongruous
juxtaposition of contradictories:

I went up a straight crooked lane
and,

I said 'No thanks, yes if yer please.'

Or there may be a simple inversion of ideas:

I met a bark and he dogged at me,
and,

She asked if I could eat a cup of her cider and drink
a hard crust of her bread and cheese.

All this comes straight from the village. It is the
folk at its worst. 'Rustic paradox*, one may call
it; 'topsy-turvydom', says Tiddy, but it is a far-

THE WESTON-SUB-EDGE PLAY 49

fetched suggestion that it might c be regarded as an
art-form of magical incantations, like saying the
Lord's Prayer backwards'. 1 He finds it in the clown
Mouse of Mucedorus, who says, 'A was a littel, low,
broad, tall, narrow, big, wel favoured fellow', and
'I can keepe my tongue from picking and stealing,
and my handes from lying and slaundering'. 2 In
company with all this dross is found the romantic
touch of adventure in an Earthly Paradise. Tiddy
traces it rightly to the early fourteenth-century
anti-monastic satire of The Land of Cokayne*

Ther is a wel fair abbei,
Of white monkes and of grei.
Ther beth bowris and halles.
Al of pasteiis beth the walles,
Of fleis, of fisse, and rich met,
The likfullist that man mai et.
Fluren cakes beth the scingles alle,
Of cherche, cloister, boure, and halle.
The pinnes beth fat podinges,
Rich met to princes and kinges . . .
Yite I do yow mo to witte,
The Gees irostid on the spitte
Fleegh to that abbai, God hit wote. 4

The theme is found in popular matter of Germany,
but may be of literary origin. Through what
channel it reached the Mummers' Play is not clear.
There is a bit of it in Jonson's Bartholomew Fair: 5

1 Tiddy, 84, 115. 2 Mucedorus, i. 4. 128; iv. 2. 56.

3 Tiddy, 116.

4 F. J. Furnivall, Early English Poems (1862, Trans, of Philological
Soc. for 1858), from Bar/. MS. 913. s Barth. Fair, iii. 2.

4024 H

50 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Good mother, how shall we finde a pigge, if we doe not
looke about for't ? will it run off o'the spit, into our mouths
thinke you? as in Lubberlandl and cry, we, we?

Both the rustic paradox and Lubberland seem to have
their main home in the Cure, but they overflow into
the Quete, as at Weston-sub-Edge, and also into
the Presentation.

The Cure.

I return to the normalized text. In the north
and the west midlands the Doctor is often:

Dr. Brown,
The best doctor in the town.

This is, no doubt, for the sake of the rhyme. So,
too, Dr. Good (Berks) will 'stop his blood', and
Dr. Lockett (Chesterfield) has 'a bottle in his
pocket*. Elsewhere the character is usually anony-
mous. But I find Dr. Hero (Cinderford), Dr. Airo
(Long Hanborough), Mr. Peter Lamb (Burgh-
clere), Mr. Peter Gray (Hoe Benham), William
Bentinck (Bovey Tracey), Dr. Ball (Thame),
Dr. Dodd (Penn). Some of these may be the
names of real local practitioners. A Dr. William
Dodd of Wing in Bucks, who however was not a
physician but a divine, was hanged for forgery in
1777. Jack' or 'Mr.' Viney (Ilmington), Mr.
Spinney (Islip), Philip Vincent (Somerset), Dr.
Finley (Stourton), are due to a confusion with
the Doctor's assistant, of whom more below. For
Es-vo I-vo Ick-tick-tay (Coxwold), the medicine

THE CURE 51

chest itself must account. Broadway has a 'little
Italian Doctor'. Tiddy reports the Doctor as
saying at Chadlington, from which I have no text,
'In comes I, one of the seventeenth sons of an over
Doctor', and finds a better version in the Ampleforth
Sword-Dance, 'In comes I the seventh son of a new-
born doctor.' 1 It is, of course, to the seventh son of
a seventh son that popular belief attributed excep-
tional powers. But in the plays this is quite an
isolated phrase.

The Doctor's opening speech gives another ex-
ample of incremental repetition. His colloquy with
the Caller, which follows, deals, not always in the
same order, with his travels and his skill, and with
his fee, if that has not already been disposed of by
the Caller's offer of a reward. I think that the reward
was the original conception. It may, in the texts,
be anything from five shillings to ten thousand
pounds, and often no more is said about it. But
sometimes the offer of a low reward has to be raised
or, absurdly, lowered, before the Doctor will come.
And as a rule, a reward at discretion is less within
the experience of the performers than a fee to be
bargained about. The Doctor may be straight-
forward:

King. What is your fee ?
Doctor. Ten pounds is true.
King. Proceed, noble Doctor.
You shall have your due.

' Tiddy 88.

52 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

He may be confident:

My fee 's ten pounds, but only five,
If I don't save this man alive.

He may be generous:

Twenty pounds down is my fee,
But half of that I'll take from thee,
If it is St. George's life I save,
That sum this night from you I crave,

or,

Fifteen pounds, it is my fee,
The money to lay down,
But as 'tis such a rogue as he,
I'll cure him for ten pound.

He may, elsewhere, as at Weston-sub-Edge, be
paradoxically grasping.

Five pounds, Martha. Thee being an honest woman,
I'll charge thee ten.

or,

Well, as you are a poor man, I will throw off a
farthing: that will make it fourteen pounds, nineteen
shillings and eleven pence three farthings.

There may be an elaborate dispute, and a threat to
go away. Some hard bargaining is in a Scottish
play. The Doctor wants ten pounds and a bottle of
wine, and won't even bate the bottle. But in the
Yorkshire chap-book he meets his match, for the
Presenter has an aside, 'You'll be wondrous cunning
if you get any'. The travels, of course, point to a
time when a medical qualification was best acquired

THE CURE 53

abroad. An alteration in the order of the countries
named may lead to a variant rhyme.

From France, from Spain, from Rome I come,
I've travelled all parts of Christendom.

Sicily proved a stumbling-block, and a jingling
rhyme to Italy was substituted. I find Jitaly, Pitaly,
Spittaly, Titaly, Tickerly. An insular temper gave
'England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales' and an
imperialist one at Sunningwell, 'all the biggest
parts of the Dominion*. A journey to Cockaigne
and one 'from bedside to fireside, and from fireside
to my mother's cupboard* are found in northern ver-
sions. c We be n't like you Bee Shee Shard doctors.
We travels for ours' is a vaunt at Leafield. Conceivably
the obscure phrase, which puzzled Tiddy, might
conceal the description of some diploma such as
B.Sc. But Longborough has 'one of these yer shim-
shams', which sounds much the same. A repudiation
in some form of the charge of being a quack doctor
often occurs.

The list of curable diseases naturally takes some
odd forms, of which that at Heptonstall is an extreme
instance:

Itchy pitchy polsh of a golsh.

It is also expanded by others, such as rheumatism

and corns, familiar in rustic life. Camborne gives us:

The hipigo limpigo and no go at all.

But there has also been a literary influence. Tiddy
cites The Infallible Mountebank; Or, Quack Doctor,

54 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

published without date by J. Robinson, who is

doubtless Jacob Robinson (i 737-58). l

All ills
Past, present and to come ;

The Cramp, the Stitch,

The Squirt, the Itch,
The Gout, the Stone, the Pox,

The Mulligrubs,

The Bonny Scrubs,
And all Pandora s Box.

This may itself owe something to the play. But its
'Mulligrubs* and 'Pandora's Box' are clearly recog-
nizable at Lockinge in 'the squolly grubs, the molly-
grubs', at Sunningwell in 'Molly-grubs, Polly-grubs
or any Ran-tan-tory disieces', at Shipton-under-
Wychwood in 'all the rantantorious boxes', and at
Ilmington in 'the Mullygrups and all other vain-
glorious diseases'. The line about the devil gets
much variation, such as

If there 's nine devils in, I can kick ten out,

and there is a distinct formula, which rings the
changes on two different rhymes:

Fetch me an old woman, seven years dead and seven

years laid in her grave,
I'll maintain her life and soul to save,

and,

Bring me an old woman, fourscore and ten,
If she 's ne'er a tooth in her head,

I'll bring her round young and plump again.

1 Tiddy, 213.

THE CURE 55

This last links with an episode to which we shall
come.

The elecampane of the cure was a remedy well
known in the seventeenth century. It appears as
'halycompagne', 'helly com pain', 'elecome pain',
'hallecomb pain', 'elegant paint', 'elegant plaint',
'jollup and plain', and even at Cuddesdon, where,
as Tiddy points out, there is a theological college, as
'champagne'. Probably it is also the 'inkum pinkum'
found in Scotland, although Maidment says that
c inky pinky' was a Scottish eighteenth-century name
for the smallest kind of beer. As 'hokum smokum
alecampane' or 'icum spicome, spinto of Spain' it
merges in the mere 'hocus pocus' or gibberish of
'the okum pocum drop', 'im-cum-curum', 'oham,
poham, githeram, oceam', 'ekee-okee, adama pokee',
'hocum slocum aliquid spam', 'nixum-naxum,
prixum-praxum, with i-cock-o'-lory'. Other popular
medicaments, of various dates, are discernible.
There is Jerusalem balsam. Golden Philosopher
Drops yield 'golden foster drops', 'Golden Slozenger
drops', and 'frosty drops'; Tic Doloureux Pills 'tic
tolerune pills'. There are galvanic drops, Jupiter
pills, virgin pills, silver pills, Dutch pills, and Scotch
pills. Mr. Piggott cites a payment for Scotch pills
in a Berkshire farmer's account of 1760.' The
formula of administration varies. It may be:

Take a little of this bottle,
And run it down thy throttle,
1 Folk-Lore^ xxxix. 272.

56 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

or: Take a little of my nip-nap,

And run it down thy tip-tap.

Sometimes the cure takes place in silence. And the
victim generally rises in silence. The play is over.
If he gets a speech, I suspect that it is always an
accretion. Scottish versions give him:

Once I was dead, and now I am alive,
Blessed be the doctor that made me to revive.

Ireland adds an 'other world' touch.

Aloft, aloft, where have I been,
And oh! what strange and foreign lands I've seen.
or,

I have been half puffed and huddled in the sky :
These moons and stars have caused me to die.

Chap-books have :

O hark ! St. George, I hear the silver trumpet sound,
That summons us from off this bloody ground ;
Farewell, St. George ; we can no longer stay.
Down yonder is the way.

More common is the following:

Oh horrible, terrible, the like was never seen,
A man drove out of seven senses into seventeen.

I find it or something like it chiefly in the north, but
also so far afield as Newport in Shropshire, Malvern
and Leigh in Worcestershire, Waterstock in Oxford-
shire, and Keynsham in Somersetshire. And it is
certainly an accretion, being borrowed from a speech
of Mouse when frightened by a bear in Mucedorus?
'O horrible, terrible! Was ever poore Gentleman so

1 Muccdorus, i. 2. I.

JACK FINNEY 57

scard out of his seauen Senses?' The origin is con-
firmed by George's addition in the Isle of Man:

It was neither by a bull, nor yet by a bear,
But by a little devil of a rabbit there.

yack Finney.

I pass now to an elaboration of the Cure, which
appears to be mainly confined to the Cotswolds and
some other parts of the central area, where in one
stage or other of its development it is common.
It occurs, sporadically, as far north as Chesterfield.
Weston-sub-Edge gives a good example. Three
factors are involved, which may occur separately or
in combination. Firstly, the normal healing by a
medicament may be replaced or supplemented by
drawing of a tooth from the Agonist. Occasionally
the episode is detached from the combat, and the
patient is a woman. This links up with one of the
Doctor's vaunts. 1 At Weston-sub-Edge, as already
noted, the tooth is called a wolf's tooth, and the
Turkish Knight, who is the Agonist, is called a
dragon. It is humorously described as 'more like
a helephant's tooth than a Christian's'. It will 'hold
a sack of beans one side and a quart of best ale
t'other'. It is 'as long as a two-inch nail, and got
roots like a poplar-tree'. At Icomb and Drayton
an actual horse's tooth was shown, at Pillerton a
donkey's tooth, at Hardwick a cow's tooth. Secondly
the Doctor may be represented as coming on horse-

' Cf. p. 54.

4024

$8 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

back. 1 How far this was visualized is not always
clear from the texts and descriptions of the plays.
Sometimes the horse seems to be merely spoken of,
and may be supposed to be outside the door. But
in three or four cases the Doctor certainly rode in
on the back of one of the other mummers. At
Longborough, we are told, 'they called Beelzebub,
on whose back the Doctor came in, "the doctor's
horse": but Beelzebub was also known to them as
the "old woman" and was dressed in a frock.' And
thirdly with the horse generally goes a horse-boy.
He is called Jack and much of the patter of the
scene belongs to him. It generally yields another
toothy reference. Jack has 'cured an old magpie of
the toothache, twisted his old yud off, throwed his
body in a dry ditch and drowned him'. Often Jack
is not a mere horse-boy, but the Doctor's assistant,
and then he is generally Jack Finney, resents the
Jack', and claims to be Mr. Finney. Occasionally
the name is Vinney or Pinney. He fetches the
instruments for the tooth-drawing and may help to
give the pull. The team of mummers, which he
organizes at Weston-sub-Edge for the purpose, is
exceptional. At Stanford-in-the-Vale, it is Mary
who fetches the instruments in his place. And finally
he may become the Doctor's substitute in working
the cure. The Doctor, having perhaps already
cured a wound, may hesitate before the death of the
same Agonist or another, and Jack Finney may step

1 Cf. p. 212.

MULTIPLIED COMBATS 59

in, with the tooth cure or a normal one. On some
other plays Jack Finney has merely left a shadow.
The Doctor himself may bear that name or one
derived from it, or under some other name may
claim the 'Mr.', or may use the 'magpie* joke. At
Chithurst it is a jackdaw. Occasionally Jack Finney
is a combatant, or is in the Quete, from which,
indeed, he possibly came. 1

Multiplied Combats.

The Jack Finney episode, it will be observed,
may involve a duplication of the combat. But this
is only one example of the way in which the Sword-
play, more exciting both to performers and spectators
than the dialogue, is often extended. Even when
there is only one combat, it may be diversified. A
pardon is craved and when it is refused, the sword-
play continues. The Agonist inflicts a wound, before
he himself falls. He is cured and again slain by the
same Antagonist. But there is often a series of
distinct combats. The Agonist, wounded and spared
by one Antagonist, is taken on and slain by another.
The victorious Antagonist is vanquished in his turn
by a third combatant. Sometimes the prolongation
is artless enough. Entirely fresh pairs of adversaries
appear, to renew the vaunting and the fight. More
often, however, a single Antagonist, almost invariably
St. George, faces a succession of opponents, perhaps
only disputing with some and slaying others. An

' Cf. p. 68.

60 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

extreme case is at Ross, where St. George slays in
turn Prince Valentine, Bold Captain Rover, the
Turkey Snipe, Little John, Bold Bonaparte, Sambo,
and when they are cured, is finally himself slain by
the Doctor. It is likely, from the variety of the
devices used and their reliance for dialogue upon
orts and scraps of the normal vaunts, that as a rule
we have to do with nothing more than independent
attempts in various places to spin out the interest of
the piece. In two cases, however, the introduction
of a second Presentation suggests that a version from
elsewhere has been tacked on to that proper to the
locality. At Bampton the second part may have
been contributed by a Somersetshire rector. That of
Icomb in Gloucestershire almost certainly comes
from as far as Scotland. The only figure in the
extensions which needs any further comment is that
of Sambo. At Ross he is called upon by Bold
Bonaparte to revenge him as his master. At Mylor
in Cornwall, in the Isle of Man, and in the Newcastle-
Whitehaven chap-book he has a similar role, al-
though here the appeal comes from the Agonist's
father. And in the Yorkshire chap-book and in
Derbyshire the episode recurs with the substitution
of Hector for Sambo. There is a fairly constant
formula, somewhat as follows:

King of Egypt. O Sambo! Sambo! help with speed,
For I was never in more need;
For thou to stand with sword in hand,
And fight at my command.

MULTIPLIED COMBATS 61

Sambo. Yes, yes, my liege, I will obey,

And by my sword I hope to win the day.
If that be he who doth stand there,
That slew my master's son and heir,
If he be sprung from royal blood,
I'll make it flow like Noah's flood.

Generally the champion fails. In the Newcastle-
Whitehaven version he excuses himself from fight-
ing, because 'my sword-point is broke 5 . But in the
Isle of Man he does revenge the original Agonist
to whom, rather awkwardly, the broken sword is
transferred.

Apart from the Jack Finney cases, the duplication
of combats only rarely leads to a duplication of the
Cure scene. Sometimes two or more Agonists may
be comprehended in a single cure. Sometimes an
alternative wind-up is adopted for the subsidiary
conflicts. Pardon may be given or peace made by
the bystanders. The chap-books might be respon-
sible for the adjournment of a dispute with an offer
to 'cross the water at the hour of five'. But this is
found also in the south at Sudbury and Rogate, and
it recurs in the children's game of Lady on Yonder
Hilly where also the lady is stabbed and revives. 1
Finally, as on the Elizabethan stage, a dead body
may be disposed of by carrying it out. This is done
at Ross and at Bovey Tracey, and very elaborately
at Camborne.

Beelzebub. I have a fire that is long lighted,

To put the Turk who was long knighted.
1 A. B. Gomme, Traditional Games > i. 303.

6z THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

With the help of the others he gets the Turk on to his
back and goes out with him, saying,

Here I goes old man Jack
With the Turk upon my back.

The Mason comes in with a trowel in his hand and
a hod on his shoulder.

The Mason. Here comes I little Tom Tarter,
I am the boy for mixing marter.

He takes St. George by the hand and walks him out
saying,

With my trowel and my hod

I will build a house for you and God.

There was an alternative ending.

Father Christmas. We must bury the child.

Let two take his feet and two take his arm
And we will carry him out like a ship in a storm.

He takes a book out of his pocket.

We will sing a tune to him.

You will find the Hymn 120 pound beef

If you can't find it there, turn over a leaf.

Then they carry him out, singing.

This poor old man is dead and gone,
We shall never see him no more,
He used to wear an old gray coat
All buttoned down before.

In an unlocated version we get :

Another performer enters and says,

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,
If uncle Tom Pearce won't have him. Aunt Molly
must.

THE QUfiTE 63

Evidently folk-rhymes were drawn upon. An Easter
qufae song recorded from Oxfordshire by White
Kennett (1660-1728) had :

Here sits a good wife,
Pray God save her life ;
Set her upon a hod,
And drive her to God. 1

A version of the children's burial game of Jenny
Jones has :

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,

If God won't have you, the devil must. 2

And in fact such endings merge in the variety
entertainment, which accompanies that inevitable
feature of the play, the Qu$te.

The Quete.

The four types of my text Big Head, Beelzebub,
Jack with the wife and family, the Sweeper are
all common and reasonably distinct, although it
need hardly be said that they occasionally get each
other's lines or functions. Big Head seems to be
primarily a musician and dancer; Jack and the
Sweeper collectors of money. Beelzebub may take
over either activity, but more often is content with
his burst of self-laudation. Any of them may con-
tribute patter, or scraps of lines also found in the
Presentation. I do not think that they ever all come
together. Jack belongs to the southern and the

1 J. Aubrey, Remains ofGentilism and Judaism (1881), 161.

2 A. B. Gomme, Traditional Games, ii. 432.

64 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Sweeper to the northern half of the country. The
confusions between them are on the boundary of their
areas. Both are found at Rugby, but here Beelzebub
is missing. Their nomenclature suggests that they
have diverged from a common original Jack.

Big Head is also Head Per Nip, Fool, Tom Fool,
Clown, I as Ain't Been Yet, Mazzant Binnit, Fiddler,
Fiddler Wit, Old Father Scrump, Boxholder, Little
Man Dick, Little Dick Nipp. The formula in his
opening line may be 'that never come yet', 'that's
never been yet', 'that's never been in it', 'that didn't
come yet', 'that haven't been yet', 'as ain't been it',
'as hant been it', 'as ain't been yet', 'as ain't been hit',
'as can't be hit', 'which ain't been yet', 'who hant
bin it', 'who's never been yet', 'who've never been
hit'. I enumerate these variants, partly to show the
flexibility of the English language, and partly to
note the persistence of the rhyme to 'wit'. 1 The
fourth line is also subject to modification. It may
promise 'a song', 'a tune', 'my music', 'my fiddle',
'my hurdy-gurdy'. It may borrow a phrase from
the Presentation :

I'll do my duty to please you all,

or it may abandon the rhyme to 'small' and repeat
that to 'wit'.

Here comes I that never come yet

With a quat head and little wit,

If you please to throw in my hat what you think fit.

1 Cf. p. 10.

THE QUfiTE 65

Beelzebub becomes Beelzebub the Fool, Old Billy
Beelzebub, Belcibub, Belzeebug, Bellzie Bub, Bellsie
Bob, Bellesy Bob, Bells Abub, Baal Zebub, Hub-bub-
bub-bub, Lord Grubb. On the whole, apart from
orthography, the Bible has kept his name in remem-
brance. Instead of a 'club', he may carry a 'nub' or
c nob', and the 'frying-pan' may be a 'dripping-pan',
'warming-pan', 'pack and pan', 'empty can'. His
last line may be:

Pleased to get all the money I can.
Lockinge furnishes a different rhyme:

And on my elbow I carries my bell,
And don't you think I cut a great swell.

and Sapperton another:

With my hump back and curly wig
You play me a tune, I'll dance you a jig.

Jack, to whose name 'Little' is generally prefixed,
may be Johnny Jack, Jim Jack, Black Jack, Fat Jack,
Happy Jack, Hump-backed Jack, Humpty Jack,
Saucy Jack, Little Man Jack. His last line may be:

I think myself the best man of you all,
or,

I am the biggest rogue among you all,
or,

I've brought a rattle to please you all.

Rugby has a variant:

Times hard, money small,
Every copper will help us all,

4024

66 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

and Burghclere an addition:

The roads are dirty, my shoes are bad,
So please put a little into my bag.

The reference to a wife and family is persistent, and
may be elaborated by :

Some at the workhouse, some at the rack,
I'll bring the rest when I come back,

or by the cumulative rhymes already given in
connexion with the Lament. And its third line is
curiously echoed in a version of a song used at the
Hunting of the Wren on St. Stephen's Day (Decem-
ber 26).

The wren, the wren, the king of all birds,
St. Stephen's Day was caught in the furze,
Although he is little, his family 's great,
I pray you, good landlady, give us a treat.

The custom is known in Essex and the Isle of Man,
but this particular third line comes from the south
of Ireland. Essex has :

Although he be little, his honour is great, 1

The coastal counties of Hants and Sussex seem to be
responsible for an accretion by which Jack is also
Little or Tommy Twing Twang or Twin Twain,
Headman of this press-gang,

and in taking recruits for a 'man-o'-war'. Corruption
produces:

Nobleman of this press-gang,

1 T. F. Dyer, British Popular Customs, 497; Northall, English Folk-
Rhymes, 229; citing T. C. Croker, Researches in the South of Ireland
(1824), 233.

THE QUfiTE 67

and,

Left hand of this press-gang,
and,

With my left-handed press-gang.

The press-gang got as far north as Witley in Berks
and Alton Barnes in Wilts, but at Alton Barnes
its point is forgotten; Twing Twang and Jack, each
referring to his family, are distinct figures in the
Quete and Twing Twang says :

I'm the best in this rough gang.

At Ovingdean Twin Twain is a sub-Presenter and
Jack a queteur. At Overton and Witley, Twing
Twang's qufae is preceded by victory in a subsidiary
combat, after which he laments:

Oh dear, oh dear, see what I've been and done,
Killed my poor old Father, Abraham Brown.

The Sweeper is most often Devil Dout, which
may be modified into Dairy Dout, Jerry Dout,
Diddle Dout, Dilly Dout, Diddie Dout, Diddlie
Dots, while one very modern small boy made it
Chucker Out. Devil Dout, too, gets the prefix
Tittle'. You 'dout' a fire or a light. 1 But Dout often
becomes Doubt. Tiddy would, I suppose, have
scented theological influence here. Newport, at any
rate in genteel households, substituted Jack Dout,
but Sometimes we say, ma'am, Little Jack Devil
Dout'. The lines show little variation, where Dout

1 Cf.p.2I2.

68 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

is concerned. Some alternative names lead to changes

of rhyme. Thus Johnny or Billy Sweep has :

All the money I get I mean to keep.
Dicky Hissum comes

With a new second-hand old bissum,

which is a good example of the rustic paradox.
Johnny Funny or Little Bibble and Funny has :
I am the man to collect the money.

It would seem natural to regard Johnny Funny's
name as leading to that of Jack Finney. It may be
so. But in the plays before me, while Jack Finney
is a southerner, I only find Johnny Funny in Cum-
berland and Ireland, and although Jack Finney,
whether he has been in the Cure or not, is sometimes
a queteur, it is always Big Head's lines and not the
Sweeper's that he borrows. On the other hand at
Chesterfield it is Fat Jack, with the wife and family,
who replaces Jack Finney in the Cure. Jack is,
indeed, an uncomfortably generic name on which
to base any argument.

The Woman invades the Quete, as she does other
parts of the play. She has Big Head's lines as Molly
Tinker at Stanford-in-the-Vale, Molly at Kingsclere,
the Old Woman at Burghclere, and Mother Christ-
mas in the Isle of Wight. Here she also sweeps.
She replaces Beelzebub as Mrs. Beelzebub at Repton,
Slipslop in Derbyshire, and Molly or Mary Tinker,
who is also Old Mother Alezeebub, at Lockinge.
Perhaps this perversion explains her use at Lockinge

THE QUfiTE 69

and Stanford-in-the-Vale of lines traced by Mr.
Piggott to the folk-song When Joan's Ale was New. 1

The next to come in was a tinker,
Likewise no small beer drinker.

Elsewhere in Berkshire Molly, who is Presenter,
collects the money in silence, and so does a Little
Judy at Icomb. Was she once Judas, who takes his
boy round at Peebles? Perhaps the latest recruit
for the play is the Suffragette of HeptonstalL

In steps I, a suffragette,

Over my shoulder I carry my clogs.

One would expect to find Sabra in a St. George play,
but there is very little trace of her. Sometimes she
would c step out', generally as a mute, in Cornwall.
She is not in the published Dorset versions, but
Thomas Hardy appears to have seen her. 2 Coxwold
in Yorkshire had and lost a Bride.

Other figures appear in the Quete. The Presenter,
the Doctor, or a combatant may speak again. The
Bloody Warer of My lor is an epitome of the play.
Oliver Cromwell, 'with my copper nose', and Lord
Nelson are from history. The Prince of Peace, Old
Almanac, and Compliments of the Season belong
to Christmas itself. The Giant from the Giant's
Rest of Bovey Tracey I have already noted. Little
Box explains himself. Familiar village types are
represented by the Policeman, Farmer Toddy, and

1 Folk-Lore, xxxix. 273. The song is in A. Williams, Folk-Songs of the
Upper Thames, 276.

2 W. Archer, Real Conversations, 34.

70 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Tom the Tinker, who gets at Hampton the 'drinker'
rhyme given in Berkshire to Molly Tinker. The
Old Squire 'as black as any Friar' of an unlocated
version may be a variant of the Old Fool. The Old
Tosspot or Tossip of Midgley and Heptonstall is
proper to the Easter date there favoured.

Although I am ragged and not so well dressed,
I can carry a pace egg as well as the best.

Essentially, of course, the Quete is the collection of
a reward. It sometimes ends with a blessing of the
'pocket full of money' type on the household visited. 1
Music, dance and song, helped by patter, often turn
it into an afterpiece, something like a revue. The
musical instrument is generally a fiddle, or a rustic
substitute called a hurdy-gurdy or humpen-scrump.
It may be a drum or even a tin whistle, a mouth-
organ, or a rattle. The dances named are the jig,
the step-dance, the three-handed reel, the broom-
stick dance. There are sword-dances, performed
singly, in Derbyshire. The tune Greens/eeves was
probably once traditional in several southern districts.
It has left traces in some characteristic textual corrup-
tions: 'Blue sleeves and yellow laces', 'Green sleeves
and yellow waists', 'Green sleeves and yellow leaves'.
I need not dwell on most of the songs, which may
be anything from carols or other folk-songs to
patriotic or music-hall ditties. An exceptionally
interesting one is at Keynsham in Somerset. This
is a wooing-dialogue. It begins, as Professor Basker-

1 Cf. p. 21, 220.

THE MYLOR PLAY 71

vill points out, with a passage between Father
Christmas and a Shepherdess, which is from a
droll of Diphilo and Granida in The Wits (1673),
and slips into another between the Shepherdess and
a Prince, which is from the Wessex folk-song Old
Mo!/. 1 A bit of this is also used at Broadway.

The My/or Play.

The after-piece itself becomes definitely dramatic
in the very singular text from Mylor in Cornwall,
which I will now give.

William Solomon first -part (Presenter: Turkish
Knight's Father}

Rume, rume, gallants, rume, give me rume to rime,

For in this house I mine to shew some of my past time.

Now, gentlemen an Ladys, it is Christmas time.

I am a blade,

That knew my trade,

All people doth a dear 2 me;

I will swagger and banter an I

Will drive the town before me;

If I am naked 3 or if I am prict,

I will give a man an answer;

The very first man or boy I mits,

My soard shall be is fencer.

Behind the doar

Thare lye a scoar;

Pray Git it out, if you can, sur.

1 Baskervill, Modem Philology, xxi. 270, and Elizabethan Jig, 165;
A. Williams, Folk-Songs of the Upper Thames, 95.

2 adore. 3 knocked.

72 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

I walke away,

Have nothing to pay,

An let in the swagering man, sur.

John Rowe fart the second
Father Christmas

Here comes I, ould father Christmas, welcom or welcom

not;

I hope ould father Christmas will never be forgot.
Ould father Christmas a pair but woance a yare;
He lucks like an ould man of 4 score yare.

Penty Landin part the third (Turkish Knight}

Hopen the doar and Lat me in,

I hope your faver I shall wind ;

Wether I rise or wether I foil,

I will do my endeavour to please you all.

St. George is at the doar,

And swear he will com in

With soard and buckler by is side

I fear he will purs my skin.

I now he is no fool,

I now he is some stoute,

Whyke will say more by wan inch of candle than I can

performe while ten pound born out;
And if you would not believe what I say,
Let the king of Eagipt com in and clare the way.

Wm Williams King of Egipt Fourth

Here am I the King of Eagipt,

Ho plainly doth apare;

St. George he is my only son,

My only son an hear.

Walk in, St. George, and boldly act they part;

Let all the royal family see the royal act.

THE MYLOR PLAY 73

F. Rowe (Beelzebub} *
Here comes I, ould belzey bob,
Upon my shoulder I carry my club,
And in my hand a drippen and. 1
Ham I not a hansom good looking ould man.

Henry Crossmans part 5 (St. George)
Hear comes I, son George,
From England have I sprung.
Sum of my wondras works
Now for to begin;
First into a Closet I was put,
Then into a Cave was lock;
I sot my foot upon a Rokke stone,
Their did I make my sad an grievus mone.
How many men have I slew,
And runnd the firche 2 dragon thrue ;
I fought them all Courrageously,
And still got thire Victory,
England's wright, England admorration.
Now ear I drow my bloody weepon ;
Ho is the man that doth before me Stand ?
I will cut him down with my courrageous hand.

Penty Landin 6 (Turkish Knight}
Hear comes I the Turkish Knight,
Come from the Turkish land to fight;
I will fight Sun George, that man of courage
And if his blood is hot, soon will I make it Could.

Henry Grossman 7 (St. George)
Thee come so far,
To fight such a man as I !
I will cut thy doublats ful of Hylent 3 hols
And make thy buttens fly.

1 pan. 2 fiery or fierce. 3 eyelet?

4024

74 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Penty Landin 8 (Turkish Knight}

I am a man of vallour

I will fight untill I die

Sun George, thou never will face me,

But a way from me will fly.

Henry Grossman 9 (St. George)

Ha ! proud Turk, what, will thou tell me so
With threting words and threting oaths ?
Drow thy sord and fight,
Draw thy fees and pay,
For satisfaction I will have
Be fore I go away.

Penty Landin 10 (Turkish Knight}

No satisfaction shall you have,

But in a moment's time I will bring thee to thy grave.

Henry Grossman 1 1 (St. George}

Thee bring me to my grave !

I will fight with thee, no pardon shall you have ;

So drow thy sord and fight,

For I will concour you this night.

(Fight. Turkish Knight falls}
Solomon 12 (Presenter)

docter, docter, wat is thy fee,
This champion for to rise ?

The site of him doth trouble me,
To see how dead he lies.

W. Williams 13 (Doctor}

Full fifty ginnes is my fee,
And money to have down,
But sunes tis for is majesty,

1 will do it for ten pound.

THE MYLOR PLAY 75

I have a little bottle in the wrestbond of my britches that

goes by the name of halycompane,
Shall make this goodly champion rice and fight a gain.
Are, 1 Jack! take a little of my drip drop, pour it up in the

tip top, arise, Jack, slash and fight again.
Behold this motal now reviving be ;
Tis by my sceel and strength the ficik, see,
Which make this goodly night revive
And bring is aged father now alive.
Awacke thou lustros 2 knight also,
And I will take thee by the hand and try if thou canst go.

P. Langdon 14 (^Turkish Knight}

What places is are !
What seens appare !

Whare ever I torn mine eye,
Tis all around
In chantin ground

And soft delusions 3 rise:
Flowry mountins,
Mossy fountins,

What will 4 veriety Surprize.

Tis on the alow 5 walks we walks,
An hundred ecos round us stock: 6
From hils to hils the voices tost,
Rocks rebounding,
Ecos resounding,
Not one single words was lost.

Henry Grossman 15 (St. George)

Behold on yander risen ground
The bour that woander,

1 Here or Ah. 2 illustrious. 3 Elysiums.

4 With wild. 5 hollow. 6 talk.

76 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Ever ending,
Ever blending,
Glades an 1 glades,
Shades an shades,
Running on eternal round.

(Another Fight)

P. Langdon 16 (Turkish Knight)

O pardon, pardon, St. George, one thing of thee I crav;
Spair me my life and I will be thy constant slave.

