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>U. I

YALE STUDIES IN ENGLISH
ALBERT S. COOK, EDITOR

XXXIII

THE KNIGHT

THE BURNING PESTLE

BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER

EDITED WITH INTRODUCTION, NOTES, AND GLOSSARY

HERBERT S. MURCH, Pn.D.

INSTRUCTOR IN ENGLISH IN PRINCETON UNIVERSITY

A Thesis presented to the Faculty of the Graduate School of Yale
University in Candidacy for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy

NEW YORK

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY

1908

WEIMAR: PRINTED BY R. WAGNER SOHN.

PREFACE

The Knight of the Burning Pestle performs an excep
tional office in the Jacobean drama. As the only con
siderable stage-burlesque of its day, it passes an
unparalleled censure upon many of the theatrical
vagaries of a decadent time. It is no less unique
in that it affords a refreshing contrast to the tone
of its authors' other work. Here, for once, Beaumont
and Fletcher move in a pure and wholesome atmo
sphere. Through delightfully humorous agencies, the
rare old comedy discloses the genuine humanity of
a vanished age, its lineaments undisguised by the
delusive artifice which is a besetting sin of these
playwrights. If the modern reader is enabled to
understand the antique subject-matter, he can easily
see in this humanity, moreover, an authentic reflection
of our own, and appreciate, in the_dramatists' por
trayal of some of the elemental absurdities of our
nature, a masterpiece of comic creation.

But the subject-matter is remote and obsolete. The
burlesc|ue is immediately concerned with the Jacobeliri
commoners' tastejfor the^romances^ of chivalry, the
eccentric plays which_were the products of that taste,
qtEer Torgptten ^^ stage-favorites of the Jacob eanSj^arid
the ^singular manners of Jacobean audiences. These
peculiarities of a former civiliziation have long since
passed out of the life of the race. It is the purpose
of~1irle~~pfe~s~ent edition to make them Intelligible, for
the sake of completely revealing both the historic

Preface

significance of the play and its more vital and
enduring literary excellencies. It has been the
editor's aim to render possible a full appreciation of
The Knight of the Burning Pestle, not only as the
earliest, and perhaps finest, of our dramatic bur
lesques, but also as one of the brightest examples
of pure comedy in the language.

The Introduction is mainly devoted to an exposition
of the larger objects of the satire. Comment upon
the details of Jacobean life to which the play bears
reference is contained in the Notes. Peculiarities of
the vocabulary are treated, for the most part, in the
Glossary.

I desire to acknowledge my obligations to the fol
lowing members of Yale University : to Professor
Albert S. Cook for inspiration and aid at every stage
of my work; to Professor Henry A. Beers and Pro
fessor William L. Phelps for useful advice; to Dr.
Rudolph Schevill for invaluable suggestions relative
to the play's independence of Don Quixote, and its
connections with the Spanish romances ; to Dr. Wil
liam S. Johnson for the benefit of frequent consul
tations ; and to Mr. Andrew Keogh and Mr. Henry
A. Gruener for assistance in bibliographical matters.

A portion of the expense of printing this thesis
has been borne by the Modern Language Club of
Yale University from funds placed at its disposal by
the generosity of Mr. George E. Dimock, of Elizabeth,
New Jersey, a graduate of Yale in the class of 1874.

PRINCETON UNIVERSITY,

April 20, 1907.

• CONTENTS

PAGE

I. INTRODUCTION:

A. EDITIONS OF THE TEXT , . . . i

B. DATE AND STAGE-HISTORY .... xi

C. AUTHORSHIP ... . . . . xxi

^D. ANALOGUES AND ATTRIBUTED SOURCES . . xxxi

1. The Romances of Chivalry and Don

Quixote ... . . . xxxii

2. Contemporary Plays and Ballads . lix

,/E. OBJECTS OF THE SATIRE . . . . . Ixv

1. Literary and Theatrical Tastes of the

Middle Classes . . . . . . Ixvi

a. The Fashion of Romance-reading and

the Chivalric Drama . . . Ixvi

b. Miscellaneous Stage-favorites of the

Citizens xcv

2. The Manners of Jacobean Audiences . cii

3. Minor Objects of the Satire . . ex
II. TEXT . 1

m. NOTES . . . v. . . . ' . • .. .• 105

IV. BIBLIOGRAPHY . .. . . . . ; 275

V. GLOSSARY ... . . . . . 281

VI. INDEX 304

INTRODUCTION

A. EDITIONS OF THE TEXT.

The Knight of the Burning Pestle was originally printed
in quarto in 1613. A second quarto appeared in 16j$5,
and still a tEird in the same year. The play, though
not included in the First Folio of 1647, is in the Second
Folio of 1679, and in all subsequent editions of the
collected works of Beaumont and Fletcher. It is to
be found, also, in three books of selected plays from
English dramatists, and, finally, in a distinct volume
in The Temple Dramatists series.

1613. The quarto of 1613 is the only edition of the
play which was issued during the lifetime of Beaumont
and Fletcher. Though published after the theatre-
going public had condemned the stage-presentation,
and hence designed for the general reader, its inac
curacies and inconsistencies in punctuation, and, less
frequently, in spelling, show that it was not transcribed
from the authors' MS., but from the prompters' books
or the playhouse copies.

The imprint is a good example of the elementary
stage of typography at the time. Frequent and an
noying blunders occur. Chief among them are the
omission of commas, semicolons, periods, and interro
gation points, and the gratuitous substitution of any
one of these marks of punctuation for another. Often
the sense remains unimpaired in spite of these mis
takes ; quite as often, however, it is obscured or viti
ated by them. Owing, no doubt, to the unsettled
condition of orthography at the time, inconsistencies

Introduction

in spelling, also, are to be found in the quarto. Thus
we find Eafe and Eaph for modern Ralph ; cunny, conny,
and cony; shawmes and shawms ; of (off) and off ; am
('em) and 'em; ben, bene, and beene ; faith and feth ; lam
and £aw& ; tane and ta'ew for taken. There are numbers
of purely typographical errors.

In spite of these discrepancies and blunders, the
quarto of 1613 presents the most satisfactory basis
* of departure for a critical treatment of the play.
Many corrections are made in the quartos of 1635
and the folio of 1679 ; but often, too, an original read
ing is preferable to its alteration, and neither the
quartos nor the folio can be set forth as authorita
tive. All things considered, it has been deemed best
to adopt for this edition the text of the First Quarto,
and to subjoin whatever variant readings are helpful
in removing difficulties or suggestive of alternative
readings.

1635. Two quarto editions were published in 1635.
Though they are identical in leaf-collation, neither is
a reprint of the other. Copies of these editions are
bound together in a single volume preserved in the
Boston Public Library. I treat them, according to
their arrangement, as Q2 and Q8.

Q2 effects a valuable improvement in removing all
of the misprints in the First Quarto as noted above.
There is an advance toward modernization in spelling.
There are one or two helpful emendations of the text,
i. e. of 'em for 'em (1. 223), and get you to for get to
(2. 256). There are many improvements upon the First
Quarto in punctuation. On the other hand, there are
a number of unwarranted alterations, i. e. by my faith
for by faith (i. 264) ; / shall for shall I (2. 451) ; bound
to thank you for bound to you (3. 319) ; blowing for bel
lowing (4. 468) ; Too for To (5. 14) ;part for depart (5. 374).

Editions of the Text iii

Q3 represents few marked differences from Q2. There
are a few further improvements in punctuation. The
mistakes of Q2 noted above are, however, retained,
and to them are added these additional false readings :
the omission of right (1. 345) ; estate for state (1. 391) ;
deare for my deere deere (3. 1) ; are for be (3. 121). Two
other new readings, though retained in all subsequent
editions, seem to me wrong, for reasons which are
advanced in my notes ; they are as for an (2. 179),
and Pottage for Porrage (4. 216).

In general, the quartos of 1635 may be said to be
an improvement on the text of the earliest edition,
offering, as they do, clearer and more consistent read
ings by virtue of their more careful punctuation;
but the considerable number of indefensible altera
tions in them weighs against their authoritative value,
and makes necessary a reversion to the original quarto
as the basis of investigation.

1679. The folio of 1679, so far as regards The
Knight of the Burning Pestle, is a disappointing book.
On the general title-page it is announced that the
plays are 'published by the authors original copies,'
but we learn in the bookseller's preface addressed
to the readers that this statement applies only to
the thirty-four plays previously issued in the First
Folio, 1647, and, moreover, its validity is denied by
competent investigators. The Knight of the Burning
Pestle is not included among these thirty-four plays.
It is one of the seventeen additional plays regarding
which the booksellers of 1679 make the following
statement: 'Besides, in this Edition you have the
addition of no fewer than Seventeen Plays more
than were in the former, which we have taken the
pains and care to collect, and print out of 4 to in
this Volume, which for distinction sake are markt

iv Introduction

with a Star in the Catalogue of them facing the first
Page of the Book.'

It is apparent that the folio of 1679 forms its text
of The Knight of the Burning Pestle, not upon the
authors' MS., but upon the quarto editions already
described. An examination of its readings, moreover,
will show that the quartos of 1635, rather than the
quarto of 1613, are depended upon. There has been
occasion to cite, in the list of variants subjoined to
my text, relatively few alterations of Q2 and Q3 read
ings made by the folio. There is an occasional im
provement of the punctuation. There is also a further
modernization of the spelling, notably in the follow
ing instances: the conjunction then regularly becomes
than ; Rafe and Raph regularly become Ralph ; moneth
regularly becomes month; maister regularly becomes
master ; diuel regularly becomes devil- a'th, a thy, a
my, a your, &c., become o'th, o thy, o my, o your, &c.
On the other hand, all the false readings of Q2 and
Q3 noted above are carried over to the folio, and, to
offset this flaw, the improvements afforded the text
are not of sufficient number or of sufficient substan
tive value to give the folio any marked superiority
over its predecessors.

1711. This edition is of small worth. It ration
alizes the punctuation, indeed, in some passages mod
ernizes such markedly obsolete spelling as sute for
shoot (1. 164), and introduces a good emendation,
viz. These for There (4. 292). On the other hand, it
makes arbitrary alterations, i. e. Grocers for Grocery
(Ind. 97), and ignorant for Ingrant (3. 576), while, in
general, it closely follows the folio, continuing the
latter's errors, and adopting, but adding little to, its
improvements.

1750. This is the first edition of Beaumont and

Editions of the Text v

Fletcher's works in which an attempt is made toward
a critical reconstruction of the text. The task was
begun by Theobald, the Shakespearean commentator,
and, after his death, concluded by Seward and Symp-
son. These editors had access to all the early quartos,
as well as the folios, and made pretensions to superior
accuracy and care in the collation of the texts ; but,
in the light of their results, their pretensions are
seen to have been greater than their accomplishment.
They seem to have proceeded in their task, so far
as may be judged from their treatment of The Knight
of the Burning Pestle, not by closely comparing the
early editions line by line, but only by resorting to
them in passages which they happened to regard as
difficult ; while, moreover, out of their own unenlight
ened assurance, they dared to alter words and even
passages, more frequently to the detriment than to
the strengthening of the sense. The result was that
many of the errors which had crept in through the
successive reprints were retained, and another quota
of blunders was added. The notes in which the new
readings are defended are compounded of ludicrous
self-sufficiency, obtuseness, and ignorance of the pecu
liarities of Elizabethan English. The most remarkable
of these blunders in reading and annotation have
been touched upon in my notes, i. e. 2. 182 ; 3. 271.
One class of changes which has a specious value
is the introduction of extra words in lines of halting
metre ; but, though the editors are careful to choose
words which do not distort the sense, such altera
tions sometimes color the sense strongly; they are
at all events arbitrary ; and they are in most
instances rejected by the careful and scholarly Dyce.
Among the cases in point are; 1. 195; 3. 54; 4. 110;
4. 133.

vi Introduction

The one distinctly useful contribution of the edition
of 1750 is the arrangement in stanzaic form of the
snatches from ballads sung by Old Merrythought.
In the older texts these verses are printed as prose,
and, in some instances, are indistinguishable from
their prose context. Through Seward and Sympson's
helpful labors in this direction, one of the most pleas
ing aspects of the play is brought into fitting prom
inence.

In general, we may say that, though the edition
of 1750 is the first serious effort toward a recon
struction of the text, it is wholly inadequate; it is
so because of carelessness in collation, rashness and
presumption in its new readings, and ignorance of
the peculiarities of Elizabethan English.

1778. George Colman, Isaac Reed, and others were
co-workers in this complete edition of Beaumont
and Fletcher's works. They professed to supply a
critical text, but the retention of errors introduced
through successive reprints of The Knight of the Burn
ing Pestle shows that careful collations of the early
quartos were not made, and that the significance of
these errors was not grasped. In this text the mis
takes made in the Second and Third Quartos are not
corrected. Sympson's blundering change of mighty
lord to mighty bore (3. 271) is not corrected, and Lady.
For and (2. 182) is still further vitiated by being
changed to lady. Ralph. Fair ! And. The interpolations
made by Sympson to fill out incomplete measures
are usually retained. The editors are guilty of a few
arbitrary readings of their own, i. e. God's wounds for
Gods (1.490), vile for wilde (3.404), and the ar
rangement of 5. 100-178 in verse form.

Colman and Reed show, however, much greater
critical acumen than Seward and Sympson. They

Editions of the Text vii

are aware of the deficiencies of these editors, and
in the preface strongly condemn their 'unpardonable
faults of faithlessness and misrepresentation. ' Seward
and Sympson's arbitrary changes are discarded, for
the most part, and the original readings are restored.
A few significant alterations are made. Among them
may be noted the rendition in stanzaic form of
1. 455-56, which had been overlooked by Sympson ;
the justified interpolation of black (4. 49), and of an
end (5. 307). The value of the edition, however, lies
in the rejection of Seward and Sympson's impertinent
readings, and in signal improvements of punctuation,
which materially lessened the task of succeeding
editors.

1812. This is a pretentious, but very imperfect,
edition of fourteen volumes. It was undertaken by
Henry Weber, a German, the amanuensis of Sir Walter
Scott. In his task, he had the help of Mason's Com
ments on Beaumont and Fletcher, and a copy of the
dramatists which had been interleaved and annotated
by Scott.

Weber's treatment of The Knight of the Burning
Pestle makes a commendable advance in the regu
lation of the text. This is the outcome of a truly
scrupulous collation of all the old copies of the play,
a fairly judicious choice of readings, the insertion of
entirely new and clarifying scene-divisions, scene-
headings, and stage-directions, and the rejection of
Seward and Sympson's awkward metrical arrange
ments of certain prose passages.

But though painstaking, conscientious, and often
successful in supplying useful features to his edition,
Weber, as a foreigner, was not properly equipped to
edit English dramatists. GifTord says :

viii Introduction

Mr. Weber had never read an old play in his life ; he was but im
perfectly acquainted with our language ; and of the manners, customs,
habits, of what was and was not familiar to us as a nation, he possessed
no knowledge whatever ; but secure in ignorance, he entertained a com
fortable opinion of himself, and never doubted that he was qualified
to instruct and enliven the public.

This dictum regarding Weber's incompetency seems
substantiated in the case of The Knight of the Burning
Pestle. A review of the variants will show that Weber
continued numbers of his predecessors' errors, which
his familiarity with the early editions ought to have
enabled him to remove, while ignorance of the pecu
liarities of Elizabethan English and popular literature
is further revealed in a large number of new and
unwarranted alterations of the original text. Most
of these errors are commented upon in my notes.

1843-46. During these years appeared the best
of all the complete editions of Beaumont and Flet
cher's works that of the Rev. Alexander Dyce.

Dyce's treatment of the text of The Knight of the
Burning Pestle leaves little to be desired. An examin
ation of the variants will show that in nearly every
instance he has produced a rational and satisfying
solution of a given difficulty. The absurd and con
fusing readings which were his heritage from a dozen
predecessors he has repudiated. The meritorious
features of foregoing editions he has appropriated
or improved upon. The work of dividing the acts
into scenes, begun by Weber, he has carried out
more consistently and exactly than Weber himself
had done. Weber's scene-headings, when not fol
lowed exactly, are given a more precise and specific
treatment. Weber's stage-directions, where misplaced,
are removed to their proper setting. To all of these

particular features scene-divisions, scene-headings,

and stage-directions additions are made which are

Editions of the Text ix

invariably logical, and helpful in illuminating the text.
In regard to other details, it may be said that Dyce
has cleared up the disordered punctuation, normalized
the spelling, removed nearly all the errors, and ad
justed the loose ends left in preceding editions.

Dyce's text, however, does not seem to me to be
impeccable. Some of his readings would not be
approved by more recent scholarship. In the light
of Elizabethan usage, as given in such authorities
as the New English Dictionary and Abbott's Shakespearean
Grammar, by faith (1. 264) should not become by my
faith, must be (1. 38) should not become shall be, noint-
ing (4. 136), should not become Anointing, and (1. 490)
should not become an, &c. These are trifling points,
perhaps, but they show that Dyce's knowledge of
Elizabethan English was not infallible, and that other
supposed corrections in the modern edition may be the
result of ignorance of archaic peculiarities which are
beyond the reach of present scholarship. I have
taken exception in my notes to Dyce's reading of
as for an (2. 179), vild for wilde (3. 404), pottage for
porrage (4. 216), and stock for Flocke (4. 444). I ques
tion, too, the propriety of such readings as afraid
for afeard (3. 461), and such modernizations as have
for ha (2. 273, &c.) and he for a (2. 268), since the
original words are not obscure in meaning, and pre
serve the pleasingly archaic and colloquial tone of
the passages.

The remaining editions of Beaumont and Fletcher
which include our play are reprints of preceding
ones, and hence do not demand detailed notice.
The text of 1778 was embodied in a four-volume
edition of the plays of Ben Jonson and Beaumont
and Fletcher, published in 1811. The text of Weber
was reissued in 1840 in two volumes, to which was

x Introduction

prefixed an introduction on the dramatic art of the
authors by George Darley. The book is known as
Darley's edition. It was reprinted in 1866, and again
in 1885. In Burlesque Plays and Poems (Morley's Uni
versal Library), 1885, there is a reprint of our play,
taken, not as might be expected, from the standard
edition of Dyce, but from the wretched and univer
sally condemned edition of 1750 ! In it, readings from
the later editions are now and then substituted, and
objectionable passages are altered or expurgated ; but
there is no distinctiveness about the book, and it
does not call for extended description. Dyce's text
is incorporated, save for a few slight alterations, in
the two volumes of Beaumont and Fletcher's plays,
among them The Knight of the Burning Pestle, pub
lished in 1887 in The Mermaid Series. The editor is
J. St. Loe Strachey. Dyce's text in also adopted,
except in one or two details, by R. W. Moorman, in
his edition of The Knight of the Burning Pestle in the
series of The Temple Dramatists, 1898. Moorman in
cludes a brief introduction, notes which are mostly
reduced from Dyce, and a small but useful glossary.
The Library Catalogue of the British Museum con
tains the following entry : 1. 'The Works of the
British Dramatists. Carefully selected from the best
editions, with copious notes, biographies, and a
historical introduction by J. S. K. (John Scott Keltic).
Edinburgh, 1870. 8°.' 2. 'Famous Elizabethan Plays
expurgated and adapted for modern readers, by H. Ma-
caulay Fitzgibbon, M. A. London, 1890.' Each of
these selections contains The Knight of the Burning
Pestle. I have been unable to see a copy of either
book, but I am informed by the authorities of the
British Museum that in each case the text of our
play is based on Weber's edition, with the exception

Date and Stage-History xi

of a few unimportant deviations which are adopted
from Dyce. The majority of Keltic's notes are his
own, but they are such as could have been gathered
from a dictionary, or from an intelligent reading of
the context. Fitzgibbon's notes are very few, and the
majority are supplied by Dyce. Fitzgibbons has ex
purgated or altered objectionable passages.

B. DATE AND STAGE-HISTORY.

The first published quarto of The Knight of the
Burning Pestle bears the date of 1613. The date of
the play's composition is to be determined by the
evidence of internal allusions, and the statements of
Burre, the publisher.

To find the earliest probable limits for the date,
one must turn to the lines of the play itself. R. Boyle l,
and, following him, A. H. Thorndike2, adduce the
resemblance in burlesque spirit to The Woman Hater,
and the allusion (4. 44) to an incident in Day, Row
ley, and Wilkin's Travailes of Three English Brothers,
as presumptive evidence that our comedy originated
about 1607, in which year the first of these plays
seems to have appeared, and in which the second
was printed as acted at the Curtain Theatre. Boyle
believes that since the Travailes was based on the
adventures of the three Shirleys, and was only of
immediate interest, a reference to it would most like
ly be made only when that play was fresh. The
Boy in our passage, however, expressly states that
the play is 'stale'; moreover, that it 'had beene had
before at the red Bull,' and so far as is ascertainable,

1 Beaumont and Fletcher's Knight of the Burning Pe*tle. Englische
Studien, Band XII, p. 156.

* Influence of Beaumont and Fletcher on Shakespeare, 1901, p. 60.

xii Introduction

the Red Bull Theatre was not occupied before 1609.
The comparison with The Woman Hater is hardly a
tenable argument, since there is no good reason
why Beaumont, whose hand is everywhere manifest
in that comedy, and whose humor is essentially of
the broader sort, should not, any number of years
after 1607, have conceived another play similarly
burlesque in tone ; particularly is this true in view
of the fact that he did effect semi-burlesque creations
in the character of Bessus (King and No King), 1608,
of Pharamond (Philaster), 1610, and of Calianax (The
Maid's Tragedy), 1610. Thorndike would have it also
that the allusion to the 'King of Moldavia' (4. 71)
points to 1607 as the date of our play, since in
Nichols' Progresses of King James the First 2. 157 it is re
corded that one Rowland White wrote from the court
on Nov. 7 of that year : ' The Turke and the Prince
of Moldavia are now going away.' But there is a
similar allusion to the Prince of Moldavia, as to a
former visitor to England, in Jonson's Epicoene 5. 1,
which was not produced until 1609-10, as is proved
by internal references to the plague of 1609 1. The
recollection of the eastern potentate's visit seems to
have lasted at least two years. The evidence pro
duced by Boyle and Thorndike would really indicate
1609, at least, as the earliest possible date. An ad
ded indication to the same effect is that several of
Old Merrythought's songs are founded on Ravens-
croft's collections, Deuteromelia and Pammelia, which
were both entered on the Stationers' Registers in 1609,
though, as Thorndike justly remarks, these were col
lections of songs and snatches already familiar.

But the date seems to be still further pushed for
ward by the apparent identity of 'the little child

1 Cf. Epicoene, ed. Aurelia Henry (Yale Studies in English), p. XXII.

Date and Stage-History xiii

that was so faire growne,' &c., (3. 304) and 'the boy
of six years old,' &c., in Ben Jonson's Alchemist 5. 1,
which appeared in 1610. I think we may reject as
of very doubtful value Fleay's statement that 'the
hermaphrodite' (3. 305) was no doubt 'the monstrous
child' born 1609, July 31, at Sandwich (see S. R. 1609,
Aug. 26, 31), which was probably shown in London
1609-10 '^ This is pure conjecture; in the Stationers'
Registers there is no specification of a hermaphrodite,
and we do not know that 'the monstrous child' was
shown in London. On the other hand, a strong in
ternal evidence on the date of the play is pointed
out by Fleay, and I am inclined to accept is as nearly
conclusive. It rests in the Citizen's words: ''read the
play of the Foure Prentices of London' (4. 66). That
this play of Heywood's, though the earliest extant
edition was printed in 1615, was previously issued
from the press in 1610, is virtually proved by the
author's preface, where he says that The Four Prentices
could not have 'found a more seasonable and fit
publication then at this time, when . . . they haue
begun again the commendable practice of long for
gotten arms.' This is an allusion to the revival of
the practice of arms in the Artillery Gardens, 1610,
and to that revival as of very recent occurrence. If,
as is indicated by this allusion, The Four Prentices
was thus first published in 1610, the Citizen could
only have directed his auditor to 'read' it in that or
a succeeding year.

It must be acknowledged that there is one con
siderable difficulty in the way of establishing 1610 as
the date. It is in the Citizen's statement, 'This seven
yeares there hath beene playes at this house,' &c.

1 Fleay's discussion of the date is in his Biog. Chr, of the English
Drama I. 182—5.

xiv Introduction

(Ind. 8). Mr. Fleay believes that play was acted
by the Queen's Revels Children at Whitefriars 1, but
there is no mention of a Whitefriars theatre as existent
seven years before 1610. The first known record of
the playhouse is in regard to its occupancy from 1607
to 1610 2. Frequent references in the play to children
as its actors show that it was produced by a children's
company, which fact, coupled with the reference to
'the seven yeares,' leads Thorndike to suggest its
presentation either by the Queen's Revels at Black-
friars during their seven years of occupancy of that
theatre from 1600-1607, or by the Paul's boys during
the period 1599-1606-7 (the years of their second
organization) ; all of which circumstances are used
by Thorndike to fix the date at 1607. However,
there is nothing to warrant the supposition that the
theatre to which the Citizen refers had been contin
uously occupied by children for seven years; its
early tenants may have been an adult company. It
may, therefore, have been another theatre than Black-
friars. Fleay's inference that the play was produced
at Whitefriars, and therefore that that playhouse was
in existence seven years before 1610 is indeed a
conjecture, but it seems to me, in the light of
other considerations supporting the 1610 date, not a
violent one. At all events, there is nothing to dis
prove it, and it does not so positively invalidate the
argument for 1610 as the facts above adduced in
validate the argument for 1607.

The external evidence points explicitly to 1610 or
1611 as the date. In his dedicatory epistle to Robert
Keysar, Burre, the publisher of the First Quarto, 1613,

1 Cf. Fleay, History of the Stage, pp. 186, 203.

* Cf. Greenstreet, The Whitefriars Theatre in the Time of Shakspere
(New Shaks, Soc. Trans.,

Date and Stage-History xv

says that Keysar had previously sent him the play,
'yet being an infant and somewhat ragged,' and that
he 'had fostred it priuately' in his 'bosome these
two yeares.' Burre also writes, 'perhaps it will be
thought to be of the race of Don Quixote ; we both
may confidently sweare, it is his elder aboue ayeare.'
This allusion to Don Quixote is not to the Spanish
original, 1605, which is too early a date for our
play, but to Shelton's English translation of Part I,
entered on the Stationers' Registers Jan. 19, 1611, though
dated on the printed copies 1612. Carrying the date
back from 1612 'aboue a yeare,' we place it early in
1611 or late in 1610, which result agrees with Burre's
statement that when he received it in 1611 it was
still an 'infant.' Its kraggedness,' so far as this may
be submitted in evidence at all, may perhaps indi
cate that the copy had been battered about suf
ficiently long to show that its origin was in 1610.
It is still more closely drawn toward 1610 by the
internal features, already named, which bear reference
to that year. Thorndike does not attempt to over
throw the evidence of Burre's letter. He simply says :
;If we assume a 1607 date, we shall have to assume
that Robert Keysar turned the play over to Burre
a considerable time after its first production, and that
Burre knew nothing personally of its first production.'
This assumption of Burre's ignorance is arbitrary, and
certainly based on an improbability.

In brief, the collective indications, internal and ex
ternal, lead me to agree with Fleay in assigning the
origin of the play to the year 1610 or 1611, and to
regard the former as the more probable date.

Records of the early stage -productions of The
Knight of the Burning Pestle are very meagre. That
it met with a swift and decisive condemnation from

xvi Introduction

its first audience is certain. The publisher of the
First Quarto, in his dedication to Robert Keysar, wrote :

Sir, this vnfortunate child, who in eight daies (as lately I have
learned) was begot and borne, soone after was by his parents ex
posed to the wide world, who for want of judgement, or not vnder-
standing the priuy marke of Ironic about it (which shewed it was no
ofspring of any vulgar braine) vtterly rejected it : so that for want of
acceptance it was euen ready to giue vp the Ghost, and was in danger
to haue bene smothered in perpetuall obliuion, if you (out of your
direct antipathy to ingratitude) had not been moued both to relieue
and cherish it.

We can easily believe that the citizen spectators
who damned the play on its first appearance were,
indeed, not at all devoid of an understanding of 'the
priuy marke of Ironic about it,' but, on the contrary,
that their very consciousness of its incisive, scathing
satire on their tastes and manners aroused their vig
orous hostility. It is unlikely that the rich and in
fluential tradesmen and their aggressive wives, who
more and more under James I assumed a sort of
dictatorship over the theatre, would have remained
quiet at this open affront to their civic and personal
pride, and this unsolicited, unsavory spicing of the
literary and theatrical pabulum upon which they fed.
Equally improbable is it that the roisterous London
apprentices, who so frequently played havoc at the
theatre, would have brooked the ridicule cast upon
them through the erratic behavior of their comrade
Ralph. The sting of the satire must have penetrated
deeply, and it must have been in the heat of an
active resentment againt the play that the offended
London commoners, as Burre tells us, 'vtterly re
jected it.'

However that may be, the comedy seems to have
disappeared from the boards for many years, and, in
fact, not to have emerged to view until 1635, when
it was entered on the list of plays at the Cockpit

Date and Stage-History xvii

Theatre. The title-page of the Second Quarto tells
us that the play is therein reprinted 'as it is now
acted by her Majestie's Servants at the Private house
in Drury Lane. 1635.' (The Cockpit was frequently
called 'the private house in Drury Lane.')

That our play was known to the theatre-going
public in 1635 is proved, not only by the Second
Quarto, but also by a passage, which I here trans-
scribe, from Richard Brome's Sparagus Garden 2. 2,
first acted in that year:

Rebecca. I long to see a play, and above all plays, The Knight
of the Burning what d'ye call it ?

Monylacke. The Knight of the Burning Pestle.

Rebecca. Pestle is't ? I thought of another thing, but I would
fain see it. They say there's a grocer's boy kills a giant in it, and

another little boy that does a citizen's wife the daintiliest but I

would fain see their best actor do me ; I would put him to't : ' I
warrant him.'

Whether the revival of the play called forth a
renewed expression of disapproval from the populace
is not known. It is probable that, as given at the
Cockpit, it was acted before aristocratic spectators,
since that theatre was a 'private house,' and, as such,
was resorted to by the more select gentry, by the
nobility, and even by Queen Henrietta herself. Such
an audience could have received with an amused
composure impossible in a public theatre this delic
ious burlesque on the absurd pretentiousness and
low tastes of the commoners.

Whatever its reception at Drury Lane, the play
seems to have met with favor in court circles, for in
Sir Henry Herbert's MSS. is this item (of the year
1635-6) :

The 28. Feb. The Knight of the Burning Pestle playd by the
Qmen at St. James.

In 1639 the ownership of The Knight of the Burning
Pestle and 44 other plays, among them several of

xviii Introduction

Beaumont and Fletcher's works, was secured by a
company at the Cockpit known as ' Beeston's Boys,'
which succeeded Her Majesty's Servants at that
Theatre in 1637. No definite account of a stage-
production of our play at this period is attainable,
but that it must have been familiar to theatre-goers
is evident from the allusion to it in Glapthorne's
Wit in a Constable 2. 1, printed in 1640 ' as lately
acted at the Cockpit in Drury lane, by their Majestie's
Servants,' i. e. 'Beeston's Boys,' who sometimes were
given that title. In this play, Clare, niece to Alder
man Covet, objects to a match which her uncle is
trying to force upon her. She says to him :

Nor shall you

(As sure tis your intention) marry me
To th' quondam fare-man of your shop, (exalted
To be your Cash-keeper) a limber fellow
Fit onely for deare Nan, his schoole-fellow,
A Grocer's daughter, borne in Broad-street, with
Whom he used to goe to Pimblie's —
And by the way has courted her with fragments,
Stolen from the learned Legends of Knight Errants,
Or from the glory of her father's trade,
The Knight o'the Burning Pestle.

Since the play was appropriated by 'Beeston's Boysr
in 1639. it is probable that it was acted by them
from time to time, but there is no further record of
it until after the Restoration. Malone (in Boswell 3.
275), gives a list of plays from Sir Henry Herbert's
MSS. in the order of their reappearance after 1660.
According to this list, The Knight of the Burning Pestle
was acted on May 5, 1662, but none of the circum
stances of the event are recorded. Malone says, in
connection with this table:

Such was the lamentable taste of those times that the plays of
Fletcher, Jonson, and Shirley were much oftener exhibited than those
of our author,

Date and Stage-History xix

i. e. Shakespeare. Indeed, Beaumont and Fletcher
enjoyed an enormous vogue during the Restoration
period. Dryden's statement in An Essay of Dramatic
Poesy, 1668, regarding their popularity, is often quoted.
He says :

Their plays are now the most pleasant and frequent entertainments
of the stage ; two of theirs being acted through the year for one of
Shakespeare's or Johnson's : the reason is, because there is a certain
gaiety in their comedies, and pathos in their more serious plays, which
suits generally with all men's humours.

It would be unsafe to assert that The Knight of the
Burning Pestle was received with pronounced favor,
since its vigorous humor is essentially different from
the kind of 'gaiety' which made its authors' other
comedies acceptable to the artificial and languid
society of the Restoration.

The play continued to be acted, however. Gerard
Langbaine, writing in An Account of the English Dra
matic Poets, 1691, says :

Knight of the Burning Pestle, a Comedy. This play was in
vogue some years since, it being reviv'd by the King's House, and a
new Prologue (instead of the old one in prose) being spoken by Mrs.
ELLEN GUIN.

Genest remarks that this revival must have taken
place before 1671, since in that year the King's house,
that is, the Theatre Royal in Drury Lane, was des
troyed by fire. The Ellen Gwyn mentioned by Lang
baine was the beautiful, but notorious, actress, more
generally known as Nell Gwyn, who became the
mistress of Charles II. No doubt she did proper
justice to her part in our play.

, She spoke prologues and epilogues with wonderful effect, danced to

perfection, and in her peculiar but not extensive line was, perhaps,
unequaled for the natural feeling which she put into the parts most
suited to her1.

1 Doran, English Stage i. 62.
b2

xx Introduction

The last presentation of our play in the seventeenth
century, so far as I have discovered, was in 1682.
According to Genest1, it was acted that year at the
Theatre Royal, which had been restored in 1674.

After 1682 the play seems to have sunk into an
oblivion more profound and lasting than that to which
its earliest auditors consigned it. Many of the other
productions of its authors held their vogue through
the whole of the eighteenth century, and a few of
them, notably The Maid's Tragedy, were occasionally
acted, with alterations, during the early part of the
nineteenth century. But The Knight of the Burning
Pestle, as a stage-performance, was forgotten. This
was inevitable, after the manners which it depicts had
become obsolete, and the literary and theatrical sing
ularities which it burlesques had become foreign to
the knowledge of general audiences.

The old comedy seems to have slept between its
book-covers for over two hundred years. So far as
I am aware, it has been only recently revived, and,
moreover, only in America. Five presentations of it
have been given in this country within the last dec
ade, two at Yale University, one in New York City,
one at Stanford University, and one in Chicago.

The first of these performances was accomplished
on March 28, 1898, by graduate students in English
at Yale, being the outgrowth of a Seminary in the
Jacobean Drama2. It was witnessed chiefly by the
officers of the English department, but proved to
be so successful that it was repeated before a wider
audience in Warner Hall, New Haven, on April 29,
1898. The comedy was enthusiastically received by
a general audience in New York City, March 26,

1 Genest, English Stage i. 348.
1 This Seminary was conducted by Professor Cook.

Authorship xxi

1901, when it was acted by students of the American
Academy of Dramatic Arts at the Empire Theatre.
These several presentations approximated a reproduc
tion of the old-time settings and environments of the
stage. A more complete realization of the Elizabethan
setting, however, was effected at Stanford University
in March, 1903, when the comedy was set forth by
students on an improvised Elizabethan stage. This
structure was modeled in part on the stage of the
Swan Theatre as represented in a rough drawing of
its interior made about 1596 by Johannes de Witt,
a Dutch visitor to London. The last recorded pro
duction of the play was given on Dec. 19, 1905, in
Chicago, by pupils of the School of Acting of the
Chicago Musical College. The chosen stage in
Chicago was that of the Studebaker Theatre. It
also was set to resemble as nearly as possible de
Witt's drawing of the Swan Theatre.

C. AUTHORSHIP.

The authorship of The Knight of the Burning Pestle
is a matter of dispute. It is questioned whether the
comedy was composed by one or by both of the
playwrights to which it is attributed, and, if by
both, whether Beaumont or Fletcher was the principal
workman. For the determination of this problem, it
is here practicable merely to adopt the methods of
solution which have been formulated by the critics
for the detection of single or double authorship in
other debatable plays traditionally ascribed to the
collaboration of the dramatists, and for the severance
of their individual shares in plays of which the double
authorship is undoubted.

Throughout the investigations, the external proofs

xxii Introduction

fall into two general groups chronological and doc
umentary. Chronologically, Beaumont could have
written, wholly or partially, only those plays which
originated before 1616 the year of his death. Docu
ments bearing upon the problem are of little value :
prefatory verses, prologues, dedications, and title-
pages assign the plays to Beaumont and to Fletcher,
singly and conjointly, and are filled with contra
dictions and inaccuracies.

Manifestly, the internal proofs form the surest basis
of judgment, subject, wherever possible, of course,
to the regulative weight of dates. The internal tests
whereby Beaumont and Fletcher's editors made their
apportionments have been chiefly literary. As such,
their effectiveness depended upon the critic's personal
power of discerning differences in quality between
plays known to have been written by the dramatists
separately, and the subsequent application of his
results to the apportionment of plays in which they
may have collaborated. A more closely critical and
scientific investigation was begun in 1874 by F. G.Fleay
in a paper entitled Metrical Tests as applied to Fletcher,
Beaumont, and Massinger, which was read before the
New Shakespeare Society. This system of metrical
inquiry has since been elaborated and improved by
R. Boyle, G. C. Macaulay, and E. N. Oliphant. Through
the successive experiments, a critical canon has been
developed, which is a fairly reliable instrument for
the solution of this problem of authorship.

It is necessary to our purpose to summarize only
the methods of the metrical critics, since, latterly at
least, they have absorbed all that is of value in the
purely literary tests, and have added the positive
scientific data essential to proof.

In his study of those of Fletcher's plays which

Authorship xxiii

were written after the death of Beaumont, Fleay
discovered the following metrical peculiarities:

1. A very large number of double or feminine
endings.

2. Frequent pauses at the end of the lines.

3. Moderate use of rimes.

4. Moderate use of short lines.

5. Complete absence of prose.

6. An abundance of trisyllabic feet.

With these criteria, Fleay proceeded to examine
the doubtful plays, i. e. those produced before Beau
mont's death. He applied to them the test of Fletcher's
metrical peculiarities, and those of Beaumont in one
of the latter's confessedly independent productions, ^ v
viz. the first half of Four Plam-iaOne. He discoveredj,,**"*^* »'
that the distinguishing marks of Beaumont's metre, f'*^
as determined by this play, are as follows:

1. A relatively small use of double endings.

2. The frequent employment of rimes.

3. Occasional incompleteness in the lines.

4. Run-on lines.

5. Use of prose.

Boyle, in his articles entitled Beaumont, Fletcher,
and Massinger, in Englische Studien, Bande V-VIII.,
practically adopted Fleay's tests, and added the test
of the light and weak endings prevalent in Fletcher's
verse. He laid particular emphasis upon double end
ings, because of the far greater proportion of such
endings in Fletcher's acknowledged plays over plays
of Beaumont's sole or partial authorship.