H. Grossman 17 (St. George)
Yes, proude Torke, but arise, and go in to thy on land

and tell

What a bould champion there doth in England stand.
Had it been a thousand or ten thousand such men as thee, I

would fight,

For to man tain grait Britain's right;
Great Britian's right I will mentain,
And fight for England wance again.

Wm. Solomon (Presenter)
As I gist stiping 2 out of my bed,
In hearing this my honly son was dead,

cruel Christan, what ast thou don ?
Thou ast ruin'd me and killed my only Son.

Henry Grossman (St. George)

He was the first that chalins'd me, and how can I deny
To see the Turkish dog stand up and folldon and die ?

William Solomon (Presenter)

1 will seek the bouldest champion in my relam,
This cruel Christan's blood to overwealam.

O help me, Sampo, help me; was thare ever a man in

greater need?

To fight like a sowlejar make thy hart to bleed.
1 on. 2 just stepping.

THE MYLOR PLAY 77

John Rowe (Sambo)

Are am I, Sampo, I will slafter the man that spilt my

master blood,
And with my body I will make the oacken 1 flood.

(Another fight)
William Solomon (Presenter)

O docter, docter, is there nary docter to be found,
Or to be had this night,
Can cuer this bloody wound,
And make him stand upright ?

William Williams (Doctor)

is there 2 a docter to be found,
Or to be had this night,

Can heal this man's bloody wound
And make him stand upright.

Wm. Solomon (Presenter}
Pray ware ast thou travld ?

Williams (Doctor)

1 have travld to London, Garmenay, Scotland and Spain,
By all my rich fortune safe returned to England again.

Solomon (Presenter)
What canst thou cure ?

Williams (Doctor)

I can cure the hick, the stick, the pox, the gout,

All deses and comppleases.

If any man as got a scolin wife,

My balsom will cure her;

Take but one drop of this, upon my life,

She will never scoul no more.

1 ocean. 2 there is.

78 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

(Part if)
Wm. Williams 1 9 (Bloody Warrior}

Hear am I, the bloody Warer 1 O, have I spent my time
in bloody War! Slash, cornary, 1 dam the Ribal's carse!
Sholl I walk ones, twoes, thrise over the dark with out hat,
stockin? Shart I bow dack to every drunkerd or proud
sot ? No, by this Etarnal sord ! The man that is not fit to
dye is not fit to live. Stand, delever, push your pikestaf
by the Hyeway ! Hoop ! that man 's neck is not very big
that fears a little rope. I pray, Mrs. Doldorty, git me
gud shir for supper, for I main to have gud shir. 2 'Tis not
your fether fowl nor Apple pyes I main, as your chised 3
ches crids 4 nor crym; I can't eat none. Ad it been a bit
soceen 5 pig, I might have a chance to pic a bone. All I
leve and all I lack, in come my man Jack, and carried all
away in my nalsack 6

Wm. Solomon 20 (Little John}

Here comes I, little man John, with a Sord in my hand,
And if any man offend me I will make him to stand.
I will cut him and slash him so small as the flys,
And send him to Jemecka to make Appel pyes.

Wm. Solomon 21 (King of France}

Hear am I, the King of France! King Henry I har is
Riseing a army against France. But let him come, I will
thonder him back, he can not me with stand. My milk
wite corls, my rid caps, my yallow fethers, deccar my
resoralson stout and bould. The Crown I will not spear.
I am the King of France, and with my sord I will advance.

Penty 22 (Page}
My mester sent me onto you.

Ten ton of gold that is due to him,

1 cuckold, fool. 2 cheer. 3 chiselly, friable.

4 curds. s sucking. 6 knapsack.

THE MYLOR PLAY 79

And if you dont send him is tribut home,
Sone he in France land you see.

William Solomon 23 (King of France)
Go tell your mester that he is yung and of tender years,

Not fit to come within my degree,
And I will send three tennas bols,

That with him he may learn to play.

Penty Landin 24 (English Page)

Hark, hark! wot sending vads my ears?
The conquers a porch I hear.
'Tis Henry's march, 'tis Henry time I now.
He comes, victorus Henry comes !
With obboys, Tropets, fifes and drums
Send from afar
And sound of war,
Foil of grief and every wind.
From walk to walk, from shade to shade,
From strim to poolin strim convaid,
Thrue all the minglin of the grove,
Thrue all the minglin tracks of love,
Tyrnin,
Burnin,
Changin,
Rangin,

Full of grife and full of woe,
Impashent from my Lord's return.

Henry Grossman 25 (Henry V}

Whot nuse, whot nuse, my lovely Page,
Whot nuse have you brought onto me ?

(Penty Landin: Page)

I have brought such nuse from the King of France,
That you and he will never agree.

8o THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

For he says you am young and of tender years,

Not fit to come in your degree,
And he will send you three tinnes bolls,

That with them you may Learn to play.

Henry Grossman 26 (Henry V}
From yender march King Henry,
With all my gallent company.

Now I have taken upon me a charge,

To govern these poor ants,
That the may wolk more large,

And in these wonts

That the may wolk more safe,

And bring home thire relife,
And keep that wich I have

From every Idol Theft.

But now the King is hear,

I will bow down lowe my knee.

All those that ventered hear
Is subject unto me.

God bless the Roral King,

And send him a long to reain,

And joy in Everything,

And free him from all pain.

I an my men and mine,

My Ants and all I have,
I command them the her mime,

So the King god save.

Wm. Solomon 27 (King of France}
O pardon, pardon, King Henry!

The Ton of gould I will pay to thee,
And the finest flour that is in all France

To the rose of Ingland I will give free.

THE MYLOR PLAY 81

P. Langdon 28 (Admiral Byng}

Hear am I, bing bing,

Ho in an alter of to swing,

Ho did the battle falter.

O corced was the day,

That first I went to sea,

To fight the French,

And then to run away.

Now are I stand,

With sord in hand,

And now I will fight any man.

H. Grossman 29 (Edward Fernori)
Here am I vornal bould.
Took six ships and lead the Spanyard gould,
Took shear of thare castle and port below,
Made the proud Spanyards look dismal and yellow,
But we was not daunted a toll, 1
Until their come a boll,
And took us in the goll,
And Queback foil
From our hands.

The first brod side the Frinch did fire,
They kild our Englesh men so free.
We keeld ten thousand of the Frinch,
The rest of them the rund away.
O ! as we march to the Frinch gates
With drums and Trumpets so merrely,
O ! then be spock the old king of France,
So he foil on his bended knee,
Prince Henry.

I one of his gallent company,
I soon forsook bold London Town.
We went and took the Spanish crown.

* at all.

4024 M

82 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

We soun then won.

And now we have shoud you all our fun.

30 (Presenter*)

Gentlemen and ladies, all your sport is don, I can no

longer stay;

Remember, still St. George will bear the sway.
Gentlemon and ladies all, I hope you will be free
For to subscribe a little part to pay the doctor's fee.

31 (Big Head}

Here comes I that never come yet,

With a quat 1 head and little wit,

If you please to throw in my hat what you think fit.

The original text is written continuously in prose,
and I have divided it metrically. The Bloody
Warrior's speech is really prose, and may be a late
addition. I have introduced some capitalization and
punctuation and indicated the characters in angular
brackets, but left the spelling alone. It will be
observed that there is some doubling of parts.
I am not sure whether Sambo is meant to fight. 2
In any case the Cure has been much dislocated.
Tiddy found most of the quatrains in the late
eighteenth-century ballad of King Henry Fifth's
Conquest of France, but those of Speech 26 must be
from another source. 3 The lyrical passages he found
in Addison's opera Fair Rosamond (1707). He
identified the Vornal of Speech 29 with Edward
Vernon, who boasted that he would take Portobello
from the Spanish with six ships and did take it with

1 squat. * Cf. p. 60. 3 Child, no. 164.

COSTUME 83

nine in 1 739. But the event has been mixed up with
the capture of Quebec by Wolfe in 1759, as we ^ as
with Henry V. The Admiral Byng of speech 28
was shot, not hung, in 1757.

Costume.

It is unfortunate that the recorders of Mummers'
Plays have not always been careful to describe the
appearance of the performers. As to this, therefore,
the material is comparatively scanty. One may start
from the account given in dialect by William Sandys
for the Cornwall of I846. 1 Most of the company
were 'en white weth ribands tied all upon their shirt
sleeves with nackins and swords and sich caps as I
never seed. They was half a fathom high maade of
pastyboord, weth powers of beads and leaking glass,
and other noshions, and strids of ould cloth stringed
'pon slivers of pith hanging down'. Old Father
Christmas came 'weth a make-wise feace possed on
top of his aun, and es long white wig'; the Doctor
'with a three-corner piked hat, and es feace all
rudded and whited, with spurticles on top of es
nawse'. It was presumably Sabra who wore 'a
maiden's bed-gound and coats with ribands, and a
nackin en es hand and a gowk', which Sandys
glosses as a bonnet with a flap or curtain behind.
Many of the features here noted are still, in one
place or another, de rigueur. Nowadays, no doubt,
the combatants often wear military uniform or

1 Uncle Jan Trenoodle, Specimens of Cornish Provincial Dialect, 52.

84 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

some colourable pretence thereof. But this is pro-
bably a modern development; the uniform is in
fact khaki at Drayton. The white shirt or smock
gave a name to the White Boys of the Isle of Man,
and occasionally survives elsewhere. But the smock
of the English agricultural labourer is practically
extinct, and ordinary clothes have generally replaced
it as the basis of the costume. There is still, however,
the same overlay of floating ribbons or bits of cloth,
or of closely laid strips of paper, often gaily coloured
wall-paper. I have not noticed any special use of
'nackins' or 'napkins', although this is likely enough.
It is largely a matter of the rustic conception of orna-
ment. Thomas Hardy writes of a Dorsetshire play:

The girls could never be brought to respect tradition in
designing and decorating the armour: they insisted on
attaching loops and bows of silk and velvet in any situation
pleasing to their taste. Gorget, gusset, bassinet, cuirass,
gauntlet, sleeve, all alike in the view of these feminine eyes
were practicable spaces whereon to sew scraps of fluttering
colour. 1

Whether a representation of armour was ever in-
tended, I am not clear. One folk-lorist has thought
that the 'paper scales' of certain costumes once in
the Anthropological Museum at Cambridge imitated
the leaves of trees. 2 Another found in them the
scales of the dragon. 3 A third sees in Berkshire
examples 'a strange garb resembling sheep-skins',

1 Return of the Native, Bk. ii, ch. 3.

2 G. L. Gomme in Nature (23 Dec. 1897).

3 T. F. Ordish in Folk-Lore, iv, 163.

COSTUME 85

and that indeed is rather the impression which
Mr. Long's Hampshire photographs leave upon me. 7
The tall head-dresses of the Cornish play also
survive, here and there. They are described as
4 conical' or 'pointed', or as 'foolscaps' or 'mitres'.
They may be adorned with plumes; at Kempsford
in Gloucestershire, with flags from the river. In the
Isle of Man they are turbans, with holly-sprigs.
On the other hand, a combatant at Thenford wore
a fox- or hare-skin cap, and in Scotland we have the
Admiral of the Hairy-caps. At Broadway Beelze-
bub's large black hat is said to have been called his
'dripping pan', but that may rest upon a misunder-
standing. Sometimes the head-dress, too, has pen-
dant strips of paper, which cover the face. Occasion-
ally masks are worn, or faces are blackened. All the
performers had black faces at Witley, Longborough,
and Ross. More usually it is a peculiarity of one
or more of them, Beelzebub or Little Devil Dout,
or again, the King of Egypt or the Black Prince.
A black-faced Doctor in the Isle of Man is ex-
ceptional. But Beelzebub has a red mask at Bally-
brennan, and the Fool's face, too, may be ruddled.
Here we get the explanation of the formulas 'black
as a friar' and 'red as fire'. At Camborne the
lamenter uses red ochre to simulate blood on the
neck of the Agonist. Beelzebub has a tail at Weston-
sub-Edge, and says he had one, but dropped it on
the way, at Dundalk. Many things have got dropped

1 P. H. Ditchfield, Qld English Customs, 9.

86 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

on the way in the history of our play, and many
things picked up. Thus at Ballybrennan the Fool
was dressed as Punch, and he is so figured in the
Manchester chap-book. More often he, or Big
Head, has a bauble, or a bladder on a stick. At
Thenford there is a calf's tail at the other end of the
stick. St. George may wear a red cross; it is less
congruous that the Turkish Knight should wear
another at Newbold. Father Christmas has usually
a white beard. I do not know what his 'pop and
touse' at Camborne may have been; perhaps it means
no more than 'bustle'. 1 The Doctor's piked hat of
Cornwall has usually become a top hat, but his
appearance remains professional, with black clothes,
spectacles, and a black bag. The Giant, or Dragon,
at Bovey Tracey wore 'a wooden thing for a head with
bullock's teeth', a mask with whiskers, and a long-
tailed coat with tin buttons. Two other recurrent
features require mention. One is the use of a bell.
At Sapperton Beelzebub wears a sheep-bell and
Morris bells, and Big Head has a bell on his rump.
Beelzebub also wears a bell on his back at Eccleshall
and Newport, and a bell on his, or rather her, elbow
at Lockinge. At Compton he opens the Qufoe with
'my old bell shall ring'. In Derbyshire no such
adornment is mentioned, but a bell rings all through
his part. At Eversley, where 'nob' replaces 'club' in
his lines, he wears a ball of silver paper on a top hat.
At Thenford the Doctor has a bell on his back.

1 Cf. p. 19.

ABNORMAL MUMMERS' PLAYS 87

Secondly, one or other of the characters often has his
jacket or head-dress padded with straw to represent a
hump. It may be Big Head, or Beelzebub, or Father
Christmas, or the Doctor. But it is most noticeable
in Jack, who nearly always either has a hump, or
has a number of rag dolls tied on his back and
regarded as his wife and family.

Abnormal Mummers' Plays.

So far I have been dealing with a widespread
mass of texts, which bear evidence, for all their
innumerable oblivions, accretions, and verbal per-
versions, of gradual derivation from a common
original archetype. I must now consider some major
variants, of much more limited range.

Thame, in Oxfordshire, but remote from the
Cotswold area, yields a quite exceptional version.
The combatants, who enter in turn without a Pre-
senter, are King Alfred and his Bride, King Cole,
King William 'of blessed memory', Giant Blunder-
bore and his man Little Jack, St. George accompanied
by a Morris Dance, and the Dragon. The fight
takes the form of a general melde, after which Dr.
Ball cures all the company except the Dragon, whom
his pill kills. Finally appears Father Christmas who
conducts a Qufae. The play is said to have been given
as far back as 1807, but to me it suggests a literary
remaniement. Except for a phrase or two in the
Doctor's part, there is little trace of the normal
formulas.

88 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

From west Dorsetshire come three texts. In one
the main action and its dialogue follow more or less
ordinary lines. King George successively van-
quishes the Turkish Knight, Marshalee, Slasher,
Cutting Star and the sub-Presenter Room, all of
whom are said to be sons of the Presenter Father
Christmas, and the Doctor cures the lot. In the other
two, which are from Symondsbury, the dialogue,
although normal in substance, has been rewritten
in paraphrase throughout. Room is again a sub-
Presenter, with Anthony, the Egyptian King. And
St. George is accompanied by St. Patrick, whom he
had delivered from a 'wretched den', and who in
gratitude disposes for him of Captain Bluster, leaving
Gracious King, General Valentine, and Colonel
Spring to fall before George himself. The Doctor,
too, is an Irishman, Mr. Martin Dennis, and his
fee will keep him in whisky for a twelve-month.
But all three versions are peculiar, in that the Qu$te
is replaced by a comic after-piece, in which there is a
quarrel between Father Christmas, also called Jan,
and his wife, Old Bet, also called Dame Dorothy,
who has Big Head's lines in the single version, but in
the others is only 'rather fat, but not very tail*. Jan
knocks her down and the Doctor's services are again
required. In the single version the quarrel is for a
quid of baccy, but after the Cure it is resumed about
the way to cook an old jack hare. Father Christmas
then rides off on a hobby-horse. The other versions
have only the hare quarrel, and the wind-up is a

THE PLOUGH PLAY 89

rhyming dialogue between Father Christmas and a
Servant Man. I should add that in the Isle of Wight
version the Qu$fe is preceded by a similar fight
between Father and Mother Christmas. Here, too,
she has Big Head's lines and annoys her husband
by sweeping the house. They belabour each other
with cudgel and broom on backs stuffed with straw.
Two versions, from Kempsford in Gloucestershire
and Shipton-under-Wychwood in Oxfordshire, may
have been conflated with some play from the Robin
Hood cycle, which had been dramatized, possibly
for use in folk-/W/, in the fifteenth or sixteenth
century. 1 There is no St. George. The combatants
are Robin Hood, Arthur Abland, and Little John,
and the dialogue is based on the ballad of Robin
Hood and Arthur a Bland, the Tanner of Notting-
ham. 2 There are traces of the same ballad in the
Presentation at Keynsham. Little John is an Agonist
at Ross. Both Robin Hood and Little John are
qutteurs at Bampton, and Little Man John at Mylor
and Potterne. He seems to merge into the Little
Man Jack or Little Jack of the Qu$te. I am told that
a distinct Robin Hood play is still known in Derby-
shire.

The Plough Play.

More important than these minor variants are the
Plough Plays, of which over a dozen specimens are
on record. They are almost entirely confined to

1 Mediaeval Stage, \. 177. 2 Quid, no. 126.

4024

90 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Lincolnshire, but there are two from Nottingham-
shire, which seems to have been a border-line area,
since Clayworth yields both a Plough Play and
one of the normal type. They belong, broadly
speaking, to the Christmas season, but more precisely
to Plough Monday, the first Monday after Epiphany,
on which agricultural labour was resumed after the
mid-winter holiday. Plough Monday observances
are found in a long range of other north-eastern
and northern counties, Norfolk, Cambridgeshire,
Huntingdonshire, Northamptonshire, Leicestershire,
Derbyshire, Yorkshire, Northumberland. Plough-
boys, often in white shirts, harness themselves to a
Fool Plough, Fond Plough, White Plough, or Stot
Plough, and drag it in procession round the village.
There is a Quete. The churl, who does not contribute,
runs the risk of having the ground before his
house ploughed up. The performers call themselves
Plough Jacks, Plough Jags, Plough Stots, Plough
Bullocks, Plough Boggons, Plough Witchers, or
Morris Dancers. They sometimes wear patches of
cloth, cut in the shapes of ploughs and farm animals.
In Northants they blacken their faces. Their leader
is a Fool, Billy Buck, or Captain Cauf's Tail, and
with them goes a man in woman's clothes called the
Bessy. One or other of these, or the driver, may
wear a bullock's tail, or a fox-skin hood, or a coat
of skins or shreds of cloth, or flourish a whip with a
bladder tied to it. In Northants there are two Red
Jacks or Fools, with hunched backs, and knaves of

THE PLOUGH PLAY 91

hearts sewn on them. Henry Parker, in his Dives
and Pauper (1493), speaks of 'ledinge of the Ploughe
aboute the Fire as for gode begynnyng of the yere,
that they shulde fare the better all the yere follow-
yng'. The charm acquired ecclesiastical sanction.
John Bale tells Bishop Bonner in irony that he ought
to be punished 'for not sensing the Ploughess upon
Plough Monday', and many churchwardens' ac-
counts show that the proceeds of the 'gathering', or
part of them, went to the maintenance of a 'plough-
light' in the village church. Hence the day in
Norfolk is Tlowlick Monday'. At Holbeach the
plough, or a representation of it, appears to have
been kept in the church. 1

The Plough Plays, as a group, differ from the
normal type, in that, while there is generally a
Combat with its Cure, this is only loosely attached to
a sentimental drama, which may be called The Poors
Wooing. Many of the texts are degenerate. The
best preserved were written down in the first quarter
of the nineteenth century, and found by Professor
Baskervill in a British Museum manuscript. From
him I borrow the Bassingham play, premising that I
have pieced together two versions, neither of which
seems to be logically quite complete.

The main text is the men's play; the passages in

1 Mediaeval Stage, i. 120, 150, 208; Frazer, Golden Bough*, viii. 325;
J. Brand, Observations on Popular Antiquities (ed. H. Ellis), i. 278;
T. F. T. Dyer, British Popular Customs, 37 ; P. H. Ditchfield, Old English
Customs, 47; County Folk-Lore (F.L.S.), ii. 231; v. 171; Folk-Lore,
iv. 163; xli. 196.

92 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

square brackets are from the children's play; the

directions in angular brackets are editorial.

(Enter Fool)

Good evening, Ladys and Gentlemen all !
This merry time at Christmas I have made it bold to call.
I hope you will not take it ill what I am a going to say.
I have some more Boys & Girls drawing on this way,
I have some little Boys stands at the Door,
In Ribons they are neatly dressed,
For to please you all they shall do their best.
Step in Merrymen all.

(Enter players and sing}

Good Master and good Mistress,

As you sit by the Fire,
Remember us poor Ploughlads,

That runs through Mud and Mire.

The mire it is deep,

And we travel far and near.
We will thank you for a Christmas Box

And a mug of your strong Beer.

(Enter Eldest Son)

I am me Father's eldest Son

And Heir of all his land ;
I hope in a short time

It will all fall in my hand.

I was brought up in Linsy Coat, 1

All the Days of my Life;
There stands a fair Lady,

I wish she was my Wife.

1 Lindsey is the northern division of Lincolnshire, but I cannot identify
Linsy Coat, which is Lincecort in the children's play, Linsecourt at

THE PLOUGH PLAY 93

With fingers long and rings upon,

All made of beaton gold,
Good master and good Mistress,

I would have you to behold.

(Lady)

[It tis my clothing you admire,
Not my beauty you desire.
So, gentle sir, I must away,
I have other suteers on me stay.]

(Enter Farming Man)

Here comes the Farming Man,
Upon my principle for to stand.
I'm come to woo this Lady fair,
To gain her Love his all my care.

Enter Lady

To gain my love it will not do,
You speak too Clownish for to woo ;
Therefore out of my sight be gone,
A witty man, or PI have none.

Enter Lawyer

A man for wit I am the best,

So Chuse me from amongst the rest.

(Lady)

A Lawyer I suppose you be,
You plead your Cause so wittely;
But by an by PI tell you plain,
You plead a Cause that's all in vain.

Broughton, and Lindsey Court at Revesby. Lincoln may be meant, but
Henry of Huntingdon's incorrect identification of this with a Celtic Cair
Luit Coyt (Haverfield, Roman Occupation of 'Britain, 291) can hardly have
got into local parlance.

94 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

(Enter The Old Witch}

Here comes old Dame Jane,

Comes dableing about the Meadow,

Comes Jumping about, to show you such sport-;

Look about you, old Maids and Widows.

Long time I have sought you,

But now I have found you.

Sarrah, come take your Bastard.

(Foot)

Bastard ! you Jade, it 's none of mine,
It's not a bit like me.

I am a Valient Hero lately Come from Sea.
You never saw me before, now did you ?
I slew Ten men with a Seed of Mustard,
Ten thousand with an old Crush'd Toad.
What do you think to that, Jane ?
If you don't be of, Fl serve you the same.

(Enter Old Man}

Here comes the poor old ancient Man,
Fl speak for myself the best I can,
My old grey Hairs they Hang so low,
Fll do the best for myself the best I know.
Me thinks me sees that star shine bright ;
On you I've fix'd my heart's delight.

In comes the Lady
Away, Away from me be gone !
Do you think I'd Marry such a Drone?
No, Fl have one of high degree,
And not such an helpless wretch as the.

Old Man

Kick me, lady, out of the door,
Fl be hang'd over our Kitchen Door,
[If ever I come near you any more.]

THE PLOUGH PLAY 95

(Enter St. George)

In comes Saint George,

The Champeon bold.
With my blooddy spear

I have won Ten Thousand pounds in Gold.
I fought the finest Dragon

And brought him to a slaughter.
And by that means I gaind

The King of Egypts Daughter.
I ash him and smash him as small as Flys,
Send him to Jamaica to make Minch pies.
(Fool}

You hash me and smash me as small as flys,
Send me to Jamaica to make Minch Pies ?

(St. George}

Yes, Fl hash you and smash you as small as Flys,
And send you to Jamaica to make Minch Pies.

(Fight. Fool falls}

The old Witch.
Five pounds for a Docter my Husband to cure !

The Docter
I'm the Docter.

(The Old Witch}
Pray, what can you cure ?
(The Doctor}

I can cure the Itch and the Veneral & the Gout,

All akes within and pains without.

You may think I am mistain,

But I can bring this Man to Life again.

The old Witch Says
Where have you learnt your skill, Docter ?

96 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

The Docter
I have traveled for it.

The Old Witch says
Where have you traveled ?

The Docter says

I have traveled from my Old Grandmother's Fireside, to
her Bread and Cheese Cupboard Door, And there had a
many a rare piece of Bread and Cheese.

The old Witch says.
Try your skill, Docter.

The Docter says

I will feel of this Man's Pulse. Very bad, Very bad
indeed ! take a little of this Medicine.

This man his not Dead but in a Trance.
Arise, my Lad and take a Dance !

[Foole rises']

THE FINISHING SONG

(Fool)

Come write me down the power above,
That first created A man to Love.
I have a Diamond in my eye,
Where all my Joy and comfort ly.

I'l give you Gold, I'l give you Pearl,
If you can Fancy me, my Girl.
Rich Costley Robes you shall wear,
If you can Fancy me, my Dear.

(Lady}

Its not your Gold shall me entice
Leave of Virtue to follow your advice ;
I do never intend at all
Not to be at any Young Man's call.

THE PLOUGH PLAY 97

(Foot)

Go away, you Proud and scornful Dame !
If you had been true, I should of been the same.
I make no dought but I can find
As handsome a fair one too my mind.

(Lady?)

O stay, Young Man, you seem in haste,
Or are you afraid your time should waste ?
Let reson rule your roving mind,
And perhaps in time she'l proof more kind.

(Fool)

Now all my sorrows is comd and past,
Joy and comfort I have found at last.
The Girl that use to say me nay,
She comforts me both Night and Day.

[Foole and lady and Doctor dances."]
[Fools part]

[I am come to invite you all to my wife's weding ; what
you like best you must bring on with you. How should
I no what every body likes ? Some likes fish, others likes
flesh, but as for myself I like some good pottaty gruel, so
what you like the best you must bring on with you.

Lady and fool Sings.
We will have a jovel weding, the fiddle shall merrily play.

ri forlaurel laddy ri forlaurel lay.
We'll have long taild porage, a puding of barley meal.

ri forlaurel laddy ri forlaurel lay.
We'll have a good salt hering and relish a quart of ale.

ri forlaurel laddy ri forlaurel lay.

We'll have a lim of a lark and We'll have a louse to roast.
We'll have a farthing loaf and cut a good thumping toast.

ri forlaurel laddy ri forlaurel lay.
We'll have a jovel weding, the fiddle shall merrily play.

4024 O

9 8 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

St. George and the Eldest son and the farmer man Sing

this song.

Good master and good mistres, now our fool is gone,
We will make it our busness to follow him along,
We thank you for sobillity as you have shown us here,
So I wish you all your healths and a hapy new year.]

A very similar text, so far as the main substance
is concerned, comes from Broughton. But here the
Combat and Cure are missing, and the sentimental
theme of The Poors Wooing stands by itself. And to
it is prefixed a rather surprising passage. The Fool's
presentation ends:

My name is noble Anthony,
I'm as live and as blyth and mad
And as melancholy as that mantletree.
Make room for noble Anthony
And all his Jovial Company.

Then follows a very incoherent dialogue between
the Fool and one of the lovers, which has been shown
by Professor Baskervill to be a perversion of the
Induction to the play of Wily Beguiled, printed in
1606. This also gives the 'mantletree', but not the
name Anthony, although a player is addressed as
'noble Cerberus'. It might, I suppose, be the name of
an actual player, or it might be from Julius Caesar,
in which Shakespeare's habitual fondness for the
word 'noble' is very marked. 1

Shorter fragments from Wily Beguiled also intro-
duce a third play from Professor Baskervill's manu-

1 J.C. iii. 2. 69, 'Noble Antony, go up'; Antony has the epithet also
in iii. 2. 121, 170, 211, 239.

THE PLOUGH PLAY 99

script, the precise locality of which is not specified.
But here that part of the sentimental theme, which
precedes the Fool's own wooing, is altered. The
text is headed Recruiting Sergent, which recalls the
'Twing Twang' bits in the south-coast plays, al-
though here the recruiting is for military, not naval,
service. The Bassingham string of rejected suitors is
only represented by the Old Man, who is brought
in awkwardly. And the main theme is furnished by
a young man who laments the falsehood of his lady,
and when she finally scorns him as a 'looby', yields
to the blandishment of the Serjeant, and enlists.
It is the Recruiting Serjeant, rather than what may
be suspected to be the earlier type of the wooing
theme, which has left its traces, often faint enough,
in all the other examples of the Plough Play known
to me. A little further summary of the features of
the group as a whole is desirable, in order to clarify
their relation to the normal Mummers' Play. The
Presenter, when named, is always the Fool, Tom
Fool, Bold Tom, Clown, or Merryman. In the boys'
version at Bassingham he has the familiar Big Head
lines. Father Christmas is unknown. The Presenta-
tion formula generally includes the introduction of
the company of whom some can dance (or whistle)
and some can sing, which is one of the less usual
Mummers' variants. There are occasionally sub-
Presenters or intervenes, a Music Jack, a Farmer's
Boy, a Threshing Blade, a Hopper Joe, who also
calls himself 'Sanky Benny', which suggests St.

ioo THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Benedict, although his day, 2 1 March, is not particu-
larly marked in English folk-custom. More interest-
ing is the appearance, at Somerby and Hibaldstow and
elsewhere, of one or more Hobby Horses. At Somerby
they bring the Plough with them. The entrance of
the Recruiting Serjeant is generally followed by
some chaff with the Fool about their respective powers
of dancing and singing. The lovers are sometimes
called in the stage-directions Ribboners, presumably
from their costume. There are normally two female
characters, the Lady and the Old Woman, for the
fitful one woman of the Mummers' Plays. But the
Lady is proper to the wooing theme. She seems to
have been known in Lincolnshire as 'Sweet Sis',
although the name does not occur in the normal
texts. 1 At Swinderby she is 'bucksome Nell' and the
Old Woman is replaced by 'bucksome Jones', but
Professor Baskervill points out that these have come
in from the ballad of Young Roger of the Mill. I may
add that in 1781 Parson James Woodforde saw at the
Norwich theatre an 'interlude' of Buxom Joan or the
Farmer's "Journey to London. 2 The other plays of the
group have almost invariably an Old Woman, as Jane,
Old Jane, Dame Jane, Lame Jane, Lady Jane. She
has 'a neck as long as a crane', and goes 'dabbling',
'dib dub', 'rambling', 'tripping', 'leaping' over the
meadows. 3 Generally she offers the Fool a bastard,

1 County Folk-Lore, v. 175. 2 Diary (ed. J. Beresford), i. 308.

3 The crane proper was at one time known in England but is now
extinct. The name is sometimes given to the heron (Swainson, Provincial
Names of Birds, 145).

THE PLOUGH PLAY 101

which may be represented by a doll. Her interven-
tion is awkwardly placed at Bassingham and else-
where, since the Fool's own wooing has not yet
begun. In one version it comes more naturally after
the invitation to the wedding. Where the bastard
theme is omitted, Jane may appear in the Presenta-
tion or the Quete or before the wedding, and sweep,
like the woman of the Mummers' Play, and then
she may bear the second name of Besom Betty.
At Swinderby Young Roger of the Mill also furnishes
a variant of the rejection of a Husbandman by the
Lady, with a dialogue different from that of Bassing-
ham; and a rival, who does not appear, is spoken of,
not as a 'father's eldest son', but as 'a farmer's son'. 1
The Broughton and Swinderby plays have no
Combat, although at Broughton, as at Bassingham,
the Fool boasts his valour to Jane. And here Jane
replies, somewhat ambiguously, of his victims:

I have a sheep skin
To lap them in.

Elsewhere a Combat is abruptly introduced, often
between the wooing and the wedding. There is
much heterogeneity in the choice of combatants.
George himself only appears at Bassingham, at
Kirton-in-Lindsey, and probably in the Recruiting
Serjeant, although here he is only called ' Second
Ribboner'. At Bassingham the Fool is the Agonist,
and this is the only case in which there is any logical
link with the wooing theme, in that in the boys'
* Cf. pp. 23, 232.

102 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

text the Lady is the lamenter. The substitution of
Jane, here called c the Old Witch', in the men's
text is probably a perversion. At Kirton the Serjeant
is the Agonist, but in the Recruiting Serjeant he is the
Antagonist. And this is his normal role. For Agonists
he has at Kirmington, Somerby, and probably
Hibaldstow a suddenly emerging Indian King, who
is also called 'Slasher 5 and 'Slaughter'; at Clay worth and
in an unlocated play 'Old Eesum Squeezum' or 'Esem
Esquesem'; and in the latter perhaps also the Recruit.
In both cases Eesum Squeezum carries a besom and
pan, and he is in fact none other than our old friend
Beelzebub. Under his own name Beelzebub appears
at Axholme, Bulby, and Cropwell, but here he is
Antagonist, while Dame Jane is pressed into the
service for an Agonist. This of course recalls the
woman Agonist of the Dorsetshire afterpiece. Finally,
in another unlocated version, the Fool is said to have
been, not Agonist, but Antagonist. It is, I think,
clear that, in spite of its sentimental setting, and in
spite of the rarity of St. George, the Combat of the
Plough Plays is essentially the same as that of the
Mummers' Plays. The 'iron and steel' vaunt recurs,
in Jane's mouth, and even such a comparatively late
perversion as the mincing for Jamaica. So, too, in
the Lament we get:

O Belze, O Belze, what hast thou done ?
Thou killed the finest young woman under the sun ;
or,

Killed poor old dame Jane, and lamed her son.