G. C. Macaulay, in his Francis Beaumont, 1883, and
E. H. Oliphant, in The Works of Beaumont and Fletcher,
Englische Studien, Band XIV., continued the investiga
tion of metre. They found, as did their predecessors,
especial significance in Fletcher's use of redundant

xxiv Introduction

syllables in all parts of the line, but particularly at
the end; his rise of emphasis in end-pauses, even
upon weak syllables ; and the absence of prose. Con
versely, they found the plays to which Beaumont con
tributed distinguished by an unrestricted freedom in
the use of run-on lines, though with a comparative
freedom from redundancy, and by prose passages
not requiring dignified expression. They broadened,
however, the scope of differentiation. They recog
nized that metrical characteristics are an outgrowth
of the matter, and of the general style of expression.
That is, they united literary and metrical consid
erations of the plays. Proceeding upon this basis,
they discovered that Fletcher's looseness of metre
corresponds to a looseness in sentence-structure and
plot, and to a certain shallowness and instability in
the mental and moral temperament of the dramatist;
on the other hand, that the regularity of metre in
Beaumont is accompanied by the periodic or rounded
style of speech, approximate regularity and effec
tiveness of plot, depth in the general conception,
rich powers of humorous characterization, tragic
power of a high order, and a large degree of moral
earnestness. One specific quality attributed to Beau
mont is his faculty for burlesque, an element which
nowhere appears in Fletcher's independent work.

Let us now consider how the various sorts of evid
ence point to the authorship of The Knight of the
Burning Pestle. The title-page of the First Quarto
bears the date of 1613. This is definite proof that
the play originated during the years when col
laboration was possible. Other external evidences
are inconclusive. In the dedication prefixed to the
First Quarto, Burre, the publisher, speaks of the
parents of the play, but he also speaks twice of its

Authorship xxv

father, thus leaving the matter of single or double
authorship doubtful. In the address 'To the Readers
of this Comedy,' prefixed to the quarto of 1635, we
are told that the 'Author had no intent to wrong any
one in this Comedy,' but the title-page bears the
names of both dramatists. In the Prologue of this
edition, the words 'Authors intention' may point to
either single or double authorship, because of the
omission of the apostrophe. Dyce suggests that if
the play was really written in eight days, as Burre
states it to have been, the probabilities are that more
than one hand was engaged upon it. The external
evidences, however, are so incomplete and contra
dictory that they do not satisfactorily bear out any
theory of authorship.

It is necessary, then, to refer to the play's internal
features for evidence of real value. Fleay did not
apply his metrical tests at all closely to this comedy,
and made a worthless division, giving Beaumont all
the prose, and declaring the rest 'mixed.' Boyle
reduced the results of his study of the play to the
form of a chart, in which he attempted to designate
the authorship of every scene in Weber's divisions
of the acts. He disregarded the Induction, the scat
tered songs, and the remarks of the Citizen and the
Wife. In the body of the play, he found the dis
tinguishing marks of the style to exist in the follow
ing proportions: prose, 473 lines; verse, 1152 lines;
double endings, 268 ; run-on lines, 205 ; light endings,
8 ; weak endings, 1 ; rimes, 270. In percentages, the
verse amounts to 23. 2 in double endings ; 18 in run-
on lines ; 0. 7 in light endings ; 23. 4 in rimes. Boyle
did not attempt to determine the dramatists' pro
portionate shares in the prose, but formed the follow
ing summary upon the basis of the verse :

xxvi Introduction

Beaumont's Part.

Verse d. e. r. o. 1. 1. e. w. e. rhy.

544 44 86 40 58

Per cent. 8 16

Fletcher's Part.

608 224 119 4 I 212
Per cent. 36.8 19.5 34.8

Macaulay and Oliphant did not give detailed study to
the authorship of the play. Macaulay simply wrote :

From internal evidence we should be disposed to attribute the play
to a single writer : and we can have little hesitation in ascribing it
to that one of our authors of whom the mock-heroic style is charac
teristic 1.

He accordingly attributed the play wholly to Beau
mont. Oliphant reached the same conclusion. He
wrote :

It is, in my opinion, wholly or almost wholly his. Every scene
shows traces of his hand, though the latter part of V. 4 may belong
to Fletcher, who may also have revised II. 2. But I cannot think
Fletcher would be contented with writing only a part of two scenes ;
and, as there is nothing in the play that might not be Beaumont's, I
must give it wholly to the latter*.

Now, through the application of such standards of
judgment as are supplied to me by the critical meth
ods outlined above, and by my personal impres
sions of Beaumont and Fletcher, I have concluded
that Boyle gave too much, and Macaulay and Oli
phant too little of the credit of this play's compo
sition to Fletcher. It is not necessary here to write
a critique upon all of Fletcher's peculiarities as mani
fested in his independent plays ; suffice it to say that,
to my mind, these peculiarities are demonstrably
present in The Knight of the Burning Pestle in the
scenes, though only in the scenes, which develop

1 Francis Beaumont, p. 82.

1 The Works of Beaumont and Fletcher. Englische Studien, Band XIV,
p. 88.

Authorship xxvii

the love-adventures of Luce and Jasper. The love-
theme is, indeed, of so conventional a sort that either
dramatist might have projected it as a mere piece
of hack work, but whatever characterization and dis
tinguishing features of plot it contains are in Fletcher's
manner. The love of Luce and Jasper is, to be sure,
purer than that usually conceived by Fletcher, but it
is marked by the colorless sentimentality which is
always present when he tries to depict a virtuous
passion, while its insipidity is unrelieved by the
poetic beauty infused by Beaumont (as the critics
generally agree) into Bellario's love-lornness and
Aspatia's repining moods. Again, Luce is of the
same mold as Fletcher's heroines in her weak and
unresisting submission to the feigned assaults of
Jasper (3. 107-114) and in her tearful tributes to the
memory of her lord and persecutor (4. 277-315).
Fletcher's women, in his independent plays, are almost
invariably either wholly vicious, or passively and im-
perturbably meek. No one will hesitate in the classi
fication of Luce. So far as her relations with Jasper
are concerned, she is the personification of meekness,
and of a false and badly motived devotion. More
over, she nowhere exhibits either the resourceful,
but virtuous, sagacity of Aspatia, or the strong self-
assertion, combating with a sense of duty, which
animates Evadne, or the genuine and inspiriting, if

excessive, devotion of Euphrasia-Bellario three

female characters in the early plays in whose deline
ation their creator, presumably Beaumont, has shown
an insight into woman's nature of a truth and subtlety
nowhere manifested by Fletcher singly, and not ap
proached in the portrayal of Luce.

I feel, too, that Jasper's pointless and unprovoked
trial of Luce's fidelity (3. 73-99), and the sensational

xxviii Introduction

entrances and exits of the lovers in the coffin (4.
268-351) are forced, irrational and melodramatic de
vices, which are akin to the many similar offenses
in Fletcher's later dramas, but which are not notice
ably paralleled in the plays originating before Beau
mont's death.

This ascription of the love-scenes to Fletcher is
borne out by a metrical analysis. In the first of
them (1. 1-65) more than half the lines contain
double endings, the distiguishing mark of Fletcher's
verse. In the second (3. 1-150), the proportion of
double endings is small (34 out of 104 verses), but,
also, there are only 19 run-on lines, which scarcity
is indicative of Fletcher, and only 18 rimes; these
latter, being spoken by Humphrey, are, I think, added
by Beaumont. In the coffin-scene, 48 of the 104
lines have double endings, only 18 are run-on, and
there are no rimes.

In this apportionment of Fletcher's share I agree
with Boyle. I see no reason, however, for his addi
tional ascriptions to Fletcher. They consist of all the
scenes, exclusive of Act 5, in which Humphrey appears,
and seem to be founded on the fact that these contain
a fair proportion of double-ending rimes ; but, as
Oliphant points out, Boyle should have noted that
these rimes are not (or very, very rarely) to be
found in Fletcher, while they are not uncommon in
Beaumont's burlesque.

All of the play, exclusive of the love-scenes, I
should, in the absence of sufficient evidence pointing
to Fletcher's authorship, assign to Beaumont. A
large part of it, some 1500 lines indeed, is in prose,
and Fletcher's complete disuse of prose after his
partner's death argues that Beaumont was the chief,
if not the only, employer of it in the early plays.

Authorship xxix

Judging from metrical considerations, almost all of
the verse might reasonably be assigned to Beaumont.
Only 23.2 per cent, of the verses contains double
endings, and this is but little more than the 20 per
cent, which, according to Oliphant, represents Beau
mont's average proportion of such endings a wide

distance from the 70 per cent, in Fletcher. The 18
per cent, in run-on lines fairly represents Beaumont's
liking for that metrical form. The proportion of
rimes, a feature totally absent from Fletcher's inde
pendent plays, is 23.4 per cent.!

The test of Beaumont's general literary qualities,
when applied to this piece, leads to the same con
clusion as the metrical test. Beaumont's more serious
attributes, of course, have no place in this rollicking
comedy. His lighter, but none the less sound and
deeply sympathetic, moods nowhere find a better
exemplification. The prose passages are used for the
exploitation of his gift for broad and easy caricature.
The wholesome and genuine humor there resident
in the conception of the Citizen and the Wife, of
Ralph, and of the Merrythought family, has no coun
terpart in Fletcher's drama. The essence of Fletcher's
comedy is merely the wit of fashionable repartee,
a skilful and amusing battle of words. The humor
of The Knight of the Burning Pestle is inwrought with
the cardinal absurdities of human nature itself; it is
vital and pervasive.

The tendency to burlesque, which the later critics
with one accord regard as peculiar to Beaumont,
here finds the fullest possible exercise. Metrically,
it is developed in the nonsensical rimes of Humphrey,
and the swelling pentameters of Ralph. Beaumont
had elsewhere exercised his faculty for burlesque
characterization in The Woman Hater and The Triumph

xxx Introduction

of Honour, two acknowledged productions of his pen,
and it was later to be reflected, in some sense, in
the creation of Calianax, in The Maid's Tragedy,
and of Bessus, in King and No King. In The Knight
of the Burning Pestle it found its amplest expression.
Manifestly the regular, and hence somewhat formal,
structure of Beaumont's verse was more appropiate
for the mock-heroic than was Fletcher's semi-collo
quial metre, and if there were no other grounds for
crediting Beaumont with the present play, this would
be significant. Macaulay says :

The true burlesque or mock heroic, a perfectly legitimate weapon of
the satirist when used to make absurdity more laughable, and not to
bring noble and serious things to the level of a vulgar taste, uses nat
urally the grand as distinguished from the familiar style of expression ;
accordingly Fletcher, the master of the latter style, is the last person
from whom we should expect the burlesque, which delights in sonorous
lines and flowing periods. . . . We find hardly a touch of it in any of
the work which we have attributed to Fletcher alone, while of that
which was produced during the lifetime of the younger poet it is always
a noticeable feature1.

In coming to my conclusion upon the authorship
of The Knight of the Burning Pestle, I have been fully
conscious of the insecurity, on the one hand, of the
results of a fixed mechanical test as applied to the
infinitely flexible and various nature of literary ex
pression, and, on the other, of the insecurity of a
private judgment in such a matter, except as it is
grounded on a positive scientific basis. But I can
heartily espouse Oliphant's opinion of the mutually
confirmatory value of these two sorts of criticism
when properly associated. He says :

With regard to these plays, I cannot trust any division of them . . . that
has no better warrant than the proof afforded by the verse-tests ; but I do
think such tests give on the whole good confirmation of the correctness of
views based on knowledge of the general style of the various dramatists*.

1 Francis Beaumont, p. 60.

* TheWorks of Beaumont and Fletcher. Englische Studt'en, Band XIV, p.$4.

Analogues and Attributed Sources xxxi

It is because of a faith in the approximate relia
bility of the conjoined methods that, with little hesi
tation, I ascribe the whole of The Knight of the
Burning Pestle to Beaumont, with the exception of
the three specified scenes which are devoted to the
love-episodes. These I attribute to Fletcher.

D. ANALOGUES AND ATTRIBUTED SOURCES.

In its conception, The Knight of the Burning Pestle
is in a marked and peculiar sense original. Its place
among the dramas of its age is unique and unap-
proached. In its function as a burlesque, it is the
only complete embodiment of a new dramatic type,
and, from its very nature, is independent of the lead
ing theatrical and^literary_tendencies of its day^to
aTTbT wEich, indeed, it in some degree runs counfer.
Unlike the typical plays of its own authors, of Shake
speare, or of the other romanticists, it doesjiQt lift
into finished dramatic expression some theme bor
rowed from hercJJCL-or---po pillar legend ; on the con
trary, though its burlesque is by no means inclusive
oflhejwhole of romantic lore, its appropriations from
the literature familiar to the times are made, not be
cause of their dramatic adaptability, but for the sake
of exposing their inherent absurdities to open view.
Unlike a typical play of Ben Jonson, the (|talw^^>
defender of tradition and law against a flood of_m-
novation, it is in no sense

malic tEebry, nor is it a labored, arbitrary judgment
upon the ; litejrary__a.nd. Asocial standards which it disz.
avows; on the contrary, its designedly loose, hit-or-
miss construction, though resultant in a new form
and a type all its own, is, in so far, an (abnegatioji^
of form in the Jonsonian sense, while its satire is
implicit in its material, not imposed by an eccentric

xxx Introduction

With regard to these plays, I cannot trust any division of them . . . that
has no better warrant than the proof afforded by the verse-tests; but I do
think such tests give on the whole good confirmation of the correctness of
views based on knowledge of the general style of the various dramatists1.

1 Francis Beaumont, p. 60.

1 The Works of Beaumont and Fletcher. Englische Studien, Band XIV, p.54.

Analogues and Attributed Sources xxxi

D. ANALOGUES AND ATTRIBUTED SOURCES.

In its conception, The Knight of the Burning Pestle
is in a marked and peculiar sense original. Its place
among the dramas of its age is unique and unap-
proached. In its function as a burlesque, k is the
only complete embodiment oTa~new dramatic type,
and, from its very nature, is independent of the lead
ing theatrical and literary tendencies of its day, To
aTToT wrTich, indeed, it in some degree runs counfer.
Unlike the typical plays of its own authors, of Shake
speare, or of the other romanticists, it doesjiot .Jdft
into finished dramatic expression some theme bor
rowed from heroic_ ox -popular legend ; on the con
trary, though _its burlesjj.ue is by no means inclusive
of the whole of romantic lore, its appropriations from
the literature familiar to the times are made, not be
cause of their dramatic adaptability, but for the sake
of exposing their inherent absurdities to open view.
Unlike a typical play of Ben Jonson, the (|talw^>
defender of tradition and law against a flood ofjn-
novation, it is in no sense the_expression of a dra-
matic theorvThor is it a labored, arbitrary judgment
upon the : JJtej^j_ jmd_social standards which it disji
avows; on the contrary, its designedly loose, hit-or-
miss construction, though resultant in a new form
and a type all its own, is, in so far, an (abnegation^
of form in the Jonsonian sense, while its satire is
implicit in its material not imposed by an eccentric

xxxii Introduction

and biased censor from without. Most of all, _it_is
unlike the innumerable stage-productions of a meaner
order, designed to attract the uncultured London
middle-class with flattering displays of the deeds of
their eminent representatives, or to please their childish
fancy with some pompous but absurd extravaganza ;
on the contrary, it depicts these untutored, but ego-
tistical tradesmen, and their theatrical tastes, not for
the sake of honoring them, but of exposing them
to a (salutary; ridicule and reproof. In a word, its
spirit is essentially the spirit of burlesque and the
mock-heroic, and, as such, it is irreverent of tradition,
of its literary material, and of its public.

Since the_play is a satire on a whole class of so
ciety and a whole species of literature, its constituent
episodes are typically reflective ; they are, therefore,
drawn merely from the general nature of its objects,
and cannot be traced to specific and assignable
origins. The search for its sources, then, in the
ordinary sense of that word, would seem to be futile
from the outset. All that can be attempted with
security is to adduce such parallelisms from the ro
mances of chivalry and elsewhere as may serve to
illustrate the satirical pertinence of the plot, always
with the fact in mind that the various episodes in
the play are coincident with similar themes in the
romances rather than, in any certain sense, derivative
from them. This study will also involve the exam
ination of certain attributions of sources for the
play which have been more or less emphathically
made ever since its first appearance.

1. The Romances of Chivalry and Don Quixote.
It is an assertion which is frequently encountered,
and which, so far as I know, has never been con-

(Analogues) and Attributed Sources xxxiii

tradicted, that Beaumont drew his idea for The Knight

1 —' . ., _ v

of the Burning Pestle^and much of his material, directly
ffom^Dp/t j^Mw^e^^Npw, of courseT the community
Inspirit between the play and Cervantes' great bur
lesque _is so apparent that he who runs may read.
The objects of their satire are the same ; their meth-
ods of developing a humorous situation-^— through
bringing into ludicrous^ juxtaposition the common-
rjlace realities of life and the high-flying idealisms of

knight-errantry are the same ; and, moreover^ a

few of^the incidents are remarkably alike. But these
similarities are the natural outcome of allied purposes
in the two works; they do rioioT themsejves argue
aiiy~rnterdependence whatever. To prove that Beau
mont fashioned his play upon the novel would
involve the necessity of proving that he could not
have drawn the hint for his episodes from the ro
mances of chivalry themselves quite as easily as
from Don Quixote, and that his burlesque conception
could not have been original Moreover, it would
be necessary to show that he was acquainted with
the Spanish language, for in 1610, the date of the
play's composition, he could have read the novel
only in the original, since the first English translation
was not printed until 1612. Let us examine these
difficulties standing in the way of the assumption
that Don Quixote is the source of our play.

The large indebtedness of Beaumont and Fetcher
to Spanish literature is undeniable. According to
Miss O. L. Hatcher1, the latest investigator to publish
a treatment on the dramatists' sources, ' of the thirty-
four plays whose sources are already known, either
entirely or in part, seventeen draw upon Spanish
material.' Within this number, however, the author

1 John Fletcher, A Study in Dramatic Method, 1905, p. 47.

xxxiv Introduction

includes The Knight of the Burning Pestle. Setting
aside this ascription for the moment, the remaining
sixteen plays can be shown to have been derived
from Spanish works which were, at the time of the
play's composition, existent in English or French
translations1. They cannot, therefore, be adduced
as evidence that Beaumont and Fletcher knew Spanish.
It remains to examine the possibility of their having
known the Spanish original of Don Quixote. A pointed,
though of course not conclusive, evidence that they
did not know this original is the statement of Burre,
the first publisher of The Knight of the Burning Pestle :

Perhaps it will be thought to bee of the race of Don Quixote :
we both may confidently swear, it is his elder aboue a yeere ; and
therefore may (by vertue of his birth-right) challenge the wall of him.

As I have elsewhere shown, Burre alludes to Shel-
ton's English translation of Don Quixote, which ap
peared in 1612, and to the fact that our play was
written in^fi^l nr 1fljfl_ Manifestly the publisher
was not aware of the authors' possessing any knowl
edge of Spanish, and he emphatically denies any
dependence of the play upon Don Quixote. Of course,
Burre may not have been fully informed as to the
dramatists' linguistic attainments, and his denial of
the alleged source cannot be taken as proof; but
in the absence of any positive evidence to support
the opposite contention, its significance must be rec
ognized. There is absolutely nothing to show that
Beaumont and Fletcher knew Spanish, and in discus
sions of the matter the burden of proof rests upon
those who assert that they did know it ; moreover,
those who make this assertion must meet the difficulty
of disproving the presumptive evidence that the

1 Dr. Rudolph Schevill of Yale University has kindly informed me of
this fact.

Analogues and Attributed Sources xxxv

dramatists drew their Spanish plots from English and
French translations. Of the details of this evidence
I am not exactly informed1, but so far as regards
The Knight of the Burning Pestle, I have become con
fident, after careful examination, that its authors wrote
it in complete independence of its accredited source,
Don Quixote. This independence is witnessed by the
significant omission of some of the most salient
features of the Spanish novel, and, more positively
still, by a resemblance between the play's episodes
and the romances which is demonstrably greater than
that between the play and Don Quixote. I shall now
set forth these parallelisms in some detail.

It will be best to list the features in Don Quixote
and the play which are approximately coincident, and
then to consider the assumed dependence of the
play upon the novel in view of the larger area of
chivalric romance itself. The most specific exposition
of the Don Quixote theory was made in 1885 by Dr.
Leonhardt, who published at Annaberg, Germany, in
that year, a monograph entitled Uber Beaumont und
Fletcher's Knight of the Burning Pestle, in which he
set forth the following parallels between the play
and the novel:

a. Ralph's adoption of a squire : Don Quixote's en
gagement of Sancho Panza.

b. Ralph's rescue of Mistress Merrythought: Don
Quixote's rescue of the Biscayan lady.

c. Ralph's adventures at the inn: Don Quixote's
similar adventures at an inn.

d. The barber's basin: the 'helmet of Mambrino.'

e. The liberation of the barber's patients : the lib
eration of the galley-slaves.

1 Again, I have depended upon the conclusions of Dr. Schevill, who
has made a careful study of the question.

xxxvi Introduction

f. Ralph's fidelity to Susan before Pompiona : Don
Quixote's fidelity to Dulcinea before Maritornes.

g. The conception of Susan : the conception of
Dulcinea del Toboso.

Now when The Knight of the Burning Pestle and Don
Quixote are compared without reference to the ro
mances which are the common object of their bur
lesque, some of these resemblances are undeniably
strong; but others are trivial, and all of them are
deprived of significance when set beside the more
striking parallels to the play to be found within the
romances themselves, or when set against the differ
ences between the play and the novel in their local
backgrounds. Let us examine Leonhardt's points in
the above order.

a. The Adoption of a Squire. In Act 1, 1. 289 Ralph
says :

Haue you heard of any that hath wandered vnfurnished of his squire
and dwarf? My elder prentice Tim shall be my trusty squire, and
little George my dwarf.

Leonhardt calls up Don Quixote's engagement of
Sancho Panza as his squire (Bk. 1, chap. 7), and cites
it as evidence of the play's dependence on the novel.
As a matter of fact, the situations involved are en
tirely dissimilar. Ralph is merely a swaggering pren
tice-boy, who is fully conscious of playing a part,
and, out of his knowledge of knight-errantry, claps
up a swift bargain, whereby his two underlings in
the grocer's shop become his chivalric attendants.
Don Quixote, on the other hand, is a deluded old
visionary, who enters upon his harebrained undertak
ing in perfect seriousness, and who, moreover, has
to dicker a long time with his slow-witted neighbor
before he can persuade him to the enterprise. Be
yond these differences, there is the widest imaginable

Analogues and Attributed Sources xxxvii

contrast between the sprightly juvenile errants who
follow Ralph, and the ponderous and unwilling Sancho.
Moreover, Don Quixote desires only a squire, while
Ralph calls for a squire and a dwarf. This notion
of a double attendance could not have been derived
from Don Quixote. It was taken directly from the
romances. An illustration of it may be found, for
example, in Amadis of Gaul and Palmerin de Oliva,
two continental romances which had become exceed
ingly popular in England through Anthony Munday's
translation of the first two books of the former in
1595, and of the whole of the latter in 1588-97.
There is continual mention of Amadis' squire, Gan-
dalin, and his dwarf, Ardian. Palmerin de Oliva's
only constant attendant is his dwarf, Urbanillo, but
he is also accompanied, on certain occasions, by
one, and sometimes more than one, esquire. A con
spicuous example is to be found in Part 1, chap. 16.
Palmerin is preparing to go forth to slay a horrible
serpent, when he is addressed by the Princess Aris-
mena :

I shall yet desire you, said the Princess, that for my sake you will
take with you three Esquires which I will give you, which may send
you succour if any inconvenience should befall you. Then she called
the Esquires, and presented them unto him. . . . Then he commanded
the Esquires and his Dwarfe Urbanillo, to expect his return at the
foot of the Mountaine.

The passage is typical, and is far more nearly par
allel to the situation in our play than is Don Quixote.
One may reject, then, as untenable, Leonhardt's
assumption that the conception of Ralph's squire and
dwarf was inspired by that of Sancho Panza. These
characters bear no significant likeness to their ac
credited prototype ; on the contrary, they present a
marked disparity to him. The only analogous figures
are to be found in the romances themselves. In the

xxxviii Introduction

persons of Tim and George, Beaumont is merely bur
lesquing one of the recurrent features of the romantic
machinery, and I see no reason for doubting that he
is so doing in complete independence of Cervantes.

b. The Rescue of Mrs. Merrythought. Near the be
ginning of Act 2 (1. 105), Ralph enters Waltham Forest
in search of adventures, and there chances upon
Mrs. Merrythought and little Michael. The poor
woman is naturally frightened at the grotesque ap
pearance of the supposititious knight, and is made
to cry out : ' Oh, Michael, we are betrayed, we are
betrayed! here be giants! Fly, boy! fly, boy, fly!'
She runs out with Michael, leaving a casket of jewels
behind her. Ralph immediately assumes that the boy
is some 'uncourteous knight,' from whose embrace
a 'gentle lady' is flying, and swears to rescue her.
He overtakes Mrs. Merrythought, and learns of the
loss of the casket, upon the quest of which he
straightway sets out, but he is soon diverted from
the quest by the adventure on behalf of Humphrey,
and later by his combat with the barber-giant.

Leonhardt asserts, without vouchsafing the slightest
reason for so doing, that this episode originated from
Don Quixote's chivalrous defense of a lady in Bk. 1,
chap. 7. It will be recalled that, in the Spanish
novel, two peaceable friars of St. Benet's order are
traveling along a highroad, followed by a coach in
which rides a certain Biscayan lady, of whom, however,
they are unconscious. Don Quixote, espying them,
calls out to his squire :

Either I am deceived, or else this will prove the most famous ad
venture that hath been seen ; for these two great black hulks, which
appear there, are, questionless, enchanters, that steal or carry sway
perforce, some princess in that coach ; and therefore I must, with all
my power, undo that wrong1.

1 Shelton's trans.

Analogues and Attributed Sources xxxix

Therewith the deranged old hidalgo sets upon the
friars, who, as soon as they are able, take to their
heels in terror. The Don then becomes embroiled
with one of the Biscayan lackeys, who objects to
this stoppage of the progress of his mistress. Don
Quixote overcomes his opponent in the fight, and
grants him his life only on condition that he go
and offer his services to the Lady Dulcinea.

It ought to be perfectly patent that there is no
necessary connection whatever between these epi
sodes. There is no similarity of sufficient importance
to warrant the supposition that the one suggested
the other. Their qualifying features, their develop
ments, and their issues are totally unlike. They are
allied only in the fact that their creators are both
turning into ridicule one of the most persistent motives

to be found in chivalric romance the interminable

rescues of ' gentle ladies ' who find themselves in
distressing predicaments through the wiles of ' un-
courteous knights ' and wicked enchanters. I see no
reason for assuming, on the basis of mere corres
pondence in purpose, that Beaumont derived a typical
romantic theme like this from a dissimilar development
of the theme in Cervantes, or, for that matter, that
he had ever heard of Cervantes' episode.

The significant outcome of Ralph's meeting with
Mrs. Merrythought is the ' great venture of the purse
and the rich casket.' It should be remarked that
there are no l adventures of the casket ' in Don Quixote.
Here, again, our comedy is dependent directly upon
the romances, wherein such quests are not infrequent.
Since Palmerin de Oliva is shown, from the definite
allusions to it, to have been prominently in Beaumont's
mind as an object of the burlesque, it is possible
that Mrs. Merrythought's ill luck is suggested by the

xl Introduction

incidents in chap. 21 of that book, which relates
'how Palmerin and Ptolome met with a Damosell,
who made great mone for a Casket which two Knights
had forcibly taken from her, and what happened to
them.' ' What happened to them,' of course, was their
complete overthrow by the avenging knights, who
restored the stolen treasure to its lamenting owner.

This derivation, however, is a conjecture of my
own. It is more likely, according to my interpretation
of the play, that here again Beaumont is merely
hitting off a typical feature of the narrative machinery
common to all the romances, and that no specific
incident is assignable as his source.

c. The Inn-scenes. Ralph's adventures at the inn in
Waltham must be acknowledged to bear a striking
resemblance to certain features of similar incidents
in Don Quixote, and to be without a close parallel in
the romances. This being the case, it is a natural
conjecture that Beaumont here had Cervantes in mind.
Let us, however, examine these analogous situations
somewhat closely.

It will be remembered that Don Quixote, when he
first sallies forth on adventures, comes to an inn,
which he feigns to himself as 'a castle with four
turrets, whereof the pinnacles were of glistering
silver, without omitting the drawbridge, deep fosse,
and other adherents belonging to the like places '
(Bk. 1, chap. 2). The host at this tavern quickly
sees the mental condition of his guest, and gives
him lodging without charges.

A closer parallel to Ralph's adventures at the Bell
Inn is to be found in the first three chapters of Bk. 3.
Don Quixote and Sancho Panza chance upon an
inn, which to the Don straightway becomes a won
drous castle, but which the squire stoutly maintains

Analogues and Attributed Sources xli

to be an inn, and only an inn. During their sojourn
at this hostelry, the knight becomes involved in a
number of strange adventures which have no coun
terpart in our play. The parallel resides, first, in the
fact that Don Quixote imagines the inn to be a
castle, just as George, the dwarf (2. 397-8), feigns
before our errant adventurers to have discovered, not
a stone's cast off,

An ancient Castle held by the old Knight
Of the most holy order of the Bell ;

and secondly, in the corresponding manner in which
the two heroes receive the reckoning of their hosts
for the night's lodging.

Both Don Quixote and Ralph offer profuse thanks
for their entertainment :

And, being both mounted thus a-horseback [i. e. Don Quixote and
Sancho Panza], he called the innkeeper, and said unto him, with a
grave and staid voice : ' Many and great are the favours, sir constable,
which I have received in this your castle, and do remain most obliged
to gratify you for them all the days of my life.1

With this, compare Ralph's speech to ' the knight of
the most holy order of the Bell ' (3. 160-3) :

We render thankes to your puissant self,
Your beauteous Lady, and your gentle squires,
For thus refreshing of our wearied limbs,
Stiffened with hard achievements in wild desert.

This close correspondence might seem forcibly
indicative of the play's dependence upon the novel ;
but the speeches of Ralph, as above, are filled with
the stock phrases of Munday's translations, which do
not belong to the language of Don Quixote; while,
in their developments, the episodes diverge from
each other radically. Don Quixote oifers to recom
pense the favors accorded him in these words :

And if I may pay or recompense them by revenging of you upon
any proud miscreant that hath done you any wrongs, know that it is
mine office to help the weak, to revenge the wronged, and to chastise

xlii Introduction

traitors. Call therefore to memory, and if you find anything of this
kind to commend to my correction, you need not but once to say it ;
for I do promise you, by the order of knighthood which I have re
ceived, to satisfy and apay you according to your own desire.

There is no resemblance to this offer in Ralph's pro
posal (3. 185-8):

But to requite this liberal curtesie,

If any of your squires will follow arms,

He shall receive from my heroic hand

A knighthood, by the virtue of this pestle.

In each case, the host insists upon payment, but
Ralph pretends to ignore the bill, as though it were
a matter unintelligible to him. It is very apparent
that here again Ralph is fully conscious of playing
a part, and that his steady obtuseness is due to his
excess of histrionic zeal. The poor old Don, on the

other hand, awakens to a realization that he has

been mistaken about his surroundings. Upon the
host's urging his suit for the charges,

' This, then, is an inn ? ' quoth Don Quixote. ' That it is, and an
honorable one too, ' replied the innkeeper. ' Then have I hitherto lived
in an error,' quoth Don Quixote, 'for, in very good sooth, I took it
till now to be a castle, and that no mean one neither. '

The situations diverge still further in their final
outcomes. In the novel, there is no payment at all.
Don Quixote appeals to the immemorial right of
knights-errant to partake of entertainment without cost.

' All that concerns me nothing, ' replied the innkeeper. ' Pay unto
me thy due, and leave these tales and knighthoods apart ; for I care
for nothing else but how I may come by my own. ' ' Thou art a mad
and a bad host, ' quoth Don Quixote. And, saying so, he spurred
Rozinante, and flourishing with his javelin, he issued out of the inn
in despite of them all, and, without looking behind him to see once
whether his squire followed, he rode a good way off from it.

Thereupon the innkeeper applies to Sancho Panza
for the money, who refuses to give it, pleading that
'the very same rule and reason that exempted his
master from payments in inns and taverns ought also

Analogues and Attributed Sources xliii

to serve and be understood as well of him. ' As a
result of his unresponsiveness, Sancho is tossed in
a blanket, and his wallets are taken from him as the
only available return for the lodging.

In The Knight of the Burning Pestle the solution of
the difficulty is wholly unlike this, and is assuredly
unique. The Knight of the Bell Inn, in a manner
more courteous, though not less insistent, than that
of Don Quixote's host, says (3. 189-191) :

Fair knight, I thank you for your noble offer :

Therefore, gentle knight,

Twelve shillings you must pay, or I must cap you.

Thereupon, Ralph's solicitous master, the onlooking
grocer, who fears that his apprentice is in actual danger,
triumphantly holds out the money, and gives the
innkeeper to understand that he cannot ' cap, ' i. e.
arrest, Ralph now. This easy, though singular, dis
missal of the situation is not derived from Don Quixote.
It will be readily granted that, even if Beaumont
did draw the idea of the inn-scenes from Cervantes,
his development of it is independent and original.
But what reason is there for presuming that he so
derived it ? Is not its employment a very logical issue
of the conditions of the play, and may not the con
ception of it, therefore, have been wholly original
with its author? Ralph, with his squire, his dwarf,
Mistress Merrythought, and Michael, is wandering
about in the uninhabited Waltham Forest in search
of food and a resting-place. Suddenly the party
emerge into the open, and find themselves at the
end of Waltham Town, where is situated a tavern
called the Bell Inn (2. 393). This is a local touch
which does not have the least connection with Don
Quixote. It is very natural and probable that the Bell
Inn should be so situated, and it is merely a logical

xliv Introduction

outcome of the whole purpose of the burlesque that
it should be hailed as a castle, the only sort of
habitation, aside from caves and dungeons, which
has any conspicuous place in the romances. Equally
in keeping with the burlesque is it that the host
should be regarded as the castle's knightly owner.
I see no reason why, in the logic of the movement,
this feature of the play should not have been con
ceived in complete independence of Don Quixote.
Furthermore, the ascription of the source of the scene
to the novel seems nullified by the thoroughly Eng
lish and local tone of the dwarfs account of the
castle and its inmates : the Knight of the Bell and
his squires, Chamberlino, Tapstero, and Ostlero. There
are no characters of this stamp at the inn in Don Quixote.
A reference to the notes will show how typically
English are these functionaries, particularly the ostler.

And for Ralph's assumed ignorance of the purport
of the reckoning, the well-known poverty of knights-
errant, and the free hospitality everywhere accorded
them, together with the almost complete lack of a
mention of their monetary possessions in the roman
ces, form a sufficient explanation. The similarity
between the play and the novel in this circumstance
is, of course, remarkable, but, as in other coincidences
already treated, it seems to me to be easily referable
to the common object of their burlesque, and not
to present any sure evidence whatever of a direct
relation between them.

In a word, the differences between the inn-scenes
in Don Quixote and in The Knight of the Burning Pestle,
both in local color and in particular developments,
are so great as strongly to impair the probability of
the novel being, in this instance, the source of the
play, while in the play the requirements of the situ-

Analogues and Attributed Sources xlv

ation are in themselves sufficient to have produced
the episode. This, the most considerable parallel
between the two burlesques, still further loses signif
icance in view of the case of other parallels, alleged
to be connectives, which are yet to be touched upon.

d. The Barber's Basin. Leonhardt assumes that,
because a barber's basin happens to play a small
part in our comedy, its appearance was suggested
by the like vessel which Don Quixote forces from
a traveling barber, who is wearing it on his head
to protect himself from the rain (Bk. 3, chap. 7). Don
Quixote looks upon his capture as an inestimable
prize, since he is under the delusion that it is the
famous helmet of Mambrino, for the possession of
which he has long cherished a desire.

Leonhardt's tracing of a connection between this
fanciful helmet and the barber's bowl in our play is
certainly far-fetched and ridiculous. In Don Quixote,
the barber's basin is an important feature in the adven
tures of the hero ; in our play, the corresponding
vessel is an insignificant detail. The host mentions
it in his description of Barboroso's cell, i. e. the
barber's shop (3. 263), and Ralph directs his squire
to knock upon it in order to summon the giant to
his account (3. 351). There is no similarity whatever
between the uses made of the basins, or the circum
stances surrounding them, or the attitude of the
characters toward them. To Don Quixote the imple
ment is a gorgeous helmet ; to Ralph and his com
panions it is merely a basin, and always a basin, and
never gives the least suggestion of any part of a
knight's armor, beyond the fact that the host says
that it hangs upon a ' prickant spear,' i. e. the barber's
pole. No one in the play has any quixotic delusions
about the bowl. It remains throughout merely a

xlvi Introduction

barber's implement. That it should have been men
tioned among the other furnishings of the barber's
shop is perfectly natural. The fact has no reference
to Don Quixote whatever. We may reject as wire
drawn and absurd Leonhardt's assumption that there
is a relationship between the specified incidents.

e. The Liberation of the Barber's Patients. Here,
again, Leonhardt thinks he sees a connection with
Don Quixote. He traces the source of this scene to
the release of the galley-slaves. In Bk. 3, chap. 8,
the Knight of La Mancha and his squire come upon
a chain of convicts, who have been forced by the
king to go to the galleys. Don Quixote accosts one
of the guardians, and demands of him to allow each
of his charges to give an account of his conviction.
The manner in which each of the culprits describes
the cause of his captivity is parallel, in general, to
the accounts of their misfortunes which Ralph draws
from the recipients of his good offices. The answers
are in some sort humorous, made with an evident
realization of Don Quixote's mental state, just as the
knights in our play attune their speeches to the
imaginings of their fantastic interrogator. The first
of the galley-slaves has been convicted for love, too
much love, though it be for 'a basket well heaped
with fine linen ; ' the second is paying the penalty
of 'singing in anguish,' which is interpreted to the
Don as the confession wrung from the wretch upon
the rock that he delighted in being ' a stealer of
beasts ; ' the third is going to the Lady Garrupes for

five years because he wanted ten ducats and got

them, in a manner which proved disastrous ; the fourth
is condemned as a bawd; &c. &c. When he has
received the varied accounts, Don Quixote addresses
the slaves in this fashion :

Analogues and Attributed Sources xlvii

I have gathered out of all that which you have said, dear brethren,
that although they punish you for your faults, yet that the pains you
go to suffer do not very well please you, and that you march toward
them with a very ill will, and wholly constrained. . . . All which
doth present itself to my memory in such sort, as it persuadeth, yea,
and enforceth me, to effect that for you for which heaven sent me into
the world, and made me profess that order of knighthood which I follow,
and that vow which I made therein to favour and assist the needful,
and those that are oppressed by others more patent.

Upon the refusal of the guardians to liberate the
prisoners peaceably, Don Quixote assaults one of
them so suddenly with his lance that he completely
overcomes him. During the ensuing skirmish between
the Don and the other guards, the slaves break their
chain and put their keepers to rout. Don Quixote
then commands them to go and present themselves
before his lady Dulcinea del Toboso, and recount to
her the adventure he had that day accomplished in
her name ; at which preposterous suggestion the
slaves fall upon the Knight and Sancho with stones,
and then leave them, overwhelmed with wounds and
astonishment.