THE PLOUGH PLAY 103

And, as in the Mummers' Play, the Combat is followed
by a Cure. It is on familiar lines, although with
some slight peculiarities of its own. More regularly
than in the Mummers' Play, the Doctor's travels
include that to the cupboard; and I do not think I
have noted in the Mummers' Play a persistent jest
by which the Doctor feels for his patient's pulse in
the wrong place, the stomach, the ankle, 'the back
of the neck underneath the elbow'. He has a donkey
at the door at Bulby and a pony at Clayworth. Jack
Finney does not appear.

The Fool's invitation to the wedding occurs at
Bassingham, Broughton, Swinderby, Somerby,
Kirmington and elsewhere in Lincolnshire. Professor
Baskervill has traced its origin to the early eighteenth-
century song of The Blythesome Wedding^ but it is
developed with characteristic rustic humour as to
the nature of the dishes to be provided. At Bassing-
ham the quete song is part of the Presentation; it
resembles songs used in many quetes of the winter
season from All Souls' Day onwards. More often
it or something similar follows the performance.
Broughton, Somerby, and Clayworth have variants
of a special quatrain:

We are not the London Actors,

That act upon the stage;
We are the country plough lads,

That ploughs for little wage.

At Kirmington the Fool says, 'Sing about lads
while I draw stakes'; and at Broughton, 'Hedge

104 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

about, boys, and I'll knock down stakes', to which
the Ancient Man replies, 'And I'll help to bind'.
The phrase recalls the request for 'a stick and a stake'
for the bonfire on 5 November. 1 There may be a
blessing on the house, and the performers nearly
always end by saying that they must go, 'now our
Fool is gone'.

The wooing dialogues in the Plough Plays make
a good deal of use of language which is also found
elsewhere. Professor Baskervill notes that the 'finish-
ing song' of Bassingham is an independent folk-song
in Sussex, and that the phrase 'Is she not like a
diamant in thy eye?' is as old as the sixteenth-century
play of Misogonus. Similarly he finds the offer by
one suitor or another of 'gold and silver' to the lady
and her preference for 'a nice young man', which
runs through the Plough Plays, in the Lincolnshire
dialogue of The Handsom y Woman. 2 It is echoed in
the children's game of Lady on the Mountain. 3

The Revesby Play.

One Lincolnshire Plough Play is so divergent
from the rest that it will be well, in spite of its length,
to give it in full. It is from Revesby, and its text
of 20 October 1779 antedates that of Bassingham
by nearly half a century, and is the oldest version of
any actual village play which we possess.

1 Northall, 245.

2 Modern Philology, xxi. 237, 245.

3 Gomme, Traditional Games, i. 320.

THE REVESBY PLAY 105

THE PLOW BOYS, Or MORRIS DANCERS

Enter Fool.

You gentle Lords of honour,

Of high and low, I say,
We all desire your favour

For to see our pleasant play.

Our play it is the best, kind sirs,

That you would like to know ;
And we will do our best, sirs,

And think it well bestowd.

Tho' some of us be little,

And some of a middle sort,
We all desire your favour

To see our pleasant sport.

You must not look on our actions,

Our wits they are all to seek,
So I pray take no exceptions

At what I am a-going to speak.

We are come over the mire and moss ;
We dance an Hobby Horse ;
A Dragon you shall see,
And a wild Worm for to flee.
Still we are all brave, jovial boys
And takes delight in Christmas toys.

We are come both for bread and beer,

And hope for better cheer

And something out of your purse, sir,

Which I hope you will be never the worse, sir.

Still we are all brave, jovial boys

And takes delight in Christmas toys.

Come now, Mr. Musick Man, play me my delight.

4024

106 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Fidler. What is that, old father ?

Fool. Ah! boy, times is hard! I love to have money in

both pockets.

Fid. You shall have it, old father.
Fool. Let me see it.

The Fool then calls in his five sons: first Pickle Herring, then
Blue Britches, then Ginger Britches, Pepper Britches,
and last calls out:

Come now, you Mr. Allspice !

They foot it once round the room, and the man that is to ride
the Hobby Horse goes out, and the rest sing the following
song:

Come in, come in, thou Hobby Horse,

And bring thy old fool at thy arse !

Sing tanter[a]day, sing tanter[a]day,

Sing heigh down, down, with a deny down a !

Then The Fool and the Horse fights about the room, whilst
the following song is singing by the rest:

Come in, come in, thou bonny wild Worm!
For thou hast ta'en many a lucky turn.
Sing tanteraday, sing tanteraday,
Sing heigh down, down, with a derry down !

The wild Worm is only sprung three or four times, as the
man walks round the room, and then goes out, and the
Horse and The Fool fights again, whilst the following
song is sung:

Come in, come in, thou Dragon stout,
And take thy compass round about !
Sing tanteraday, sing tanteraday,
Sing heigh down, down, with a derry down !

THE REVESBY PLAY 107

Now you shall see a full fair fight
Between our old Fool and his right.
Sing tanteraday, sing tanteraday,
Sing heigh down, down, with a derry down !

Now our scrimage is almost done;

Then you shall see more sport soon.

Sing tanteraday, sing tanteraday,

Sing heigh down, down, with a derry down !

Fool. Up well hark, and up well hind !
Let every man then to his own kind.
Sing tanteraday, sing tanteraday,
Sing heigh down, down, with a derry down !

Come, follow me, merry men all !
Tho' we have made bold for to call,
It is only once by the year
That we are so merry here.
Still we are all brave, jovial boys,
And takes delight in Christmas toys.

Then they all foot it round the room and follows The Fool out.
They all re-enter > and lock their swords to make the glass^
The Fool running about the room.

Pickle Herring. What is the matter now, father?

Fool. Why, I tell the[e] what, Pickle Herring. As a I was
a-looking round about me through my wooden spec-
tacles made of a great, huge, little tiney bit of leather,
placed right behind me, even before me, I thought I saw
a feat thing

P. H. You thought you saw a feat thing ? What might
this feat thing be, think you, father ?

Fool. How can I tell, boy, except I see it again ?

P. H. Would you know it if you see it again ?

Fool. I cannot tell thee, boy. Let me get it looked at.

108 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Pickle Herring, holding up the glass, says:
[P.//.] Is this it, father?

The Fool, looking round, says:

[FoolJ] Why, I protest, Pickle Herring, the very same
thing! But what might thou call this very pretty thing?

P. H. What might you call it ? You are older than I am.

Fool. How can that be, boy, when I was born before you ?

P. H. That is the reason that makes you older.

Fool. Well, what dost thou call this very pretty thing ?

P. H. Why, I call it a fine large looking-glass.

Fool. Let me see what I can see in this fine large looking-
glass. Here's a hole through it, I see. I see, and I see!

P. H. You see and you see ? and what do you see ?

Fool. Marry, e'en a fool, just like the[e] !

P. H. It is only your own face in the glass.

Fool. Why, a fool may be mistain sometimes, Pickle Her-
ring. But what might this fine large looking-glass cost
the[c]?

P. H. That fine large looking-glass cost me a guinea.

Fool. A guinea, boy ? Why, I could have bought as good
a one at my own door for three half-pence.

P. H. Why, fools and cuckolds has always the best luck !

Fool. That is as much to say thy father is one.

P. H. Why, you pass for one !

The Fool, keeping the glass all the while in his hands, says:

Fool. Why was thou such a ninnie, boy, to go to ware a
guinea to look for thy beauty where it never was ? But I
will shew thee, boy, how foolish thou hast wared a deal
of good money.

Then The Fool flings the glass upon the floor, jumps upon it;
then the dancers every one drawing out his own sword,
and The Fool dancing about the room, Pickle Herring
takes him by the collar and says:

THE REVESBY PLAY 109

P. H. Father, father, you are so merrylly disposed this

good time there is no talking to you ! Here is very bad

news.
Fool. Very good news ? I am glad to hear it ; I do not hear

good news every day.
P. H. It is very bad news !
Fool. Why, what is the matter now, boy ?
P. H. We have all concluded to cut off your head.
Fool. Be mercyfull to me, a sinner ! If you should do as

you have said, there is no such thing. I would not lose

my son Pickle Herring for fifty pounds.
P. H. It is your son Pickle Herring that must lose you.

It is your head we desire to take off.
Fool. My head ? I never had my head taken off in all my

life!

P. H. You both must and shall.
Fool. Hold, hold, boy ! thou seem'st to be in good earnest ;

but I'll tell thee where I'll be buryed.
P. H. Why, where will you be buried but in the church-
yard, where other people are buried ?
Fool. Churchyard ? I never was buried there in all my life !
P. H. Why, where will you be buried ?
Fool. Ah! boy, I am often dry; I will be buried in Mr.

Mirfin's ale-celler.
P. H. It is such a place as I never heard talk off in all my

life.

Fool. No, nor nobody else, boy.
P. H. What is your fancy to be buried there ?
Fool. Ah! boy, I am oftens dry, and, when they come to

fill the quart, I'll drink it off, and they will wonder what

is the matter.
P. H. How can you do so when you will be dead ? We

shall take your head from your body, and you will be

dead.

no THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Fool. If I must die, I will dye with my face to the light, for
all you!

Then The Fool, kneeling down, with the swords round his
neck, says:

Fool. Now, gentlemen, you see how ungratefull my chil-
dren is grown! When I had them all at home, small,
about as big as I am, I put them out to good learning :
I put them to Coxcomb Colledge, and then to the Uni-
versity of Loggerheads ; and I took them home again
this good time of Christmas, and I examined them all
one by one, altogether for shortness. And now they
are grown so proud and so presumptious they are a-
going to kill their old father for his little means. So I
must dye for all this ?
P. H. You must dye, father.

Fool. And I will die for all the tother. But I have a little
something, I will give it amongst you as far as it goes,
and then I shall dye quietly.
P. H. I hope you will.
Fool. So, to my first son, Pickle Herring,

I'll give him the roaned nag,

And that will make the rogue brag.
And to my second son,

I'll give him the brindled cow.
And to my third son,

I'll give him the sanded sow;

And hope I shall please you all enow.
And to my fourth son,

I'll give him the great ruff dog,

For he always lives like a hog.
And to my fifth son,

I'll give him the ram,

And I'll dye like a lamb.

THE REVESBY PLAY in

Then they draw their swords, and The Fool falls on the
floor, and the dancers walk once round The Fool; and
Pickle Herring stamps with his foot and The Fool rises
on his knees again; and Pickle Herring says:

P. H. How now, father ?

Fool. How now, then, boy? I have another squeak for

my life ?
P. H. You have a many.

Then, the dancers pitting their swords round the Fool's neck

again.

Fool. So I must dye ?
P. H. You must dye, father.

Fool. Hold! I have yet a little something more to leave
amongst you, and then I hope I shall dye quietly. So
to my first son, Pickle Herring,

I'll give him my cap and my coat,
A very good sute, boy.
And to my second son,

I'll give him my purse and apparel,
But be sure, boys, you do not quarrel.

As to my other three,

My executors they shall be.

Then, Pickle Herring puting his hand to his sword,

Fool. Hold, hold, boy ! Now I submit my soul to God.

P. H. A very good thought, old father !

Fool. Mareham churchyard, I hope, shall have my bones.

Then the dancers walk round The Fool with their swords in
their hands, and Pickle Herring stamps with his foot and
says:

[P.H.-] Heigh, old father!

Fool. Why, boy, since I have been out of this troublesome
world I have heard so much musick of fiddles playing
and bells ringing that I have a great fancy to go away

H2 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

singing. So, prithee, Pickle Herring, let me have one

of thy best songs.

P. H. You shall have it, old father.
FooL Let me see it.

They sing.

Good people all, I pray you now behold,
Our old Fool's bracelet is not made of gold,
But it is made of iron and good steel,
And unto death we'll make this old Fool yield.

FooL I pray, forbear, my children small ;

For, as I am lost as parent to you all,

O, let me live a while your sport for to advance,

That I may rise again and with you have a dance.

The Sons sing.

Now, old father, that you know our will,
That for your estate we do your body kill,
Soon after death the bell for you shall toll,
And wish the Lord he may receive your soul.

Then The Fool falls down, and the dancers^ with their
swords in their hands, sings the following song.

Good people all, you see what we have done :
We have cut down our father like ye evening sun,
And here he lies all in his purple gore,
And we are afraid he never will dance more.

Fool rises from the floor and says:

[Fool.'] No, no, my children! by chance you are all mis-

taen!

For here I find myself, I am not slain ;
But I will rise, your sport then to advance,
And with you all, brave boys, Til have a dance.

Then the Foreman and Cicely dances down and the other
two couple stand their ground. After a short dance called

THE REVESBY PLAY 113

'Jack, the brisk young "Drummer* they all go out but
The Fool, Fidler, and Cicely.

Fool. Hear you, do you please to hear the sport of a fool ?

Cicely. A fool ? for why ?

Fool. Because I can neither leap, skip, nor dance, but cut

a caper thus high. [He capers.'] Sound, music! I must

be gon; the Lord of Pool draws nigh.

Enter Pickle Herring.

P. H. I am the Lord of Pool,

And here begins my measure,
And after me a fool,

To dance a while for pleasure
In Cupid's school.
Fool. A fool, a fool, a fool,

A fool I heard thou say,

But more the other way,
For here I have a tool

Will make a maid to play,
Although in Cupid's school.

Come all away!

Enter Blue Britches.

Blue B. I am the Knight of Lee,

And here I have a dagger,
Offended not to be.

Come in, thou needy beggar,
And follow me !

Enter Ginger Britches.

Ginger B. Behold, behold, behold

A man of poor estate !
Not one penny to infold !

Enter Pepper Britches.
Pepper B. My money is out at use, or else I would.

4024

H4 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Enter Mr. Allspice.

Allspice. With a hack, a hack, a hack,
See how I will skip and dance

For joys that we have found !
Let each man take his chance,

And we will all dance around.

Then they dance the sword dance which is called 'Nelly s
Gig*; then they run under their swords, which is called
'Runing Battle y ; then three dancers dances with three
swords^ and the Foreman jumping over the swords; then
The Fool goes up to Cicely.
Fool. Here comes I that never come yet,

Since last time, lovy!
I have a great head but little wit.
Tho' my head be great and my wits be small,
I can play the fool for a while as well as [the] best of ye all.
My name is noble Anthony;
I am as meloncholly as a mantle-tree.
I am come to show you a little sport and activity,

And soon, too !

Make room for noble Anthony
And all his good company!
Drive out all these proud rogues, and let my lady and I

have a parl !

Cicely. O, ye clown ! what makes you drive out my men so
soon ?

Fool. O, pardon, madam, pardon! and I

Will never offend you more.
I will make your men come in as fast
As ever they did before.

Cicely. I pray you at my sight,

And drive it not till night,
That I may see them dance once more

So lovely in my sight,

THE REVESBY PLAY 115

Fool. A-faith, madam, and so I will!

I will play the man
And make them come in

As fast as ever I can.

But hold, gip ! Mrs. Clagars,

How do you sell geese ?
Cicely. Go, look, Mister Midgecock!

Twelve pence apiece.

Fool. Oh, the pretty pardon !

Cicely. A gip for a frown !
Fool. An ale-wife for an apparitor !

Cicely. A rope for a clown !
Fool. Why, all the devise in the country

Cannot pull this down !

I am a valiant knight just come from the seas :

You do know me, do you ?

I can kill you ten thousand, tho' they be but fleas.
I can kill you a man for an ounce of mustard,
Or I can kill you ten thousand for a good custard.
I have an old sheep skin,
And I lap it well in,

Sword and buckler by my side, all ready for to fight !
Come forth, you whores and gluttons all ! for, had it not
been in this country, I should not have she wen my valour
amongst you. But sound, music ! for I must be gone.

\Exit Fool.']
Enter Pickle Herring.

P. H. In first and formost do I come,

All for to lead this race,
Seeking the country far and near

So fair a lady to embrace.

n6 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

So fair a lady did I never see,

So comely in my sight,
Drest in her gaudy gold

And silver shining bright.

She has fingers long, and rings

Of honor of beaten gold :

My masters all, behold !
It is now for some pretty dancing time,
And we will foot it fine.

Blue B. I am a youth of jollitree;
Where is there one like unto me ?
My hair is bush'd very thick;
My body is like an hasel stick ;

My legs they quaver like an eel ;
My arms become my body weel ;
My fingers they are long and small :
Am not I a jolly youth, proper and tall ?

Therefore, Mister Musick Man,
Whatsoever may be my chance,

It is for my ladie's love and mine,
Strike up the morris dance.

Then they foot it once round.

Ginger B. I am a jolly young man of flesh, blood and

bone;
Give eare, my masters all, each one !

And especially you, my lady dear,

I hope you like me well.
Of all the gallants here

It is I that doth so well.

THE REVESBY PLAY 117

Therefore, Mister Musick Man,

Whatsoever may be my chance,
It is for my ladie's love and mine,

Strike up the morris dance.

Then they foot it round.

Pepper B. I am my father's eldest son,

And heir of all his land,
And in a short time, I hope,

It will fall into my hands.

I was brought up at Lindsey Court

All the days of my life.
Here stands a fair lady,

I wish she was my wife.

I love her at my heart,

And from her I will never start.
Therefore, Mr. Musick Man, play up my part.
Fool (rushing in). And mine, too !

Enter Allspice, and they foot it round. Pickle Herring,
suter to Cicely, takes her by the hand, and walks about the
room.

P. H. Sweet Ciss, if thou wilt be my love,

A thousand pounds I will give thee.
Cicely. No, you're too old, sir, and I am too young,

And alas ! old man, that must not be.

P. H. I'll buy the[e] a gown of violet blue,

A petticoat imbroidered to thy knee;
Likewise my love to thee shall be true.

Cicely. But alas ! old man, that must not be.

P. H. Thou shalt walk at thy pleasure, love, all the day,
If at night thou wilt but come home to me;

And in my house bear all the sway.

Cicely. Your children they'll find fault with me.

n8 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

P. H. I'll turn my children out of doors.

Cicely. And so, I fear, you will do me.
P. H. Nay, then, sweet Ciss, ne'er trust me more,

For I never loved lass before like the[e].

Enter Fool.

Fool. No, nor behind, neither.
Well met, sweet Cis, well over-ta'en !

Cicely. You are kindly wellcome, sir, to me.
Fool. I'll wipe my eyes, and I'll look again!

Methinks, sweet Cis, I now the[e] see !

Cicely. Raf, what has thou to pleasure me ?

Fool. Why, this, my dear, I will give the[e],
And all I have it shall be thine.

Cicely. Kind sir, I thank you heartelly.

P. H. (to The Fool). Stand back, stand back, thou silly

old swain!

This girl shall go with none but me.
Fool. I will not !
P. H. Stand back, stand back, or I'll cleave thy brain!

Then Pickle Herring goes up to Cis, and says:
O, now, sweet Cis, I am come to thee!

Cicely. You are as wellcome as the rest,

Wherein you brag so lustilly.
Fool. For a thousand pounds she loves me best !

I can see by the twinkling of her ee.

P. H. I have store of gold, whereon I boast;

Likewise my sword, love, shall fight for the[e] ;
When all is done, love, I'll scour the coast,

And bring in gold for thee and me.

THE REVESBY PLAY 119

Cicely. Your gold may gain as good as I,

But by no means it shall tempt me;
For youthfull years and frozen age

Cannot in any wise agree.

Then Blue Britches goes up to her, and says:

[Blue 5.] Sweet mistress, be advised by me:

Do not let this old man be denyed,
But love him for his gold in store ;

Himself may serve for a cloak, beside.

Cicely. Yes, sir, but you are not in the right.

Stand back and do not council me !
For I love a lad that will make me laugh

In a secret place, to pleasure me.
Fool. Good wench !

Pickle Herring. Love, I have a beard as white as milk.

Cicely. Ne'er better for that, thou silly old man !
P. H. Besides, my skin, love, is soft as silk.

Fool. And thy face shines like a dripping pan.

P. H. Rafe, what has thou to pleasure her ?

Fool. Why a great deal more, boy, than there's in

the[e].
P. H. Nay then, old rogue, I thee defye.

Cicely. I pray, dear friends, fall not out for me !

P. H. Once I could skip, leap, dance, and sing;

Why will you not give place to me ?
Fool. Nay, then, old rogue, I thee defye;

For thy nose stands like a Maypole tree.

Then goes up Ginger Britches to Cisley and says:

[Ginger B.~] Sweet mistress, mind what this man doth say,

For he speaks nothing but the truth :
Look on the soldier, now I pray;

See, is not he a handsome youth ?

120 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Cicely. Sir, I am engaged to one I love,

And ever constant I will be,
There is nothing that I prize above.

P. H. For a thousand pounds, she 's gone -from me !
Fool. Thou may lay two !

Cicely, (to Pickle Herring). Old father, for your reverend
years,

Stand you the next man unto me ;
Then he that doth the weapon bear;

For I will have the hind man of the three !

Fool, (to Pickle Herring). Old father, a fig for your old
gold!

The soldier, he shall bear no sway !
But you shall see, and so shall we,

'Tis I that carries the lass away !

Then the dancers takes hold of their swords , and foots it
round the room; then every man makes his obeisance to the
master of the house, and the whole concludes.

FINIS.

The special interest of this text is that it links the
Mummers' Plays, the Plough Plays, the Sword
Dances of the north, and even, in its heading, the
Morris Dances. It has the Evening sun', 'big head'
and 'iron and steel' formulas, which are common in
the Mummers' Plays. The last of these takes a
curious form in the lines :

Our old Fool's bracelet is not made of gold,
But it is made of iron and good steel.

From the Mummers' Play it has also the 'sword and

THE REVESBY PLAY 121

buckler by my side', and still more notably, the
Dragon. He may be also the Wild Worm, since
as the text stands, although it is clear that a Wild
Worm enters, it is not so clear that a distinct Dragon
does. After the Presentation, which, as in other
Plough Plays, is by the Fool, the action falls
into three parts. The first is a combat between the
Fool and a Hobby Horse, in the midst of which
enters and departs the Wild Worm or Dragon, who
is 'sprung'. The fighting seems to resolve itself into a
dance, and there is no death. The second part is even
more clearly a dance. Here, after the curious episode,
in which the Fool sees his face in a looking-glass
formed by the linked swords, he makes his will, is
killed by his sons, and rises again, without the help
of a Doctor. The third part is a Poors Wooing^ of the
Bassingham and Broughton and not the Recruiting
Serjeant type, but much elaborated. The lady is here
Cicely or 'Sweet CisV The rejected suitors are Rafe
the Fool's own sons. He has five: Pickle Herring,
Blue Breeches, Ginger Breeches, Pepper Breeches,
and Mr. Allspice. But Pickle Herring is also the
Lord of Pool and Blue Breeches the Knight of Lee.
Apparently they were once all suitors. But the woo-
ings of Allspice and Pepper Breeches, the 'eldest son',
dies out, and at the end only Ginger Breeches and
Pickle Herring are the Fool's rivals. Pickle Herring
is a stage figure. In Marlowe's Dr. Faustus Gluttony
claims Peter Pickle-Herring as one of his god-fathers. 2

1 Cf. p. ioo. 2 Dr. Faustus, ii. 2. 153.

4024 R

122 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

The English clown actor, Robert Reynolds ( 1 6 1 6-
26), took the name as his sobriquet in Germany,
and possibly in England also. 1 There is no Dame
Jane at Revesby, but the Poors 'mustard and
custard' vaunt is here, as at Bassingham and Brough-
ton, and it is now he who says:

I have an old sheepskin,
And I lap it well in.

Like Bassingham and Broughton, too, Revesby has
the 'noble Anthony', who is 'melancholy as a mantle-
tree', of Wily Beguiled. And there are other bits of
identical dialogue. One of these is of great antiquity.

I am my father's eldest son.
And heir of all his land,
And in a short time, I hope,
It will fall into my hands.

Professor Baskervill finds this in The Enter iude of
Youth, a morality of the first half of the sixteenth
century. 2

By the masse I reck not a chery
What so ever I do
I am the heyre of my fathers lande
And it is come into my hande
I care for no more.

But the old sense of 'and' as 'if has fallen into
oblivion. From lines which immediately precede in

1 Mediaeval Stage, i. 208; Elizabethan Stage, ii. 285, 336.

2 Modern Philology, xxi. 232. Youth is reprinted in Hazlitt-Dodsley,
ii. The lines quoted are 39-58.

THE SWORD DANCE 123

Youth, Revesby, although not the other Plough
Plays, has a second borrowing. Youth says :

My name is youth I tell the

I florysh as the vine tre

Who may be likened vnto me

In my youthe and lolitye

My hearre is royall and bushed thicke

My body plyaunt as a hasel styck

Myne armes be bothe fayre and strong

My fingers be both faire and longe.

And Blue Breeches :

I am a youth of jollitree;
Where is there one like unto me ?
My hair is bush'd very thick ;
My body is like an hasel stick,

My legs they quaver like an eel;
My arms become my body weel ;
My fingers they are long and small :
Am not I a jolly youth, proper and tall ?

The Revesby text is so free, comparatively, from
verbal and metrical irregularities, that I think it
must have passed through literary hands. But the
confusions as to the Wild Worm and the Dragon and
the wooers suggest that there has been some depar-
ture from the original structure.

The Sword Dance.

From Revesby I pass to the Sword Dances of
the north. 1 These survive mainly in Yorkshire,

1 Mediaeval Stage, i. 1 82 ; C. F. L. ii. 2 3 1 ; C. J. Sharp, Sword Dance*

124 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Durham, and Northumberland, an area in which the
Mummers' Play is also found. Sporadic examples
have been noted in Cheshire, Derbyshire, Notting-
hamshire, Devonshire, Hampshire, and Sussex, and as
far north as Shetland. A few Sword Dances have long
been on record, but the greater number have been
recently collected by the late Cecil Sharp and his
colleagues of the English Folk Dance Society, and
described with an elaborate notation of steps and
figures. The Sword Dance requires space, and is
generally performed out of doors. It belongs to the
Christmas season, and in a group of agricultural
villages on the moorlands behind Whitby, where
it once flourished greatly, to Plough Monday in
particular. Here the performers were known as
Plough Stots, and at Sleights and Goathland took
a plough round with them. The Sleights costumes,
like those of some Plough Jacks, were decorated
with patches of cloth cut into agricultural shapes. 1
When the dancers went to Whitby, they were pelted
by the fisher-wives. Such conflicts between inland
and shore dwellers are not uncommon in folk-
custom. The Goathland company responded by
leading a Fisherman on a hobby-donkey. There are
other signs of a special connexion between the Sword
Dance and the plough. Askham Richard has no

of Northern England, i. 9; K. Meschke, Schwerttanz und Schwerttanzspiel,
56; A. W. Johnston, The Sword Dance, Papa Stour in Viking Club, Old
Lore Miscellany, v (1912), 175.
1 Cf. p. 90.

THE SWORD DANCE 125

plough, but a banner inscribed 'God speed the
Plough'. At Ampleforth it has become 'God Save
the Queen'. At Bellerby there are again animal
patches, but not apparently plough patches. But at
Flamborough and Beadnell the performers are
themselves fisherman, and in several places they are
coal-miners. The dancers proper vary in number
from five to eight. But there are supernumeraries.
Every company has one or more Fools or Clowns.
They are often called Toms. At Escrick one has the
curious name Woody Garius, and another is Mr. Fox-
tails. Woody cock is known as a tune. 1 At Bellerby one
is Hector, and describes himself as 'the devil's own
sister-in-law clothed in lamb's wool'. There is usually
also a man dressed as a woman. She is Bessy, Betty,
Besom Betty, Dirty Bet, Bridget, Madgy, Madgy
Peg. At Escrick she is Madam Sylvester. Here and
in Wharfedale she is the Clown's wife. Sometimes
she sweeps. There may be a Captain or a King and
Queen. The King is sometimes the leader of the
actual dancers. At Sleights, where the whole com-
pany sometimes amounted in old days to a hundred,
with two dancing teams and many Toms, the pro-
cession was led by three men 'like gentlemen' on
grey horses. Skelton also had an old gentleman
and a lady, who, quite exceptionally, was a real
woman. The Quete may be carried out by the
Clowns, or by special officers called Beggars. There
may be flagbearers, and the dance is always accom-

1 Baskervill, Elizabethan Jig, 363.

126 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

panied by music, from a fiddle, drum, concertina,
accordion, tin whistle, or the village band. A
favourite tune is Tff OwdLass of Coverdill. .Shetland
apparently had its bagpipes. The dancers are dressed
in uniformity. Usually the basis is a white shirt or
tunic; sometimes a coloured one. Three teams at
Goathland used orange, pink, and blue, which were
local political colours. At Earsdon the white shirts
are supplemented by crimson plush jackets and
breeches, adopted at a recent performance before
royalty. A few places use military costume, and
fisherman wear their blue jerseys. At Hunton small
mirrors were placed on breast and back. The head-
dress, if any, is usually a cap. Occasionally high
hats are worn at first, and removed, as inconvenient
for dancing. At Askham Richard, they are then
replaced by wreaths. Sharp distinguishes two types
of sword; a long sword, found in Yorkshire, and a
short sword or 'rapper', found in Durham and
Northumberland, and said to have been sometimes
fitted so that it could be grasped at both ends. The
material is normally steel or iron, but wooden sub-
stitutes are known. The dress of the supernumeraries
is differentiated from that of the dancers and is more
fantastic. That of the Clowns ranges from the
familiar ribbon or shred-covered coat to the parti-
coloured garb of the circus. They sometimes wear
fox-tails or bits of skin on their backs or heads, and
at Kirkby Malzeard and Ampleforth bells on their
backs. The Captain at Grenoside has the head and

THE SWORD DANCE 127

skin of a rabbit on a cloth helmet. The Askham
Richard Clown carries a bladder on a stick, and so do
the plough-drivers at Goathland. The Goathland
Clowns blacken their faces, as the dancers themselves
are said to have formerly done at Flamborough and
Sowerby. They do still at Sleights, and add beards
so that 'no one might know them', and for the same
alleged reason the Toms sometimes wore large
wooden spectacles.

Sometimes the dance begins straight away, with-
out a Presentation. Where there is one, it may be
conducted by the Captain, the King, the Clown,
the Bessy, or a dancer, or by more than one of these
in dialogue. As in the Mummers' Play, there may
be a promise of pastime or a call for 'room', and the
latter gets new modifications in 'Rumble, rumble,'
or 'A-rambling here I've corned'. There may be
a little rustic foolery. This is a marked feature at
Bellerby, where echoes both of the Mummers'
Plays and of the Plough Plays occur. But the main
feature is generally a set of 'calling-on' verses, in
which each of the dancers is briefly named and
characterized. Examples will be found in the
Ampleforth text, to which I shall come. 'Calling-
on' lines show little sign of old or consistent tradition.
Some unity is attained in Shetland with the Seven
Champions; at Kirkby Malzeard with Sampson and
six Philistines; at Earsdon, in a professedly 'modern*
version, with the sons of 'brave Elliott', of Lords
Duncan, Nelson, and Wellington, and of Buonaparte

128 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

himself. Elsewhere heroic personages only stray
sporadically into a company, who normally repre-
sent no more than social types. Such are Pitman,
Coal Hewer, Skipper, Ship's Cook, Sailor, Jack
Tar, Dick the Cobbler, Mr. Snip or Obadiah Trim
the Tailor, Love-Ale the Vintner, Highland Laddie
the Merchant, Mr. Spark, Mr. Stout, Mr. Wild,
Trimbush a comical lad, True Blue, Foppish
Knight, Jolly Dog, Tosspot. A Tom is not in-
frequent; he may be Tom the Tinker, Big Wallop-
ing Tom, King Tom, Tom the Clown's Son. Little
Foxey, at Houghton-le-Spring, may be more signi-
ficant. Linton in Craven has Miser, a woman, and
Ampleforth a 'little Diana'. It does not appear that
either was dressed like a woman. One or more
personage is often credited with amorous tendencies.
A Squire's son, who has lost his love, recurs at several
places and recalls the wooing of the Plough Plays.
At Houghton-le-Spring he is Alick.

At Earsdon the Presentation takes a dramatic
form. At the end of the older calling-on verses, the
Captain says 'Now I am going to kill a bullock'.
One thinks of the Plough Monday Bullocks. There
is no further reference to the bullock, but promptly
two of the dancers quarrel and fight, and one falls.
Bessy says :

An actor he is dead,

And on the ground he's laid;
We'll have to suffer for it,

Brave boys, I'm sore afraid.

THE SWORD DANCE 129

A third dancer interposes :

I'm sure it's none of me,

And never in my time;
It's he that followed I,

That did this bloody crime.

And a fourth adds :

O now that he is dead,

And his body it is cold,
We'll take him to the Church yard

And bury him in the mould.

Then follows a short Cure, on Mummers' Play lines,
after which Bessy calls for the dance to proceed.
Earsdon, however, is not in this respect typical.
There is often an element of drama in the Sword
Dances, but in all other examples known to me it
develops out of the dancing itself, and forms a
wind-up to the whole performance. There is a
persistent figure, sometimes occurring more than
once in the course of a dance, in which each dancer
presses the hilt of his sword under the point of his
neighbour's, so as to mesh the swords together
tightly and securely in a form which may be any-
thing from a pentagon to an octagon, according
to the number of dancers. This is called the Lock
or Nut, which probably means Knot, and at
Whitby the Rose. In Shetland it was the Shield.
It is the Glass of the Revesby play. The Lock,
when formed, is variously treated. It may be laid
on the ground, or raised breast-high or overhead,
by the dancers as a body, or by their leader alone.