There is, indeed, a very slight resemblance to this
episode in Ralph's magnanimous behavior toward the
barber-giant's supposed captives. But, once again,
it is far more probable that the likeness arises through
the common objects of the burlesque than through
any use of Cervantes' material by Beaumont. In
the first place, the one element of real similarity,
the questioning of released prisoners, is such a com
mon motive in the romances themselves that it is
altogether gratuitous to regard Don Quixote as the
inspiration of its employment in the scene in question.
I need only cite a few instances from Palmerin of
England. In Part 1, chap. 28, after the knight of the
Savage Man had rescued from the giant Calfurnio
some imprisoned damsels, ' their great courtesy liked

xlviii Introduction

him so well, that he was loth to do anything they
should mislike of: Wherefore sitting talking with
them, he desired them that without offence he might
demand their names and country, and by what mishap
they chanced into the giant's government?' Upon
this request, Artinalda, one of the damsels, relates
their history. In chap. 32, Palmerin discovers his
squire Seliam in the hands of brigands. Palmerin
puts the ruffians to death or flight, 'which done, he
cut the cords with which Seliam was tied, requesting
him to report how he chanced into that mishap.' In
chap. 42, the knights rescued from the giant Dramu-
ziando send Prince Floraman to the King of England
with the tidings of their release. Upon the king's
questioning Floraman concerning the adventure,
' Floraman rehearsed the whole state of their impris
onment, from the first to the last, with the contin
uance of accidents happening in that time.' In
Part 2, chap. 125, the knight of the Damsels, after
he had rescued a certain maiden from the hands of
some villainous knights, ' questioned with the damsel,
how she happened into that place, and upon what
occasion the knights so sought to force her.' She
relpied in the customary manner, giving a detailed
account of the circumstance, and beginning in this
characteristic manner : ' Sir, I was born in this coun
try, and am somewhat of kin to the lady Miraguarda,'
&c. And so one might go on, citing instance after
instance from the romances which of themselves
would furnish sufficient explanation for Ralph's
examination of the prisoners, without any reference
to Don Quixote.

When we regard the more essential elements of
the scene in the play, we see a still greater inde
pendence of the novel. In The Knight of the Burning

Analogues and Attributed Sources xlix

Pestle, there are no traveling slaves, and no abuse
of Ralph and his attendants by the recipients of his
benefactions. On the other hand, Don Quixote contains
no cave, no giant, and no incarcerated victims — and
these are the really important features in the play.

Once again, one must turn, not to Cervantes, but
to the romances, for the parallels which suggested
Beaumont's episode. It would be hazardous to assert
that the adventure to which Ralph here commits
himself is founded upon any single incident in the
romances. The old tales are replete with rescues of
prisoners from the caves and castles of evil-minded
giants and sorcerers. At the beginning of Palmerin
of England, for example, Don Duardo is taken captive
by the giant Dramuziando. The heroes who first
attempt to liberate him are foiled, and some of them
are themselves made prisoners. The climax of the
action in Part 1 is the conquest of the giant and the
rescue of his victims by Palmerin. Similar engage
ments with giants are countless. None of them,
however, so far as I have discovered, present parallels
to our play which are exact enough to entitle them
to be regarded as sources.

An extended use of the cave- or dungeon-motive
is to be found in Amadis of Gaul, Bk. 1, chaps. 19
and 20. Amadis arrives at the castle of Arcalaus,
the enchanter. Entering one of the courts, he espies
a dark place, with steps that go under ground. The
narrative proceeds thus:

Amadis went down the steps so far that he could see nothing ; he
came to a plain ground, it was utterly dark, yet he proceeded, and
groping along a wall felt a bar of iron, whereto there hung a key,
and be opened the padlock of the gate. . . . Anon more than a
hundred voices were heard crying aloud, Lord God send us death and
deliver us ! Thereat was Amadis greatly astonished1.

1 Southey's trans,
d

1 Introduction

Presently he discovers the prisoners' guards, whom
he engages in combat so successfully that of them
all only two escape death, and that only by falling
at his feet for mercy.

Shew me then the prisoners ! said Amadis ; they led the way. Who
lies here ? said he, hearing a lamentable voice from a cell. A lady,
said they, in great torment.

Needless to relate, he rescues the. lady, who, in the
approved fashion, tells him of her lineage, and is led
from the prison. After returning to the upper court,
Amadis is for a time held in the spell of the enchanter
Arcalaus. Upon recovering himself, he puts on a
suit of armor and goes to deliver Gandalin, his squire,
who has meanwhile been imprisoned.

The men of Arcalaus seeing him thus armed, ran all ways ; but he
descended the steps, and through the wall where he had slain the jaylor,
and so to the dungeon : a dreadful place it was for the captives : in length
an hundred times as far as a man's spread arms can reach ; one only and
a half of that span wide ; dark, for neither light nor air could enter, and so
full that it was crowded. . . . but then the dwarf knew his [i. e. Gandalin's]
voice, and answered, Here we are ! Thereat greatly rejoicing, Amadis
went to the lamp in the hall, and kindled torches and took them to
the dungeon, and loosed Gandalin's chains, and bade him deliver his
comrades. They came from the dungeon, an hundred and fifteen men
in all, of whom thirty were knights, and they followed Amadis, ex
claiming, O fortunate knight ! . . . Christ give thee thy reward I and,
when they came to the sun-light and open sky, they fell upon their
knees, and with lifted hands blest God who had given that knight
strength to their deliverance.

I have quoted this incident from Amadis, not be
cause I regard it as an immediate source of the cave-
scene in our play, but because it well illustrates the
fact that Beaumont, in his use of an episode dealing
with a cave and prisoners, is simply burlesquing a
typical and recurrent feature of the romances of
chivalry. It is a feature, moreover, which has no
analogy, as has been pointed out, in the attributed
source in Don Quixote. Here, as elsewhere, Beaumont

Analogues and Attributed Sources li

drew, not from Cervantes, but directly from the ro
mances themselves.

f. Ralph's Fidelity to Susan before Pompiona. In
Act 4, 11. 108-9, the Princess Pompiona is represented
as trying to persuade Ralph to wear her favor in his
shield. He refuses, because she ' trusts in Antichrist,
and false traditions.' He says also :

Besides, I have a lady of my own
In merry England, for whose virtuous sake
I took these arms ; and Susan is her name,
A cobbler's maid in Milk-street ; whom I vow
Ne'er to forsake whilst life and Pestle last.

Leonhardt seems to think that Ralph's faithfulness
to Susan is reflected from Don Quixote's staunch
fidelity to Dulcinea before the imagined loveliness
of Maritornes, who is a kitchen-wench at the inn
(Bk. 3, chap. 3), and who is 'broad-faced, flat-pated,
saddle-nosed, blind of an eye, and the other almost
out.' The crazed old hidalgo receives this charmer
as ' a goddess of love between his arms,' though he
resists complete captivation through reflecting on
Dulcinea, telling Maritornes that it is impossible to
yield to her love, because, as he says, ' of the prom
ised faith which I have given to the unmatchable
Dulcinea of Toboso, the only lady of my most hidden
thoughts ; for did not this let me, do not hold me
to be so senseless and mad a knight as to overslip
so fortunate an occasion as this your bounty hath
offered to me.'

Here, again, Leonhardt stretches a point in order
to find in the play a derivation from the novel.
Pompiona is always a princess of high degree, in
habiting a magnificent castle, and is so depicted.
Maritornes is nothing but a vulgar, obscene kitchen-
wench, bent, when accosted by Don Quixote, upon
a secret intrigue with a carrier at the inn, and is so

d 2

lii Introduction

depicted. Pompiona can by no possibility have been
suggested by Maritornes, while the fidelity of Ralph
and the Don to their plighted lady-loves is a reflec
tion from their common original, the romances, and
in no sense argues a connection between the play
and the novel.

The whole of Ralph's adventures at the court of
Pompiona's father, the King of Moldavia, find an ap
proximate analogy1, indeed, not in any portion of
Don Quixote, but in a situation in Palmerin de Oliva
which is thoroughly typical of the romances. The
eighth chapter of the second book of that romance
is entitled, ' How the Princesse Ardemia, enduring
extreame Passions and torments in Love, made offer
of her affections to Palmerin, which he refused :
wherewith the Princesse (through extreme conceit
of griefe and despaire) suddenly dyed. ' 2 Ardemia is
a companion of Alchidiana, daughter of the Sultan
of Babylon, to whose court the fortunes of Palmerin
have brought him. The amorous suits of this Prin
cess are indeed much more insistent and long-winded
than Pompiona's, and the result of their failure is
much more violent, but there are a few resemblances
which are of value as illustrating the satirical point
in our scene.

In much the same manner as Pompiona urges Ralph
to receive a ' favor, ' Ardemia presents Palmerin with
a diamond, saying :

O sweet Friend, and onely comfort of my Soule, let me intreat
you to weare this as an argument of my love, thereby to know how
well I esteeme you, assuring you that I am so devoted yours : as if
you vouchsafe to grant me the favor and honor as to goe with me
to the court of my Father, I never will have any other Husband but

1 An analogous situation is to be found, also, in the fidelity of Amadis
to Oriana before the love-smitten Briolania, in Amadies of Gaul, Bk. I,
chaps. 40, 50. Other analogies might be cited by the score.
1 Munday's trans.

Analogues and Attributed Sources liii

you, and there shall such account be made of you, as well beseems
a Knight so noble and vertuous.

More relevant, however, to Ralph's adventure is
the manner in which Palmerin receives Ardemia's
advances. Just as Ralph refuses to wear the favor
of Pompiona, because she trusts in Antichrist, Palmerin
is repelled by the fact that Ardemia is a pagan :

Palmerin, amazed at this strange accident, because she was a Pagan,
and contrary to him in faith, therefore made no answer, but . . . started
from her sudainly, and being moved with displeasure, departed the
Chamber.

And as Ralph calls his Susan to mind before Pompiona,
so Palmerin fortifies himself, after having fled from
Ardemia, by invoking his absent lady-love, saying :

Ah sweet Mistresse, succour now your Servant, for I rather desire
a thousand deaths, then to violate the chaste honour of my Love, or
to give that favour to this Lady which in only yours.

After Ardemia has died of grief because of Pal-
merin's refusal of her love, her companion Alchidiana,
daughter of the Sultan, falls in love with the hero,
and plies him with amorous suits, which also he
evades (chap. 13). Just as Pompiona requires of
Ralph his name and birth, Alchidiana thus addresses
Palmerin :

I desire you Sir Knight by the reverence you beare our Gods, and
the faith you owe to her, for whose loue you tooke the Enchanted
Crowne from the Prince Maurice, to tell me your name, what your
parents be, and of whence you are. For I sweare to you by the
honour of a Princesse, that the guerdon you shall receive in so doing,
is my heart, having once conquered those desires that long haue tor
mented me : intending to make you Lord of myself, and all the
possessions of the Soldane my Father, without any sinister meaning
you may believe me.

Then just as Ralph responds : ' My name is Ralph, ' &c.,
Palmerin replies to the inquiries of Alchidiana :

My name is Palmerin D'Oliva, and what my parents, the Queen of
Tharsus within these three days will tell me more than hitherto I
could understand by any, when you shall haue more knowledge of

liv Introduction

my estate and Country also : but so farre as I yet can gather by mine
own understanding, my Descent is from Persia.

Palmerin is here, it should be said, deceiving Alchid-
iana into believing him a Persian, since he does
not wish to cause her immediate dissolution by dis
closing to her that he is a Christian, and that his
heart is already bound to a Christian lady.

The only conclusion to be derived from such a
comparison as that just made is that Beaumont is
merely burlesquing the general features of recurrent
amours in the romances, whereby designing prin
cesses attempt to lure the knights away from their
chosen lady-loves. It may plausibly be surmised,
though not confidently asserted, that he drew the
idea of the scene at the Court of Moldavia from
Palmerin de Oliva. He assuredly did not draw it from
Don Quixote. There is no significant resemblance
between Ralph's behavior towards Pompiona and the
Don's behavior toward Maritornes at the inn.

g. Susan, the lady-love of Ralph. Leonhardt implies
that Dulcinea del Toboso is the prototype of Susan.
This, of course, is mere conjecture. It seems based
simply on the fact that the two damsels belong to
a humble station in life. Susan is a ' cobbler's maid
in Milk-street, ' while Dulcinea, it will be remembered,
is a country-wench, and is chiefly commendable for
her skill in the salting of pork. In each instance, it
is a fitting issue of the mock-heroic purpose that a
lowly maiden should be represented as the lady-love
of the burlesque knight, and should be given a
grotesque and incongruous elevation. In the absence
of any definable line of connection between Susan
and Dulcinea, there is no reason for presuming that
Beaumont may not of his own accord have hit upon
this very pertinent conception.

Analogues and Attributed Sources lv

Furthermore, there is a distinct difference between
Cervantes ' and Beaumont's conceptions. However
humble and even coarse to the world at large Dul-
cinea may be, to Don Quixote she is always and
everywhere a beautiful and lofty lady, whom he ab
jectly worships. On the other hand, however chival
rous Ralph may be in his addresses to his absent
lady-love, she is always to him, as to everybody
else, merely ' the cobbler's maid in Milk-street, ' and
is never in his or other people's eyes exalted by
her function as a lady to an aristocratic height. She
is merely a prentice-boy's naturally chosen sweetheart,
and offers no resemblance whatever to the attributes
with which Don Quixote invests Dulcinea. Susan,
as a denizen of Milk-street, is a thoroughly local
personage, moreover, and her ' cobbling ' vocation
smacks more suggestively of London than of Dul-
cinea's rustic surroundings. That Ralph should have
thought of honoring Susan, in particular, with his
devotion is an aptly local touch, for it reflects the
close community of the London trades, with perhaps
some bit of condescension on the part of the grocer's
boy in noticing a maiden whose master, unlike his
own, belongs to one of the lower guilds, and not to
one of the twelve great City Companies. There is
in all this no hint of Dulcinea del Toboso and her
country occupations, and there is nothing Spanish
about it. Beaumont, we may well suppose, out of
his own unassisted ingenuity, simply contrived to
give point to his ridicule of the exaggerated lady-
worship in the romances by calling before the imag
ination of his hearers a familiar London character
in the person of this Susan, since the absurdity of
the grocer knight's high-flown and chivalrous devotion
to the ' cobbling dame ' would be patent to any Lon-

Ivi Introduction

don audience. How faithfully Ralph's attitude toward
Susan, his vows and invocations to her, reflect the
character of the romances, may be seen in the illus
trative passages from the romances which are quoted
in my notes on the lines containing allusions to Susan.

In giving notice to Leonhardt's ascriptions to Don
Quixote as a source of our play, I have incidentally
covered all the larger features of the plot which are
paralleled in the romances of chivalry. It would be
possible to carry out the comparison with much
greater minuteness. The burlesque portions of the
play are packed with details of the romantic ma
chinery. The relief of poor ladies (1. 263), the swearing
by the sword (2. 131), the keeping of the passage
(2. 300), the mode of defying an enemy (2. 323-27),
the functions of the dwarf and squire (3. 228), the

taking of vows (3. 246-52) these and numerous

other particularities are carried over directly from
the romances. There are ample citations of illustra
tive parallels in the notes, and we may therefore
ignore at this point these smaller dependencies.

I trust that in the foregoing survey of analogous
features in The Knight of the Burning Pestle and the
romances it has been made sufficiently evident that
Beaumont took the suggestion for his burlesque, so
far as it touches the romances, directly out of his

objects Amadis of Gaul, Palmerin de Oliva, Palmer-

in of England, &c. and not, as far as is either

demonstrable or probable, out of Don Quixote. I have
attempted to show that every incident adduced is
more reasonably ascribable to the romances them
selves, or to local conditions, as the source of its in
spiration, than to Don Quixote.

The broader aspects of the play and the novel
tend to confirm the belief that their conceptions are

Analogues and Attributed Sources Ivii

mutually independent. There is nothing in The Knight
of the Burning Pestle, for example, to correspond to
the Knight of La Mancha's Rozinante or to Sancho's

ass beasts which play a most important part in

the fortunes of their masters. If Beaumont had Cer
vantes in mind, is it not strange that he did not in
some way appropriate these famous chargers ?

There is no figure in the play to correspond to
Sancho Panza, and assuredly here is a type which
would have lent itself so readily to stage-caricature,
and to the emphasis of the burlesque, that we can
hardly conceive of Beaumont's neglecting to adapt
it had he known it at first hand. True, the cit
izen-spectators, like Sancho, represent the prosaic
unimaginative world of fact, and they thus afford the
proper foil to heighten the humor of the burlesque.
But they are not, like Sancho, themselves engaged
in the central action, and their characteristics are
not his. They do not have his homespun sense, and
their obtuse blindness to the factitious nature of the
stage-play is not, like the stolidity of Sancho, ever
and again crossed by a gleam of intelligence, a real
ization that all this chivalric phantasm is a delusion
and a fraud, and that they are its dupes. On the
contrary, its simplicity is so great that, though Ralph's
identity never becomes blurred, whatever is enacted
before them can to them be only reality, and Ralph's
assumption of a chivalric role can only project him
into the felicities and dangers of an actual knight ;
while, unlike Sancho, who knows that the windmills
are windmills, and tries to call his master away from
their disastrous sweep, the citizen and his wife quake
with fear for Ralph, as though he were fighting an
actual giant when he meets the barber, while every
where they excitedly stir him on to kill a lion, foil

Iviii Introduction

his enemy, or court the princess. They are very
remote from Sancho Panza.

Again, there is no character in the play which re
sembles Don Quixote himself. The Don and Ralph
have pratically nothing in common. Ralph struts
and swaggers about the stage in keen realization of
his histrionic importance, and never for an instant
loses himself in the pathetic bewilderment which at
taches to the old knight's semi-conciousness of con
flict between his reason and his fancies, of disparity
between his chivalric dream-world and the unsym
pathetic world of reality in which he actually moves.
There is the same measure of difference between
the conceptions which would naturally have existed
between a roistering prentice-boy of the London
shops and a decayed old country hidalgo who has
become so steeped in the literature and peculiar cul
ture of the day that his mind is turned. Surely, if
Beaumont drafted the play upon the Spanish novel,
we should expect to see a reproduction of at least
some of the essential traits of its hero.

It would be interesting to study carefully the broad
er contrasts between the two burlesques, but this
brief statement of their leading differences, together
with the obvious differences in scope of development
and in local significance, will tend to show the es
sential dissimilarity between the play and the novel,
and to confirm the specific proofs, already given,
which point to Beaumont's independence of Cervantes
in his conception both of the idea and the plot of
The Knight of the Burning Pestle. The play and the
novel touch each other closely in their satirical pur
pose ; but, in its specific features, the play is modeled
directly upon the general lines of the romances
themselves, and not upon Don Quixote.

Analogues and Attributed Sources lix

2. Contemporary Plays and Ballads.

A^ number of the features of The Knight of the
Burning Pestle seem to have been suggested by con
temporary plays, and by a popular ballad of the time.

It has long been recognized that one of the especial
objects of the burlesque is Hey wood's Fpy? Prentices
of London. I shall consider the relation of the satire
to this play in a later section. At present, I wish
tonotice only the^ elements in its plot which were
(d£j^orjriated)by Beaumont These are few in number,
but significant. There can be no doubt that the con
ception of a grocer-errant was suggested by the four
prentice brothers in Heywood's play. The brothers
are sons of the Earl of Bouillon, who Jias been so
reduced in fortune that he lives ' in London like a
Cittizen,' and binds them as prentices to four trades.
Through the Cdcisitudes) of their fortunes, they rise
from their lowly tradesman's rank to become knights
and princes. I shall sketch the plot in detail at
another point. Written in a grandiose style, and
devoted to flattering the vanity of the tradesmen,
the play easily lent itself to ridicule ; and Beaumont,
though nowhere following its development closely,

appropriated its central feature the idea of prentice

adventurers for the purposes of his burlesque, and

incorporated a few of its details?.

Near the beginning of the play, Eustace expresses
discontent with the humdrum life of the grocer's shop,
and a desire for a warlike career:

I am a Grocer : Yet had rather see

A faire guilt sword hung in a velvet sheath,

Then the best Barbary sugar in the world,

Were it a freight of price inestimable.