4024 c

130 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

There is a clock-wise movement with or round it,
also sometimes called the Rose. In Shetland it
was placed in turn on the head of each dancer. This,
no doubt, suggests a coronation. But in another
example from the Highlands, not fully recorded,
there was apparently no Lock. The dancers, sur-
rounded by swordsmen, performed in pairs over
two swords laid on the ground, and when the last
was exhausted, his fellows made a ring round him
with their swords pointed at his throat. 1 Here the
implication is clearly that of a mimic death analogous
to the killing of the Fool at Revesby. And this is
apparent also in several of the English dances, in
which, when a Lock has been formed, an outsider
steps into the ring, and the Lock is placed, in one
case on his head, but in all the others round his neck.
Usually he is one of the supernumeraries, the
Captain, the Queen, the Bessy, more often a Tom.
But at Ampleforth he is a bystander in ordinary
dress. At Flamborough it is said that in former days
a stranger to the village was captured and held
within the locked swords for ransom, and there is an
old account of a Durham dance in which the inter-
vener was, actually or by impersonation, the parish
clergyman. In this case, the limits of a purely
choreographic representation had clearly been passed,
for there was the sequel of a Doctor and a Cure.
And so it is in several of the extant dances, which
end in something indistinguishable from a Mum-

1 D. Kennedy, in 2 E.D.S. Journal, iii. 22.

THE AMPLEFORTH PLAY 131

mers' Play. It is a matter of degree. At Escrick the
victim is the Clown called Woody Garius. After the
Lock, the leading dancer knocks Woody's hat off
with the tip of his sword, and he falls, as if dead, and
rolls out of the ring. At Haxby the Clown falls,
Besom Betty runs into the ring, revives him, and
leads him out. It appears to be a dumb show. At
Askham Richard a Doctor is called to the Fool and
fails. Besom Betty then says 'A'll cure him', and
does so by brushing his face with her broom. At
Earsdon the dancers would sometimes, of old, 'hang
the Betty', but now, as we have seen, a play on
rather different lines has got into the Presentation.
But at Bellerby, where Bessie is the victim, and at
Sower by, where it is the Clown, there are fairly
elaborate Cures, preceded in both cases by an episode
of repudiation, like that at Earsdon. But the 'An actor
he is dead' of Earsdon becomes at Sowerby 'Bold
Hector now is dead'. Whitby once had a farce, with
a King, Miller, Clown, and Doctor. 1 Goathland had
an elaborate play, which lasted two hours. Most of it
is unfortunately lost, but fragmentary recollections
show that it included a death, not by the sword, but
by falling from a hobby-horse, and a Cure, and a
wooing scene.

The Ampleforth Play.

The Goathland play can hardly have been more
elaborate than that of Ampleforth which, with its

1 Mediaeval Stage, i. 192, from G. Young, Hist, of Whitby (1817),
ii. 880.

132 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Presentation, I will now give in full. My text
was sent me long ago by Cecil Sharp; that in his
Sword Dances of Northern England is a good deal
sophisticated, but may include a few lines which he
recovered later.

FIRST PART

King. Make room, make room for these jovial lads

That are a wooing hound ;*

For I can handle a sword

With any man in town.

Last night I went to see

Miss Madam Molly;

She was so fair and comely

And not adorned with pride ;

I am so deep in love with her

Till I dont know how to bide.

Tonight I went in to see

Miss Susannah Parkin ;

She was so fine and gay,

But the dogs made such a barking

I forgot all I had to say.

So I pray the 2 honest Christian

What next must I say to her ?
Clown. Thou must give her gallant speeches,

And honestly must woo her.

King. Aye man, her Mother likes me well ; she has forty
thousand pound of her own and she'll give it all to
myself.
Clown. I'll stand a friend right Jarvey.

I'll stand thee friend, my lad;

I'll stand thee friend right Jarvey. 3

See thee my heart's full glad.

1 bound. 2 thee. 3 joyfully.

THE AMPLEFORTH PLAY 133

King. And many a better thing she'll give us when we get

wed.
Clown. Come thee ways I'll a want 1 thee we'll get her.

Enter Queen.

Clown Sings. Madam, behold a lover !

You shall quickly see my Son.
Queen Sings. Long time have I been waiting

Expecting Ben would come;

Ben 's grown a smart young fellow,

And his face I long to see.
Clown Sings. Here 's one that doth me follow,

And perhaps it may be he.

Ben how dost thou do, my lad ?
Thou'st welcome from the seas.

King. Thank you, father, how do you do ?

1 am very well at ease.
Clown. O Ben let me kiss thee

For with joy I am fit to cry.
King. O father I'd rather kiss

That lady standing by.
Clown. O Ben come shew thy breeding.

Give to her a gentle touch

She 's got such a face to feed upon,

The seas could afford none such.

She 's a sweet and modest creature,

And she 's of a noble fame,

She 's a sweet and modest creature,

And Susannah is her name.
King. Father that's well remembered.

How is Dick and Val ?
Clown. Did not I write last summer

That pale death has closed his sides ? 2

1 warrant. 2 sight.

134 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

King. It's as true as I'm a sinner!

I had forgotten quite.
Clown. Then it's o my 1 will retire,

For fear I'll spoil her sport;

For while I'm standing by yer

Our Ben can't frame to court.

So, madam, don't be cruel,

Since you're a charmer fair,

Spare him as a jewel,

For you'll like to be my heir.

Exit Clown.

King. Madam, my father has declared

You are to be my bridge ; 2

Or otherwise I am inclined

To lead a single life.

For when a man gets married

He 's down like a galley slave

Bachelors like sailors,

When the liberties there air.
Queen. O sorrow does compel you

Against your will to wed.

Indeed, I needs must tell you,

You but a logger's head.

Your cheek is none so charming

As to kindle Cupid's fire;

You've neither wit nor learning,

Nor beauty to admire.
King. (Goes up to the Queen) O, madam, do but hear me;

I've got something more to say.

Queen. (Gives him a prick} Don't stand so near hard by
me;

Stand further off, I pray!

I have not lost my hearing,

1 home I. 2 bride.

THE AMPLEFORTH PLAY 135

Nor yet I am not dumb ;
But, in spite of all your jeering,
I can exercise my tongue.

King. Says thee so, thou Mistress Cheesemouth ?
Thee might give me better words.
Although thou's a genteel caucase, 1
Thy face to be observed,
Thy cheeks are like two cakes of tallow,
Thy lips are blue all o'er,
Thou 's tawny black and yellow,
And forty colours more !

King goes up to the Queen again; she gives him a
prick, and stamps her foot and says

Queen. Begone, thou piece of valour!
For thou smells of pitch and tar.
Go hang theeself on the mainmast
Where I shall never see thee more.
Take along with thee my wishes
To the bottom of the sea;
Thou 's fitter for the fishes,
Than a woman's company.

Exeunt King and Queen.

SECOND PART

Clown. Here comes I, that never come yet,
With great head and little wit.
Though my head be great
And my wit be small,
I've six fine lads
'11 please you all.
My head 's made of iron,
My heart 's made of steel,

1 carcase.

136 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

My hands and feet of knuckle-bone,
I challenge thee out to feel.

Enter King. King and Clown rattle their swords
together.

King. How long will this unthinking fool
Disturb us of our private see 1
Fair Rose thou may with boldness come
And banish him from our company.

Enter Queen.

Queen. That would betray for want of skill ;

It's good to keep two strings for one bow.

Perhaps I might bear him as much goodwill

As what that I might do to you.
Clown. O that 's well answered, my dear Rose.

I love the girl that's plain and free

Thou may be packed in, 2 snotty nose;

Small hopes I find there is for thee.
King. Sure I this woman's worse than mad!

Judge, gentlemen, as well as me

In taking such a snotty lad,

And despising such a spark as me.

King straightens himself up.

Queen. Spread your affection civilly

And I shall tell you what I think.

In you the small

There 's no mistake to choose and wink.
Clown. Pox take her! There's nowt to please her with.

So saving thy debauchery !
King. I'll call thee liar to the teeth!

I'll will at that accepted be.

I'll make thee lies to the town estate

The captain crown nor his estate.

1 privacy. 2 packing.

THE AMPLEFORTH PLAY 137

But if I in my duty fail,

But come to me and I'll call it my fate.
Clown. Perhaps thou 's got some tenement,

Some palace on some Irish shore ;

Perhaps thou lives by three ha'pence rent;

It's enough for thee to rent withal.
King. Now I'm maintained by sailors' wives.

When their husbands are out all in protence,

While you poor eunuchs leads poor lives,

And I am swaggering by my rents.
Queen. My father calls, I must obey.

Be sure you both in peace remain,

Until you hear further what I say

The next time we meet again.

Exit Queen.
King. Thou are a fool, O then say I,

My reasons are expounded clear.

For women may riddle, but none can tell

By plain subtraction what they mean.
Clown. Still greater fool than half than I !

If thou would know the certainty

Of what a woman says,

Is meant quite contrary way.

Exit King.
Clown. The devil go with them, for now they're gone

And left me here behind; see if all well at home,

Faith man ! And I'll away an all.
Exit Clown.

THIRD PART

King. I'm a King and a Conqueror too,

And here I do advance!
Clown. I'm the clown of this noble town,

And I've come to see thee dance.

4024 T

138 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

King. The clown come to see a King dance !

Clown. A King dance ! Ask thee good fellow ? didn't I see

thee tending the swine 'tother day stealing swine I

meant to say ?
King. Now you've given offence to your Majesty, thee

must either sing a song, or off goes your head.

The King tries to knock him about with his sword.

Clown. I only know a lame song.

King. I like a lame song.

Clown sings. How can I be merry and wise,

And in my heart contented be ?

When bone of my arm is out of place,

And he mun put his nose where the bone should be.
King. I put my nose where the bone should be ?

You old fool! sing it over again, and sing it right.
Clown. Til nobbut sing it again.

Clown sings song as before but indicates another man.

King. As you've sung that so well, you must sing us

another.

Clown. How can I sing another when I don't know one ?
King. I must have one, or off goes your head.
Clown. Let me study a minute. I've studied a love song

about murder, my grandmother learned me seven

years after she was dead.
King. O I like a love song.
Clown sings. O love it is a killing thing.
Its both for heart and mind
And he that doesn't come before
He needs must come before.
King. You old fool what difference is there between

befour and before? Sing it over again, and sing it

right.
Clown. I'll nobbut sing it again.

THE AMPLEFORTH PLAY 139

King. Sing it over again, and sing it right, or off goes

your head!

Clown sings. O love it is a killing thing,
Its both for heart and mind,
And he that doesnt come before
He needs must come before.
King. What difference is there between before and

befoure ?

Clown. It's the way I learned it. Sing it yourself.
King. If I sing it, see that you learn it.
(Sings) O love it is a killing thing,

It's both for heart and mind;
And he that doesn't come before,
He needs must come behind.

King and Clown exeunt.

FOURTH PART

Enter King.

King. I'm a King and a King of high renown

I'm sorry that 1 shall be offended with that ragly fellow
that's called a clown.

Enter Clown.

Clown. What needs thou be offended at me,
And make that great, ugly, long face at me?
If thou was hanged in yonder tree,
I could make a far better King than thee.

King. Going tip to Dancers who are behind the door.

Come all ye young men and draw your swords straight,
And take this fool clean out of my sight,
For if I talk to him, he talk to me all night.

Dancers rattle their swords. Exit King.
Clown. Ye gentlemen all who in mirth take delight
And intends our sport for to see,

THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

I've come for to tell you that I am the Clown,

And, pray you, how do you like me ?

Although I am little, my strength it is great ;

I would scorn for to tell you a lie.

I once killed a hedgehog as big as myself

And it made me a rare apple-pie,

(And he made me a delicate fry).

Now my Grandmother; one of the Bambury breed

As big as an old gilt in her twang,

She would serve by the tinker at peddling trade,

If that isn't a lie I'll be hang'd.

My father was tapsman 1 and tideman 2 three years,

Alas he was tiled so high ;

It was all for stealing 3 lusty grey mares.

If that isn't true it's a lie!

As for myself I'm a butcher so good,

I can hit both the mark and the square;

I can stick a young heifer and never draw blood,

And that I can do to a hair.

I always was jovial and always will be,

Always at one time of the year.

Since Adam created both oxen and plough,

We get plenty of store and strong beer.

So now I've told my birth,

And the place from when I come ;

So now I will set forth

Our noble dancers on.

Our dancers will appear

In splendour by and bye.

Gooks Bobs! I'll do them here. 3

Dancers rattle their swords^ and keep out of sight.
Clown. Silence! Silence! I cry.
Our dancers will appear

1 taxman. 2 titheman. 3 I do them hear.

THE AMPLEFORTH PLAY 141

In splendour, red and white,
Goops Bobs 1 and do them see,
They're coming in to sight.

The King just shows himself.

King comes in first.

Clown. The first that come on is King Henry by name,
He's a King and a Conqueror too;
And with his broad sword he will make them to fall ;
But I fear he will fight me enoo.

King and Clown rattle swords together.

(First verse repeated after each verse].

Enter No. 2.

Clown. The next is Progallus, as some do him call,
He 's a General to the same King ;
And with his broad sword he will make them to fly;
Isn't that a desperate thing?

Enter No. 3.

The third I shall name without any offence;
A gentleman just come from Cork;
He's witty and pretty in every degree,
And amongst the girls he will sport.

Enter No 4.

The fourth is Hickman, a rival,
Sticks close to his back.
Bewitched already by beautiful lass,
But young Cupid his ruin shall be.

Enter No. 5.

The fifth is Jerry he's a passionate friend,
He follows his master indeed;
He's been a true trudger as ever did bend,
And I wish we'd some more of his breed.

142 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Enter No. 6.

There's little Diana I'd l.ike to forget,
Whose beauty shines much like our own ;
But if ever we do get our heads to the pot,
We'll drink till it strikes fourteen at noon.

Exeunt all.

Clown. Go on, my brave heroes!
Our valour has been tried ;
From off the plains of Waterloo
These six fought side by side.
They fought against Napoleon bold,
And made him run away;
Sent him to St. Helena,
And there they made him stay.
All you pretty lasses,
That's sitting roundabout,
These are six handsome young lads,
As ever was turned out.
They'll make you loving sweethearts,
For ever they'll be true ;
They'll fight for you as manfully
As they did at Waterloo.

Enter No. i .
The first I do call,
He's a handsome young man,
As ever the sun shone on ;
He's like his brother Cupid
Looks on the charming boy
And when he meets with a bonny lass
With her he loves to toy.

Enter No. i.

The next he is a bashful youth,
He's brother to the moon;

THE AMPLEFORTH PLAY 143

But first he gets his name up
In country and in town.
Amongst the pretty wenches,
He drives a roaring trade;
And when he meets a bonny lass
His valour is displayed.

Enter No. 3.

The next he is a spanking lad,

His father is a Squire;

For Betsy their sweet chambermaid

He got a great desire.

He huddled her, he cuddled her.

Until he made her yield;

But when the truth they came to know,

He was forced to quit the field.

Enter No. 4.

The next he is a rakish youth ;
I've heard his Mother say
She would give him good advice
Before he went away.
He was never to kiss a black lass
When he could kiss a white,
And when he met a bonny lass
To stay with her all night.

Enter No. 5.

The next he is a valiant youth,
He's been in all the wars;
\Vhen he returned from Waterloo
The bells did loudly ring.
He won the day in splendour,
He fought a valiant man,
His countrymen did all rejoice
When he returned again.

144 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Enter No. 6.

The next he is a brave young man
As ever you did see;
So well did he act his part
For his King and Country.
He had no fear about him ;
For ever he'll be true;
He'll fight for you as manfully
As he did at Waterloo.
So lasses prepare your lips,
Else before your eyes
These six lusty lads
Will roll you in their arms.
So speak spectators all,
If you'll not take it amiss,
If these lads will dance their shares,
These lasses I will kiss.
So now you've seen us all go round,
And heard our pedigree,
Gentlemen and ladies all
What do you think of me ?
So now you've seen us all,
Think of us what you will ;
Music ! strike up and play.
T'aud wife of Coverdill.

Here follows the dance.

After the man (not the Clown) is killed at the conclu-
sion of the dance, the dancers leave the stage, the
Clown and the dead man being left alone.

FIFTH PART

The Clown walks about and tumbles over corpse.
Clown. It's rough ground.

Clown turns round and tumbles over again.

THE AMPLEFORTH PLAY 145

King enters.

King. Hello! Hello! What's the matter here?
Clown. A man dead!
King. I fear you have killed him.
Clown. No! he has nearly killed me!

Stamps his feet.
Come all you villians and clear yourselves!

No. 2 enters.

No. 2. I am sure it's none of I
That did this bloody act;
Its he that follows me
That did it for a fact.

No. 3 enters.

No. 3. I'm sure it's none of I
That did this awful crime ;
Its he that follows me
That drew his sword so fine.

No. 4 enters.

No. 4. Don't lay the blame on me,
You awful villains all !
I'm sure my eyes were shut
When this young man did fall.

No. 5 enters.

No. 5. How could your eyes be shut,
When I was looking on ?
I'm sure you were with us
When first our swords were drawn.

Enter No. 6.

No. 6. Our King has done the deed
And he lays the blame on me!
Before I'll take the blame
I'll try my sword with thee!

4024

H6 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

King and No. 6 fight and rattle their swords together.
King. O ray ! alas ! what shall I do ?
I've been the cause of all this war!
Oray I am that it should happen so,
That I should slay this poor old man.
Clown. How can he be an old man ? Young man like me
his father. I got him this morning before I got my
breakfast. Bury him ! we'll sing a psalm over him.

All kneel round the dead man.
The Clown then gives out the following psalm.

Clown. When first King Henry ruled this land,

He was a right generous King, (repeated by mourners}.

He stole three pecks of barley meal

To make a large pudding, (repeated.}

And when this pudding it was boiled,

They filled it full of plums ;

There was lumps of suet in as big

As my two thumbs, (repeated.}

The King and Queen they both did eat,

And gentlemen likewise;

And what they couldnt eat that night

Next morning had it fried, (repeated.}

The Clown now reads his Will.
Clown. God in Heaven take this soul!
Churchyard take his bones !
And that man, that holds my sword,
Take his Wife and bairns!

Clown hands his sword to another man.

King. How can we this man bury
When people all around us stand ?
But if we mean to escape a halter
We must send for a doctor.

All shout for a doctor.

THE AMPLEFORTH PLAY 147

King. I have heard of doctors both far and near;
Have heard of one, tho' he lives in Spain,
I'll lay ten pounds if he was here
He would bring this man to life again.
Five, ten, fifteen, twenty pounds for a doctor!

Enter Doctor.

Doctor. See, Sir, a doctor here, who travels much at home.

Take these here my pills ; they cure the young, the old,
the hot, the cold, the living and the dead.

What's the matter here?
King. A man dead.
Doctor. How long has he been dead ?
King. Seven minutes. Can you cure him ?
Doctor. If he has been dead seven years I can cure him !
King. What is your fee ?
Doctor. Nineteen pounds, nineteen shillings, eleven pence

three farthings, peck of ginger bread and some oats for

my horse.

King. It is an imposition. I wont give it.
Doctor. Gee ball! Exit.
King. Hi ! Hi 1 Doctor, is that the lowest you'll take ?

Enter Doctor.

Doctor. I'll throw off the oats and the ginger bread.
King. You must try your skill.

The Doctor feels his pulse.

Doctor. He has got a raging pulse.

Clown. How can a dead man have a raging pulse ?

The Doctor pretends to give him a pill. The Clown
pulls him away.

Clown. Give a dead man physic?

King. Can you cause a stomach in the morning ?

Doctor. I can cause a stomach in the morning, make his

148 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

victuals fly down his throat like a wheelbarrow, and
rattle in his throat like a pair of chests of drawers.

King. Can you do anything for a fair lady ?

Doctor. Yes ! if ever a fair lady in this room wants a hus-
band trimming, bring him to me and soon she shall
have one.

King. Can you do anything for a big bellied mare ?

Doctor. Yes ! I can cure the big bellied mare, the old fools,
the gaol and the pepper vixit cracks ; thousands which I
cure is none here I can tell. It's all done with this little
vandorous box; take that and you well.

King. Well doctor, what is your name ?

Doctor. I don't like to tell it to a ragamuffin like you!

King. I must know your name.

Doctor. Well you shall know it, but it takes a good scholar
to read it. My name is Ivan-Lovan-tanaman-laddie,
seven Son of a new-born doctor. Here I've travelled
through 55 kingdoms and now return to my own coun-
try; cure men with their heads off, men with their
hearts out, the itch, the stitch, the stone, the bone, the
pulse and the gout if there was nineteen devils.

King. Hi! Doctor! he's a long time coming to life.
Doctor. Well I must bleed him.

Doctor gives the King the dead man's arm to hold up
and then runs at him with his sword. The King
falls and knocks his knee cap off, which the
Doctor then puts right.

The Doctor then bleeds the dead man.

Doctor. I've travelled for my education.

King. How far have you travelled ?

Doctor. All the way from the fireside upstairs and knocked

the chamber pot over and back again.
King. Is that all you've travelled ?
Doctor. Oh no! not by a great deal. I've travelled all the

THE AMPLEFORTH PLAY 149

way from Itti Titti where there 's neither town nor city,
wooden chimes, leather bells, black pudding for the
bell rope, little pigs running up and down street,
knives and forks stuck in their backsides crying 'God
save the King.'

King. Well doctor, he is a long time in coming to life.

Clown. I will bring him to life.

Clown takes his sword and fulls down the mans
middle. Whereupon the dead man came to life and
jumps up and says.

Good morning, gentlemen,

A sleeping I have been ;

I've had such a sleep

As the like was never seen !

And now I am awake,

And alive unto this day.

Our dancers shall have a dance

And the doctor have his pay.

All those standing round now start dancing and this
concludes the entertainment.

This curious play bears all the marks of a compila-
tion. The performers are introduced three times
and the second attempt borrows the 'big head*
and 'iron and steel' formulas of the Mummers' Play.
There are two sets of calling-on verses. The Queen
is Susannah in the First Part and Rose in the Second
Part, and while the Second Part is a variant of The
Fool^s Wooing, the First Part is largely pieced
together, as Sharp pointed out to me, from scraps of
Congreve's Love J or Love (1695) iii. 3, although
this does not give the name Susannah. The Third
Part is chaff about dancing and singing, such as we

150 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

find in the Plough Plays. The Fourth Part has a
phrase about sticking a heifer, which corresponds
to the killing a bullock at Earsdon. The Fifth Part
is clearly the same in origin as the slighter versions of
Earsdon, Bellerby, and Sowerby. Its Cure proper also
closely resembles some of the more elaborate scenes
in the Mummers' Plays. The Land of Cockaigne
bit is there. The repudiation and suggested burial
have also analogues, more or less remote, in the
Mummers' Plays, but the 'psalm' used consists of a
set of verses, which I have also found independently,
with King Arthur instead of King Henry as their
subject. 1 The victim's will recalls that of the Fool
at Revesby.

The Morris Dance.

There is little to throw light upon the early history
of the Sword Dance in these islands. A performance
at Edinburgh, after the coronation of Anne of Den-
mark in 1590, has been taken for one, but, I think,
in error. 2 ' It is otherwise with the Morris Dance,
which replaces the Sword Dance over the greater
part of England. \ A Moresca or Morisco first appears
in the fifteenth century among the dances used as

1 Arthur of Britain, 189.

2 Meschke, 57, citing W. Plenkers in Stimmen aus Maria-Laach, 35,
no. 9, 390 (1888). I have not seen this, but the contemporary descriptions
in Papers Relative to the Marriage of King James the Sixth (1828, Banna-
tyne Club) and the verses in Hadrian Damman's Schediasmata (1590),
clearly point to a morris-dance.

3 Mediaeval Stage, i. 195; C. J. Sharp and H. C. Macilwaine,
The Morris Book, Part i.

THE MORRIS DANCE 151

tntermedii in the courtly ludt of Italy, Burgundy, and
France. 1 It seems to have been traditionally regarded
as of Moorish origin, and is probably to be identified
with the choreae Sarracenicae of an earlier Paris Indus
in 1393. In England it is known from the sixteenth
century onwards both as a court dance and as a
widespread folk dance. It is probably also the dance
called the Buffons in The Complaynt of Scotland
(c. 1549). Jehan Tabourot (pseud. Thoinot Arbeau),
indeed, in his Qrchesographie (1588) distinguishes
between the Morisque and the Boujfons ou Mat-
tachim, which was a sophisticated Sword Dance.
But Randle Cotgrave, in his dictionary of 1611,
translates Bujfons as 'Morris'. There is, no doubt, a
close resemblance between Morris Dance and Sword
Dance. TheMorris Dance is still found in many parts
of the country. It has made a special feature of the
bells, which are only sporadic in the Sword Dance.
And the swords, if it once used them, have been
reduced to short wooden staves, to trowels at Shrews-
bury, and perhaps even to handkerchiefs, since at
Ilmington Sharp found these manipulated much like
the weapons in some Sword Dances. Morris Dancers,
like Sword Dancers, occasionally blacken their faces.
It is possible that this practice, rather than any real
oriental origin, led to the notion that the dance was one
of Moors, and gave it its name. The actual dancers
are generally accompanied by supernumeraries.

1 H. Prunifcres, Le Ballet de Cour en France (1914), 3, 8; E. Welsford,
The Court Masque (1927), 25, 118.

152 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Of these the most persistent is the Fool, with
his stick and bladder, and sometimes a cow's tail.
He is the Squire or Rodney in Oxfordshire, Curly
in Leicestershire, King Coffee, Owd Sooty-face,
or Dirty Bet in Lancashire and Cheshire. There
are others; a King and Queen, a Lord and Lady, a
Moll or Fool's wife, a Hobby Horse. I do not
propose to discuss the Morris Dance in detail for
several reasons. Firstly, the earlier notices of it often
come from literary, rather than folk sources. One
cannot be sure, for example, that the linking of it
with the personages of the Robin Hood cycle is not
wholly, as it certainly is in part, literary. Secondly,
it is a performance which owes allegiance to no
fixed season, and in fact is perhaps more often found
at summer festivals than at those of winter to which
the plays and Sword Dances belong. The super-
numeraries with which it is associated may not,
therefore, be strictly its own, and one cannot, there-
fore, lay stress on the occasional presence of St.
George and the Dragon among them. 1 The summer
festivals have certainly their independent claim to
a King and Queen. And although it is intriguing
to find sword-bearers, sometimes with cakes impaled
upon their swords, accompanying morris-dancers at
a group of ceremonies in Oxfordshire and Berkshire,
these mostly seem to be hunting festivals, like the
analogous Horn Dance of Abbot's Bromley in
Staffordshire, which, although doubtless of folk

1 Cf. p. 1 56, and Mediaeval Stage, i. 197.

JACK OF LENT 153

origin, is not directly germane to the Mummers'
Play. Thirdly and finally, the Morris Dance does
not appear, at any rate apart from Robin Hood,
to have issued in drama. The only exception, of
which I am aware, comes, oddly enough, from the
place in which I write. At Eynsham, says Sharp,
the dancers in the last figure 'gradually closed in
upon the "victim" (if that is the right interpretation),
seized him in their arms, and with a barbaric shout
threw him up into the air'. 1

"Jack of Lent.

So far, this discussion has been mainly epideictic,
devoted to bringing out the dramatic element in the
Mummers' Play and in a group of other folk-customs
to which, in spite of regional differences, it evidently
bears a close relation. Some of them have developed
upon choreographic rather than strictly dramatic
lines. The maximum of divergence is shown by the
Morris Dance. But the Mummers' Play, the Plough
Play, and the Sword Dance, at least, are closely linked
by common features: by attachment to the festivals
of the rustic calendar, to Christmas or to the resump-
tion of agricultural work which follows upon Christ-
mas, or to Easter; by the inevitable quete or
'gathering'; by the omnipresent Fool; by the Man-
Woman, that unquiet spirit, for whom there is no
obvious function, but for whom a place always has
to be found; above all by the persistent theme of

1 The Morris Book, iii. 83.

4024 jr

154 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

the Mock Death and the Cure which is its almost

invariable sequel.

In turning to the problem of origins, one is at once
faced by a difficulty. There are many descriptions
of the performances and many versions of the
dialogue used. But these have all been collected
during the last century and a half, and show traces
of serious degeneration. They are incoherent, for
the most part; they are overlaid with reminiscences
of the Napoleonic wars and so forth. James Wood-
forde saw 'the fine Mummers' at Ansford in Somerset
on 2 January 1 769, but does not tell us what they did. 1
The earliest text of a Mummers' Play is of 1 788, and
that is already in a chap-book, a print of which was
known to John Brand in 1 777- 2 The Revesby Plough
Play, from a manuscript of 1779, * s on ty a little
younger. On the other hand a notice of rude masking
with a Doctor scene at Boston in America before
1782 points to emigration at what may be a consider-
ably earlier date. 3 Pioneers in the study of festival
customs, such as John Aubrey in 1687 anc ^ Henry
Bourne in 1725, are surprisingly silent. Even Brand
has but little to say. We know of Sword Dances and
Morris Dances in the sixteenth century, although
mainly from court and literary sources, but there is
nothing said of a Mock Death and a Cure. The
Coventry Hock Play had a sword-fight, but again

1 Diary (ed. J. Beresford), i. 83.

2 Observations on Popular Antiquities, 185.

3 G. L. Kittredge in Journal of American Folk-Lore, xxii. 394, citing
H. E. Scudder, Recollections of Samuel Breck (1877), 35.

JACK OF LENT 155

no Cure, and appears to derive from a somewhat
different type of folk-custom. 1 Only one sixteenth-
century analogue to the Cure has come down to us
and that, indeed, is a remarkable one. Henry
Machyn, a London merchant tailor, probably an
undertaker by occupation, and in any case much
interested in pageantry, records a procession of 1 553.

The xvij day of Marche cam thrugh London, [from]
Algatt, master Maynard, the shreyff of London, wyth a
standard and dromes, and after gyants boyth [great and]
smalle, and then hobe-horsses, and after grett horsses and
men in cotes of velvet [with chains] of gold a-bowt ther
nekes, and men in harnes; [and then] the mores dansse,
and then mony mynsterels ; and af [ter came] the sergantes
and yomen on horsse-bake with ribbyns [of green] and
whytt abowtt ther nekes, and then my lo . . . . late behyng
lord of myssrulle, rod gorgyusly [in cloth ?] of gold, and
with cheynes of gold abowt ys neke, with hand fulle of
rynges of grett waluw; the w[orshipfull?] serjants rod in
cotes of velvet with cheynes of [gold ;] and then came the
dulle and a sawden, and then [a priest ?] shreyffyng Jake-of-
lent on horss-bake, and a do[ctor] ys fezyssyoun, and then
Jake-of-lent wyff brow[ght him] ys fessyssyons and bad
save ys lyff, and he shuld [give him] a thowsand li. for ys
labur ; and then cam the carte with the wyrth hangyd with
cloth of gold, and fulle of ban[ners] and mynsterels plahyng
and syngyng; and a-for rod master Coke, in a cot of
velvett with a cheyn off gold, and with flowres. 2

Machyn is of course describing, not a normal folk-
performance, but a sophisticated urban procession,

1 Mediaeval Stage y i. 154, 187; ii. 264.

2 J. G. Nichols, Diary of Henry Machyn, 33, from Cotton MS. Fitel-
Iius 9 F. v.

156 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

like that of Lord Mayor's Day, in which civic
officials mingled with familiar figures known to the
London populace, such as the Lord of Misrule, who
had reigned at the previous Christmas, and the
tutelary giants, Gogmagog and Corineus. But it is
impossible not to be struck with the analogy between
the Doctor who is offered 1,000 to save Jake of
Lent's life, and the Doctor to whom a precisely
similar appeal is made in the Mummers' Play. And
the hint of dialogue may mean either that the proces-
sion stopped on its way for the episode, or that
Machyn was reading into it words which he had
heard on a more normal occasion. It is not clear
whether the 'sawden' and the 'dulle' belonged to
Jake of Lent's group. The former occurs again in a
May game of 1557:

ix wordes dyd ryd ; and they had speches evere man, and
the morris dansse and the sauden, and an elevant with the
castyll, and the sauden and yonge morens with targattes
and darttes, and the lorde and the lade of the Maye. 1

Another May game of 1559 had:

sant George and the dragon, the mores dansse, and after
Robyn Hode and lytyll John, and M[aid] Marian and
frere Tuke, and thay had spechys round a-bowt London. 2

It may be added that at Plymouth in 1581 a
payment was made 'for the picture of the Turke on
maye daye', and that John Higgins, translating in
1585 the Nomenclator of Adrianus Junius, has for

1 Machyn, 137. 2 Ibid., 201.

JACK OF LENT 157

ManducuS) *A Giant or Turke, such as they vsed
in maygames and shewes, made of brown paper/ 1
A Soldan, therefore, may have had a place in festival
processions, apart from St. George, for some reason
which has eluded us. In the entry of 1 553 Machyn's
editor prints 'dullo' for 'dulle' and glosses it 'devil'.
Elsewhere Machyn has 'a dulle with squybes
borning', who was clearly a devil, although he also
spells the word as 'duwlle', 'duwylle', 'duyllyll',
'dullvyll'. Professor Wyld, who has made a special
study of Machyn's spelling, assures me that 'dullo'
would be very hard to account for as a variant of
'devil', and suggests the possibility of an Italianized
form of 'dull', in the sense of 'fool'. I should like to
find a Fool in the pageant, but on looking at the
manuscript I feel little doubt that a badly written
V has been read as an o'. In any case, even if the
Jake of Lent and the Soldan and devil of 1553
belong together, we can hardly link them with the
St. George of 1559, since Jack of Lent himself is
quite a distinct and recognizable figure in folk-
custom. 2 He was a puppet, set up on Ash Wednesday
and decorated with fish-emblems of the penitential
season, used as a target for missiles during the six
weeks of Lent, and finally destroyed in triumph on
Palm Monday. Machyn's entry is dated as of March
'xvij', but it comes between entries for March 22

1 R. M. Worth, Plymouth Municipal Records, 124; Baskervill, Eliza-
bcthan 7/, 355-

2 Brand, P of ular Antiquities (ed. Ellis), i. 57.

158 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

and April 3, and must really belong to March 'xxvij',
which was in fact Palm Monday in 1553. The fullest
account of Jack of Lent is in William Elderton's
ballad ( 1 570) of Lenton Stujf.

Then Jake-a-lent comes justlynge in,

With the hedpeece of a herynge,
And saythe, 'repent yowe of yower syn,

For shame, syrs, leve yower swerynge.'
And to Palme Sonday doethe he ryde,
With sprots and herryngs by hys syde,
And makes an end of Lenton tyde. 1

Of other literary allusions, one may add Jonson's
Tale of A Tub:

Thou cam'st but halfe a thing into the world,
And wast made up of patches, parings, shreds :
Thou, that when last thou wert put out of service,
Travaild'st to Hamsted Heath, on an Ash-wensday^
Where thou didst stand sixe weekes the lack of Lent,
For boyes to hoorle, three throwes a penny, at thee. 2

In Protestant days Jack of Lent became, as Elder-
ton's lines suggest, a mouthpiece for the moralizing
satire of ballad and pamphlet. That may be the
reason why the custom is more clearly traceable in
London than elsewhere in England. But Lenton
'in whyte and red heryngs skinns' accompanied the
King of Christmas at a Norwich Shrovetide riding
in 1443. 3 White Kennett (1660-1728) quotes
some Jack of Lent rhymes used by Oxfordshire

1 T. Wright, Songs and Ballads (1860), 188, from Ashmolean MS. 48.

2 Tale of a Tub, iv. 2. 45. 3 Mediaeval Stage, i. 261.

JACK OF LENT 159

children, to the accompaniment of little clacks of
wood, in an Easter quete. 1

Harings Harings white and red,
Ten a penny, Lent's dead.
Rise, dame, and give a Negg,
Or else a peice of Bacon,
One for Peter, two for Paul,
Three for Jack a Lent's all,
Away, Lent, away.

There are many continental analogues to the
ceremonial dismissal of Lent, which are fully studied
by Sir James Frazer, under such titles as 'Carrying
out Death', 'Sawing the Old Woman', and The
Burial of Carnival'. A Swabian variant yields a
'Dr. Ironbeard', but to that I shall return. 2 Ecclesi-
astical adaptations, known in England as well as
abroad, are the 'Funeral of Alleluia', the 'Making
Christ's Bed,' the 'Rising and Burying Peter,' and
perhaps the 'Ducking of Judas Iscariot'. 3 These are
all spring customs, although the final scene is often on
Laetare Sunday in mid-Lent, or on Good Friday,
rather than on Palm Monday; and the root-idea
appears to be the rejection of the decayed life of the
old year at the advent of the new. The straw, of which
the effigy is usually made, was no doubt the sheaf
preserved from harvest through the winter to the
following spring. The precise original season for the
ceremony may of course, as with so many other

1 J. Aubrey, Remains ofGentilisme andjudaisme (1881), 161.

2 Frazer, Golden Bough* ', iv (The Dying God), 220 sqq.

3 Mediaeval Stage, i. 186.

160 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

folk-dates, have been variously adapted to a prim-
arily ecclesiastical calendar. The Bury St. Edmunds
accounts for 1370 and 1402 seem to link 'forthdrove'
with the wassail of Christmas. 1

Medieval Parallels.

If then we can trace, as it seems that we can, so
characteristic an episode of the Mummers' Play as
the Cure beyond this great hiatus between 1553
and the close of the eighteenth century, it is at least
reasonable to suppose that it may be much older
still, and that a further silence which meets us in the
Middle Ages is not necessarily conclusive against a
primitive origin. Certainly that silence is provokingly
complete. Ecclesiastical prohibitions tell us, in
England as well as elsewhere, from the thirteenth
century onwards, of chore ae and canttlenae^ ofarietum
levationes, of ludi de Rege et Regina and ludi quos
vacant Inductionem Man sive Autumni^ which we can
reasonably equate with surviving folk-festivals, but
nothing of a Mock Death and a Cure. 2 Nor do the
records of individual medieval ludi give us any help.
Ludus is of course a comprehensive term enough.
There are ludi in villages and small towns from the
beginning of the fifteenth century, and perhaps
earlier, which appear to be dramatic. But their
subjects, in the few cases in which they are known,
are of the religious order, and the derivation of the
religious drama from a liturgical and not a folk

1 Baskervill in Studies in Philology, xvii. 33, from Hist. MS. Comm.
xiv, app. viii, 124. 2 Mediaeval Stage, i. 90, 161.

MEDIEVAL PARALLELS 161

origin is clear enough. There are some faint traces
of a medieval secular drama, but these are related
\& fabliau and romance, which again are not of the
folk. There are Robin Hood plays by the end of
the fifteenth century, such as we have found en-
tangled with the Mummers' Play. The surviving
examples suggest literary hands, working upon the
ballads. 1 Romance may perhaps preserve one hint
of the theme for which we are in search. That is the
'beheading game', as we find it in Sir Gawain and
the Green Knight and elsewhere. The Knight enters
Arthur's hall, and challenges any champion to cut
off his head, on condition of submitting to the same
ordeal in a twelve-month and a day. Gawain strikes
the blow. The knight picks up his head and retires,
reminding Gawain of his promise. When it is
redeemed, Gawain is only slightly wounded, and the
knight reveals that the whole affair was an enchant-
ment of Morgan la Fay. It is called 'a Crystemas
gomen', and Arthur says that it may supply the lack
of 'enterludez'. 2

Naturally the religious drama has itself been
searched for parallels to the Mummers' Play,
which, if established, might serve as evidence of
influence in either direction. Some of those which
have been suggested are not very convincing. No
doubt the language of Octavian and Herod and

1 Mediaeval Stage, i. 177.

2 Sir Gawain and the Green Knight (ed. J. R. R. Tolkien and E. V.
Gordon), 283, 471.

4024 v

i62 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Herod's soldiers, of Pilate and Caiaphas, even, ac-
cording to Tiddy, of God the Father, bears some
resemblance to the vaunts of St. George and his
opponents. 1 'Agans me dar noman stand', says
Herod, and Pilate:

Pus schall I brittyn all your bones on brede,
And lusshe all your lymmis with lasschis. 2

But how else, in unsophisticated drama, are tyrants
and fighting men to talk? One might as well cite
Tamburlaine, who in his less inspired moments
threatens to 'lanch his greedy thirsting throat' for an
adversary. 3 Nor is it possible, as a rule, to find any
clear relationship between Jack Finney and the
cheeky boys who occasionally enliven the pieties of
miracle play and morality. Perhaps an exception
should be made for a particular form of impudence
such as meets us in Kyng Daryus (1565):

Iniquytie. You are two as dronken Knaves

As are betwene this and your owne skyns, so God me
saue.

Parcyalytie. Why, Iniquytie, what doest thou saye ?

Iniquytie. I sayd, ye were two honest men, by my faye.
But surely, I dyd not so thynke,
No, that I dyd not, I sweare by thys drynke. 4

This sort of thing recurs in later morals, and is not
unlike Jack's fooling. 5 But the humour of the

1 Tiddy, 97. 2 Town ley Plays, xiv. 9; York Plays, xxxi. 9.

3 I Tamburlaine, i. 2. 146. 4 Kyng Daryus (ed. Brandl), 263.

5 Trial of Treasure (Hazlitt-Dodsley, iii, pp. 270, 289, 291);
Marriage between Wit and Wisdom (Sh. Soc.), p. 19; Conflict of Conscience
(H.-D. vi, p. 77).

MEDIEVAL PARALLELS 163

equivocation may have appealed to more than one
mind independently. Here and there, too, there
may be a phrase which recalls, not very closely, the
rustic paradox of the Mummers' Play. 1 An earlier
moral (c. 1475) is Mankind. Here the initial speech
of Mercy is interrupted by Mischief, who says:

Yowur wytt ys lytyll, yowur hede ys mekyll, ye are full
of predycacyon.

Later in the play, Mankind beats Now-a-days on
the head with a spade, and Mischief consoles him
with:

I xall smytt of thi hede, & sett yt on agayn.

A quete follows, before the arrival of the devil
Titivillus, who is described as c a man with a hede
that is of grett omnipotens'. 2 Here we may certainly,
if we like, see a double analogy to Big Head's lines,
while the remedy offered by Mischief to Now-a-
days recalls less the 'beheading game' than Jack
Finney's 'magpie' jest. Nearer to the Mock Death
and Cure is a scene of John Redford's educational
moral of Wyt and Science (c. 1 541-8), in which Wit
is killed by Tediousness, and revived, not by a
Doctor, but by Honest Recreation, Comfort, Quick-
ness, and Strength. 3 It proved popular, and was
copied by several imitators. 4 Turning back to the

1 Tiddy, 115.

2 Mankind (Furnivall and Pollard, Macro P/ays), 47, 428, 447.

3 Wyt and Science (ed. Manly), 210.

4 Marriage of Wit and Science (Hazlitt-Dodsley, ii), iv. 2, 3; Marriage
between Wit and Wisdom (Sh. Soc.) 9 p. 3 5 ; cf. S. Gosson in Playes Confuted
(E/iz. Stage, iv. 217).

164 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

miracle-plays, we of course find a Beelzebub, who
might have given a name to the qufoeur of the
Mummers' Play, although it might also have come
direct from S cripture. I am not sure that the qufaeurs
habit of wearing a bell has not had something to do
with his christening. Beelzebub, in fact, in such
miracle-plays as have come down to us, is only a minor
devil in the train of Satan. It is possible that he played
a more important part in Skelton's moral of Nigra-
mansir (1504), if indeed that ever really existed. 1
We may, I think, disregard some rather fantastic
theories which derive Beelzebub and his club from
club-bearing 'deities', such as the Cerne Giant, or
take the Combat in the Mummers' Play to be a
racial one between primitive club-fighters and
invading sword-fighters. 2 Beelzebub is rarely a com-
batant, and miracle-play devils certainly had their
clubs. They had forks, too, for the benefit of the
bad souls in Hell, and it is likely enough that they
sometimes had frying-pans. They wore vizards, or
were, like the bad souls themselves, painted black. 3
But these are obvious forms of theatrical disguise,
and it is impossible to lay much stress upon the
analogy to the blackened face of Beelzebub. fThe
moralities inherited the devil from the miracle-plays,
and Harsnett tells us that 'the nimble Vice would

1 Hazlitt-Warton, iii. 287; cf. Mediaeval Stage, ii. 440.

2 S. Piggott in Folk-Lore, xl. 193; A. B. Gomme, ibid., xl. 292.

3 Mediaeval Stage, ii. 142; M. L. Spencer, Corpus Christi Pageants in
England, 226.

MEDIEVAL PARALLELS 165

skip up nimbly like a Jack-an-apes into the Devil's
necke and ride the Devil a course'. 1 There is only one
example of this in a morality known to us^ But we
may reasonably compare it with the episode of the
Camborne Mummers' Play, in which Beelzebub
carries out the Turkish Knight on his back.

Finally, we come to the Doctor of the Mummers'
Play. I do not think that there is any close resem-
blance between his travels and those which the Vices
of the moralities sometimes claim to have under-
taken. But there is an interesting, if rather intan-
gible, parallel to that fee business, which we have
already traced as far back as 1553. It is an episode
which goes back to the liturgical form of the Easter
Play, which is known as the Visit atlo Sepulchri*
This, in the course of the thirteenth century, came
to include an episode, in which the Marys, on their
way to the sepulchre, stop to buy their spices of a
Mercator. It was a matter of gradual development;
the Vmtatio itself is as old as the tenth century. At
first the Marys only enter bearing thuribles, and
with these cense the altar, which stands for the
sepulchrum. Then they begin to add spices, in
gold or silver vascu/a, ampullae ', pyxides ^ or phialae.
They may now leave the incense to a distinct
thuribularius. As they pass up the choir, they lament

1 S. Harsnett, Declaration of Popish Impostures (1603), 114.

2 Like Will to Like (Hazlitt-Dodsley, iii, p. 356).

3 Mediaeval Stage, ii. 9 ; K. Young, The Drama of the Medieval Church
(1933), an exhaustive account, which I follow here.

166 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

and express their intention of anointing the holy
body. Liturgical phrases are used at first; then
metrical stanzas. One set of these has a passage
referring to the purchase of the ointment.

Sed eamus unguentum emere,
Ut hoc corpus possimus ungere,
Quod nunquam vermes possint comedere.
Heu, quantus est dolor noster! 1

Then the purchase itself is mimed. The Marys turn
on their way to a side-altar and take the vascula from
it. Possibly these may be handed to them by a priest
in silence. But at the next stage there is an Un-
guentarius, Specionarius, or Apothecarlus^ and a
dialogue is supplied.

Mariae. Aromata precio querimus;

Christi corpus ungere volumus :

Holocausta sunt odorifera

Sepulturae Christi memoria.
Ungentarius. Dabo vobis ungenta optima,

Salvatoris ungere vulnera,

Sepulturae eius ad memoriam,

Et nomini eius ad gloriam. 2

In the most fully developed versions of the Visitatio,
this dialogue is much elaborated. It is possible that
there may be some influence from a distinct liturgical
play of the twelfth century, on the subject of the
Wise and Foolish Virgins, known as the Sponsus*
Here the Foolish Virgins attempt to buy oil from

1 Young, i. 285. 2 Ibid., i. 405. 3 Ibid., i. 677; ii. 361.

MEDIEVAL PARALLELS 167

Mercatores, but in vain. Similarly in the Visitatio
of Origny St. Benoite, while the Magdalen already
has her box, the other Marys go to buy. The
dialogue here is in the vernacular, and is probably an
addition to the original text. And the question of
price arises. The merchant offers an ointment for
five besants and a better one for a talent, but when
he hears the intended use,

iel vous donrai pour mainz bien deuz besans
pour le Signeur cui vous parames tant.

The Marys address him as 'Jouenes marchans', and
he accompanies them to the sepulchre. 1 Two other
texts are in Latin, but in these also, for some reason
which is not obvious, the Mercator is iuvents. One
is from Tours. Here he asks a talent, and then an
Alius Mercator intervenes and asks mllle solidos. 2 " The
other is from a Benedictbeuern manuscript, which
may have been the play -book of a band of vagantes.
In this it is the Uxor of the Mercator who fixes the
price, at a talent. 3 Another piece from the same
manuscript is not a Visitatio Sepulchri, but a Passion
Play. 4 It is partly in Latin and partly in German,
and may have been meant for a performance inde-
pendent of the liturgy. Here the Mercator theme
has been adapted to serve as an introduction to the
scene in the house of Simon the Pharisee. The
Magdalen comes in with her Lover and buys
cosmetics. Then she falls asleep, is converted by an

1 Young, 1.412. 2 Ibid., 1.438. 3 lbld. 9 i. 432.

4 J. A. Schmeller, Carmina Burana, 95.

r68 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

angel in 9, dream, returns to the Mercator iuvenis,
pays her talent for ointment, and takes it to the
Master's feet. In the later vernacular religious
drama of Germany, the Mercator scenes enjoyed a
wide popularity, and the adventures of the Mercator ',
his wife and his boy Rubin lent themselves to a
broadly comic treatment, of which, like Professor
Karl Young, I find no trace in the Vmtatto Sepulchri
itself. 1

It is impossible, however, not to recognize a
similarity between the chaffering here, dignified as
it is, and the cruder handling in the Cure of the
Mummers' Play. The very lines of the Origny text
quoted above get a rather startling echo in those of
our Mylor version.

Full fifty ginnes is my fee.
And money to have down,

But sunes tis for is majesty
I will do it for ten pound.

The slain combatant at Mylor is not in fact a King.
At the same time, the quack, in one form or another,
is a pervasive figure, found in classical as well as
medieval literature, and his ramifications are many.
The Mercator episode itself seems to have started
in France or Spain and to have made its way thence
to Germany. In English religious drama there is
hardly any trace of it. There are insular examples
of the Visitatio Sepulchri^ from Dublin and from
Barking, as well as one of the earliest from Win-

1 W. Creizenach, Geschichte des neueren Dramas, i. 108, 244, 409.

MEDIEVAL PARALLELS 169

Chester, but they have not reached that stage of
development. 1 Nor is there any Mercator either in
the Corpus Christi plays, or in those specially devoted
to the Magdalen. Whether he appeared in plays now
lost, we cannot of course say. Only three analogies
to the fee business have come to light, and two of
those are rather remote. Sir David Lindesay's Satyre
of the Thrie Estaitis (1552) has a scene in which
a Pardoner, who has a boy, not here particularly im-
pudent, bargains with a Pauper to sell him a pardon
for a groat. 2 In the Cornish play of St. Meriasek
( 1 504) , the Emperor Constantine, who is a leper, sends
for a Doctor, and gives him ^Tio for a remedy. The
Doctor promises to return with it, but says aside to
his clerk that he knows of none, and they agree that
there is no better herb for a physician than falsehood. 3
Somewhat nearer to the Mummers' Play, if not to
the Visitatio Sepulchri^ is the Croxton play of The
Blyssed Sacrament^ which comes from the latter part
of the fifteenth century. 4 Here is a Mercator^ Sir

1 Young, i. 249, 347, 381. No text is known of the Visitatio at Eyn-
sham Abbey, thus described (c. 1197) in Adam's Vision of the Monk of
Eynsham (H. E. Salter, Eynsham Cartulary, ii. 294), ch. vii, 'matutinis
percantatis et, sicut in eadem ecclesia ilia die annua consuetudine fieri solet,
uisibiliter exhibita representatione dominice resurrectionis et angelice
manifestations, mulieres ad sepulchrum alloquentis, ac regis sui peractos
tarn triumphos ipsis et per ipsas discipulis denuntiantis, ac deinde appari-
tionis ipsius Christi dilectricem suam Mariae in ortolani effigie compel-
kntis, missis etiam celebratis, sacra communionis meruit participation
saginari.' 2 Lindesay, Works (ed. Hamer), ii. 216.

3 Beunans Meriasek (ed. Whitley Stokes), 1378-1485.

4 The Blessed Sacrament (ed. J. M. Manly, Specimens of the Pre-
Shakespearean Drama, i), 1-238, 445-572.

4024 2

170 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Aristorius, who gives a long list of the foreign
countries with which he has traffic. To him comes
the Jew Jonathas, who wants to buy a host for
nefarious purposes. He offers 20 and then 40,
but Aristorius stands out for >ioo. Jonathan's sacri-
lege costs him the loss of his hand, and he applies to
a leech, Master Brendyche of Braban. The leech's
man Colle, who has some touches of Jack Finney's
humour, proclaims a long list of diseases which his
master's art will cure. It savours very much of the
list in the Mummers' Play, and ends with:

All tho that haue the poose, the sneke, or the tyseke,
Thowh a man were ryght heyle, be cowd soone make hym
seke.

Putting it all together, one may perhaps judge that
the evidence permits, rather than compels, the con-
jecture of some give and take between the Mummers'
Play and the religious drama, at least in its later stages.

Saint George.

I have not, of course, forgotten that in the
Mummers' Play the most prominent character is
St. George, and that St. George may well have
figured more largely in religious drama than the
surviving examples reveal. The legend and cult of
the saint have been minutely studied, and may be
briefly summarized. 1 A Passio which already existed
in the fifth century attributed his sufferings to

1 K. Krumbacher, Der heilige Georg in der griechischen Uberlieferung
(1911); J. B. Aufhauser, Das Drachenwunder des heiligen Georg in der
griechischen und lateinischen ftberlieferung (1911); J. E, Matzke,

SAINT GEORGE 171

Dadianos King of Persia, and made him die under
torment and come to life again before he was finally
beheaded. But this came to be regarded as heretical,
and only faint traces of the miraculous revival sur-
vive in later legend. In the orthodox Passio he is
an officer of the Roman army, who suffered martyr-
dom under Diocletian in 303. His vogue was
primarily oriental, spread from Russia in the north
to Abyssinia in the south. St. George is still a
popular herdsman's saint and the centre of much
folk-custom in eastern Europe. This is not so in
England, although the hagiological cult of him
ultimately came westward. There is an Anglo-
Saxon church dedicated to St. George at Southwark,
and about 1074 Robert d'Oili founded a College
of St. George in his new-built castle at Oxford, of
which the most famous member was Geoffrey
of Monmouth. But the medieval veneration of
St. George as a soldier saint is mainly due to the
mingling of East and West in the Crusades. His
day, 23 April, was declared a public holiday by
a Council held at Oxford in 1222, and in 1343
he was made the patron of the newly established
Order of the Garter. To eastern legends is due the
accretion, possibly based upon classical reminiscences
of Perseus and Andromeda or the like, whereby
he became a dragon-slayer and the deliverer of a

Contributions to the History of the Legend of St. George (PM.L.A. xvii.
464; xviii. 99; xix. 449; J. G. Frazer, Golden Bough*, ii. 75, 79,
324-48; Arch. Journat,\\\\.2<n \F.L. xliv. 123; Mediaeval Stage, i. 224.

I 7 2 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

princess who had been offered in tribute to the
monster. A western version of this first appears in
a twelfth-century Prologus to the Passio. Here the
princess is an unnamed daughter of King Sevius,
and the city is Lasia in Cappadocia. There is no
combat. At the sign of the cross the dragon becomes
tame as a lamb, and the maiden leads him into the
city with a cord of her hair. The people are con-
verted and St. George kills the captive dragon. In
the thirteenth-century Legenda Aurea of Jacobus de
Voragine the event has been transferred to 'Silene',
presumably Cyrene, in Libya, and the princess
and her father are anonymous. Later, she may be
Cleodolinda. A vernacular legend was still being
read in English churches at the end of the fifteenth
century. 1 Hagiology has many dragon-slayers, since
the dragon lent itself well to homiletic interpretation
as the devil. But from St. George may well derive
the dragon-slayers of such secular romances as Sir
Bevis of Hampton and Sir Guy of Warwick^ both of
which were put into print in the sixteenth century. 2
Many of the social gilds of the later Middle Ages
honoured St. George as their especial saint, and held
their annual feasts on his day. 3 One was founded
at Chichester in 1368, at Norwich in 1385, at
Coventry in 1424. There were others, certainly

1 S. Rudder, Hist, of Gloucestershire, 461 ; County Folk-Lore, i. i. 48.

2 Sir Beues of Hamtoun (ed. E. Kolbing), E.E.T.S. e.s. 25, 26, 46,
48, 65; Guy of Warwick (ed. J. Zupitza), E.E.T.S. e.s. 42, 49, 59.

3 Mediaeval Stage, i. 221.

SAINT GEORGE 173

or probably, at Leicester, York, Dublin, Reading,
Salisbury, and Louth, and even at quite small places,
such as Aston in Warwickshire, New Romney in
Kent, and Woodbridge in Suffolk. One was estab-
lished at Chester as late as 1537 for the special
encouragement of shooting. The chief ceremony
of the feast-day, often observed also by gilds, such
as that of Holy Cross at Stratford-on-Avon, not
primarily devoted to the saint, was a procession
or 'riding', in which figures of St. George and the
Dragon were carried about. Some places had also
the rescued princess and her parents. At Dublin
they were the King and Queen of Dele, and an
Emperor and Empress also appeared. The maiden
led the Dragon. 1 This recalls the Prologus. So does
a fresco, now no longer visible, in the Gild Chapel
at Stratford, where she is accompanied by a lamb. 2 But
at Norwich, from which our records are the fullest,
the 'lady', perhaps through ecclesiastical influence,
was St. Margaret, who, according to her legend, had
beheld the devil as a dragon in a vision. Here the
procession went to a wood outside the town, and it
was ordered in 1408 that the George should 'make a
conflict with the Dragon'. Sir John Paston in 1473
complained of a truant horse-keeper, whom he had
kept 'thys iij yer to pleye Seynt Jorge and Robyn
Hod and the Shryff off Notyngham'. The playing
was probably at Norwich, where several Pastons
appear in the register of the gild. This gild survived

1 Mediaeval Stage, ii. 365. 2 See Plate i (Frontispiece).

174 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

to 1 73 2. The George and Margaret were suppressed
in 1552, but the Dragon was to continue to c show
himself for pastime'. A figure, known as Snap-
dragon, is still preserved. In the eighteenth century
it was borne by a man concealed in its basket-work
body, and accompanied by a train of 'whifflers', who
juggled with their swords, and 'Dick Fools', in
motley and decked with cats' tails and small bells.
This seems to bring us rather near to the folk-
plays. The Norwich notices of 1408 and 1473 may
suggest something more than a dumb show. But the
only clear evidence for an actual drama of St. George
is at Lydd in Kent in 1456 and probably both here
and at New Romney in other years, at Bassingbourne
in Cambridgeshire on St. Margaret's Day in 1511,
and at York in 1 554.* For Lydd and York there are
no details; a mention of 'Tormentors' at Bassing-
bourne points to a martyrdom. Conceivably a revival
from death and arming by the Virgin, known in
English iconography, was, here or elsewhere,
presented. 2

The Seven Champions.

In the Faerie Queene, St. George is still the
chivalric warrior of the Red Cross and Una takes
the place of the anonymous Libyan princess. But
Spenser's tangle of knights may well have inspired
the Elizabethan hack-writer Richard Johnson to

1 Mediaeval Stage y ii. 338, 383; L. T. Smith, York Plays, xxxv.

2 W. L. Hildburgh in F.L. xliv. 123.

THE SEVEN CHAMPIONS 175

bring together the figures of national heroes in his
Famous Historic of the Seamen Champions of Christen-
dom. This was a romance in prose. It was registered
and a first part printed in 1596. A second part
followed in 1 597. A third was added by one W. W.
in 1686. It is only the first part that need much
concern us. Johnson's champions, other than St.
George, are St. Dennis of France, St. James of Spain,
St. Anthony of Italy, St. Andrew of Scotland, St.
Patrick of Ireland, and St. David of Wales. For St.
George he drew, of course, upon the traditional legend
and probably also upon Sir Bevis of Hampton. But he
worked up the whole into a fantastic story, or con-
texture of loosely related stories, of his own. Before
St. George's birth, his father visits Kalyb, Lady of
the Woods, at whose gate hangs a brazen trumpet.
He blows it, and hears an oracle of the hero's
fortunes. Kalyb steals St. George as a boy and later
loves him. But he encloses her in a rock of stone
and redeems the six other knights, whom she has
imprisoned there. They go on their separate adven-
tures. St. George reaches Egypt, slays the burning
Dragon, and rescues Sabra, the daughter of King
Ptolomy. He loves her, but is betrayed by Almidor,
the black King of Morocco, and is sent to the
Soldan of Persia. He slays two lions who are set
upon him, but remains in a dungeon for seven years.
Ultimately he finds in it a rusty iron engine, digs
his way out, slays the Soldan's stable grooms, and
escapes. He meets a lady at the gate of a tower.

176 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

She warns him that it is held by a giant, and then
warns the giant of his approach. He slays the giant.
He finds Sabra at the court of Almidor, who is
absent. The lovers depart together. Sabra is shown
to be still a maiden by the fact that a lion will not
harm her. This is, of course, from the Faerie Queene. 1
Fear of a pagan invasion of Europe now brings the
Seven Champions together. They make war on
Almidor, who yields to St. George in combat, and
is thrown into a vessel of boiling lead. The Cham-
pions proceed to Egypt. Ptolomy accepts conversion
and banquets them. A messenger tells that Sabra,
left in England, has been falsely accused of murdering
the Earl of Coventry. Ptolomy, in distress, flings
himself from a tower, and is killed. St. George is
chosen king, departs for England, and rescues Sabra.
The Champions now make war on Persia. An
heroic speech by St. George breaks an enchantment
thrown by a necromancer on his companions. The
Soldan is taken, and kills himself by running his
head against a pillar. Here Part I ends. In Part II
Sabra dies, and St. George and his sons have further
adventures, which need not be followed here. Where
Johnson got the name Sabra for the hitherto anony-
mous princess is uncertain. Sir Bevis had a foster-
father Saber, but Hartland says that the rescued
maiden is Sava in a Bosnian ballad. This may come
from the Sevius of the twelfth-century Prologus. 2
It is clear that the text of the Mummers* Play, as

1 F. Q. i.iii. 2 Cf. p. 172.

THE SEVEN CHAMPIONS 177

we have it, owes much, directly or indirectly, to
Johnson's narrative. He furnishes the King of
Egypt, the Black Prince of Morocco, the Soldan,
although he has become in the play a Turk instead
of a Persian. It is curious that Sabra herself, who
figured in the ridings, hardly ever gets a part, since
we cannot identify her with the Woman, who, if she
intervenes in the main action at all, seems to be
represented as the mother, rather than the mistress
of the Agonist. Normally Sabra is relegated to St.
George's initial vaunt. Here too, in one version, we
get, much obscured, St. George's adventure with
Kalyb. 1 It seems to have been mixed up with that in
which he meets a lady at a giant's gate and slays the
giant, and perhaps also with one of St. Anthony, who
frees ladies from a giant's tower, which St. George
does not. But the 'trumpet' at the 'gates divine' sug-
gests the earlier visit of St. George's father to Kalyb.
One might have expected the 'gates divine' to mean
Jerusalem, but although the Seven Champions do ulti-
mately visit Jerusalem in Johnson's Part II, it is not in
pagan hands, and requires no trumpet .challenge. A
Sabra seems needed, at least in those plays in which
the Dragon is himself a combatant. They are not very
many, on the face of it. Perhaps the Dragon proved
difficult to represent under village conditions. But I
believe that he does figure, rather cryptically, more
often than is at first sight obvious. A favourite
combatant is Slasher, to the many variants of whose

' Cf. P . 24.

4024 A a

178 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

name Johnson's story affords no direct clue. And to

Slasher, more than to any other, belongs the vaunt :

My head is made of iron,

My body is made of steel,
My arms and legs of beaten brass ;

No man can make me feel.

I formerly rejected a theory which made Slasher the
representative of the hardness of the frost-bound
earth in winter, and thought that the lines might
merely refer to the armour of a champion. But I
am now sure that I was wrong. They are the
description of a dragon. The following catena will,
I think, place this beyond doubt.

His sides wer hard ase eni bras,
His brest was hard ase eni ston.

Sir Beues ofHamtoun, Auchinleck MS. (1330-40), 2676.

His skales bryghter were than glasse,
And moche harder than any brasse.

Ibid., ed. Pynson (c. 1503), 2427.

And ouer, all with brasen scales was armd,

Like plated coate of steele, so couched neare,

That nought mote perce, ne might his corse be harmd

With dint of sword, nor push of pointed spere.

Faerie Queene (1590), i. xi. 9.

His scales glistering as silver, but far more hard than
brass. Johnson, ch. iii.

His skin more hard than brass was found,
That sword or spear can pierce or wound.

Seventeenth-century Ballad.

They are all dragons.

THE SEVEN CHAMPIONS 179

The enduring popularity of Johnson's romance is
shown by many reprints. 1 The later ones were often
abridgements, and ultimately took the form of chap-
books, which continued to circulate through the
eighteenth century and even later. Of these there
were two types, representing different selections,
although the Sabra incident appears in both. One
was The Life and Death of St. George; the other
The Seven Champions of Christendom, of which there
appear to have been three Parts. The types are already
distinguished in an advertisement by William Thack-
eray about 1685, and again in one by Cluer Dicey of
Aldermary Churchyard in 1 764^ It is worth noting,
therefore, that a description of West Yorkshire 'sword-
actors' about 1875 credits them with two plays. 3 One,
The Pace Egg, was clearly a normal Mummers' Play.
The other, 'most usual', was The Seven Champions,
and in it appeared the King of Egypt and his
daughter, St. George, St. Andrew, St. Patrick, St.
David, St. Denys,and St. James, but not St. Anthony,
who was replaced, sometimes by St. Thewlis, and
sometimes by St. Peter. There is, I believe, no such
saint as Thewlis. St. Thorlac of Iceland is more

1 H. W. Willkomm, Uber "Richard Johnsons Seven Champions of
Christendom (1911); A. J. K. Esdaile, List of English Tales and Romances
(1912), 81.

2 C. Gerring, Notes on Printers and Booksellers (1900), no; J. W.
Ebsworth, Bagford Ballads, i. liv. Thackeray's St. George is in BodL
Woody 254. I; the Aldermary St. George in B.M. 1079, i. 14(5), and
Parts i and ii of the Aldermary Seven Champions in B.M. 1079, i. 13 (12).
All are undated.

3 T. M. Fallow in Antiquary, xxxi. 138.

x8o THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

likely to be meant than St. Theliau or Teilio of
Wales, or an obscure St. Theolus of Nicopolis.
St. George fought each of the other knights for the
hand of the princess. Nothing is said of a Dragon or
of a Doctor, but a Fool, Little Devil Doubt, closed
the performance with his usual 'sweeping' lines.
Unfortunately the observer, although he gives photo-
graphs of the costumes, does not print the text.
Similar plays are reported, with little detail, from
Sussex and from Minety in Wilts. 1

The chap-books, however, reduce Johnson's long
narrative to a very few pages, and there are other
possible intermediaries between Johnson and the
Mummers' Play, which must be taken into account.
There are several ballads of St. George. One, which
exists in several broadsheet copies, with different
imprints, probably none of them earlier than the
middle of the seventeenth century, was also appended
by William Thackeray to his St. George chap-book.
It is entitled St. George for England and the King's
Daughter of Egypt, and its first line runs:

Of Hector's deeds did Homer sing. 2

This follows Johnson pretty closely in most of the
points relevant to the Mummers' Play. I have
quoted its description of the dragon above. But it
omits the Lady of the Woods in her rock of stone

1 F oik-Lore Journal, ii. i ; Mediaeval Stage, i. 221.

2 Texts in Percy, Refyues (ed. H. B. Wheatley), iii. 224 (Pepys Coll.);
Roxburghe Ballads (Ballad Soc.), i. 380 (Roxburghe Coll. i. 128, 129).
Another copy is in Bodl. Wood, 401, f. 115.