I haue a kind of prompting in my braine,

That sayes : Though I be bound to a sweete Trade,

I must forgoe it, I keepe too much in.

Ix Introduction

These lines seem to have suggested Ralph's query
(1. 276-82):

•But what brave spirit could be content to sit in his shop, with a
flappet of wood, and a blue apron before him, selling mithridatum
and dragon's water to visited houses, that might pursue feats of arms,
and, through his noble achievements, procure such a famous history
to be written of his heroic prowess ?

Eustace, before starting for the Holy Land, declares :

For my Trades sake, if good successe I haue,
The Grocers Armes shall in my Ensigne waue.

Weber and Dyce point out that these lines sug
gested their parody as contained in Ralph's announc
ement:

Yet, in remembrance of my former trade upon my shield shall be
portrayed a Burning Pestle, and I will be called the Knight of the
Burning Pestle.

There is a general resemblance to Ralph's adven
tures at the Court of Moldavia in the adventures of
Guy at the court of the King of France. A shipwreck
in Hey wood's play casts Guy upon the coast of France.
The king and his daughter, walking upon the beach,
espy him:

Him at first sight the beauteous Lady loves ;
And prays her father to receive him home:
To which the King accords ; and in his Court
Makes him a great and speciall Officer.

The Princess straightway begins her suit, but is
much more insistently amorous than Pompiona, and
Guy is much more loquaciously obdurate that Ralph.
The mistress, the thought of whom preserves him from
the lady's advances, is not another Susan, but war.

Lady. - — faire Knight do you love ?

Guy. To march, to plant a battle, lead an Hoast,
To be a souldier and to goe to Warre,

By heauen I loue it as mine owne deere life

Make Warre a Lady, I that Lady loue.

Analogues and Attributed Sources Ixi

The Lady objects:

I know all this ; your words are but delaies :
Could you not loue a Lady that loues you ?
Tis hard when women are enforced to wooe.

The prentice-knight remains impenetrable ; but the
Lady, undismayed, follows him to the wars, and, in
the final outcome, weds him. It will be seen that
the situation is more acute than that between Ralph
and Pompiona ; but because of its easy susceptibility
to burlesque, it is possible that it was in our author's
mind, together with the analogous episode in Palmerin
de Oliva with which comparison has already been made.
At the conclusion of The Four Prentices, Charles says :

Since first I bore this shield I quartered it
With this red Lyon, whom I singly once
Slew in the Forrest.

Dyce points out the resemblance of these lines to
the Wife's suggestion: 'Let him kill a lion with a
pestle, husband ' (Ind. 46), and also to a ballad en
titled The Honour of a London Apprentice, in which
the said apprentice kills two lions. It is hazardous
to assert that either Heywood's play or the ballad
is the direct source of the Wife's proposal. The ro
mances of chivalry are filled with conflicts with lions,
and Beaumont may have been merely ridiculing this
stock motive, without a specific incident in view.

The Honour of a London Apprentice is an absurdly
serious tale of a London shop-boy, who finds himself
in Turkey, and proceeds to defend the name of
'Elizabeth his princess' by slaying the Sultan's son.
Two lions are set to devour the prentice, but he
succeeds in killing them both by thrusting his arms
down their throats and plucking out their hearts,
which he casts before the Sultan. This act so fills
the monarch with admiration that he repents all his

Ixii Introduction

' foul offences ' against the prentice, and gives him
his daughter to wed1.

This ballad was very popular at the time, and must
have been known to Beaumont. It offers an excellent
parallel, in its ridiculous laudation of the prowess of
London prentice-boys, to the burlesque use of this
general theme in our play ; and, though it cannot be
demonstrated, it is possible that the ballad influenced
Beaumont's conception.

There are three comparatively distinct strands in
the plot of The Knight of the Burning Pestle : the love-
story of Jasper and Luce, the fortunes of the Merry
thought family, and the adventures of Ralph. The
literary relationships of the third division have been
specified. The first two are realistic reflections of
ordinary life merely, and are for the most part either
original with the dramatists, or drawn from the com
mon subject-material of the stage.

The love-theme, though given here and there some
freshness and beauty, is essentially conventional. The
avaricious and irascible father, bent upon wedding
his daughter to a wealthy dolt whom she despises,
the rejected suitor, the poor but favored lover, the
elopement, the reconciliation, and the happy ending

—here is a time-honored plot which has been the
stock in trade of the theatre from the earliest ap
pearance of English comedy down to the latest pop
ular ' hit ' upon Broadway. It is superfluous to attempt
to find an origin for the central idea of this story.
Beaumont and Fletcher drew it from their observation
of the life about them, and from the conventions of
their profession.

One or two of its elements, however, seem to have
been suggested by contemporary plays. Emil Koeppel

1 The ballad may be found in Ritson's Ancient Songs and Ballads 2. 199.

Analogues and Attributed Sources Ixiii

has called attention to a similarity between one of
its episodes and Marston's Antonio and Mellida, which
appeared in 1602 1. At the conclusion of the play,
there is a device similar to the conveyance of Jasper
into the house of Venturewell, and of Luce into the
house of Merrythought, in a coffin (4. 268, 349, and
5. 196). Antonio, the hero, causes himself to be car
ried on a bier into the presence of his beloved Mellida
in the palace of her father, Piero Sforza, the Duke of
Venice, who has opposed the match because of enmity
toward Antonio's family. When the incident occurs,
the Duke has just been reconciled with Antonio's
father. In the midst of the funeral assemblage, Piero
swears that he would bestow Mellida's hand upon
Antonio, could the latter's life be restored. At these
words, the supposed corpse rises from the bier, and
demands the fulfilment of the vow, which is granted.
It is true that the situation in our play is conceived
chiefly in a comic spirit, and is solved through Ven-
turewell's ludicrous fear of Jasper's fabricated ghost,
and grief over the fictitious death of the heroine in
stead of the hero ; but the devices in the two plays
are similar enough to make plausible the conjecture
that here our authors draw upon Marston.

The character of Humphrey has interesting affili
ations throughout our early comedy, and is not hard
to account for. The cowardly fop and ninny, who
is the dupe of a parasite, or the sport of a scornful
lady-love, or the victim of humorous wags about
town, is a stock figure upon the Elizabethan stage ;
he is as old, indeed, as Ralph Roister Doister him
self. From one point of view or another, Humphrey
is akin to Ralph Roister Doister, to Shakespeare's

1 Quellen-Studien zu den Dramen Ben Jonson's, John Marston's und
Beaumonfs und Fletcher's, p. 42.

Ixiv Introduction

Simple, to Ben Jonson's Master Stephen, and to nu
merous gulls and dandies of the old drama whose
only merit lies in their curled locks or in their money
bags. A comparative study of these characters would
result in the definition of a recurrent type ; it would
not result in the specification of a concrete source
for the conception of Humphrey. Here, again, Beau
mont and Fletcher are appropriating the general
stock in trade of the theatre, though they must be
granted a large degree of originality in a creation
of such bizarre, and indeed overdrawn, absurdity as
the figure of this unconscionable booby.

The family of the Merrythoughts, like the house
hold of the merchant, form merely a homely picture
of more or less typical domesticity, and are sketched
by the authors from observation rather than under
the influence of literary models. Old Merrythought,
however, is more of a 'humor' study than an actual
invididual, and his portrait has suggested analogues.
His name reminds Leonhardt of Merrygreek, the
parasite in Ralph Roister Doister, and his fondness
for ballads recalls to Leonhardt Justice Silence in
2 Henry IV1. It is almost needless to say that the
resemblances here are only superficial. Merrygreek,
like Merrythought, does, indeed, flee from work, and
he announces as a sort of guiding motto :

As long lyueth the merry man, they say,

As doth the sory man, and longer by a day ;

but he is a schemer and a sharp, who craftily designs
to live at the charges of his patron, while our scape
grace thinks not at all about the means for procuring
meat and drink, and carelessly defies the encroach
ment of poverty. He warbles :

1 Ober Beaumont und Fletcher's Knight of the Burning Pestle, p. 30.

Objects of the Satire Ixv

Who can sing a merrier note

Than he that cannot change a groat ?

In another passage he cries :

When earth and seas from me are reft,
The skies aloft for me are left.

Merrythought's absorbing jollity is not the spirit of
Merrygreek. Still less is it associated with Shake
speare's Justice Silence. This character has no kinship
with Merrythought beyond his singing of snatches
from old ballads, and, moreover, he sings only when
he is intoxicated; Merrythought sings at all times,
whether he be drunk or sober. If it were desirable
to push comparisons, one might find relationships
between our lover of ballads and the ballad-monger
Autolycus in A Winter's Tale, which was first acted
near the date of our play's appearance. This latter
personage, however, is concerned only with the profit
to be gained from his wares, and the clownage which
characterizes him is the expression of deep -dyed
rascality, while that of Merrythought is merely the
result of irrepressible spirits. After all, however far
Merrythought may be the reflection of a common
tvPe5 I JJhink that we must recognize in his blithe
and sunny nature, his invincible gaiety, and his com
fortable philosophy, an imperfectly outlined, but orig
inal and eminently happy creation of our dramatists.
The character is not without an ancestry, but in its
distinguishing lineaments it is unique.

E. OBJECTS OF THE SATIRE.

The satire in ThzKnight of the Burning Pestle points
in many directions^ _XtJs^ leveled at the romances of
cfijyaT^Ttogether with the tastes of the reading mem
bers of the middle classes, and the extravagances of
the bourgeois drama, which were the products of this

Ixvi Introduction

literature ; it is leveled at the dunce-critics of the
London shops, who presumed to sit in judgment
upon the playwrights, and to impose upon the stage
such theatrical productions as conformed to their
• unclmtrr, standards ; itjs leveled at some of the child
ish diversions and '^foibles' of the commoners, with an
es^cTaTl^feTence~to"their inrlafeSntriiritary ardor as
manifested in the drills of the City train bands ~at
MHeTEncT My purpose is to show the relevancy and
justificatioii~oT this riHicule by sketching the several
objects whjchIprQvoked_it.

1 . Literary and Theatrical Tastes of the Middle Classes.

The discussion of the parallel episodes in The
Knight of the Burning Pestle and the romances of
chivalry has either covered or anticipated what is to
be said of the popular literature of the time, so far
as it offered material for the burlesque. The features
of the old tales which were most openly exposed
to the satirical shafts of the dramatist have been
sufficiently illustrated by these comparisons. It re
mains to show how far the burlesque upon them
was pertinent to the English public.

a. TheFashion of Romance-reading , and the Chivalric Drama.

The continental romances of chivalry never secured
the wide vogue among the English aristocracy which
they had enjoyed in the courts and castles of their
native soils. The reason is not far to seek. In the
first place, the field was (preempted, so far as the ro
mances continued to be read among the higher classes,
by the legends of Arthur and his Round Table,
which, with their organic religious principle and their
fine consecrations, together with their distinctly na
tional aroma, appealed to thoughtful, cultivated minds

Objects of the Satire Ixvii

with far greater force than the pointless extravagances
of Amadis of Gaul and its progeny. The favor some
times accorded to these peculiarly British tales by
men of letters is reflected in Milton's unqualified
reverence for the characters and ideals of the knights :
he tells us that in his youth he betook himself ' among
those lofty fables and romances, which recount in
solemn cantos the deeds of knighthood founded by
our victorious kings,' and that the magnanimous and
pure lives of the heroes proved to him 'so many
incitements ... to the love and steadfast observation
of that virtue which abhors the society of bordelloes';1
and his early intention to write an epic founded upon
the Arthurian legend is well known.

But the good opinion of romances entertained by
Milton does not by any means reflect the attitude of
all litterateurs and scholars. As early as 1570, Roger
Ascham lodged a frequently quoted indictment against
the Morte d' Arthur as an agent of popery and a cor-
rupter of youth. He says :

In our forefather's time, when Papistrie as a standyng poole, couered
and ouerflowed all England, few bookes were read in our tong, sauyng
certaine bookes of Cheualrie, as they sayd, for pastime and pleasure,
which, as some say, were made in Monasteries, by idle Monkes, or
wanton Chanons ; as one for example, Morte Arthure : the whole
pleasure of which booke standeth in two speciall poyntes, in open
manslaughter, and bold bawdry. . . . Yet, I know when Gods Bible
was banished the Court, and Morte Arthure received into the Princes
chamber. What toyes the dayly readying of such a booke may worke
in the will of a yong ientleman, or a yong mayde, that liueth welthelie
and idelie, wise men can iudge, and honest men do pitie*.

The sombre old pedagogue^ fear of the pernicious
influence of the jMbrte dy Arthur was, of course, exces
sive, but it_was in line, at leastj_witha growing
sentiment that the reading of romances, even those

1 An Apology for Smectymnuits, 1642.
* The Schoolmaster. Arber's Reprint, p. 70.

Ixviii Introduction

of_native growth, was a waste of time. During
Elizabeth's reign, the national tales were displaced,
and the Amadis cycles were forestalled, in the ' prince's
chamber' and court circles, by court and pastoral
fictions, either translated or modeled from the Spanish
and the Italian, and by the varied species of poetry
which sprang into being under the inspiration of the
Italian Renaissance. As a result of this new and
polished literature, the way into the favor of culti
vated readers was blocked against the Peninsular
jrom§nces._ When Anthony Munday began to make
his translations in the latter half of the sixteenth
century, books of chivalry had lost much of their
prestige in Spain itself, and it was inevitable that
they should receive small notice in English society,
whose literary fashions were largely dominated by
Spanish influencevi)

But though banished from the circles of the elite,
Munday's versions received wide and lasting popu
larity among the uneducated. Because of the success
of his undertaking, Munday published translations of
Palmerin of England, Palmerin de Oliva, Pallidino of
England, Amadis of Gaul, Primaleon of Greece, and
Palmendos, in the order named. Coeval with Munday's
labor were the translations of other romances by
other hands, chief of which was that of the famous
Espeio de Caballerias. The first part of this exceed
ingly popular work was translated in 1579 by Mar
garet Tiler. The remaining eight portions appeared
at intervals, the last being printed in 1602. The book
was given the English title of The Mirrour of Knight
hood .... The Mirrour of Princely Deeds and Knight
hood, wherein is shewed the Worthinesse of the Knight
of the Sunne and his Brother Bosicleer, &c., &c.

'^)Cf. Underbill, Spanish Literature in the England of the Tutors, p. 368.

Objects of the Satire

^ romances which seem to have received the
largest prominence, and which, moreover, are the
most.. directly related to The Knight of the Burning
Pestle^ are Amadis of Gaul, the two Palmerins, and
The Mirrour of Knighthood. As is^welT known, Amadis
was the progenitor of the Spanish cycles, and if is
generally regarded as having given the most admirable
expression to the peculiarities of its type. Its imita
tive descendants, however, steadily deteriorated in
worth, and in The Mirrour of Knighthood the wild
and preposterous plots which marked the romances
reached the climax of extravagance. Cervantes has
this tale consigned without mercy to the flames. The
relative merits of the Amadis and the Palmerins are
specified by Cervantes is his chapter on l The Burning
of the Books.' The (curate^ commands Oliva to be
'rent in pieces, and burned in such sort that even
the very ashes thereof may not be found.' Amadis
is to be preserved as ' the very best contrived book
of all those of that kind.' Palmerin of England also
is to be preserved ' as a thing rarely delectable. '
' The discourse,' says the curate, ' is very clear and
courtly, observing evermore a /decorum in him that
speaks, with greaf ^^^^^_and__co«c«tj All the
other presentations of 'so bad a sect' are doomed
by the curate to the flames.

Side by side with these foreign importations, the
heroic tales of native growth were diligently pub
lished and reacT The Norte d' Arthur was frequently
printed down to 1634, and the histories of Sir Bevis
of Hamptoun, Sir Guy of Warwick, Sir Lancelot of the
Lake, Robin Hood, Adam Bell, &c., were constantly
issued from the press in small handy volumes^ which
were adorned with illustrative cut^T. In their attract-

Ci/Cf. Jusserand, The English Novel in the Time of Shakespeare, p. 64.

Ixx Introduction

ive bindings, these wonderful story-books went forth
to the London shops and the country villages, where
they were read by all commoners with the avidity
and faith of children. The extent and quality of a
rfiittdleTcTass man's reading happen to have found an
abundant and most valuable illustration in a rare old
letter written by one Robert Laneham, which con
tains a list of the ballads and story-books of a Co
ventry mason who was known as Captain Cox, and
who figured in a Hock Tuesday play given before
Queen Elizabeth in the festivals at Kenilworth Castle,
July, 1575, which are described by Laneham. The
list of Cox's books, inserted by Laneham into his
account of this individual, is by so far the fullest and
best exemplification of the kind of literary taste sat
irized in pur play which I have seen that, though
few of the romances mentioned by Beaumont are
included, I here transcribe the whole of it:

But aware, keep bak, make room now, heer they cum I And fyrst,
captin Cox, and od man I promiz yoo : by profession a Mason, and
that right skillful, verry cunning in fens, and hardy az Gawin ; for
his tonsword hangs at his tablz eend : great ouersigt hath he in matters
of storie : For az for King Arthurz book, Huon of Burdeaus, The foour
sons of Aymon, Beuys of Hampton, The squire of lo degree, The
Knight of Courtesy, and the Lady Faguell, Frederick of Gene, Syr
Eglamooure, Syr Tryamooure, Syr Lamwell, Sir Isenbras, Sir Gawin,
Olyver of the Castle, Lucres and Curialus, Virgil's Life, the Castl of
Ladiez, the Wido Edyth, The King and the Tanner, Frier Rous, Howle-
glas, Gargantua, Robinhood, Adam Bel, Clim of the Clough and
William of Cloudley, the Churl and the Burd, the Seven Wise Masters,
the Wife lapt in a Morels Skin, the Sak full of Nuez, the Sergant
that became a Fryer, Skogan, Collyn Clout, the Fryar and the Boy,
Elynor Running, and the Nut brooun Maid, with many moe then I
rehearz heere, I believe hee haue them all at his fingers endz.

Then in Philosophy, both morall and naturall, I think he be az
naturally ouerseen ; beside Poetrie and Astronomic, and other hid
Sciencz, az I may gesse by the omberty of his books ; whearof part,
az I remember, The Shepherdz Kalender, The ship of Foolz, Danielz
Dreams, the Booke of Fortune, Stans puer ad Mensam, The by way
to the Spitl-house, Julian of Brainfords testament, the Castle of Loue,

Objects of the Satire

the Booget of Demainds, the Hundreth Mery Talez, the Book of Riddels,
the seaven Sororz of Wemen, the proud Wives Pater Noster, the Chap
men of a Peneworth of Wit, Hikskorner, Nugizee, Impacient Poverty,
and herewith Doctor Boords Breviary of Health. What should I re-
hearz heer, what a bunch of Ballets and Songs, all auncient ; as Broom
broom on hil, So wo iz me begon, troly lo, Oliver a Whinny, Meg,
Hey ding a ding, Bony lass upon a green, My hony on gaue me a bek, By
a bank as I lay ; and a hundred more he hath wrap up in a parch
ment, and bound with a whip chord. And az for Almanacks of An-
tiquitee (a point for Ephemeridees), I ween he can sheaw from (LX)
Jasper Laet of Antwarp vnto (LXI) Nostradem of Frauns, and thens
vnto oour (LXII) John Securiz of Salsbury. To stay ye no longer
heerin, I dare say hee hath az fair a library for theez sciencez, & az
many goodly monuments both in proze & poetry, & at afternoonz can
talk az much without book, az ony Inholder betwixt Brainford and
Bagshot, what degree soeuer he be1.