THE SEVEN CHAMPIONS 181

and the lady at the giant's gate, who have got into
one version of St. George's vaunt. On the other
hand, as in this vaunt, Sabra is found tied to a stake
when St. George arrives. This is not from Johnson,
who has a stake, but only in the later episode of the
Earl of Coventry. In the printed copies of the ballad
Sabra has become Sabrine, presumably under the
influence of some follower of Geoffrey of Mon-
mouth. She is, however, Sabra in a fragmentary
version of the same ballad found in the Shirburn
MS., and this, in a hand ascribed by its editor to
1609-16, is probably a good deal earlier than any
of the broadsheets. 1 These carry no evidence as
to the date of original publication. Nor do the
ballad entries in the Stationers' Register take us much
further. 'Saint George' is in a long list of ballads
entered to Thomas Pavier and others on 1 4 December
1 624, but a note of reservation of any existing rights
make it clear that they were not all new. 2 On
15 June 1657 a 'St. George for England' was entered
to Nathaniel Brookes, and on i March 1675, both
'St. George' and 'St. George for England' appear
in a second long list of entries to Francis Coles and
others. 3 This, again, certainly includes some transfers
of existing copyrights. Coles and his associates
published one of the copies of the ballad already
described. They also published another entitled St.
George and the Dragon, which begins, 'Why should

1 Text in A. Clark, Shirburn Ballads, 96.

2 Arber, iv. 131. 3 Eyre, ii. 130, 497.

i8z THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

we boast of Arthur and his knights?'. 1 It may well
be the c St. George for England' of 1657 and 1675.
But it is only a rifacimento of another early ballad,
of which a unique copy in the Pepys collection was
printed by W. W., presumably William White, in
1 6 1 2. 2 Here the title is Saint George's Commendation
to all Souldiers, and the first line, 'Why doe you
boast of Arthur and his knightes?' In this pair of
ballads, no story of George or of the other Cham-
pions is told. Their names are merely reviewed,
together with those of many other classical and
romantic heroes, in stanzas, each ending with a
refrain, which runs in 1612:

S. George for England, S. Dennis is for France,
Sing Hony soit qui mal y panse.

That in the later version is practically the same.
And both have, slightly varied, one other passage
which is of interest :

Saint Patricke of Ireland, which was saint George's boy,
And seuen yeeres he kept his Horse, that then stole him

away.

From which filthy fact, as slaves they do remain :
Saint George, saint George, the Dragon he hath slaine.

We have found this perverted in Irish examples of the
Mummers' Play. Another rifacimento, but without
the St. Patrick lines, has the imprint of William

1 Text in Roxburgh Ballads, vi. 727 (Roxb. Coll. 716, 720). An early
reprint is in Collection of Old Ballads (1723), i. 24.

2 Texts in H. E. Rollins, Pepys Ballads, i. 39 (Pepys Coll. i. 87) ; Percy,
Reliques (ed. Wheatley), iii. 288; Roxburghe Ballads, vi. 780.

THE SEVEN CHAMPIONS 183

Gilbertson, and is subscribed S. S., which may stand
for Samuel Sheppard. 1 John Grubb's The British
Heroes (1688), on similar lines, is a piece of literary
facetiousness from Cambridge, and a Birth of St.
George in Percy's Reliques is also sophisticated. 2
These do not help us. Finally, there is a Seven
Champions of Christendom in a Collection of Old
Ballads (1723), the editorship of which is ascribed
to Ambrose Philips. 3 This covers the dragon episode,
as well as that of St. George's escape from the Lady
of the Woods, but does not add anything to what was
already available in the earlier ballads, so far as
St. George is concerned. It incorporates, however,
some adventures assigned by Johnson to other
Champions, including that of St. Anthony, who slew
a giant and released seven ladies from his castle.
Apart from ballads, Thomas Corser, in his Collectanea
Anglo-Poetic a ) describes a manuscript verse-trans-
lation of Johnson's romance by one G. B. under the
title of The Famous History of St. George, which he
had acquired from the Heber collection. 4 G. B.
was once taken to be Sir George Buc, but an allusion
to the interment of Cromwell makes that impossible,
and Corser conjectures the authorship of Gaudy
Brampton, since the name of a Dorothy Brampton is
on the manuscript. I do not know where it now is,
but the version is obviously not likely to have had

1 Eodl. JSFW,40i,f. 117.

2 Percy, Reliques (ed. Wheatley), iii. 215, 293.

3 i. 28. 4 Corser, iii. 172.

i84 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

a popular circulation, and the passages quoted by

Corser furnish no link.

The London stage, as well as the ballad -writers,
made use of St. George. The only seventeenth-
century text which has come down to us is John
Kirke's romantic Seven Champions of Christendom
(1638). The traditional combats of the hero form
no part of the action, but are relegated to a descrip-
tive chorus. 1 This is based on Johnson or on the
chief ballad. Sabra is again Sabrine, and Ptolomy
becomes Pomill. John Warburton, during the first
half of the eighteenth century, included in a list of
old manuscript plays, which he said had been burnt
by a servant, 'St. Geo. for England, by Will. Smithe.'
Of this, if it ever really existed, nothing further is
known, nor can the author be safely identified
with any traceable dramatist of the name of Smith. 2
The Theatre of Compliments (1688) says of Bartholo-
mew Fair :
Here 's valiant St. George and the Dragon, a farce ; 3

and Pope, in the Dunciad (1728), chaffs Elkanah
Settle, driven in his old age to contribute to the
amusements of the Fair, with :

Yet lo ! in me what authors have to brag on !
Reduced at last to hiss in mine own dragon.
Avert it, Heaven ! that thou, my Gibber, e'er
Should'st wag a serpent-tail in Smithfield fair! 4

1 Act iii, sign. F2 V .

2 Elizabethan Stage, iii. 493; W. W. Greg in 3 Library, ii. 231.

3 H. Morley, Memoirs of Bartholomew Fair, 227.

4 Dunciad, iii. 285. According to Isaac Reed in Biographia Dramatica

THE STAGE AND THE FOLK 185

So, too, Edward Young has :

Poor Elkenah, all other changes past,
For bread in Smithfield Dragons hissed at last,
Spit streams of fire to make the butchers gape,
And found his manners suited to his shape. 1

For later periods Professor Nicoll records a St.
George's Day; or Britains 'Rejoice at Covent Garden
in 1789, and a Saint George and the Dragon or the
Seven Champions of Christendom at the Royal Amphi-
theatre in i822. 2

The Stage and the Folk.

Bartholomew Fair was only remotely of the folk.
But travelling companies, in the eighteenth as in
the seventeenth century, were still carrying London
plays abroad, not merely to the standing theatres
which were coming into existence in the larger
provincial centres, but even to small towns and
villages, such as those from which our Mummers'
Plays come. We have, for example, the manuscript
journal of a company led by one Mr. Jones in 1741.
They were on their way between Wales and London,
and performed, for trifling profits, at many small places
in and about the Upper Thames Valley. They are
found at Malmesbury, Cricklade, Swindon, High-
worth, Faringdon, Lechlade, Marcham, Bampton,

(1782), i. 398, Settle appeared as 'a dragon, enclosed in a case of green
leather, of his own invention'.

1 Epistle to Mr. Pope (1730), i. 261.

2 A. Nicoll, Eighteenth Century Drama, ii. 342; Nineteenth Century
Drama, ii. 520.

4024 B b

i86 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

and Witney. Their repertory is noted. Besides
Hamlet^ Othello, Tamburlame, Jane Shore ^ and other
dramas, it included a group of 'entertainments',
among which is, not indeed a St. George, but a Mock
Doctor* To the recollection of such performances
we may at any rate ascribe the various echoes of the
literary drama which have already been noted, of
Addison's Fair 'Rosamond at Mylor, of Touth^ Wily
Beguiled, Buxom Joan, and perhaps Julius Caesar in
the Plough Plays, of Congreve's Love J or Love in a
Sword Dance, of Singing Simpkin and still more of
Mucedorus in many places. 2 But to Mucedorus I
shall return.

The possibility of contact between the stage and
the folk is not difficult to establish. It is not to be
supposed that, after the Reformation and the growth
of the professional travelling companies, local plays
entirely ceased to be performed. Notices of them are
long to be found, scattered over the municipal and
family records which Professor Murray and others
have printed. 3 Perhaps they are most common in
the north and in other areas remote from London.
And no doubt they are of various types. Some are
survivals of the religious drama. The Coventry
gilds were still giving their Corpus Christi plays,
at home and abroad, up to 1573, and in 1584

1 E. Colby in PM.L.A. xxxix. 642, from Add. MS. 33488.

2 Cf. pp. 37, 49, 56, 82, 98, 100, 122, 149, 190, 191.

3 J. T. Murray, English Dramatic Companies (1910); Malone Society
Collections, ii. 258 (Ipswich).

THE STAGE AND THE FOLK 187

abandoned them for John Smith's new show of The
Destruction of Jerusalem. 1 Some are school-plays
produced by the local Holophernes. Some are May
games. There was a Robin Hood play at Bridg-
north in 1588, and players with hobby-horses were
at Nottingham in 1569, Plymouth in 1575, and
Newcastle-on-Tyne before 1594. Davy Jones and
his company furnished a Whitsun pastime at Stratford -
on-Avon in 158 3.* Perdita saw it. 3 There were
Christmas plays, such as the 'young men of the city'
gave at Bath in 1601-6. These might of course be
anything; they might even be the Mummers' Play.
The Shuttleworth family of Smithhills in Lancashire
entertained during 1588-92 players from their
neighbours at Preston, Nantwich, Downham, Roch-
dale, Blackburn, and Garstyng. All the payments
seem to have been made in December or January.
Generally in such records we only get the name of
the town or village from which the visitors came.
I have noted Romney (1562), Hull (1568, 1569),
Tavistock ( 1 569), Cambridge (1571), Derby ( 1 575),
Ipswich (1578), Durham (before 1594), and St.
Budeaux (1567), Anstey (1572), Cropwell (1572),
Barton ( 1 579), Selston ( 1 579), Germoe ( 1 584). This
last group is one of quite small places. From Crop-
well in Nottinghamshire one of our Plough Plays
comes. Occasionally we find a payment for a play
to some individual who cannot be traced as a

1 Mediaeval Stage, ii. 361. 2 William Shakespeare, i. 9.

3 Winters Tale t iv. iv. 133.

i88 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

professional actor, James Candler at Ipswich in 1 569,
Thomas Triply n at Plymouth in 1 571. At Ipswich,
too, the town minstrels under William Martyn more
than once entertained the Bailiff and his brethren;
sometimes it may be with music only, but in 1572
certainly with a play, and in 1569 with 'playing
the ffooles in the halle'. The legislative and adminis-
trative restrictions on plays, mainly aimed at vagrancy,
were not likely to prove an obstacle to such things. 1
All such regulations have their elasticity, and a
strictly local performance under the aegis of a mayor
or of some provincial magnate, himself a justice of
the peace, may be assumed to have been fairly safe
from any interference from a distant Master of the
Revels. Abuses, no doubt, might arise. In 1597
the Privy Council wrote to stop Whitsun plays at
Hadleigh in Suffolk, fearing disturbance in a time
of scarcity. 2 And during 1610-19 a g rou P f
Yorkshire handicraftsmen, led by a family of Simp-
sons, who took to travelling with Catholic plays,
more than once got into trouble. 3 But as a rule
local players did not move far from home. The
notices of them are sparser in the seventeenth century
than in the sixteenth, but they never entirely die
out. Thus in 1622 Lord William Howard of
Naworth Castle rewarded the players of Penrith, in
his own county, and in 1624 those of Warwick,
where perhaps he was on a visit. 4 Even more

1 Elizabethan Stage, i. 269 sqq. 2 Ibid., iv. 321.

3 Ibid^i. 304. 4 Murray, ii. 334.

THE STAGE AND THE FOLK 189

illuminating are the accounts of Francis Earl of
Cumberland at Skipton Castle. 1 In 1606 he gave
4J. 'to the yonge men of the toun being his lordships
tenants and servants, to fit them for acting plays this
Christmas*. In 1635 he paid 5^. to Adam Gerdler,
whom he 'sent for from York to act a part in "The
Knight of the Burning PesteH'V I suspect that
such a temporary organization, as the Earl of Cumber-
land patronized in 1606, accounts for the large
number of players of lords and gentlemen who
appear once and once only, or at long intervals, in
the records, and who certainly must be distinguished
from the regularly established companies. And the
second entry shows that, as might have been ex-
pected, such performers often found it easier to
borrow plays from the London stage than to write
them for themselves.

Here then we get the contact between the stage
and the folk from another angle. I have not,
unfortunately, the material on which to follow the
same theme through the Restoration and the eigh-
teenth century, periods during which, it must be
remembered, the folk was probably on a higher
level of education and culture than that to which
enclosures and Speenhamland doles reduced the
village labourers from whom our texts are mostly
drawn. Two examples of local playing, of very
different dates, are, however, much in point. Of
the first the scene is again the Upper Thames Valley.

1 Murray, ii. 255.

190 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

In the autumn of 1652 certain 'coun trey men, most
of them, for any thing I can heare, all of Stanton-
Harcourt Parish', began to learn an old play of
Mucedorus and Amadine. They played it privately
every week and later 'in a more publike manner
about Christmas', three or four times in Stanton
Harcourt itself, and then in neighbouring parishes
such as 'Moore', no doubt Northmoor, Stanlake,
South Leigh, and Cumnor. Finally, on 3 February
1653, they essayed a representation in Witney. Here
they were unfortunate. Failing to secure the Town
Hall, they went to an old making-room at the White
Hart. There was an audience of three or four hun-
dred. The play began at seven o'clock and was to
take three hours. But at the end of the second hour,
while Bremo was promising to feed Amadine with
quails and partridges, the floor collapsed into a shovel-
board room below, and several persons were killed. 1
John Rowe of Corpus, a nonconformist lecturer at
Witney, tells the sad tale in his Tragicomedia (1653).
With his moral, which is itself as old as the second
century, I am not concerned. But we have already
found the traces of Mucedorus at more than one
point in the Mummers' Play. I may add, as a further
evidence of its popularity, that Francis Coles, the
ballad publisher, issued editions up to 1668, and that
Mucedorus^ a Play is one of the chap-books in
William Thackeray's list of about i685- 2 And it

1 Mucedorus, iv. 3. 32.

2 W. W. Greg in Shakespeart-Jahrbuch, xl. 95; cf. p. 179.

THE STAGE AND THE FOLK 191

was still being given by local players, a century and
a half later, together with St. George and the Fiery
Dragon. Sir Offley Wakeman described in 1884
the performances, forty or fifty years before, but
still within living recollection, at the parish wakes
of a group of villages on the borders of Shropshire
and Montgomery. A few other reminiscences have
been collected by Miss Burne. 1 The earliest notice
is of 1777. The plays were in the open air. The
performers were all men, who borrowed finery from
neighbouring houses. The stage consisted of a
couple of wagons, and there were rarely more than
two actors on the boards together. At one end sat a
chairman, who was also prompter and call-boy. A
prologue offered 'pastime', and at the end sixpence
was asked from each spectator. The most usual plays
were Prince Mucldorus^ St. George and the Fiery
Dragon^ Valentine and Orson, Dr. Forster^ and The
Rigs of the Times. Strange survivals, mostly from
the sixteenth century, if one may assume that Dr.
Forster was Dr. Faustus. It was only from The Rigs
of the Times, unfortunately, that Sir Offley could
recover a textual fragment, which is literary in form.
In all the plays, he says, a Fool or Jester was promin-
ent, wearing bells at his knee, a paper mask, and a
cap of hareskin with the ears pointing upwards. He
'played all manner of megrims', and was 'going on
with his manoeuvres all the time*. The Dragon was

1 Wakeman, Rustic Stage Plays in Shropshire (i Trans. Shropshire Arch.
Soc. vii. 383); G. F. Jackson and C. S. Burne, Shropshire Folk-Lore^ 499.

193 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

a wooden one, worked from the side of the stage by
a pole, and a squib in its mouth yielded fiery breath.
In the last scene it reared up, but St. George struck
off its head with his sword. There was a dragon, too,
'all in green', at Stretton. The coalition of literary
drama and folk-play seems to have been fairly
complete in Shropshire.

The Residual Problem.

It will be well to pause at this point and consider
what advance has been made towards an explanation
of the Mummers' Play. It is clear, I think, that the
traditional text, so far as Saint George is concerned,
is based upon Johnson's romance or some derivative
thereof. It cannot, therefore, be earlier than the
end of. the sixteenth century, and may have been
composed a good deal later. It has only come down
to us in corrupt forms, and although the general
resemblance of these, widespread as they are, points
to a single archetype, it remains doubtful what the
exact outline of this may have been. Did Saint
George, as the romance might suggest, originally
fight, one after another, with the Dragon (Slasher),
the Soldan of Persia (Turkish Knight), and Almidor
of Morocco (Black Prince of Paradise), or only with
one or two of these, and if so, with which ? We can
hardly say. The text has been 'farced' with reminis-
cences of plays such as were being carried abroad in
the seventeenth and even the eighteenth century.
Nor is there anything in the phraseology which

THE RESIDUAL PROBLEM 193

need be of an earlier date than Johnson. Even the
hastily withdrawn insolence of Jack Finney, which
seems to recall the moralities, is no exception. It
passed from the Vices to the clownish serving-men
of the later drama. 1 There is an exact parallel, for
example, in William Rowley's Match at Midnight

Sim. An old diuell in a greasie Sattin doublet, keepe you

company.

Bloodhound. Ha, what 's that ?
Sim. I say, the Sattin doublet you will weare too morrow,

will be the best in the company, sir.

Beelzebub, again, is in the miracle-plays, but he is
also in Dr. Faustus, and that survived in Shropshire
to the nineteenth century. The Presentation and
afterpiece of the Mummers' Play are on the model
of the regular stage. Father Christmas may or may
not have been the original Presenter, but he, too,
is probably not earlier than the seventeenth century.
No doubt Christmas had been personified long
before. Early carols know 'syre Cristemas our
kynge'. 2 A 'Kyng of Crestemasse' rode at Norwich
in 1443, and 'Yule' and 'Yule's wife' at York up to
I572. 3 The revels at St. John's, Oxford, in 1607
were under a Christmas Prince. 4 He is one type of
the familiar Christmas Lord of Misrule. 5 But his
people are a court, not a family. Jonson's Christmas

1 Cf. p. 162. 2 Early English Lyrics, 233.

3 Mediaeval Stage, i. 261.

4 G. Higgs, The Christmas Prince (1922, ed. F. S. Boas).

5 Mediaeval Stage, i. 403.

4024 C C

i 9 4 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

his Masque ( 1 6 1 6) is perhaps responsible for a change
in the notion of him. Here he is 'Christmas, old
Christmas, Christmas of London, and Captain Christ-
mas', and again 'old Gregory Christmas'. And he
has eight sons and two daughters, who do the
dancing. Mince-Pie, who is in the Mummers' Play,
is one of them. 'There should a been and a dozen
I ween', but only Log could be found besides, and
he was too heavy to dance. The actual term 'Father
Christmas' does not emerge, so far as records go,
before two pamphlets related to the puritan attack on
the feast, The Arraignment, Conviction and Imprison-
ment of Christmas (1645) and The Examination and
Tryal of old Father Christmas ( 1 678). But no doubt
itjuse in these suggests that it was known earlier.
There are, however, some important features in
the Mummers' Play which neither Johnson nor
the borrowings from the drama give us. They do
not explain the Fool, so different in quality from the
stylized Court Fool of the stage. They do not
explain the pervasive Woman, whose dramatic func-
tion is so obscure. Above all, unless there was a
revival from death in the miracle-plays of St. George,
as to which so little is known, they leave untouched
the Doctor and his Cure, and that bargaining for a
fee, which are precisely the incidents found, apart
from St. George, in the Jack of Lent procession of
*553 described by Machyn. To the possibility of
a remoter origin for such fundamental elements of
the Play we must now turn.

THE PROBLEM OF ORIGIN

Parallels jrom Western Europe.

Continental analogues, such as have already been
noted for Jack of Lent, throw some further light
on the Mummers' Play itself. There are plenty of
them, and I cannot pretend to be exhaustive. In
many parts of Germany the 'Carrying out of Death'
is linked to acts of another character, which suggest,
not death, but revival. 1 These take various forms.
Sometimes the procession which bears the death
effigy is accompanied by songs which hail the
coming of spring or summer. Sometimes it is
followed by another procession in which a green
tree is carried into the village with similar songs.
Sometimes there is a conflict. Rival songs, celebrat-
ing in turn winter and summer, are sung; and there
may be a combat between a group clad in straw
or furs and another in green or leaves. There is an
example of this also in the Isle of Man, and another
in Sweden. In other places there is no effigy of
death. The tree is brought in, and with it goes a
lad covered from head to foot in leaves and flowers.
He is the Pfingstl or Wild Man, the equivalent of
the English Wod-woz and Jack-in-the-Green. But
his treatment is ambiguous. He is ducked in a
stream or pool. That is only a rain-charm. But
sometimes he is also hunted, and either shot or
decapitated. The rite may stop here, nowadays at

1 Frazer, Golden Bough*, iv (The Dying God), 206-1 1, 233-58.

198 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

least. But also it may be followed, or show signs of
having once been followed, by a revival. Thus in
Saxony and Thiiringen the Wild Man falls to the
ground, but is bled by a doctor and comes to life
again. From Swabia there are two accounts, which
probably have to be pieced together to get the full
story. In a Shrovetide ceremony, Dr. Ironbeard
bleeds a sick man, who falls as dead, and the Doctor
thereupon restores him to life by blowing air into
him through a tube. On Whit-Monday, the Wild
Man, as elsewhere, is executed. No revival is
described, but Dr. Ironbeard, together with a sooty-
faced Moorish king, is in the procession. All this
is very much like the Mummers' Play. The German
rites do not take place at Christmas, but most
often at Whitsuntide or on May Day, and occa-
sionally at Shrovetide or mid-Lent. In Carinthia
and among the gipsies of Transylvania and Rumania
the Wild Man becomes Green George, and goes at
Easter or on St. George's Day, but here is no death
or combat. 1 Sir James Frazer also describes some
Russian seasonal customs in which mythical beings
are lamented as dead, and in one of these the corpse
springs to life again, amid cries of rejoicing. 2

A very remarkable ceremony is the Basque Carnival
Masquerade, as performed in the villages of La Soule
in southern France, between Barn and Navarre. 3

75, 343. 2 Ibid* iv. 261.

3 V. Alford, The Basque Masquerade (Folk-Lore^ xxxix. 68), The Spring-
time Bear in the Pyrenees (ibid. xli. 266).

PARALLELS FROM WESTERN EUROPE 199
There are many characters, who form two groups,
Les Rouges or Les Beaux, and Les Noirs. The
former are elegantly dressed; the latter, ragged
and dirty, are regarded as representing alien non-
Basque elements. The central figure of the Rouges
is a Hobby-Horse, the Zamalzain or Chibalet, with
a crowned rider. He is accompanied by a Cantinitre,
said to have replaced a ruder Bohemienne, a Sweeper,
a Chat with a rattle, a flag-bearer, three shoeing-
smiths, and a number of other attendants, who
should carry beribboned sticks. The Beaux also
include a Monsieur and Demoiselle and a Paysan and
Paysanne. The Noirs are Tinkers with lambs' tails
on their backs, Knife-grinders, Gipsies with wooden
swords, and two Horse-geld ers. These last, unlike
the other Noirs, are tidy. The troops visit each
other's villages, crossing rope-barricades, formerly
set up by old women, but now by men with black-
ened faces. It is thought proper for the local cure to
go away on a holiday. The procession goes from
house to house, with much ribaldry by the Noirs.
Then follows a series of elaborate figure dances in
the place. These culminate in the Godalet Danza,
given as &pas seul by each of the Beaux in succession
about a glass of red wine set on the ground, and
finally by the Hobby-Horse himself. It is a critical
moment, for the rider cannot see the glass. When
the last evolution is successfully performed, he makes
the sign of the Cross with his forefoot. Now comes
the turn of the Noirs, who dance noisily in parody.

200 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

The Gelders pursue the Horse, and make a feint of
operating upon him. He recovers, and dances again.
Certain features have dropped out in recent years.
Once the Gelders made an attack on the Cantiniere.
Once a Tinker's wife gave birth to a baby. Once
a barber shaved the master-Grinder and cut his
throat, and a Doctor, after boasting of his travels,
effected a Cure. An observer of 1856 notes both the
Doctor and an Apothecary, and a Black Horse who
parodied that of the Beaux. He also describes an
episode in which a skin-clad Bear pursued little boys
dressed as Lambs, and was driven off by a Shepherd.
But it is doubtful whether this properly belongs to
the Masquerade. The Bear is found elsewhere in the
Pyrenees as a Carnival figure. He is masked or has
a blackened face, makes a yu$te 9 and pursues the
girls to kiss them. Sometimes he is shot and comes
to life at a blast of a horn or at the incision of a
knife in his throat to dispatch him. Sometimes he is
revived by a Doctor.

The Masquerade has many points in common
with the Mummers' Play, but evidently represents
an even more elaborate development on choreo-
graphic lines than the English Sword Dances. The
Sword Dances themselves have a wide continental
range, especially in Teutonic-speaking districts. 1

1 K. Meschke, Schwerttanz und Schwerttanzspiel im Germanischen
Kulturkreis (1931); R. Wolfram, Sword Dances and Secret Societies
{Journal of English Folk Dance and Song Society, i ( 1 93 2), 34) ; Mediaeval
Stage, i. 190, 201. I have not seen Fr. de Witt Huberts, TLwaarddansen
(1931), which makes some additions from the Netherlands to Meschke's list.

PARALLELS FROM WESTERN EUROPE 201
They are known in Scandinavia, the Netherlands,
Germany, Switzerland, Austria, Hungary, and as
far east as Warsaw in Poland and Siebenburgen in
Rumania. There may be some traces of them in
antiquity. Tacitus describes a spectaculum among
the Germans in which naked youths leapt among
swords and spears. Beowulf has sweorda-gelac as a
metaphor for battle. Gregory of Tours knew of a
sword-fight in a sixth-century heathen cult. Goths
in masks and skins led a procession at Byzantium,
clashing staves and shields, in the tenth century.
But there are no shields in northern Sword Dances.
Early mimi may have adapted the Indus for their
entertainments. There is, however, little to go upon
for the earlier Middle Ages. It is not until the end
of the fourteenth century that any continuous record
begins. It has been most fully studied for Germany
and Austria. Here sword-dancing was practised by
the gilds of many towns throughout the fifteenth
and sixteenth centuries, and only died out under
religious opposition in the seventeenth. From the
sixteenth century onwards it is also found in villages
and here it still survives. One need not assume
that it had its origin in the towns, since gilds are
a late development of social life, and obviously it is
from towns alone that early records, such as entries
of payments in municipal account-books, are likely
to come. But there is always give and take between
town and village, and some of the elaboration of
figures may well be due to the gilds. On the other
4024 D d

202 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

hand, although village life does not make for mental
alertness, it is not unfavourable, at least in youth,
to the co-ordination of muscular movements. Olaus
Magnus in his Historia de Gentibus Septentrionalibus
(1555), describes two types of dance as prevalent,
apparently in Sweden. 1 One was a Sword Dance,
accompanied by pipes or cantllenae^ and in it a rosa
of swords was formed and placed on the head of one
of the performers. The other, which was danced
not with swords but arcubus seu circuits, also had a
rosa. The performers wore bells on their knees, and
a preliminary song told of the deeds of heroes. Here
are clearly the Rose, the bells, and the calling-on
rhymes of the English dances. The same two types
recur in the German and Austrian examples, where
there is a general resemblance between the Sword
Dances proper and others known as Ring, Hoop,
or Garland Dances. And here too the Sword Dances
come very close to the English model. They are
performed by young men, in the open, at various
seasons, but most often at Shrovetide. The dancers
are generally in white, and nearly always wear bells,
in bands on their knees, ankles, hips, or hats. Some-
times their heads or swords are wreathed. The
swords are of metal, or occasionally, in villages, of
wood. The Vortanzer, who may be called a King,
and Nachtanzer are prominent. There are always
one or more accompanying Fools, often with fox-
tails. Occasionally, but not regularly, there is a

1 Text in Mediaeval Stage, ii. 270.

PARALLELS FROM WESTERN EUROPE 203
Woman, called at Ruckendorf the Mehlweib. There
is a qufae. The figures lead up to a final one, almost
invariably called the Rose, but once, at Nuremberg,
the Knopf. The Rose, when made, is often used much
as in England. It is laid on the ground. It is placed on
the head or heads of one or more dancers. But it may
also serve the purpose, not recorded in England, of
a platform, which is mounted by the Vortanzer, and
from which he may address the spectators. The idea
of coronation or exaltation is apparent. There is an
early sixteenth-century woodcut of the Empefor
Maximilian standing upon a Rose, laid on the
ground. 1 On the other hand the Rose is not, as in
England, lifted by the Vortanzer alone. And it is only
exceptionally, and never in villages, that it is placed
round the neck of a performer. Rather more often,
the notion of a death is introduced in a bit of initial
or final dialogue. From Sweden come some rather
obscure verses, which may be really of German origin.
They suggest the execution of one of the soldiers of
Meister Hildebrand, presumably the hero of the
early Htldebrandslied. Liibeck and Clausthal in the
Harz Mountains have sets of calling-on rhymes,
which are remarkably like the English ones. At
Liibeck the dancers are six of the 'Worthies', Kaiser
Karl, Joshua, Hector, David, and Judas Maccabaeus.
At Clausthal they are the Kings of England, Saxony,
Poland, Denmark, and Moorland. With the dancers
come in each case two Fools. At Liibeck they are

1 Reproduction in Meschke, 114.

204 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Klas Rugebart, who may be St. Nicholas, and
Sterkader, who may be the Danish hero Stercatherus
mentioned by Saxo Grammaticus. At Clausthal
they are Hans and Schnortison. And in both cases
the rhymes wind up with a fight and the killing of
one of the Fools. The Austrian dances have also
calling-on rhymes. In these the names are not
heroic, but represent fanciful characters taken from
village life, such as Griinwald, Edles Blut, Wildmann.
A similar variation of type has already been noted in
England. 1 The Death, too, is differently managed
in Austria. It comes at the end of the performance,
not at the beginning. When the Rose is over, one
of the Fools falls to the ground and the other claims
to have killed him. Sometimes this is elaborated.
Before the Fool is killed, he is shaved, or has a tooth
drawn. One may compare the tooth-drawing in
some Mummers' Plays. 2 But this is in the Cure and
may arise independently from the Dragon's tooth.
There is a Cure, 'by all sorts of ridiculous means',
in some of the Austrian plays, but I do not find any
specific notice of a Doctor. Nor do either St. George
or the Dragon appear. There is, indeed, an engraving
after a picture by Pieter Brueghel (1525-64) which
represents a village Kirmess. 3 Here are both a Sword
Dance and a St. George play, but they do not appear
to be related. The Sword Dance turns its back to
a scene in which the Dragon is wheeled towards the
princess and her father, while St. George rides to

1 Cf. p. 127- 2 Cf. 57. 3 See Plate ii.

PARALLELS FROM WESTERN EUROPE 205

meet it with levelled spear. There is no sign of any
combatant to be killed other than the Dragon, and
probably the episode is a 'riding' much like those
of medieval England. Here, too, as at Stratford-on-
Avon, the maiden has a lamb. Fiirth, in Bavaria, also
had a similar ludus^ although the hero is not called
St. George. There was a folk-element in it, for the
Dragon's blood was used to fertilize the flax-fields. 1
Southern Europe seems to be less rich in Sword
Dances; perhaps it has been less thoroughly ransacked.
Examples, however, have been found in several
countries, often in proximity to German borders. 2
France has its Bacubert at Brian^on in the Hautes
Alpes. 3 Here the swords are placed round the neck of
the leader, but the figure does not appear to be called
a Rose. Tabourot in his Orchesographie (1588)
describes a dance called Les Boujfons ou Mattachins,
with bells and swords and shields. 4 The mattacmo of
Italy was also known in Spain and England, but the
use of shields may, as at Byzantium, point to a type
of dance different from that of the north. A Sword
Dance is described, without much detail, in Don
Quixote, and another by a Spanish writer of 1 6 1 1 in
which a figure had the significant name of la
degollada^ 'the beheading'. 5 There seems to be no
sound evidence for a Celtic Sword Dance.

1 Frazer, Golden Bough*, ii. 163.

2 Meschke, 99 ; Wolfram, 3 5 ; E. v. d. Yen-ten Bensel in J.E.F.D.S.S.
1.65.

3 Meschke, 103. I have not seen R. Blanchard, Le BJcubert (1914).

4 Cf. p. 151. 5 Mediaeval Stage, i. 203.

206 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Parallels jrom the Balkans.

The closest congeners of the Mummers' Play itself
have been revealed by recent exploration in those
districts of the southern Balkans which were the
Thrace, Macedonia, and Thessaly of antiquity. 1
The fullest account comes from one of a group of
villages around Viza in Thrace. That its name is
Haghios Gheorghios is, no doubt, a mere coin-
cidence. These villages keep festival on Cheese
Monday in Carnival with dramatic ceremonies. The
leading actors are two Kalogheroi. They wear
head-dresses of goat-skin, or sometimes fox-skin or
wolf-skin, which are brought down over their faces
to form masks. Their shoulders are heavily padded,
their hands blackened, and sheep-bells are tied
round their waists. One bears a cross-bow, made to
shoot ashes from a horn, the other a phallus. They
must be married men. Two unmarried boys, the
Girls (xophaia) or Brides (vvi96s), are their wives.
An old woman, the Babo, carries in a basket a piece
of wood wrapped in rags to represent a cradled child
(Aixvhris), which is regarded as a bastard. Two or
more Gipsies (KOTCTI^AOI), of whom one is a woman,
have also blackened hands, and carry long rods.

1 J. C. Lawson, A Beast-Dance in Scyros (Annual of the British School
at Athens, vi. 125), Modem Greek Folk-Lore ana 1 Ancient Greek Religion
(1910); R. M. Dawkins, The Modern Carnival in Thrace and the Cult
of Dionysus (Journal of Hellenic Studies, xxvi. 191), A Visit to Skyros
(B.S.A. xi. 72); A. J. B. Wace, North Greek Festivals and the Worship of
Dionysus (B.S.A. xvi. 232), Mumming Plays in the Southern Balkans
(B.S.A. xix. 248).