It will be seen from this remarkable document that,
though the amount of fiction appropriated to the
commoners was numerically by no means small, it
oifered little variety. In one way or another, an
element jpf magnificence or of mystery runs through
all the popular literature/ Their fancy stimulated by
continuous association, through their reading, with
noble knights and gentle ladies, who led them un
ceasingly into~ah ever widening realm of grandeur
and marvel, it is no wonder that simple-minded folk,
like our citizen and his wife, came to believe in the
veracity of these tales, and it is with no great stretch
of probability that the playwright depicts their naive
acceptance of his dramatic fable as a bit of absorbing
and immediate fact_.__

" *f he popularity which accrued^ to the romances
through the industry of the translators and Jhe printers
was maintained late into the seventeenth century,
_an'd tlie~Tavor"accorded them by the citizen-spectators
in ourplay seems to be in no wise overdrawn. Not

•*• . - ^ •* . -. — — — — — —

only the shopkeepers, but bourgeois society as a

1 Cf. Robert Laneham's Letter, ed. Furnivall, p. 12.

Ixxii Introduction

whole, were beguiled by the seductions of the narra
tives, and looked upon the knowledge of them as a
mark of superior breeding? In particular, fheif~cul-
tivatiolT~was"liiFected by the Paul's men, and the
' shabby genteel ' gallants and beaux of the Eliza
bethan and Stuart regimes. Matthew Merrygreek,
the parasite in Ralph Roister Doister, can think, for
instance, of no surer means of flattering the vanity
of his gull of a patron than in thus describing the
effect of the latter's appearance upon the onlookers
in the street:

Who is this ? ', sayth one, ' Sir Launcelot du Lake ? '
Who is this ? greate Guy of Warwike ? ' sayth an-other ;
No, ' say I, ' it is the thirtenth Hercules brother ' ;
Who is this ? noble Hector of Troy ? ' sayth the thirde ;
No, but of the same nest,' say I, ' it is a birde ' ; . . .
Who is this ? greate Alexander ? or Charle le Maigne ? '
No it is the tenth Worthie,' say I to them agayne.

This trenchant testimony of the addiction of ' sparks '
and would-be men of fashion to the reading of ro
mances is borne out by many another allusion in the
literature of the period. ' If they read a book at any
time,' writes Robert Burton in The Anatomy of Mel
ancholy, 'tis an English Chronicle, Sr. Huon of
Bordeaux, Amadis de Gaul, &c.'; and, in depicting
theonamoratoes jof the day, Burton accuses them of
' reading nothing but the play books, idle poems,
Amadis de Gaul, the Knight of the Sun, the Seven
Champions, Palmerin de Oliva, Huon de Bordeaux, &c. ' l
Furthermore, Fynes Moryson, in directing a hypo
thetical traveler how to acquire courtly language, re
veals the depth of the common admiration of the
tales, particularly of Amadis :

I think no Booke better for his discourse than Amadis of Gaule,
for the Knights errant, and the Ladies of Courts doe therein exchange

1 Cf. Drake, Shakespeare and his Times, p. 253.

Objects of the Satire Ixxiii

Courtly speeches, and these Books are in all languages translated by
the Masters of eloquence1.

Even Sir Philip Sidney, in recording his observation
of the humanizing effects of ' poetical imitation, ' has
this to say for Amadis :

Truly, I haue known men, that even with reading Amadis de Gaule,
which, God knoweth, wanteth much of a perfect poesy, haue found
their hearts mpved to the exercise of courtesy, liberality, and espec-__
ialTy cburag^i,>

Not only the city gallants and dames, but the
country gentry as well, were devoted to the perusal
of romances. In an old book, entitled The English
Courtier and the Cuntrey-gentleman, Vincent, the country-
gentleman, tells how they amuse themselves 'in
fowle weather ' at dice, cards, and games, and ' Wee
want not also pleasant mad-headed knaues that bee
properly learned, and well reade in diuerse pleasant
bookes and good authors, as Sir Guy of Warwicke,
the four sonnes of Amon, the Ship of Fooles, the Budget
of Demaundes, the Hundreth Merry Tales, The Booke of
Ryddles, and many other excellent writers bot witty
and pleasaunt. ' 3 This book was written in 1579.
How thorough and persistent was the country folk's
relish for the romances is shown by the fact that,
many years after 1579, Brome, in his Covent Garden
Weeded, published 1658, included a satire upon it
In Act 1, sc. 1, of that play, Crossewell, a country
squire, is trying to persuade his son, whom he has
brought up to London, to stop talking about the
study of law, and become interested in ' polite literature.'
He says :

Away with books. Away with madnesse. I, God blesse thee,
and make thee his servant and defend thee from Law, I say. Take

* Itinerary, 1617, Part 3, Bk. I, chap. 2, p. 15.
QjDefense of Poesy, ed. Cook, p. 24.

* Cf. Robert Laneham's Letter, ed. Furnivall, p. 14.

Introduction

up these books, sirrah, and carry them presently into Pauls Church
yard dee see, and change them all for Histories, as pleasant as prof
itable ; Arthur of Britain, Primalion of Greece, Amadis of Gaul.

Mi. I hope he do's but jest.

Cross. And do you heare, Sirrah.

Belt. I Sir.

Cross. Get Bells work, and .you can, into the bargain.

Belt. Which Bell, Sir ? Adam Bell, with dim o'th'Clough and
William of Cloudesley.

Cross. Adam Bell you Asse ? Valiant Bell that kill'd the Dragon.
-...Belt. You mean St. George.

Cross. Sir Jolthead, do I not. I'll teach you to chop logick,
with me.

Mi. Sfoot, how shall I answer my borrow'd books ? Stay Belt.
Pray Sir, do not change my books.

Cross. Sir, Sir, I will change them and you too : Did I leave thee
here to learn fashions and manners, that thou mightst carry thy self
like a Gentleman, and dost thou wast thy brains in learning a lan
guage that I understand not a word of ? ha I I had been as good have
brought thee up among the wild Irish.

Crossewell's amusing laudation of the cultural value
he ascurbes to the absurd old yarns would probably
have won the approval of everyjnember of his coun
try household, except this<recalcitrant)son. Emphatic
assent would certainly have been yielded to it by
the swains and damsels of the servants' hall. At. all
events, the tales, and in particular the Spanish ro
mances, are said to have been the common reading
oT milkmaids for a century after their importation^)
How plebeian) was their appeal may be partially" in
dicated, indeed, by the traditional belief that Palmerin
de Oliva itself was the work of a carpenter's daughter
in northern Spain2. The stories were eagerly perused
byjthe credulous servant-girls of the day. Overbury,
in his^ Characters, written 1613, says of a chambermaid :

She reads Greene's Works over and over_^j3ut is so carried away
with the ' Mirror of Knighthood, ' she is many times resolved to run
out of her self and become a lady-errant:!^1

f. Underbill, Spanish Literature in the England of the Tudors, p. 307.
,.? Ibid., p. 298.
(.? Cf. Character Writings of the Seventeenth Century, ed. Morley, p. 59.

Objects of the Satire Ixxv

To much the same effect is William Browne's testi
mony in a poem upon a lady who converses with
her maid about her love-letters :

Op'ning a paper then she shows her wit,
On an epistle that some fool had writ :
Then meeting with another which she likes,
Her chambermaid's great reading quickly strikes
That good opinion dead, and swears that this
Was stol'n from Palmerin or Amadis.

And in Massinger's Guardian 1. 2, the confidante
Calipso says :

In all the books of Amadis de Gaul,

The Palmerins and that true Spanish story,

The Mirror of Knighthood, which I have often read.

Read feelingly, nay more I do believe in't,

My lady has no parallel.

How thoroughly the servant-class were possessed of
a craze for the romances may be emphasized by~~ohe
more citation. In Shirley's Gentleman of Venice 1. 2,
Roberto, the Duke's gardener, is being upbraided by
his wife for allowing their son Giovanni to waste his
time in reading trash :

So, so I the duke's garden shall be then
Well lopkNJ Jo |_he deserves * pension*
For reading Amadis de Gaul, and guzman
And Don Quixote ; but I'll read him a lecture.

The gardener is proud of his son's literary learning,
and asks Giovanni, one of his subordinates :

And does he not tell the tales, and dainty stories sometimes ?

Geo-v. Oh, of Tamberlaine, and the great Turk

Would you would speak to him, though to take a little

More pains ! 'tis I do all the droll, the dirt-work.

When I am digging, he is cutting unicorns

And lions in some hedge, or else devising

New knots upon the ground, drawing out crowns,

And the duke's arms, castles, and cannons in them ; . . .

I think he means to embroider all the garden

Shortly ; but I do all the coarse work.

Ixxvi Introduction

But not only had the romances descended from
their once high estate in the favor of kings and
nobles, to become the familiar reading-matter of gar
deners and kitchen-maids; they were still further de
graded by being cast out into the streets and alehouses,
where, in shortened, mutilated forms, they became the
common property of the (mendicant) minstrels, a race
once worthy and honored, but now become vicious

ajicF despised. These,_vagabonds wandered about the

towns, andj for a pittance, sang to the harp rimed
snatches of the old tales for the amusemerlt of the
multitude. This fate was meted out particularly to
tlief domestic romances. Puttenham has much to
say"~dT the tuned versions made by

these Canto, banqui vpon benches and barrel heads where they haue
none other audience then boys or countrey fellowes that passe by them
in the streete, or else the blind harpers or such like tauerne minstrels
that giue a fit of mirth for a groat and their matters being for the
most part stories of old time, as the tale of Sir Tophas, the reports
of Bevis of Southampton, Guy of War-wicke, Adam Bel and Clynime
of the Clongh, and such other old Romances or historical rimes, made
purposely for the recreation of the common people at Christmas diners
and brideales, and in tauerns and alehouses and such other places of
base resort; also they be vsed in Carols and rounds and such light
or lascivious Poems, which are commonly more commodiously vttered
by these buffoons or vices in playes then by any other persons ! *

These few scattered allusions to the popular taste
in literature, here brought together because of their
concisely illustrative worth, will serve to show how
thoroughly steepedjn chivalric lore were all grades
of society lower than the highest. From the wealthy
London tradesmen and the country squires down to
the menials in their households and the beggars in
the street, the old-fashioned and elsewhere despised or
forgotten tales were eagerly read or listened to, and
tEeir".,admifei^ "" not only believed that, in absorbing

1 Art of English Poesie (Arber's Reprint), p. 56.

Objects of the Satire Ixxvii

them, they were somehow partaking deeply of a fount
of emancipating, though my stenQUs, culture, but often
showed a naive, unfaltering JruatJn. the truth of the
related deeds ofjimightly heroes and wicked giants,
and of Jhe whnlf^JT^ntasrnagnria of wild yQnde.rs

and 'enchantments drear/ The ,Wiffi_in..27Ae Knight ~~* ' r-'-

qf ihe']S^mnff~Pestle is by no means unique in her
sympathy with the King of Portugal, who had such
a hungry Time of it because of the malevolence of
the giants and ettins, who snatched from his table
Ws daily meat, or in her honest skepticism about the
convertibility of this monstrous race to the virtuous
living of ' us ordinary people, ' or in her scathing dis
paragement of the knights of James I, who do, in
deed, like the knights of old, 'neglect their posses
sions well enough, but do not the rest'; while her
assenting spouse but records his orthodoxy in "an-
nojuncing that he will have a ring to discover the
enchantments which so prop up Jasper that he resists
""vTcESfiousTy the onslaught of Ralph's all-con querfmr

-^ ,— — •.-». — •*— ~_ --.___ ~~— . * O

arm. In these small touches Beaumont is but deftly
Tutting off the absurd credulity of the citizen-public
m respect to the literature upon which they had been
reared, "and" their presumption in forcing the gro- V
tesque fashions of the romances upon the boards ^pf

the playhouse a dictation which they felt called

upon to assume, since they were the chief patrons
of the public theatres.

That the influence of this popular literature should
be felt in the drama was, of course, inevitable. It
would have been strange indeed if some of the needy,
struggling playwrights of the time had not turned to
good account their opportunity of catering to the
childish taste of their public in the production of
extravagant acting versions of the old themes! That'

Ixxviii Introduction

there was a large_QrQp__oLsuch plays, having a chiv-
alric if _npt <fectly_romantic setting, is evident even
from the meagre accounts of them which have de
scended to us. In .the earlier_days of the drama, be
fore the romances had wholly lost caste, a number
ofthese stage-redactions of them were even produced
at court. For instance, on Jan. 3, 1574, Lord Clinton's
Men presented a play called Eerpetulus, the Blue Knight

and Perobia; in Aug., 1576, The Red Knight was

acted by the Chamberlain's Men; on Feb. 17, 1577,
The Solitary Knight was given by Lord Charles How
ard's Men; on March 1, 1579, Warwick's Men acted
The Knight in the Burning Bock (a production which
is sometimes supposed to have suggested the title
of our play); on Jan. 12, 1582, Ariodanto and Genevora
(founded on the Orlando Furioso] was acted by the
Merchant-Taylors' Boys ; and on Dec. 28, 1593, the
Earl of Sussex' Men acted Huon of Bordeaux, a play
which was evidently founded on the romance of that
name. All of these plays were of anonymous author
ship, and none of them are now extant. Their titles
can leave little doubt, however, that their themes,
when not taken directly out of chivalric legends,
were reproductions of the peculiar tone and character
of those legends1.

But the chivalric drama did not measure the length
of its career by its brief popularity among the higher
circles. When the Palmerins, Rosicler, Guy of Warwick,
and their redoubtable compeers, had been banished
from the court, they still pursued their endless quests
throughout the world, not only through the resusci-
tative magic of the printer's art, but upon the open
boards of the common theatre, where they visibly
and impressively wrought their wondrous deeds once

1 Cf. Fleay, Biographical Chronicle of the English Drama, Vol. 2.

Objects of the Satire

more, meeting and overcoming dragons, lions, mon
sters, giants, ' uncurteous ' knights, and tyrants and
strong armies, to the infinite delight, albeit palpita
tion, we may believe, of the wide-eyed and aston
ished, but credulous, admiring multitude. It is true
that few of the media through which these heroes
thus contrived to prolong their manifold exploits have
come down to us in the form of books. The plays
were written^ merely to suit the shallow caprice of
an iinreflective audience, and, from the nature of
their theme and purpose, could have had little in
trinsic worth or interest. Therefore most of them
seem never to have had a reading public, but were
cast into the limbo where were gathered the 7n-
numerable other stage_^jphemera) which never knew
the perpetuating agency of print.

That there was a goodly number of these plays
of chivalry and wild adventure, however, is not to
be doubted. Stephen Gosson, the Puritan, implies
as much, in his Plaijes Confuted in Five Actions :

I may boldely say it because I haue seen it, that the Palace of
pleasure, the Golden Asse, the Aethiopian historic, Amadis of Fraunce,
theRounde table, baudie Comedies in Latine, French, Italian, and Spanish,
haue been throughly ransact to furnish the Playe houses in London.1

And with what a complete equipment the stage
seems continuously to have been prepared for this
kind of representations may be gathered from a
graphic description in Brome's Antipodes, 1638. A
young lord, crazed with a mania for travel, gets in
among the properties of a theatre, and his conduct
is thus described by one of the actors :

He has got in into our Tyring-house amongst us,

And tane a strict survey of all our properties,

Our statues and our images of Gods ; our Planets and our constellations,

Our Giants, Monsters, Furies, Beasts, and Bug-Beares,

1 Cf. W. C. Hazlitt, The English Drama and Stage.

Ixxx Introduction

Our Helmets, Shields, and Vizors, Haires, and Beards,

Our Pastboard March-paines, and our Wooden Pies —

Whether he thought twas some inchanted Castle,

Or Temple, hung and pild with Monuments

Of uncouth, and of various aspects,

I dive not to his thoughts ; wonder he did

A while it seem'd, but yet undanted stood ;

When on the suddaine, with thrice knightly force,

And thrice, thrice, puissant arme he snatcheth downe

The sword and shield that I played Bovis with,

Rusheth amongst the foresaid properties,

Kils Monster, after Monster ; takes the Puppets

Prisoners, knocks downe the Cyclops, tumbles all

Our jig ambobs and trinckets to the wall.

Spying at last the Crowne and royall Robes

Ith upper wardrobe, next to which by chance,

The divells vizors hung, and their flame painted

Skin coates ; those he removed with greater fury,

And (having cut the infernall ugly faces,

All into mamocks) with a reverend hand,

He takes the imperiall diadem and crownes

Himselfe King of the Antipodes, and beleeves

He has justly gained the Kingdom by his conquest.

It will been seen from this account that 'giants, mon
sters, furies, beasts, and bug-bears' were habitual
denizens of the tiring-house, and that their emergence
into the glare of the open stage-light not infrequently
brought to proof anew the combative prowess of
Sir Bevis (Bovis) of Southamptoun and his valiant
company, as they stalked and slashed their way with
sword and shield amongst the gruesome creatures, in
full exposure to the public gaze.

We need not trust wholly to general descriptions,
however, for the proof of the existence of these
chivalric extravaganzas. Some of the titles, and a
few of the plays themselves, have come down to us.
I cull from the lists of F. G. Fleay1 the names of
the following extant stage-productions which have a
more or less evident relation to the romances :

1 Biographical Chronicle of the English Drama.

Objects of the Satire Ixxxi

1. Common Conditions, a play describing 'the adven
tures of amorous knights passing from country to
country for the love of their ladies.' Anon. Entered
S. R. July 26, 1576.

2. The history of the two valiant knights, Sir Clyomon,
Knight of the Golden Shield and (Sir) Clamydes, the white
Knight. Authorship uncertain. 1578 ?

3. The Misfortunes of Arthur. ' Uther Pendragon's
son reduced into tragical notes by Thomas Hughes
of Gray's Inn.' Feb. 28, 1588.

4. Orlando Furioso. Robert Greene. 1588-9.

5. Charlimayne. Anon. 1589 ?

6. The Four Prentices of London. Thomas Hey wood.
1594?

7. Uter Pendragon. Anon. 1589.

8. Tristram de Lyons. Anon. Oct. 4, 1599.

9. The Four Sons of Amyon. Anon. Dec. 10, 1602.
10. The Trial of Chivalry. Hey wood and another?

1604.

To this list may be added two or three plays not
extant, viz : The Life and Death of Arthur, King of
England, by Richard Hathaway, 1598; The Green
Knight, a tragedy, mentioned by Nash in his Lenten
Stuff e, 1599 ; The Life and Death of Guy of Warwick,
entered S. R. Jan. 19, 1620, and attributed to John
Day and Thomas Dekker ; possibly, also, the play
mentioned in The Knight of the Burning Pestle as
Bold Beauchamps, which was a dramatization of the
chivalric, but historically true, career of Thomas, first
Earl of Warwick of that name.

When we add together the lost plays of chivalric
cast produced at court and those just listed, we get

a sum of about twenty titles a number which is

not inconsiderable if the time-serving, perishable na
ture of the productions be borne in mind. We may

Ixxxii Introduction

fairly presume, also, that many lost plays, of which
we have a record, appropriated the themes of the
romances in ways which are not revealed to us by
the titles. From what we positively know, however,
we can infer that the theatrical area over which the
burlesque in The Knight of the Burning Pestle radiated
was a wide one. The satire must have fallen hard
upon many a petty~ania'~now forgotten playwright,
arid have outraged the theatrical sense of his numerous
and devoted clientele. How thoroughly warranted it
was may be gathered from the brief notice which it
is here desirable to give to one or two of the dramas
which have been named.

The only plays in the list which have a direct
relation with The Knight of the Burning Pestle are
Bold Beauchamps and The Four Prentices of London. The
first ''of "these is mentioned by the Wife in the In
duction, as a play which evidently stood well injthe
esteem of her theatrically informed husband ; but it
is now lost. The Four Prentices of London^ by Thomas
Heywood, is foremost in Beaumont's mind among all
the plays which he makes the butt of his ridicule.
It is alluded to approvingly by the Citizen as authen
ticating the propriety of a grocer's prentice courting
the daughter of a king ; it is drawn upon for a number
of small objects of the burlesque, and, as has already
been_ shown, Beaumont derived from it the idea of a
grocer-knight.

No play could be more aptly illustrative of the
tediously serious nonsense of the chilvalric drama
which our author has turned to such humorous account
than The Four Prentices of London. A rapid analysis
of its plot will be useful in specifying the preposterous
attributes of the whole class,.