PARALLELS FROM THE BALKANS 207

A bagpiper and some Policemen (90X00*6$), with
whips and swords, and a length of chain for captures,
complete the troop. In the morning there is a qutte,
with some robbing of hen-roosts, and obscene panto-
mine by a Gipsy and his wife on the straw-heaps
before the houses. In the afternoon the drama proper
takes place before the church. There is a dance, in
which the Policemen brandish their swords. Then
the Kalogheroi withdraw. A Gipsy and his wife sit
on the ground. He pounds with a stone, and she
fans with her skirts. It is understood to be the
forging of a ploughshare. The Babo says that her
child is now too big for the basket, and demands
much food and drink and a wife. He apparently
becomes identified with the phallus-bearing Kalo-
gheros, between whom and one of the girls a marriage
takes place. A new scene begins. The bow-bearer
stalks the phallus-bearer and shoots him. There is
lamentation, led by the girl, who throws herself
across the prostrate body. Suddenly the victim
comes to life and arises. It is perhaps at this point
that some one rides upon a donkey, but the accounts
are obscure. It will be observed that there is no
mention of a Doctor. The forging is now repeated
with a real ploughshare, and at the end the imple-
ments are thrown in the air with cries of 'Next year
also!' Now a complete plough is brought in, and
drawn round, contrary to the way of the sun, by the
girls, while the Kalogheroi drive and guide it. Then
the Gipsies and possibly then the Kalogheroi take

208 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

up the drawing. Meanwhile there are further cries,
expressing hopes for a good crop. It may be at this
stage that the Kalogheroi are beaten over their
padded shoulders with rods. The act is mentioned
in the accounts, but not located. The Cheese
Monday festival has been found elsewhere in Thrace,
notably at Kosti and at Adrianople, and also in the
Aegean islands of Skyros and Skopelos. Skyros is
believed to have been depopulated in the seventeenth
century, and not improbably repopulated from
Thrace. But in these places, there is now little more
than a quete. In Skyros an Old Man, a Bride, and a
Frank make horse-play in the streets. All three are
masked. The Old Man wears a shepherd's coat with
the fleecy lining outwards, and on him are tied as
many as fifty or sixty bells. At Adrianople the
Kalogheros himself carries a rod, as his name would
suggest. At Kosti a King, wearing the skin-mask and
bells, and with an oven-broom in his hand, is drawn
in a cart to the church. With him he takes seed, for
which two groups, of married and unmarried men,
struggle, but he casts it on the ground. He is then
ducked in the river. There is a trace of this also
at Adrianople, where the King seems to be distinct
from the Kalogheros.

In Macedonia and Thessaly the local festival is

more often at the New Year or Epiphany than later.

The fullest description is from Kokkotoi, near Mt.

Othrys in Thessaly. 1 The drama took a different

1 A. ofB.S.4. xvi. 232.

PARALLELS FROM THE BALKANS 209

form from that of Thrace, and was given, not in
public, but in house-to-house visits. The troop
numbered twelve: a Bridegroom in a fustanella with
bells on his waist and elbows, a Bride, an Arab in
sheepskin with a mask and sometimes a tail,
a Doctor in professional costume, and eight singers.
The songs were fitted to the dwellers in the house,
bidding a blessing on the crops of a farmer or
the flocks of a shepherd. Meanwhile the Arab
approached the Bride, and offered some familiarity.
A dispute arose. The Bridegroom was killed and
lamented by the Bride. Then she summoned the
Doctor, who wrought a Cure. Some obscenity
between Bridegroom and Bride was followed by
chicken-stealing and a quete. Refusal brought songs
of ill-omen. Such was the custom before the annexa-
tion by Greece. Since then it has fallen into decay,
but survivals, more or less truncated, are still to be
found both in Thessaly itself, and also in Mace-
donia, perhaps more frequently in Vlach than in
Greek districts. Only slight traces of it have been
observed in Greece proper, where boys sometimes
run about with bells, masks, fox-brushes, and a 'bear'
during the twelve nights, or on the last day of
February. Naturally there are a good many variants.
The victim may be the Arab and not the bride-
groom, or he may be an interfering bystander. At
Elassona he is shot with ashes from a blunderbuss.
There is generally a Doctor; a Cure is not always
mentioned. On Mt. Pelion the Doctor will not

4024 E e

2io THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

come without a horse, and an Old Woman carries
him in. Elsewhere the Old Woman sometimes ap-
pears, as at Haghios Gheorghios, with a baby. There
may be supernumeraries in skins, representing bears,
vampires or devils. Masks, blackened faces, and bells
are constant features.

It is impossible not to be struck by the close
resemblance of these Balkan ceremonies to the
English folk-plays. Here are the skin-clad figures
which correspond to the hairy caps and tails of the
Fools, and possibly underlie the traditional costumes
of curled paper. Here are the masks, still sometimes
worn by the Mummers, or replaced by pendant
strips on the head-dress. Here are the blackened
hands and faces, which combine with the tails to
turn the Fool into a Devil. Here are the inevitable
bells, and the padded shoulders, which become the
humps of Happy Jack and his fellows. Here, at
Haghios Gheorghios at least, is the dance with
its brandished swords. Here, again at Haghios
Gheorghios, is the connexion with the plough. It is
not in the English Mummers' Play, but of this,
apart from St. George in the one and the 'wooing'
element in the other, one can only regard the Plough
Play as a variant. Here is the old woman with the
bastard. She too belongs to the Plough Play, but
is she not suggested by the dolls which Happy Jack
carries? Above all, here are the Mock Death and
the Revival, and in many places, although not at
Haghios Gheorghios, the Doctor who is its agent.

A PRIMITIVE LUDUS 2tl

A Primitive Ludus.

Perhaps, therefore, we may go a step further, and
guess at the existence, unrecorded by the ecclesiastical
prohibitions, of some original European ludus, with
just this Mock Death and Revival as its central point
and with men dressed as animals for its performers.
There are regional differences. I think it is quite
possible, in view of the distribution of Sword Dances
in this island and on the Continent, that the Sword
Dance represents a Danish variant and the Morris
Dance its English equivalent. But if the ludus was
widespread here, it becomes a little more easy to
understand the transmission over so large a part
of the country of a more or less literary text, fitted
to it in the seventeenth or eighteenth century. In the
north and east other elements, choregraphy here and
wooing there, probably themselves of comparatively
late development, have resisted the complete domina-
tion of this text. And the east may have preserved,
in the connexion with the plough, at least one
original feature which has been lost elsewhere.

The ludus ) again, may very well have attracted to
itself fragments of folk-custom which were not
primarily its own. There is, for example, the
sweeping with a broom. 1 One cannot lay much
stress on the isolated oven-broom borne by the King
at Kosti. I do not think that the Mummers' broom
is a witch's broom, as has been suggested. No doubt

1 Cf. pp. 19, 23, 67, 101, 125, 131, 208.

212 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

the Woman is sometimes, for obvious reasons, chosen
to wield it, and in the Bassingham Plough Play the
Woman is the Old Witch. But at Askham Richard
alone is she a rival healer. The broom, however,
is not without a meaning. Of course, it serves a
practical purpose in clearing a space for the Mum-
mers or avoiding a dust, but it also, especially as used
by Little Devil Dout, carries a suggestion of good or
ill luck about it. Presumably it reflects the super-
stition against removing fire or ashes from the house
on New Year's Day, which is just what Little Devil
Dout threatens to do. This was already known to
Caesarius of Aries in the sixth century: 'Sunt enim
qui calendis ianuariis auguria observant, ut focum de
domo sua . . . cuicumque petenti non tribuant'. 1
It was the sacred 'new fire', lit from that made for
the community at the beginning of each year. 2
A more difficult problem is presented by the Hobby-
Horse. The Balkans only yield a doubtful donkey
at Haghios Gheorghios and the Old Woman who
bears the Doctor on Mt. Pelion. There are a few
English plays in which he is brought in similarly,
and at Longborough his steed is called both Beelze-
bub and the Old Woman. In others the presence of
a horse at the door is suggested. In an unlocated
play, the Turkish Knight, after a second Combat, is
not cured, but taken away on horseback. Mr.
Douglas Kennedy regards the Hobby-Horse and

1 Mediaeval Stage y i. 217, 238, 269; ii. 297, 303.

2 Frazer, Golden BougA*, x. 120-46, 246-69.

A PRIMITIVE LUDUS 213

the Doctor as having been originally one and the
same character. 1 It would, I think, be as easy to
argue for the identification of the Hobby-Horse with
the Agonist. At Revesby he fights with the Fool. At
Goathland the death is brought about by a fall from
his back. There is an analogy in the Basque
Masquerade, where it is the Hobby-Horse who
suffers at least a minor death. But, generally
speaking, I feel that the relation of the Hobby-
Horse to the plays is rather a loose one. He belongs
as much or more to the summer games. At Padstow
he is dipped on May Day in water, like the King
at Kosti and the Wild Man of the German Whitsun
rites. In the plays themselves he is often a super-
numerary. At Goathland a Fisherman on a Hobby-
Donkey accompanies the dancers. In Dorset the
Presenter rides away when all is over. Near Bridport
'Pony' is brought on in the afterpiece, and teases the
girls. Mr. Kennedy would make 'Pinney', rather
than the more usual 'Finney', the original name of
the Doctor's boy. At Frodsham in Cheshire, where
the play is on All Souls' Day, two Drivers bring in
Dick when the Quete is over, and sing a dialogue
which records his travels through C lcky-Picky' and
the land of Cockaigne, and his poverty in old age.
Similarly at Ormskirk in Lancashire comes Old
Hob with a speech by his Groom:

He 's travelled through Ireland, France, and Spain,
And now he's back in Old England again.
1 2j.E.F.D.S.\\i. 17.

2i4 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Old Hob, like Pony, attacks the spectators. Mr.
Kennedy notes the reseriiblance between the Horse's
travels and those of the Doctor. But I doubt whether
he is right in calling the Ormskirk episode a 'frag-
ment* of a play. It seems to be an independent
Hobby-Horse quete by Pace-eggers, introduced by
calling-on rhymes, like those of the Sword Dances.
And of such independent quetes there are examples
elsewhere. In Yorkshire mummers with masks and
black faces take a white horse round at Christmas,
with a song of The Poor Old Horse? This gives him
no 'travels', and is found, apart from any quete^
in Oxfordshire and Wilts. 2 But Wilts with a Hob
Nob at Salisbury, Wales with a Mari Lwyd,
Cheshire with a 'Dobby-Horse', Gloucestershire,
and Derbyshire also have the quete^ and it is wide-
spread, under the name of 'Hoodening', in Kent. 3
There are similar rites with animals other than a
Horse. Dorset has its horned 'Ooser', which was
probably so used; 4 Wilts its 'Christmas Bull' at
Stourton; 5 Gloucestershire its 'Old Broad', also a bull,
at Kingscote; 6 and the Scottish Highlands a cow. 7 In
Wilts, too, a 'Wooset' appears, not seasonally, but as
part of the 'rough music' for village offenders. 8

1 W. Henderson, Notes on the Folk-Lore of the Northern Counties, 67;
R. Bell, Ancient Poems of the Peasantry of England, 184.

2 A. Williams, Folk-Songs of the Upper Thames, 155.

3 P. Maylam, The Hooden Horse (1909).

4 Somerset and Dorset Notes and Queries, ii. 2 89.

5 Antiquary, K.$.,iv. 380. 6 Ditchfield 28.

7 Frazer, Golden Bough*, viii. 322.

8 Wilts Arch. Magazine, i. 88.

A PRIMITIVE LUDUS 215

Derbyshire, Yorkshire, and Nottinghamshire have a
Ram', or 'Christmas Tup'. 1 Lincolnshire has its 'Old
Sow' at harvest suppers. 2 Occasionally there is a link
with the plays. At Worksop in Nottinghamshire
Beelzebub takes part in a dialogue about the
Christmas Tup, using his familiar lines and Big
Head's. At Walton-le-Dale a servant-girl from a
distance was alarmed by a man disguised as a sheep,
who knocked at the door to introduce the Plough
Jags. 3 The frightening of girls is a usual incident
in these quetes. It is a function also of the Pyrenean
Bear. 4 William Barnes would derive c Ooser ', from
nvurse, which Layamon uses in the sense of 'devil'. 5
Naturally these local Hobbies are of ruder type
than the elegant combinations, with robes dis-
posed so as to furnish both a mantle for the rider and
trappings for the steed, which prance in the Basque
Masquerade or the May games of courtly revels.
An actual dried skin or an old skull is often employed
and manipulated by concealed men. I am inclined
to think that there must have been an early variant
of the ludus^ in which a single beast-figure was alone
represented. It is easy to understand that some
merging of the types might later come about. And
here we do seem at last to arrive at some con-
firmation from ecclesiastical prohibitions, for these

1 9 N.Q. ii. 348, 5 1 1 ; J. of Derbyshire Arch. Soc. xxix. 3 1 ; LI. Jewitt,
Ballads and Songs of Derbyshire, 115.

2 9 N.Q. ii. 348. 3 County Folk-Lore, v. 186.

4 Cf. p. 200. 5 Glossary of the Dorset Dialect, s.v.

216 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

often, and from dates as early as the fifth century,
include a ceruulus, hinnicula y vitula or iuvenca among
thcportenta of pagan festivals specifically reprobated
for Christians. They are mostly continental, but
a letter of the West Saxon St. Aldhelm (c. 685)
refers to the abandonment of the cervulus. 1 However
this may be, the Hobby-Horse seems to represent
an even more complete incorporation of man with
animal than the skin coats and masks and fox-tails
of the plays. It is conceivable that a folk-belief may
also explain the singular passage of the Revesby
play, in which the Fool, looking through his
spectacles at the Lock, which is here called a 'Glass',
beholds his own face. He has apparently slain the
Hobby-Horse, and is to be slain himself. Sir James
Frazer records the superstition that it is an omen of
your own death to see your face in a mirror while
a death is in the house. 2 I have noted the wearing
of bits of looking-glass by Cornish Mummers and
Yorkshire Sword-Dancers. 3

The Significance of the Ludus.

A primitive ludus, still performed by the folk on
seasonal occasions, may be expected to have some
significance other than that of mere amusement, even
though it may only dimly survive in a vague notion
that the whole thing is done for 'luck*. That signifi-
cance, in the case of the Mummers' Play, must now

1 Mediaeval Stage, i. 258, 330; ii. 302.

2 Golden Bough*,i\i. 94. 3 Cf. pp. 83, 126.

THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE LUDUS 217

be considered. One cannot, of course, get beyond
a theoretical reconstruction, based on the study by
anthropologists of the mental habits of men in various
stages of civilization and in all parts of the world.
Early man obtained his food by searching for natural
products. In open country he became a hunter of
wild animals. In time arose, here a pastoral culture,
through the taming of animals, and there an agri-
culture, through the deliberate sowing and tending
of food-plants, also originally wild. It is believed
that agriculture began with the activities of women,
collecting seeds for their own sustenance in the
absence of the hunters. Then, perhaps because of
the shrinkage of hunting-grounds through changes
in climatic conditions, men also took to agriculture,
and a nomadic or semi-nomadic existence was re-
placed by the settled life of villages. Man is distin-
guished from other creatures by his capacity for
reflection and imagination; and in his quest for food
he came to conceive of some potency in the food-
animal or food-plant itself which might supply his
needs or, if withdrawn, might leave him to starvation.
Let us adapt a phrase from Matthew Arnold, and
call it a stream of tendency which makes for fertility.
It was absent in the lull of winter, came again with
the budding of all things in the spring. He sought
to stimulate it, with cries of lamentation or rejoicing.
He had also the mimetic instinct. He splashed water
to bring rain and lit fires to bring warmth. He leapt
high, that the crops might grow high. And he

4024 F f

218 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

essayed to bind the potency to himself by physical
contact, making a solemn ceremony of his eating
and drinking at critical seasons, dressing himself in
green leaves, or in the skins of slaughtered animals.
Presently the potency began to take shape for him
as something vaguely akin to his own spirit. There
it was, incarnate in some particularly splendid beast
or flowering tree. Man is upon the point of inventing
a god, but as yet a phytomorphic or theriomorphic
god, not an anthropomorphic one. When agri-
culture became a male pursuit, the men took the
theriomorphic notion with them. The vegetation
spirit is not only in the tree or sheaf, but also in the
animals that haunt the cornfield, and communion
with it in either form makes for well-being. 1 Mean-
while there is a parallel development; one can hardly
synchronize the stages. But all men are not equal in
capacity. Some one, more gifted mentally or physi-
cally than his fellows, takes the lead. He is the
medicine man who works the charms. He slays the
sacred animal or cuts the sacred tree, and is the first
to wrap himself in leaves or skin. A double portion
of the indwelling spirit becomes his. Anthropology
has shown in detail how out of the medicine man
grows the priest, and out of the priest grows the
semi-divine king. Unfortunately the potency thus
acquired does not endure. It fades in the winter,
and another arises to slay the exhausted leader, and
takes his place in the festival of a new spring. The

1 Mediaeval Stage, \. 102, 116.

THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE LUDUS 219
story does not end quite here. The medicine man
is, after all, the most cunning, as well as the boldest,
of his clan. He proves his value in war or govern-
ment. And he manages to prolong his reign; for
a second year perhaps at first, then for three, or
eight, or nine, or twelve, or until his vitality does in
fact show signs of decay. He may be allowed to
fight a would-be supplanter for his life. In the end he
maintains his position, until a natural death overtakes
him. And if somebody must be slain annually, let it
be a substitute, a son of the king, a volunteering tribes-
man, a criminal, a captured stranger. Let him enjoy
the attributes of a king for a few days and do some
priestly rites, and then let him fall. Ultimately, as
manners soften, nobody is really slain, but the festival
has still its Mock King, and very likely a Mock
Death. The proto-history, here so briefly summar-
ized, may be studied at length in the pages of Sir
James Frazer, although he does not, perhaps, always
distinguish with sufficient clearness between the
divine fertilization spirit and the still human priest-
king into whom a measure of the divine potency has
passed. 1 One ought not, I think, to call the slaying
of the old priest-king a sacrifice. It may come to
be so regarded, by a confusion, in later myth. But
the actual sacrifice, at the festival at which it forms
part, is of the fertilization spirit in animal form, and

1 Golden Bough*\ i, ii (The Magic Art and the Evolution of Kings) ; iv
(The Dying God), 1-195; The Magical Origin of Kings (1920); cf. The
Mediaeval Stage, i. 1 34.

220 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

it is in animal-skins that the worshippers array them-
selves.

The Balkan ludi, especially that at Haghios
Gheorghios, and presumably therefore the conjectural
old English ludus^ to which they show so close a
resemblance, can hardly be anything but survivals
of ceremonies intended to promote agricultural
fertility. The ceremonial ploughing and the scattering
of the seed at Kosti would by themselves be sufficient
to establish this. 1 It is indeed explicit in the language
used at Haghios Gheorghios. Many of the minor
features represent well-known crop charms; the
dipping in a river at Kosti; 2 the ashes of a fire blown
from bow or blunderbuss and perhaps also used to
blacken hands and faces; 3 the beating with rods; 4
the clashing of iron, always potent, in swords and
bells; 5 the actual or suggested sexual intercourse. 6
The Quete represents a perambulation taking the
beneficent influence from house to house. Con-
ceivably the men dressed as women may carry on
some recognition of the original dominance of
women in agriculture. Above all, here is the slain
priest, who has become the Agonist of the drama.
As elsewhere, festival usage is both conservative and
reconstructive. The death remains, but its old
significance has been forgotten, and it is given a new

1 G.2?. 3 ii. 282; iv. 149. 2 Ibid. v. 236; Mediaeval Stage, i. 121.

3 G.B. x. 336-40; Mediaeval Stage, i. 124.

4 G.B. viii. 322; ix. 259-73.

5 Ibid. iii. 232; ix. 247, 251. 6 Ibid. ii. 97-104.

THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE LUDUS 221
one. The mimetic instinct appears again in a new
aspect, as an element of play, which accompanies the
serious business of the festival with the free and
self-sufficing activities of minds and limbs released
from labour, and stimulated by unusual meat and
drink. Thus arises a simple drama, in which a revival
is added to the death, and a consciousness of the
waning and waxing of the seasons is reflected. It
becomes an integral part of the festival ceremonies,
done like the rest for the luck of the village in field
and fold. So, at least, one may conjecture that things
went. It is possible, however, that the linking of
death and revival may have been motived by the
existence of two ceremonies, one of lamentation in
mid-winter, the other of hopefulness in spring. But
for this there is not much evidence beyond that of
a natural logic. Our ludi are clearly, as they stand,
spring ludij attaching themselves to the beginning
of agricultural work when winter is over. In fact
they occur at various dates from Christmas to Easter,
and in Germany even invade the full summer festival
of Whitsun. But that is not of importance. Rites,
which were originally seasonal, have been curiously
dislocated in the process of adaptation to super-
imposed calendars. It is a little odd, perhaps, that
no such ludi seem to belong to the autumn ploughing
and sowing of wheat, which is the real beginning
of the agricultural year. But so it is. Was the plough
merely brought back for a ceremonial rite, at the
time when the first crops ought to be springing?

222 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Or can we infer that not wheat but barley, which is
sown in spring, was the first grain to come under
cultivation ? The use of both goes back far beyond
human record, and a priority between them has
never been established. So far as the Balkans are
concerned, if a winter rite is to be taken into account,
it must be upon a ground other than that of survivals.
And one cannot quite disregard the possibility that
their ludl may have been affected by later develop-
ments of what may now be called religious cult than
those which they primarily represent. For the evolu-
tion of belief went on. In time the phytomorphic
or theriomorphic conception of divinity became an
anthropomorphic one. Man has now made a god in
his own image, and the animals and plants are merely
attributes. It is prayer that now establishes contact
between god and man. The primitive sacrificial
meal of communion passes into an oblation by which
goodwill may be obtained. Temples are built at
tribal centres, and a new class of priests arises, temple
ministrants who devise legends, some of which have
it for their object to give an explanation of features
in the traditional rites. Viza was the seat of Thracian
kings. Here the god was Dionysus, and from Thrace
the cult of Dionysus seems to have spread with
Thraco-Phrygian peoples into Asia Minor and pos-
sibly into pre-Hellenic Crete. 1 It spread also into
Hellas itself, where Dionysus became associated
with native divinities, such as Apollo at Delphi,

1 I follow chiefly L. R. Farnell, Cults qf the Greek States, v. 85 sqq.

THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE LUDUS 223

Athene at Athens, and Demeter at Eleusis. He
remains primarily a fertility-god, with the bull, and
perhaps the goat, and the phallus as his attributes,
and a special connexion with viticulture. Women
take a large part in his worship. The actual Thyiades
of Delphi correspond to the Maenads of legend, and
the name of one of the latter, Baubo, sounds very
like the Babo of Haghios Gheorghios. Reminis-
cences both of the slain priest and of the sacrificial
meal may account for the legends in which he is
torn to pieces and devoured. The notion of the
sacrifice of a man-god has crept in. Even at Delphi,
however, the death of Dionysus was more soberly
commemorated. Here he had a tomb near the seat
of the oracle, and there was a secret ceremony in the
temple of Apollo 'whenever the Thyiades awaken
Liknites'. Thus he became to some extent a god of
the underworld, as well as of fertility. In Asia, too,
his cult may have influenced that of the Phrygian
Attis and the Syrian Adonis, both of whom died
with lamentation and arose with rejoicing. The
name Liknites links Delphi with Crete, where
another legend told of the cradling of the god in
a Afxvov. And here it was as a child that he was
believed to have been slain and to have come to life
again. The Delphic ceremony was in winter, but
celebrated the revival rather than the death. At
Athens Dionysus had several festivals from December
to March, and some shifting of original dates may
have taken place. The chief evidence for two dates

224 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

comes from Plutarch, who says that the Phrygians
observed a sleep of the god in winter and an awaken-
ing in spring. 1 On the other hand, the death and
revival of Attis came close together in spring. We
are still left in doubt as to what the primitive
Thracian custom may have been, and consequently
as to the precise contribution of mimesis to the
Indus.

In the Haghios Gheorghios ceremony, too, we
find the Liknites, and a birth, miraculous growth, and
marriage are curiously interwoven with the drama of
death and revival. Conceivably the Xixvov might
originally have been nothing more than a basket in
which the seed-corn was carried. But if the child in
it came out by reaction from a later temple gloss, the
emergence of Dame Jane and her bastard in Lincoln-
shire would be a puzzle. Moreover, there are other
elements at Haghios Gheorghios which suggest a
linking of the notions of human and agricultural
fertility. It may be, therefore, that in the primitive
festival itself a child was laid in the seed-basket to
promote child-birth during the coming year.

It would take me too far from my subject, even
if I had the necessary learning, to discuss the much
controverted topic of the possible relation of such a
ludus as we find at Haghios Gheorghios to the origin
of drama in Greece; of its irdcOos to tragedy, of its

1 Plutarch, De hide et Qsiride (378 F ), OpOyes 5 T6v 0e6v
Xncovos KoOeOSeiv, Olpovs 5 ypT|yopvai, Tcni nv KareuvaanoOs, Tcni
6' dvey^paeis pccKxeOovres ocOrcp TeAoOcn.

THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE LUDUS 225

ribaldry to comedy. 1 I will only note that in the
earliest Greek comedy emerge two figures which can
be traced through the ages, and still endure. One is
the Quack Doctor, the other the padded Hump-
back, an invaluable resource for all makers of rude
fun, who desire to combine the maximum of noise with
the minimum of discomfort to the performers. 2 Our
concern is with the English ludi, and here we must be
content to discern, dimly enough beneath the accre-
tions of dance pattern, chivalric romance, histrionic
and folk-lore borrowings, and sentimental wooing,
a primitive nucleus in which skin-clad worshippers,
accompanied by a traditional Woman, capered about
the slain figure of a man who had been King of the
feast. Originally they were all Fools together, but
various grotesque types have emerged. The name
Tool' derives from the Latin jollis, a wind-bag,
through the puffed cheeks of mimi. In this respect
the Revesby play, with its multiplicity of Fools, may
resemble the original type most closely. Here the
chief Fool is the Agonist and other Fools are his sons.
Elsewhere an Agonist is sometimes the son of a Fool
Presenter or of Father Christmas, who has replaced
him. 3 There is some confusion, because St. George
is also son of the King of Egypt, whose daughter he
married. That the Woman should sometimes become

1 W. Ridgeway, The Origin of Tragedy (1910); G. G. A. Murray,
The Ritual Forms Preserved in Greek Tragedy, in J. E. Harrison, Themis
(1912); F. M. Cornford, The Origin of Attic Comedy (1914); A. W.
Pickard-Cambridge, Dithyramb, Tragedy, and Comedy (1927).

2 Pickard-Cambridge, 230, 261, 418. 3 Cf. p. 39.

4024 G g

226 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

mother of the Agonist is intelligible enough. I do
not think that the relation of father and sons
indicates anything beyond the relation of the leader
of the revel to hisjami/ia or troop. Tiddy suggests
that the Agonist was originally regarded as the son
of the Antagonist. 1 The Bearsted play, where the
Antagonist says Tve killed my own beloved son',
might point in this direction. It recalls the Sohrab and
Rustum theme. One cannot, however, argue from
a single exceptional case, which may be a corruption.
It would be more logical to think of the Antagonist,
as the New Year, slaying his father the Old Year.
Such a notion might be found in the Revesby play.
But one must be chary of attributing too much
symbolism to primitive man. The performers are
also Mummers. That term, however, is of very
general significance, and may have been taken over
from more sophisticated revels. Mumming, from
the fourteenth century onwards, seems to mean little
more than 'disguising*. The folk Mummers, indeed,
are also Guisers. A derivation has been sought both
from some equivalent to the low German mumme,
'a mask', and from 'mum* in the ordinary sense of
'mute'. Some early court mummings, which intro-
duced, not drama, but dice-playing for seasonal
luck, took place in silence. Our plays are not silent,
but an observer of 1890 thought that she had seen
one which was, at Mullion in Cornwall. She adds
that it was understood that the anonymity of the

1 Tiddy 74.

THE SIGNIFICANCE OF THE LUDUS 227
actors should be strictly respected. 1 No doubt also
a Mummer will sometimes tell you that he wears
spectacles, or puts a smear of black on his face, so
that he may not be recognized, but disguising, after
all, is part of the convention inherent in all drama.
And although a primitive ludus may have been
largely in dumb-show, it formed part of a public
cult, and there can have been no secrecy about it.
The most we can suppose is that ecclesiastical opposi-
tion led to secrecy later. I hardly think that secrecy
can be the explanation of the curious phrase 'In
comes I hind before' or 'all hind before' in the
Presenter's speeches at Sapperton and Lower Hey-
ford, and incorporated as his name Old Hind-
before at Icomb. It is true that there are savage
initiation rites in which the initiate suffers a mock
death, and must profess oblivion of his past. When
he re-enters his home, he must stumble in backwards,
as if he had forgotten how to walk. 2 But I suspect
that 'Old Hind-before' is merely a corruption of
'Old Aint Been Before', as a variant of the familiar
self-description of Big Head. I have not, in fact,
noticed that particular form in the Quete, but at
Peebles the Presenter, in introducing his troop,
seems to give a further corruption of it, by saying :

Muckle head and little wit, stand ahint the door.
The notion of secrecy, however, has been developed
by a student of the Sword Dances into a theory which

1 Mediaeval Stage, i. 21 1, from F. L. x. 351.

2 Frazer, Golden Bough*, xi. 251.

228 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

finds their origin, not in seasonal rites but in initia-
tion rites. 1 The Austrian dances are performed by
youths who form rigid associations, and the shaving
and tooth-drawing which there precede the death
can be paralleled from the initiation ceremonies of
other close corporations. That is true; it is also true
that a Mock Death is itself a feature of savage
initiations. Nevertheless it may be suggested that
the Austrian associations have merely taken over
the tradition of what was once a public ludus, just
as the late societes joyeuses of western Europe took
over the Feast of Fools when it was abandoned by
the churches. 2

It may, perhaps, be taken for granted that dance,
as well as drama, was a feature of the original ludus,
since dance, like mimesis itself, is play, in the free
exercise of energies released at festival from the
control of labour. The Haghios Gheorghios cere-
mony began with dance, and it survives as the pre-
dominant feature in the Sword and Morris Dances.
From the Mummers' Play proper it has practically
vanished. Here and there, however, traces of
rhythmical motion are to be found. They have
been noted, for example, in Sussex, together with
the formation of a Lock, which suggests an
affinity to the Sword Dance. 3 And Thomas Hardy
recalled how, in the Dorset of his youth, 'the
performers used to carry a long staff in one hand

1 R. Wolfram in Journ. of English Folk Dance and Song Soc. i. 38.

2 Mediaeval Stage, i. 372. 3 Sharp, Sword Dances, i. 12.

WOOING PLAYS 229

and a wooden sword in the other, and pace monoto-
nously round, intoning their parts on one note, and
punctuating them by nicking the sword against the
staff'. 1

Wooing Plays.

In conclusion, something must be said of the
wooing episodes in the English plays. These, of
course, only occur in Plough Plays, although
there are some faint traces elsewhere of rivalry for
a woman as a motive for the Combat. 2 The Balkan
Iudi 9 as already noted, have a sexual element, and
in those of Macedonia and Thessaly the motive of
rivalry is prominent. It is interference between a
bride and bridegroom, which provokes the death.
This is reported also from Castleborough in Ireland,
although unfortunately the text of the play is not
recorded. 3 At Castleborough, as in some of the
Thessalian examples, the interferer is not a member
of the troop, but a bystander. One remembers that
the temporary priest-king, slain as a substitute for
the real one, might be a captured stranger. In
Epirus, where the inhabitants are mainly Hellenized
Vlachs, there is a spring revival ceremony without a
combat. 4 A girl or young boy lies on the ground
to play Zaphiere. The body is covered with leaves
and flowers. There is a dirge and Zaphfere leaps up

1 W. Archer, "Real Conversations, 34.

2 J. Jackson, Hist, of Scottish Stage (1793), 409, 'in a remote part of
England', possibly Yorkshire; J. Mactaggart, Scottish Gallovidian Encyclo-
paedia (ed. 1876), 502 (Galway).

3 P. Kennedy, Banks of the Boro, 223. 4 A. ofB. S. Athens, xix. 249.

230 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

amid cries of joy. An attractive modern variant comes
from Brianfon in Dauphin^. Here a leaf-clad man
falls asleep and is awakened by the kiss of a maiden.
A similar custom is known in Russia. 1 I have heard
of no English parallel, although of course a festival
King often has his Queen. The notion of a sleep and
an awakening seems to represent an exercise of mimesis
distinct from that which joined a death and revival.
One may fancy it underlying the story of the Sleep-
ing Beauty. A special study of the English wooing
episodes has been made by Professor Baskervill, to
whose learning I am at many points indebted. 2 He
regards the theme, no less than that of the death and
revival, as derived from a primitive Indus much like
that traceable in the Balkans:

In the grouping and relation of the stock characters and
in the symbolic rites the plays of the two regions are close
akin. In both it is customary for a young couple to mate
and for an old and previously mated pair to play some part
in connection with this new marriage; for another man,
often an old man or daemon, to claim the lady or bride,
though in the English plays it is not clear that this is the
motive for the slaying, as it is in a number of the Greek;
and for an old woman to appear with a bastard child,
though she does not lay claim to the bridegroom in the
Greek as in the English plays.

And of the Plough Plays, in particular, he says:
The constant element in the wooing plays of England

1 Frazer, Golden Bough*, ii. 92.

2 Mummers 9 Wooing Plays in England (Modem Philology, xxi. 225);
The Elizabethan Jig (1929).

WOOING PLAYS 231

is the wooing of the 'Lady* by a man who is usually repre-
sented as old. In all in which the wooing is more than
a slight fragment he is rejected for another suitor, who is
usually a young man and the leader of the games, often in
the r6le of the 'Fool'. In a number, an old woman with a
child is also rejected. There is little doubt that the rejec-
tion and marriage symbolize the virgin union of the
representatives of the new season and the displacement of
the representatives of the old season. With the wooing
a renouveau, or slaying and reviving of one of the chief
characters, is often found in a form that seems to be an
integral part of the symbolism of the wooing plays.

And he adds:

The form peculiar to the wooing plays represents not
only the rejection of an old person, but the slaying in
addition.

Professor Baskervill thinks that the wooing theme,
passed from the primitive ludus to medieval folk-
ludt) inspired the caroles and through them various
forms of literary poetry such as the pastourelles, and
were continued in the 'pastimes' attributed to
shepherds and shepherdesses by Elizabethan writers.
From these it was taken up into the plays and 'jigs'
of the professional stage, and finally handed back
by travelling companies to a later folk. But through-
out it remained prominent in popular songs and
ballads, including many dialogues in which a girl
reviews her suitors, and rejects the old for the young
or the rich for the poor. With the latter part of
Professor Baskerviirs history, from the caroles on-
wards, I have no quarrel. Such a double interaction

232 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

between the folk and the stage is likely enough.
And the Fool's Wooing, in particular, goes a long
way back. It is in a scene of Lindesay's early
sixteenth-century Satyre of the Thrle Estaitis, where
a Courtier, a Merchant, and a Clerk woo the Auld
Man's wife Bessy, while he sleeps, but she takes the
Fool for his personal attractions. 1 It is in the stage
jig of The Wooing of Nan, printed by Professor
Baskervill from a late sixteenth-century manuscript,
where a rejected lover, the 'father's eldest son' of the
Plough Plays, is already, as in some other perversions
of the original theme, a 'farmer's son'. 2 It seems
to be remembered in the induction to The Taming
of the Shrew. 3

Lord. This fellow I remember,

Since once he played a farmer's eldest son :
'Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman so well :
I have forgot your name ; but, sure, that part
Was aptly fitted and naturally performed.

Player. I think 'twas Soto that your honour means.

Here Soto, who has been looked for elsewhere, may
well, as Professor Baskervill suggests, be the Sotto
or Fool. It is with the derivation of the caroles from
the primitive Indus that my doubts come in. There
is a considerable hiatus. Certainly the caroles con-
cerned themselves with love and wooing. And
probably they advanced from song accompanied by
dance to something very like drama in such themes

1 Works (ed. D. Hamer), ii. 22, 11. 142-75, 208-37.

2 Elizabethan Jig, 432. 3 T. ofS. Induction, i. 83.

WOOING PLAYS 233

as those of Bele Aelis and Robin and Marion. The
singing games of children, in which they survive,
are often more or less dramatic. 1 But the caroles are
not primarily seasonal performances. No doubt they
made their appearance at festivals and occasionally
bear a trace of the regtna avrillosa and herje/os. But
they were also the amusement of any leisure hour.
And they were the amusement of girls, who do not
take part in the ritual Iudi 9 except through their
androgynous representative. One must not forget,
moreover, that the mimetic instinct did not operate
once and for all in primitive days. It is a permanent
factor in the human make-up, and may have taken
a fresh start in the caroles, as it obviously did in the
liturgical drama. The theme of wooing, as Professor
Baskervill himself points out, is a natural one in any
age of society. It does not, like the unnatural notion
of a revival after death, require any such recondite
explanation as the survival of a fragment of early
mentality affords. I am sceptical too about the stress
laid in Professor Baskervill's theory upon the
antithesis between age and youth as symbolizing the
replacement of the old by the new year. Apart from
the undesirability of ascribing to the makers of the
agricultural ludus a tendency to symbolism which
really belongs to a philosophic habit of thought, I
do not feel that either the Balkan Plays or the Plough

1 Mediaeval Stage, i. 166-72, 188; R. Meyer, J. B&lier, P. Aubry,
La Chanson de Bele Aelis (1904); A. B. Gomme, Traditional Games
(1894-8).

4024 H h

234 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

Play really observe the pattern which he lays down
for them. At Haghios Gheorghios it may be in-
tended that the child should become the Kalogheros
who marries, but he is the slain and not the slayer,
and nobody is described as old except the Babo, and
she is clearly his mother and not a rival of his bride.
In the very numerous Macedonian and Thessalian
examples, again, it is not 'often*, but twice only, that
the Arab or other interferer is said to be old. 1 And
so too with the Plough Plays. There are fourteen,
of which two, from Bassingham and Broughton,
may be of an earlier type than the rest, into all
of which the recruiting theme is introduced. At
Bassingham and Broughton and in one other case a
specifically Old Man is a rejected suitor, but both
at Bassingham and Broughton he is only one among
four or five, of whom one other at least, the 'eldest
son*, must be young. So, of course, must be the
rejected Recruit of the larger group. The accepted
Fool is called 'young man* at Bassingham and
Swinderby and in one other case. In the Revesby
play, which is on different lines from the normal
Plough Plays, he is old and the father of sons, who
become his rivals, although one of them, Pickle
Herring, is 'old*. Nor is the slaying always of the old.
There are few of the characters in our plays who do
not sometimes figure as Agonists. The old Dame Jane
appears in thirteen of the Plough examples, and in
three she is killed, not by a young man, but by the

1 A.B.S. Athens, xvi. 244; xix. 255.

WOOING PLAYS 235

equally old Beelzebub. He is himself killed twice,
but it is the 'young' Fool who is killed at Bassingham.
The ordinary Mummers' Plays certainly give no
support to Professor Baskerviirs theory. In them,
if there is any distinction of age, it is the 'son* who

It is, no doubt, the Fool 'father* at Revesby.

own impression is that it is safest to regard the
divergence of the Plough Plays from the ordinary
type of Mummers' Play as due to the merging of
the traditional !udus-motivt of Death and Revival
with an independent Wooing Play of later origin.
That the repertory of even the nineteenth-century
folk was not limited to St. George and the Dragon
we know from the Shropshire record. The Plough
Plays, in fact, do not always include a Combat.
There is none at Broughton and none at Swinderby.
And from Mumby in Lincolnshire comes a descrip-
tion, unfortunately without a full text, of a Fool's
Wooing, which is not called a Plough Play, and
is said to have been given by Morris dancers in the
week before Christmas. Here again there was no
Combat, and part of the dialogue appears to have
been in prose, between a Tom Fool, a Farmer's Son,
a Lady or Witch, and a Parson for the wedding. 1

1 County Folk-Lore, v. 220.

LIST OF TEXTS

[The plays, unless otherwise specified, are by Mummers, cer-
tainly or probably at Christmas. Names of plays or players given
in the sources are in inverted commas. The references not cited in
full are to C. R. Baskervill, Mummers' Wooing Plays in England
(1924, Modern Philology, xxi. 225 mostly from Addl MS. 33418);
R. Bell, Ancient Poems, Ballads, and Songs of the Peasantry of England
(1857)5 P. H. Ditdifeld,0/d English Customs (i%()6); J. M. Manly,
Specimens of the Pre-Shaksperean Drama (1897); C. J. Sharp, The
Sword Dances of Northern England, i-iii (n.d., 1912, 1913);
R. J. E. Tiddy, The Mummers' Play (1923); and to Notes and
Queries, the publications of the English Dialect Society, the Folk- Lore
Record, Folk- Lore Journal, Folk- Lore and County Folk- Lore of the
Folk- Lore Society, and the Journal of the English Folk-Dance Society.
I have to thank Mr. Douglas Kennedy, the Director of that
Society, for some unprinted versions.]

BERKSHIRE

1. Drayton. MS. of Miss Hobson.

2. Hoe Benham. S. Piggott in F. L. xxxix. 273.

3. Lockinge. S. Piggott in F. L. xxxix. 271.

4. Stanford-in-the-Pale. S. Piggott in F. L. xl. 262.

5. Sunningwell. MS. of Mrs. C. S. Sidgwick.

6. Swallowfield. Lady Constance Russell, Swallowfield, 336.

7. Witley. S. Piggott in F. L. xl. 265.

8. Unlocated. Ditchfield, 310.

BUCKINGHAMSHIRE

9. Penn. A. H. Cocks in Records of Bucks, x. 172.

10. Wooburn. A. H. Cocks in Records of Bucks, ix. 222.

CHESHIRE

11. Frodsham. 'Soul-Caking Play' (Nov. i). M. W. Myres in

F.L. xliii. 97, with photograph.

12. Halton. 'Soulers' Play' (Nov. i). R. Holland in English Dialect

Soc. xvi. 506.

LIST OF TEXTS 237

CORNWALL

13. Camborne. 'Christmas Play.' Tiddy, 144.

14. My/or. 'Play for Christmas.' Tiddy, 148; T. Petering N. Q.

i. 390.

15. Unlocated. W. Sandys (Jan Trenoodle), Specimens of Cornish

Provincial Dialect (1846), and with variants in Christmas
Carols (1833), 174, and as 'Christmas Play of St. George
and the Dragon' in Christmastime (1852), 298.

CUMBERLAND

1 6. Whitehavenl 'Alexander; or the King of Egypt.' W. Hone,

Every Day Book (1838), ii. 1646, from chap-book of T.
Wilson, Whitehaven, practically the same version as that of
the Newcastle chap-Book.

17. Unlocated. Easter Pace Egg Play. F. Gordon Browne in

10 N.Q. vii. 30.

1 8. Unlocated. 'The Sword-dancers.' S. Piggott in F. L. xl. 272.

DERBYSHIRE

19. Brimington. MS. of Mr. J. W. Shipley.

20. Chesterfield. MS. of Mr. J. W. Shipley.

21. Church Broughton. S. Piggott in F. L. xl. 268.

22. Repton. 'Guisers' Play.' S. Piggott in F. L. xl. 270.

23. Unlocated. Copied by Mr. J. W. Shipley from a local paper.

24. Unlocated. J. O. Halliwell[-PhillippsJ. Contributions to Early

English Literature (1849).

25. Compiled. Christmas. 'George and the Dragon' or 'The Pace

Egg'. G. John in F. L. xxxii. i8i,from several NE. Derby-
shire versions, probably including chap-book elements.

DEVONSHIRE

26. Bovey Tracey. Tiddy, 157.

DORSETSHIRE
27,28. Symondsbury. (a) Before 1874. J. S. Udal in F.L.R. iii.

92; (b) 1880. J. S. Udal in Somerset and Dorset Notes

and Queries, ix. 9.
29. Unlocated. J. S. Udal in F.L.R. iii. 102.

238 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

DURHAM

30. Houghton-Ie-Spring. Sword Dance. W. Henderson, Notes on

the Folk- Lore of the Northern Counties (1879), 67.

31. SwalwelL 'Sword-dancers' or 'Guizards'. Sharp, i. 72.

32. Winlaton. Sword Dance. Sharp, iii. 91.

33. Unlocated. Sword Dance. Bell, 175, from Sir C. Sharpens

Bishoprlck Garland.

GLOUCESTERSHIRE

34. Cinderford. Tiddy, 161.

35. Icomb. Tiddy, 174.

36. Kempsford. Tiddy, 248.

37. Longborough. Tiddy, 180.

38. Sapperton. Tiddy, 170.

39. Weston-sub-Edge. Tiddy, 163.

HAMPSHIRE

40,41. Burghclere. (a] Tiddy, 185; G. E. P. A. in N.Q. cxlvi.
436; (b) possibly from Dorset. Tiddy, 189.

42. Bursledon. Tiddy, 192.

43. Kingsclere. G. E. P. A. in N.Q. cxlvi. 453.

44. Overton. 'Johnny Jacks Play/ Tiddy, 195.

45. St. Mary Bourne. J. Stevens, St. M. B. (1888), 339.

46. Unlocated. W. C. in 2 N.Q. xii. 493.

47. Compiled. G. Long, The Folklore Calendar (1930), 222, from

Overton, Longparish, and other places, with photographs.

KENT

48. 'The Seven Champions.' Bearsted. MS. of Miss Coombes.

HEREFORDSHIRE

49. Ross. E. M. Leather, Fott- Lore of Herefordshire (191 2), 141.

LANCASHIRE

50. Manchester. Easter? 'The Peace Egg.' Chap-book of J.

Wrigley in B.M. 1077, g. 37 (27), with cuts of characters;
probably the same version as those noted as bearing imprints

LIST OF TEXTS 239

of other booksellers in Manchester (10 N.Q. vii. 32;
R. Holland, Glossary of Cheshire Words), Rochdale (D.
Kennedy in 2 J.E.F.D.S. iii. 31), and Preston (12 N.Q.
i. 390), and substantially the same as that of the Yorkshire
chap-book (infra).

51. Satterthwaite and Hawkshead. Pace Egg Play. H. Stone-

hewer-Cooper, Hawkshead, 334. I have not seen this.

LEICESTERSHIRE

52. Lutterworth. W. Kelly, Notices of the Drama at Leicester

(1865), 53; Manly, i. 292; Mediaeval Stage, ii. 276.

LINCOLNSHIRE

53,54. Bassingham. Plough Plays (1823): (a) Men's Play. Bas-
kervill, 241; (b) Children's Play. Baskervill, 246.

55. Broughton. Plough Play. 'A Christmas Play' (1824). Basker-

vill, 250.

56. Bulky. Plough Play. Tiddy, 237.

57. Hibaldstow. 'Ploughboys.' C. F. L. v. 178.

58. Kirmington. 'Plough Jacks' Play.' Tiddy, 254.

59. Kirton-in-Lindsey. Plough Play. C. F. L. v. 183.

60. Revesby. 'The Plow Boys, or Morris Dancers.' F.L.J. vii.

338; Manly, i. 296.

61. Somerby and Briggs. 'Plough Jaggs.' M. Macnamara in

Drama, x. 42.

62. Swinderby. Plough Play (1842). Baskervill, 262.

63. Unlocated. Plough Play. 'Recruiting Sergent.' Baskervill,

259.

64. Unlocated. 'Plough-Jags' Ditties.' C. F. L. v. 182.

65. Unlocated. Plough Play. C. F. L. v. 176.

66. Unlocated. Plough Play. H. G. M. Murray- Aynsley in Revue

des Traditions Populaires, iv. 609.

MIDDLESEX

67. Chiswick. G. W. S. Piesse in 2 N.Q. x. 466.

68. Sudbury. L. F. Newman in F. L. xli. 95.

240 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

NORTHAMPTONSHIRE

69. Badby. 'Mumies.' Tiddy, 222.

70. Thenford. A. E. Baker, Glossary of N. Words and Phrases

(1854), 11.429.

NORTHUMBERLAND

71. Beadnell. Sword Dance. Sharp, ii. 39.

72. Earsdon. Sword Dance. 'Morris Dancers.' Sharp, i. 82.

73. Newcastle! 'Alexander and the King of Egypt. A mock Play,

as it is acted by the Mummers every Christmas.' W. Sandys,
Christmastide^ 292, from Newcastle chap-book (1788),
practically the same version as that of the Whitehaven chap-
book.

74. North Walbottle (from Bedlington). Sword Dance. Sharp,

iii. 103.

NOTTINGHAMSHIRE

75,76. Clayworth. (a) Plough Monday. Tiddy, 241; (i) Tiddy,
246.

77. Cropwell. Plough Monday. Mrs. Cha worth Musters, A

Cavalier Stronghold (1890), 388.

OXFORDSHIRE

78. Bampton. Ditchfield, 320.

79. Cuddesdon. 'The Mummers' Act.' Tiddy, 217.

80. Is/ip. Ditchfield, 316.

8 1. Kirtlingtonl G. A. Rowell in F.L.J. iv. 97.

82. Leafield. Tiddy, 214.

83. Long Hanborough. A. Parker in F. L. xxiv. 86.

84. Lower Hey ford. 'The Mummers' Performance.' Tiddy, 219.

85. Shipton-under-Wychwood. 'Bold Robin Hood.' Tiddy, 209.

86. Thame. F. G. Lee in 5 N.Q. ii. 503; Manly, i. 289.

87. Waterstock. Tiddy, 206.

88. Unlocated. Edward Jones, Welsh Bards (1794), 108.

SHROPSHIRE

89. Newport. 'Guisers' Play.' G. F. Jackson and C. S. Burne,

Shropshire Folk- Lor *, 484.

LIST OF TEXTS 241

SOMERSETSHIRE

90. Keynsham. 1822. Baskervill, 268, from J. Hunter's Addi-

tional MS S. (B.M.), 24542, 24546.

91. Unlocated. Tiddy, 159.

92. Unlocated. J. A. Giles, Hampton (i 848), 1 76 (fragments eked

out by composition from memory).

STAFFORDSHIRE

93. Eccleshall. 'Guisers' Play.' C. S. Burne in F.L.J. iv. 350.

94. Hamstall Ridware. 'The Mummers' Play.' D. Kennedy in

2 E.F.D. iii. 33.

95. Stone. W. W. Bladen, Notes on the Fott- Lore of North Staf-

fordshire. I have not seen this; cf. F. L. xiii. 107.

SUSSEX

96. Chithurst. MS. of Mr. Clive Carey.

97. Cocking. 'Tipteerers' Play.' Tiddy, 200.

98. Compton. 'Tipteerers' Play.' MS. of Mr. Clive Carey.

99. Holllngton. 'The Seven Champions.' S. Arnott in 5 N.Q.

x. 489.

100. Ovlngdean. Tiddy, 203.

101. Rogate. 'Tipteerers' Play.' MS. of Mr. Clive Carey.

102. Selmeston. 'The Mummers' Play.' W. D. Parish, Dictionary

of the Sussex Dialect (1875), 136.

103. Steyning. 'Tipteers' or Tipteerers' Play.' F. E. Sawyer in

F.L.J. ii. i.

104. West Wittering. 'Tipteers' Play'. J. L. C. Boger in Sussex

Archaeological Collections > xliv. 178.

WARWICKSHIRE

105. Great Wolford. Tiddy, 229.

1 06. Ilnungton. Tiddy, 226.

107. 1 08. Newbold. W. H. D. Rouse in F. L. x. 186, with

variants from Rugby and photographs.
109. Plllerton. Tiddy, 224.

WESTMORLAND
no. Ambleside. Pace Egg Play. D. Kennedy in 2 F.D.S. iii. 36.

4024 ! i

242 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

WIGHT, ISLE OF

in. Unlocated. 'The Christmas Boys.' D. A. Chart in 10 N.Q.
vi. 481.

WILTSHIRE

112. Alton Barnes (from Stanton St. Bernard). D. Kennedy in

2 F.D.S. iii. 32.

113. Potteme. 'The Christmas Boys' or 'Mummers'. W.Buchanan

in Wilts Archaeological Magazine, xxvii. 311.

114. Stourton. E. E. Balch in Antiquary^ n.s., iv. 380.

115. Compiled. Wilts Arch. Mag. \. 79, from Avebury, Wootton

Rivers, and other places.

WORCESTERSHIRE

1 1 6. Broadway. A. Taylor in 'Journal of American Folk- Lor e^

xxii. 389.

117. Leigh. Cuthbert Bede in 2 N.Q. xi. 271.

1 1 8. Malvern. Tiddy, 232.

YORKSHIRE (East Riding)

119. Escrick. Sword Dance. Sharp, iii. 19.

1 20. Ripon. Sword Dance. D. Kennedy in 2 F.D.S. iii. 23.

YORKSHIRE (North Riding)

121. Ampleforth. Sword Dance. Sharp, iii. 50.

122. Arkengarthdale. Sword Dance. M. Karpeles in 2 F.D.S.

33-

123. Bellerby. Sword Dance. M. Karpeles in 2 F.D.S. ii. 35.

124. Coxwold. D. Kennedy in 2 F.D.S. iii. 38.

1 25. Flamborough. Sword Dance. Sharp, ii. 28.

1 26. Goathland and Egton. Sword Dance. M. Karpeles and D.

Kennedy in 2 F.D.S. ii. 475 iii. 27.

127. Haxby and Wigginton. Sword Dance. Sharp, iii. 86.

128. Hunton. Sword Dance. M. Karpeles in 2 F.D.S. ii. 42.

129. North Skelton (from Loftus). Sword Dance. 'Plough Stots.'

2 F.D.S. i. 28.

130. Skelton. D. Kennedy in 2 F.D.S. iii. 26.

131. Sleights. Sword Dance. 'Plough Stots.' Sharp, ii. 13.

LIST OF TEXTS 243

YORKSHIRE (West Riding)

132. Acaster Malbis . 'Mummers' Book for Plough Stottes', written

on copy of 'The Pace Egg (St. George and the Dragon),
Joust for (Plough) boys', a Chap-book of William Walker
and Sons, London and Otley, apparently identical with the
Leeds Chap-book. D. Kennedy in 2 F.D.S. iii. 27.

133. Askham Richard. Sword Dance. Sharp, iii. 77.

134. Grenoside. Sword Dance. 'Morris Dancers.' Sharp, i. 54.

1 35. Handsworth (from Woodhouse). Sword Dance. Sharp, iii. 37.

136. Heptonstall. Easter. 'Paceakers' Play/ Tiddy, 234.

137. Kirkby Malzeard. Sword Dance. Sharp, i. 37.

138. Leeds. 'Peace Egg.' F. W. Moorman in Essays and Studies

(English Association), ii. 134, from chap-book sold in
Leeds and other towns, clearly the same version as that of
J. O. Halliwell[-Phillipps], Popular Rhymes (1849), 2 3 X >
and that of the Lancashire chap-books (supra).

139. Linton-in-Craven. Sword Dance. Bell, 181.

140. Midgley. 'Pace Egg'. Easter. Adapted from no. 138. Hali-

fax Courier and Guardian^ March 28 and April 4, 1931.

141. Sower by. Sword Dance. M. Karpeles in 2 F.D.S. ii. 43.

142. Wharf edale. Sword Dance. Bell, 172.

143. Unlocated. Sword Actors. 'The Seven Champions.' De-

scribed, with photographs, by T. M. Fallow, Antiquary,
xxxi. 1 38, as distinct from 'The Pace Egg'.

WALES

144. Tenby. R. Chambers, Book of Days (1864), ii. 739, from

Tales and Traditions of Tenby.

MAN, ISLE OF

145. Unlocated. 'The White Boys' Play' (1845). S. Piggott in

F. L. xL 273.

IRELAND

146. Ballybrennan (Wexford). P. Kennedy, Dublin University

Magazine, Ixii. 584, and The Banks of the Boro y 226.

244 THE ENGLISH FOLK-PLAY

147, 148. Belfast, (a) W. H. Patterson, 'The Christmas Rhymes'
in 4 N.Q. x. 487, from a chap-book; (b) Tiddy, 141,
probably from The New Christmas Rhyme Book, a
chap-book of J. Nicholson, Belfast.

149. Braganstown (Louth). B. Jones in F. L. xxvii. 304.

150. Dundalk (Louth). B. Jones in F. L. xxvii. 302.

SCOTLAND

151. Falkirk (Stirling). Hogmanay (New Year's Eve). W. Hone,

Every Day Book (1838), ii. 18.

152. Fife. Description in C. F. L. vii. 144.

153. Papa Stour (Shetland). Sword Dance. Mediaeval Stage^ ii.

271, from W. Scott, The Pirate (1821).

154. Peebles. R. Chambers, Popular Rhymes of Scotland (1870),

165.

155. Roxburgh. Description by J. Curie in Times Literary Supple-

ment (26 Nov. 1931).

156. Stirling. 'Guisards.' [J. Maidment], Galations (c. 1815).

UNLOCATED

157. Sharpens London Magazine^ i (1846), 154.

158. Archaeologist^ i. 176. H. Sleight, A Christmas Pageant Play

or Mysterie of St. George^ Alexander and the King of Egypt.
This is said to be 'compiled from and collated with several
curious ancient black-letter editions'. I have never seen or
heard of a 'black-letter' edition, and I take it that the
improbable title is Mr. Sleight's own.

159. Sword Dance. K. Mullenhoff, Festgaben fur G. Homey er

(1871), 138, from Ausland (1857), no. 4, f. 81.

SUBJECT INDEX

A etc on and Diana 9 38.

'Activity', 17.

Agonist, 23, 220, 225.

Agricultural ritual, 216-24.

Almidor, 175.

Amplefortk Play, 131-50.

Antagonist, 23, 226.

Anthony, 88, 98, 122, 175, 177.

Apology, 38.

Armour, 84.

Arthur, 150.

Ashes, 206, 209, 212, 220.

Babo, 206, 223.

Bacubert, 205.

Balkan parallels, 206-10.

Ballads, 180.

Banners, 124.

Bartholomew Fair, 184.

Basque masquerade, 198.

Bassingham Play, 91-8.

Bastard, 100, 206, 210, 224, 230.

Beating, 89, 206, 208, 220.

Beelzebub, 14, 33, 63, 65, 85, 102,

164, 193.
Beggars, 125.
Beheading game, 161.
Bells, 86, 126, 151, 164, 174, 191,

202, 206, 208, 209, 210, 22O.

Besom Betty, 101, 125.

Bessy, 88, 90, 125, 131, 152, 232.

Big Head, 63, 163, 227.

Black Prince of Paradise, 28, 85,

177.
Blackening, 70, 85, 90, 127, 151,

164, 199, 200, 210, 220, 227.

Bladders, 86, 90, 127, 152.
Blessings, 21, 70, 207, 209, 220.
BIyssed Sacrament, 169.
BIy the some Wedding, 103.
Bride, 69, 87, 208, 209.

Buffpns, 151, 205.

Burial, 62, 1 50.

Buxom Joan, 100.

Bystanders, 39, 130, 209, 219, 229.

Call for Doctor, 38, 51.

Calling on rhymes, 23, 127, 202,

203.

Captain Collier, 3 1 .
Caroles, 231.
Carols, 70.

Carrying out, 61, 165.
Carrying out of Death, 159, 197.
Cervulus, 216.

Chap-books, n, 38, 61, 179.
Cheese Monday, 206.
Christmas his Masque, 193.
Cicely, 100, 121.
Cleodolinda, 172.
Clergyman as Agonist, 130.
Clown, 14, 125.
Cockaigne, 49, 53, 150, 213.
Combatants, 23-33, 59 IOI
Conflation of texts, n, 60, 149.
Costume, 83-7, 90, 126, 216.
Crane, TOO.
Crop charms, 197, 205, 208, 213

217.

Cure, 41, 51-9, 61, 103, 129.
Curly, 32, 152.

Dance, 70, 121, 123, 129, 199,

207, 211, 228.
Degollada, 205.
Devil Dout, 14, 67, 180.
Devils, 164, 210.
Dionysus, 222.
Diphilo and Granida, 71.
Dispute, 33-8.
Doctor, 41, 50, 130, 156, 169, 194,

209, 225.

SUBJECT INDEX

Dolls, 87, 101, 210.

Dorset plays, 88.

Doubling of parts, 82.

Douting fire, 67, 212.

Dr. Faustus, 121, 191.

Dr. Ironbeard, 198.

Dragon, 29, 57, 84, 86, 87, 121,

177, 191, 204.

Drama, Greek origin of, 224.
Dulle, 157.

Ecclesiastical prohibitions, 160, 2 1 5,

227.

Eesum Squeezum, 102.
Elecampane, 55.
Eyelet holes, 35.

Faerie Quecne, 174, 176.

Fair Rosamond, 82.

Famous History of St. George, 183.

Farmer's Son, 23, 101, 232, 235.

Father Christmas, 14, 20, 22, 39,

83* 99> J 93-
Flies, 35.
Folk rhymes, 63, 66, 69, 70, 71,

100, 103, 104,231.
Fool, 14, 90, 99, 121, 125, 152,

180, 191, 202, 225.
Fool's Wooing, 91, 98, 103, 121,

232,235.
Forthdrove, 160.
Frightening girls, 200, 215.

Galatian, 31.
Grcensleeves, 70.
Guisers, 4, 226.
Gunpowder Day, 104.

Haghios Gheorghios, 206.

Hairy caps, 32, 85, 90, 126, 191,

2O6, 2IO.

Handkerchiefs, 151.
Handsom 9 Woman, 104.
Head-dress, 83, 85, 126.
Hector, 33, 60, 125, 131.
Hildebrand, 203.

Hind-before, 14, 19, 227.
History in plays, 22, 24, 27, 31, 69,

82, 87, 127.
Hobby animals, 58, 88, 100, 103,

121, 124, 131, 152, 187, 199,

210, 212.

Hock Pky, 1 54.

Hoodening, 214.

Horn dance, 152.

Humps, 65, 87, 89, 90, 210, 225.

Hunting of the wren, 66.

Impudence, 48, 162, 193.
Infallible Mountebank^ 53.
'Iron and steel', 7, 33, 102, 120,
178.

Jack, 14, 58, 63, 65, 68, 87, 90.
Jack Finney, 14, 33, 50, 57-9, 68,

103, 162, 193, 213.
Jack hare dispute, 88.
Jack of Lent, 1 53-60, 194.
Jamaica, 36, 102.
Jane, 100, 122,224,234.
Jigs, 3770, 231.
Johnny Funny, 14, 68.
Johnson, Richard, 174, 179, 183,

192.

Judas, 69.
Julius Caesar, 98.

Kalogheroi, 206.

King, 125, 152, 1 60, 202, 208, 219,

225.
King Henry Fifth's Conquest of

France, 82.
King of Egypt, 22, 33, 38, 85, 88,

177,184,225.
Kirke, John, 184.
Kirmess, 204.
Kostf, 208.

Lady on the Mountain, 104.
Lament, 38-41, 102, 207.
Leaf costume, 84.
Liknites, 206, 223, 224.

SUBJECT INDEX

247

Lindsey Court, 92.

Literary rehandling, 12, 87, 88,

123.

Localities, 3, 89, 123, 211, 236-44.
Lock, 129,228.
Looking-glass, 83, 121, 126, 129,

216.

Lord of Misrule, 156, 193.
Love for Love, 149.
Ludus, 1 60, 211, 215, 216, 230,

233-

Machyn, Henry, 155.

Masks, 83, 85, 164, 191, 200, 206,

208, 209, 210.
Mattachins, 151, 205.
Mercator, 166.
Mimetic instinct, 217, 221, 224,

230.

Mince pie, 22, 33, 36.
Miracle plays, 1 6 1, 164, 174, 194.
Misogonus, 104.
Mock Doctor, 186.
Molly, 15, 22,68.
Morality plays, 162, 164.
Morocco King, 28, 177.
Morrisdances, 5, 87, 90, 120, 1 50-
"""' 53, 15^211,235.
'Mr/, 58.

Mucedorus, 38, 49, 56, 190, 191.
Music, 70, 125.
My lor Play, 71-83.

Nachtanzer, 202.

Napkins, 83.

Napoleonic wars, 31, 127, 154.

Nomenclature, 4, 226.

Normalized Mummers' Play, 6-13.

Nut, 129.

Okus Magnus, 202.

Ooser, 214.

Qrchisographie, 151, 205.
Owd Lass of Coverditt> 126.

Pace Egg, 4, 5, 70, 179,214.

Patches, agricultural, 90, 1 24.

Pfingstl, 197.

Pickle Herring, 121.

Plough, 90, 100, 124, 207, 220.

Plough Monday, 90, 124, 128.

Plough plays, 4, 89-104, 124, 230.

Pope, Alexander, 184.

Presentation, 13-23, 99, 127, 193.

Press-gang, 66.

Priest-King, 218, 225.

Projections, 14, 22, 33.

Ptolomy, 175, 184.

Punch, 86.

Pyrenean Bear, 200, 215.

Queen, 125, 149, 152, 160.
Qutte, 17, 21, 63-71, 90, 103, 125,
159, 163, 207, 209, 214, 220.

Ransom, 130.

Rapper, 126.

Recruiting Serjeant, 99.

Red Faces, 14, 33, 85.

Reproach, 38.

Repudiation, 39, 129, 150.

Revesby Play, 104-23, 225.

Reynolds, Robert, 122.

Rhyme persistence, 10, 15, 18, 26,

6 4 .

Ribboners, 100.

Robin Hood, 1 1, 89, 152,156, 161,

173, 187.
Rodney, 152.

'Room', 15, 1 6, 22, 33, 127.
Rose, 129, 202, 203.
Rustic paradox, 48, 163.

Sabra, 24, 69, 83, 175, 179, 181.

Sabrine, 181, 184.

Sacrifice, 219.

Sambo, 14, 33,60, 82.

Satyre of the Thrie Estaitis, 169,

232.
Seasons, 4, 90, 124, 152, 159, 198,

221,233.

248

SUBJECT INDEX

Secrecy, 127, 226.

Settle, Elkanah, 184.

Seven Champions, 174-85.

Sexual rites, 207, 220, 224, 229.

Shaving, 200, 228.

Shield, 129.

Shropshire plays, 191.

Singing Simpkin, 37.

Sir Bevis of Hampton, 172, 175, 178.

Sir G amain and the Green Knight,

161.
Skin costume, 84, 90, 125, 200,

208, 209, 216, 225.
Sksher, 14, 28, 34, 102, 177.
Smith, Will, 184.
Snapdragon, 174.
Social types, 128, 203.
Soldan, 157,175.

Son-ship, 15, 22, 39, 88, 121, 225.
Soto, 232.
Soulers, 5.

Sowing, 208, 220, 224.
Spectacles, 83, 127,227.
Squire, 152.
Squire's son, 128.
St. Anthony, 175, 177.
St. Benedict, 99.
St. George, 17, 23, 86, 101, 156,

170-85, 191, 192, 194, 204.
St. Meriasek, 169.
St. Nicholas, 204.
St. Patrick, 31, 88, 182.
Stage-plays, 17, 33, 37, 98, 100,

103, 121,184, 185-92,231.
Staves, 151.
Sterkader, 204.

Strip costume, 83-5, 126, 210.
Sub-presenters, 22, 99.
Sun, 40, 102, 120.
Sweeping, 19, 23, 67, 101, 125,

131, 208, 2ii.
jword dances, 33, 70, 120, 123-

""*"" jl, WU-UJf-207, 211.

Tails, 85, 125, 126, 152, 174, 202,

209, 210.

Taming of the Shrew \ 232.
Texts, 154,236-44.
Theatre of Compliments, 184.
Tipteerers, 4.
Tom, 125, 128.

Tooth-drawing, 30, 57, 204, 228.
Topsy-turvydom, 48.
Travels of Doctor, 52, 103.
Turk, 156.

Turkish Knight, 27, 33, 86, 177.
Twing Twang, 33, 66, 99.

Uniform, 83, 126.

Valentine and Orson, 33, 191.
Vice, 164, 193.
Visitatio Sepulchri, 165.
Vortanzer, 202.

West European parallels, 197-205.
Weston-Sub-Edge Play, 41-50.
When Joan's Ale Was New, 69.
White shirts, 83, 90, 1 26.
Wild man, 197.
Wild Worm, 121.
Wills, 121, 150.
Wily Beguiled, 98, 122.
Witch, 102, 212, 235.

Women, 5, 15, 22, 38, 57, 58, 68,
90, 100, 121, 125, 128, 152,
153, 194, 206, 217, 220, 225.

Woody Garius, 125, 131.

Wooing, 70, 9 1 -i 04, 121, 229-35.

Wooing of Nan, 232.

Worthies, 203.

Young, Edward, 185.
Young Roger of the Mill, 100.
Youth, 122.

131 142