The Earl of Bouillon, having been banished from

Objects of the Satire Ixxxiii

his native land and deprived of his fortune, retires
to London, where he lives privately as a citizen.
His four sons he apprentices to four trades : Godfrey,
the eldest, is bound to a mercer ; Guy, to a goldsmith ;
Charles, to a haberdasher ; Eustace, the youngest, to
a grocer. The father, weary of life, parts from his
children, and sets out for the Holy Land, expecting
there to find his death. But the brothers, who have
high regard for their humble callings, but desire a
more heroic career, follow the earl, out of their in
born love of adventure, enlisting under Robert of
Normandy in his crusade against the infidels. Setting
sail for France, they suffer shipwreck, and are sep
arated from one another. Godfrey is cast ashore in
France, and, freeing certain citizens of Bouillon from
attacking Spaniards, is proclaimed by them earl of
his 'father's original domain. Guy is picked up on
the shore of France, and carried to the court, where
he is unsuccessfully wooed by the king's daughter:
in martial wise, he protests that war is his only
mistress. Charles is carried as far as Italy on a plank !
He there delivers his wandering father from the
clutches of banditti, and manages himself to become
chief of the lawless band, entertaining the virtuous
resolve to lead them into the ways of a better life.
Eustace floats in singular security to the coast of
Ireland ; but the Irish kerns displease his knightly
spirit, and he presently sets forth again toward Je
rusalem. After the prentices-errant have thus been
fully launched upon their enterprise, Bella Franca,
' their sister, follows them with zealous feete,' and
thereupon this valiant family are gradually brought
to the walls of the Holy City through divers and
tortuous paths, in which their several adventures grow
continually wilder and more improbable. Eustace

f 2

Ixxxiv Introduction

suddenly, without any discernible explanation, finds
himself in Italy, where he rescues the much belabored
earl, his father, who this time is being maltreated
and despoiled of his money-bags by a villain and an
egregiously out-of-place comedy clown. Immediately
afterward, Eustace meets Charles and his bandit fol
lowers. For some insufficient reason, the brothers
fail to recognize each other, and Eustace falls upon
the presumptive leader of thieves. Suddenly Bella
Franca, pursued by an ' uncurteous ' outlaw, breaks
in upon them. After the conventional queries as to
her mishap, the brothers fall to quarreling over the
right of precedence in the lady's favor, being strangely
unable to perceive that she is their own sister. All
at once enters Tancred, County Palatine, who de
mands that the lady be given up to him as hostage
of peace between the contestants. The difficulty is
thus, for the time, settled ; and Charles and Eustace,
being made attendants on the prince, receive knight
hood. Directly Robert of Normandy comes marching
into Italy with his army, accompanied by the erst
while apprentices Godfrey and Guy, now, by fortune's
favor, become Earl of Bulloigne and Lord of Lessing-
ham respectively. Prince Tancred resents this un
heralded intrusion, and calls upon Charles to uphold
his honor against Godfrey, who champions the Nor
man host. Neither prince wishes, however, to lose
his highly prized knight, and the two combatants
are straightway parted. The same separation is the
result of an attempted match between Eustace and
Guy. The princes decide to drop their strife, and
to join armies against the heathen. All six of the
heroes, however, fall into a stormy altercation over
the possession of Bella Franca, and only on that
lady's tearful announcement of an intention to scratch

Objects of the Satire Ixxxv

her ' Christall eyes out,' because of their brawling,
do they deem it wise to desist. The armies soon
arrive in Asia, where long-winded defiances against
the pagan hosts are indulged in for a considerable
time, an outcome of which is the banishment of Guy
and Eustace from the ranks on account of their quar
relsome rivalry over which of them shall bear the
first challenge. Meanwhile, Bella Franca, distracted
by the importunities of her many suitors, flees from
the camp, accompanied by a French lady, who, out
of her love for Guy, has followed the army. Bella
and Eustace chance to meet in a forest, and, without
any very clear reason, suddenly each awakens to the
other's identity. Meantime Godfrey and Charles are
discovered to each other before the walls of Jerusalem
through the old earl, their father, whom they have
rescued from captivity in the city. Soon after this,
the banished Guy and Eustace are restored to favor
through their sudden arrival, and their gallant repulse
of the pagans in an encounter in which the Christians
are being worsted. Learning of the identity of
Charles and Godfrey, they themselves become known
to each other, and, ultimately, to their brothers. At
last, after many reverses, Jerusalem is conquered,
and Guy, the one-time goldsmith's prentice, is made
its king ! Robert of Normandy thereupon magnanim
ously bestows the crown of Sicily upon Eustace, and
the crown of Cyprus upon Charles. Godfrey prefers
to wear a crown of thorns1. At the last moment
enters Bella Franca, who, through Eustace, is made
known to her rejoicing brothers. With her comes

1 This motive seems to be reflected from the refusal of the historic
Godfrey of Bouillon, on his being elected King of Jerusalem, to wear a
crown of gold in the place where the Saviour of the world had been
crowned with thorns. Cf. Michaud, History of the Crusades i. 234.

Ixxxvi Introduction

the French lady, who turns out to be the French
princess who had unsuccessfully tried to win the
love of Guy at her father's court. Her continued
loyalty at last prevails, and she is made the bride
of Guy. Bella Franca bestows her hand upon Tan-
cred, whom she has more affected than her other
suitor, Robert of Normandy. Upon this apportion
ment of crowns and ladies, the play appropriately
ends.

This flamboyant exposition of the impossible careers
of"f our London apprentices, written in an absurdly
pompous style, and crossed with innumerable strands
from chivalric romance and tales of Oriental adven
ture, naturally flattered the vanity of the susceptible
London shopkeepers, and as naturally lent itself to
the ridicule of humorists like Beaumont. _Its_sprawling,
disordered plot, its strange .mixture of countrigft, man
ners, and classes, its illogical jeverses. successes,
concealments, and recognitions, and its whole array

__ _ _ ' ___ Q ^ — , — -,-- «/

of preposterous improbabilities, are typical of the whole
class to which_it belongs ; andit was wisely chosen

as a most deserving

Knight of the Burning Pestle.

""Even more closely allied to the books of chivalry,
however, than The Four Prentices is Sir Clyomon, Knight
of the Golden Shield, and Sir Clamydes, the White
Knight. This play, sometimes attributed to George
Peele, is evidently based directly upon some lost
romance. It presents an odd jumble of ancient and
mediaeval heroes (princes of northern Europe and
Alexander the Great !), of classic and chivalric man
ners, of dragons, marshes, marvelous forests, enchanters,
and incongruous comedy clowns, and of disjointed
adventures extended in a few pages over the
whole face of Europe ; in a word, it exhibits such a

Objects of the Satire Ixxxvii

wildly romantic plot that it is an epitome of the
whole complex of absurdities which it is the pur
pose of Beaumont to laugh down.

But there is not space to characterize minutely
this extravaganza. We must leave unnoticed, too,
plays like The Misfortunes of Arthur, which, though
written upon the Senecan model, set forth the ro
mantic pecularities of their original sources, and plays
like Charlimayne and Orlando Furioso, which, though
steeped in a chivalric atmosphere, are only remotely
connected with the romances and dramas specifically
attacked by Beaumont. One example must suffice
to reveal the lineaments of a dramatic type which is
a cardinal object of the burlesque in our comedy.

It was, of course, inevitable that this ojitcropping
of overstrained, unnatural plays, and the commoners'
wasteful pre7)ccupatipji_^ithrj^ should

have made the judicious grieve, and have called forth
vigorous protests. As might be expected, the Puritans,
the ;. mojraj.is.ls, andjthe social satirists were ready with
their (apvecitives.^ Rogers Asch am 's indictment of the
Morte d' Arthur, already quoted, may be taken as a
pattern of tEe opinions heldTByTEe graver leaders of
public thought. We may illustrate the scandalized
feelings of the Puritans by an extract from a book
of one of their number, Edward Dering, entitled A
Briefe and Necessary Catechism or Instruction, written
in 1614. Dering is, indeed, speaking of the romances
as affecting an older generation particularly, but he
has in mind the corrupting influence of this literature's
subsequent developments. He says :

For in these days in which there is so great licentiousness of
printing bookes, as indeed it makcth vs all the worse, who can blame
it that hath any taste or fauour of goodnesse, be it neuer so simple,
if it had no other fruit. Yet this is great & plentiful, that in reading
it, we should keep our eie from much Godlesse and childish vanity,

Ixxxviii Introduction

that now haue blotted so many papers. We see it al, & we mourn
for griefe, so many as in spirit and truth do love the Lord : what
multitude of bookes ful of all sin & abhominations, haue now filled
the world I Nothing so childish, nothing so vaine, nothing so wanton,
nothing so idle, which is not both boldly printed & plausibly taken,
so that herein we haue fulfilled the wickednesse of our forefathers,
& ouertaken them in their sins : They had their spiritual inchantments,
in which they were bewitched, Beuis of Hamptoun, Guy of Warwick,
Arthour of the roud table, Huon of Burdaux, Oliver of the Castel, the
foure sons of Amyon, & a great many other of such childish folly.
And yet more vanity than these, the witlesse deuices of Gargantua,
Hawleglasse, Esape, Robinhood, Adam bell, Frier Rush, the fooles of
Gotham, & a thousand such other. And yet of al the residue the
most drunken imagination, with which they so defiled their festiual &
high Holidaies, their legendary, their Saints Hues, their tales of Robin
good fellow, & many other spirits, which Sathan had made, hel had
printed, & were warranted to sale vnder the Popes priuiledge, to kindle
in mens harts the sparks of superstition, that at last it might flame
out into the fire of purgatory. These were in the former daies the
subtle sleights of Sathan to occupy Christian wits in Heathen fantasies.

Bering proceeeds to show the iniquity of the lite
rature which has followed in his own day songs

& sonnets, unchaste fables, tragedies, ' and such
sorceries.'

But it was not only the Puritans who-W^re shocked
by some of the noisome features of this literature.
That acute satirist, Thomas Nash, in his Anatomie of
Absurditie, 1589, expressed a common sentiment in
his attack on the contemporary versions and re
dactions of the romances :

What else I pray you, doe these bable booke-mungers endeuor, but
to repaire the ruinous wals of Venus court, to restore to the worlde
that forgotten Legendary lisense of lying, to imitate a fresh the fan-
tasticall dreams of those exiled Abbie-lubbers, from whose idle pens
proceeded those worne out impressions of the feyned no where acts of
Arthur of the round table, Arthur of litle Brittaine, Sir Tristram,
Hewon of Burdeaux, the squire of low degree, the foure sons of
Amon, with infinite others ?

And as late as 1653, we find this clever character
ization of the romances, as of a class of reading of
which the baleful influence was still felt :

Objects of the Satire Ixxxix

Among all the books that ever were thought on, those of knight
errantry and shepherdry haue been so exceedingly trivial and naughty,
that it would amuse a good judgment to consider to what strange and
vast absurdities some imaginations have straggled - the Knight con
stantly killing the gyant, or it may be whole squadrons ; the Damosel
certainly to be relieved just upon the point of ravishing ; a little childe
carried away out of his cradle, after some twenty years discovered to
be the sone of some great Prince ; a girl after seven years wandering
and co-habiting and being stole confirmed to be a virgin, either by a
panterh, fire or fountain, and lastly all ending in marriage - These
are the whole entertainments of books of this kinde, which how prof
itable they are, you may judge ; how pernicious 'tis easily seen, if
they meet but with an intentive melancholy and a spirit apt to be
overborne by such follies1.

It is not from the pamphleteers and the preachers,
however, ID uF from the dramatists, that we now are
able to glean the most extensive evidences of disap
proval among thoughtful men. Plays of the better
class are packed with satirical allusions to the fashion
of romj.i^e^rea^ng.]ft would be profitless to list
them here in their completeness; but to sketch the
general drift of the sentiment of the better playwrights
will be useful in showing that Beaumont's burlesque
is expressive of the common attitude among the more
gifted of big associates. These men, with their ap
preciations of literary and dramatic _ values all rela
tively high, with ideals of their art usually lifted above
mere motives of expediency and money -getting,

*— --- * ** — — .. . , ___ «r ^V O '

looked with scorn and derision upon plebeian taste,
aricTupon those of their humbler fellow-craftsmen
who truckled to that taste in the fabrication of tlie
preposterous melodramas which satisfied it. Burlesque
episodes are to be discovered in Ben JonsonT in
Chapman, and in Beaumont and Fletcher apart from
The Knight of the Bu/rmng Pestle, wHile fun is every-
at the belles and beaux and^jnushrom

1 Quoted by Jusserand, The English Novel in the Time of Shakespeare,
p. 404.

xc Introduction

knights^ whjose_affectations were engendered largely
by their reading of romances. /

From the first infancy of the drama, some sense
of the ridiculous features of popular stories seems
to have been felt. As early as 1537, an old inter
lude, entitled Thersytes, developed traces of burlesque
upon Greek tales of heroism and the romances of
chivalry. The didactic aim of this performance is
to ' declare howe that the greatest boesters are not
the greatest doers.' The management of the plot
through which the lesson is evolved is exceedingly
childish and farcical, but the play's satirical intent
is manifest. Directly, the satire is leveled at the
prevalent tendency to braggadocio, but indirectly it
shows that that tendency was nurtured by the kind
of literary pabulum upon which the common people
were fed. [" The classical boaster, Thersytes, enters,T
| and announces his ability to overcome all heroes,
both ancient and modern. He challenges to the
trial, among others, King Arthur and his famous
knights, and Robin Hood and Little John. He an
nounces his intention to seek adventures, to join
battle anywhere ' in Wales or in Kent,' and to over
come all manner of wild beasts. His first chance to
attest his prowess soon arrives. The incident is truly
quixotic, and, though conceived in the most infantile
spirit, is undoubtedly intended, from one point of
view, as a burlesque upon the adventures of knights-
errant. We read : ' Here a snail must appear unto him,
and he must look fearfully upon the snail, saying:

But what monster do I see now

Coming hitherward with an armed brow !

Marry, sir, fy, fy, I do sweate for fear :

I thought I had croked but too timely here.

Hence, thou beast, and pluck in thy horns.-

How, how, my servants, get you shield and spear,

Objects of the Satire

And let us worry and kill this monster here.-

God's arms, the monster cometh toward me still,
Except I fight manfully, it will me surely kill !

'(Then he must fight against the snail with his club.)'
The snail still refusing to draw in her horns, Ther-
sytes throws his club away. ' (Here he must fight
then with his sword against the snail, and the snail
draweth her horns in.) ' Thersytes is triumphant, and
says:

Now in other countries both far and near
Mo deeds of chivalry I will go inquire.

Upon this utterance, Miles, a soldier, who has been
scornfully witnessing the encounter with the snail,
challenges Thersytes to a combat. '(And he begin-
neth to fight with him, but Thersytes must run away,
and hide him behind his mother's back.) ' Miles calls
out:

Thou that dost seek giants to conquer
Come forth, if thou dare, and in this place appear.

Receiving no response, Miles disappears for a time,
but presently re-enters and falls upon the hero, who
' must run away and leave his club and sword.'
Thereupon, Miles delivers himself of the play's moral
as to the vanity of boasting, and the action ends.

Theisdidacticismjof this grotesque piece is, of course,
uppermost ; but its irreverent use of romantic ma
chinery shows that very early the playwrights began
to turn to humorous account the features of popular
literature. In the fully developed drama, the most
pronounced ridicule, outside our play, passed upon
books of chivalry and the contemporary manners in
spired by them, is to be found in Ben Jonson and
Chapman.

It was inevitable that Jonson, the (pugnacicms^ de
fender of (classicism^1 should have treatecPwith the
utmost contempt the wild romanticism of this litera-

xcii Introduction

ture and of its theatrical outgrowths. His indictment
of the absurd plots of such plays as The Four Pren
tices of London is well known : he says that miracles
upon the stage are what please the people,

so if a child could be born in a play, and grow up to a man, in the
first scene, before he went off the stage : and then after to come forth
a squire, and be made a knight to travel between the acts, and do
wonders in the Holy Land, or elsewhere ; kill Paynims, wild boars,
dun cows, and other monsters; beget him a reputation, and marry an
emperor's daughter for his mistress ; and at last come home lame, and
all-to-be-laden with miracles.1

He says elsewhere that he would have expected
vengeance from the fire-god had he compiled

Amadis de Gaul,

The Esplandians, Arthurs, Palmerins, and all
The learned library of Don Quixote,
And so some goodlier monster had begot;*

and his other scattered references to tales of chivalry
are invariably scornful.3

Jonson's most extensive satire on the affectations
cultivated in the Paul's men and owners of purchased
knighthoods by romance-reading is in his caricature
of Puntarvolo, 'a vain -glorious knight, wholly con
secrated to singularity,' who figures in Every Man
Out of his Humor. This ceremonious fop holds
chivalric 4 dialogues and discourses between his horse,
himself, and his dog,' and ' will court his own lady,
as she were a stranger never encountered before.'
His manner of carrying on his stereotyped love-
making is to appear under his wife's window every
morning, and, by the winding of his hunter's horn,
call her forth to the ordeal. First, he summons his
wife's waiting-woman, upon whose appearance at the

1 Magnetic Lady I. I.
* Underwoods, ed. Gifford, 8. 400.

8 Cf. The Alchemist 4. 4 ; The Silent Woman 4. I ; Every Man in
his Humour 3. I. 4; A TaU of a Tub 3. 3 ; The New Inn, I. i.

Objects of the Satire xciii

window, he exclaims : ' Stay : mine eye hath, on the
instant, through the bounty of the window, received
the form of a nymph,' &c. Then follows a satirical
colloquy, in which be draws from his interlocutor all
sorts of complimentary information about himself,
asking her about the lord of the ' castle,' whether or
not he is courteous, magnanimous, bountiful, learned,

devout to all of which queries she is trained to

respond in the affirmative. Upon the appearance of
his own lady, he bursts forth in this fashion :

What more than heavenly pulchritude in this ?

O, I am planet-struck, and in yond sphere
A brighter star than Venus doth appear.

There is more vaporing of the same sort, ending
with this announcement to his 'most debonair and
luculent lady' :

I am a poor knight-errant, lady, that by hunting in the adjacent
forest, was, by adventure, in the pursuit of a hart, brought to this
place ; which hart, dear madam, escaped by enchantment : the evening
approaching, myself, and servant wearied, my suit is, to enter your
fair castle and refresh me.

His wife, true to her part in keeping up the fiction,
demurs as to the propriety of receiving a strange
knight into her castle, but says at last:

I am resolved to entertain you to the best of my power ; which I
acknowledge to be nothing, valued with what so worthy a person may
deserve. Please you but stay, while I descend.1

Puntarvolo is, of course, one of Jonson's broadly
exaggerated 'humor' studies, but his antics expressively
denote the absurd vagaries entertained by his class
through their acquaintance with romances. A truer
delineation of the fantastic dreams and desires in
stilled into the bourgeois society through this agency
is that in Eastward Ho, written by Chapman chiefly,
though with the probable collaboration of Jonson.

1 Cf. Every Man out of his Humour 2. I.

xciv Introduction

The purse -ridden Sir Petronel Flash has, by false
accounts of castles, which he is popularly supposed
to have won from giants, &c., dazzled the fancy of
Gertrude, daughter of an old goldsmith, Touchstone.
By his deceptions he weds her, gets possession of
her maternal estate, and sends her on a fool's errand
in a coach to find the visionary castles, while he
takes wing for America. Chapman humorously
depicts the simple-minded Gertrude's comical despair,
and her appeals to the authority of the romances :

Would the knight o'the sun, or Palmerin of England, have used
their ladies so, Syn ? or Sir Lancelot ? or Sir Tristram ?

But her loss is for the time irretrievable, and she
ends with consoling herself by means of a spiteful
comparison of the prosy knighthoods nowadays with
the glorious knighthoods of old time.

The Faithful Friends, a play somewhat doubtfully
ascribed to Beaumont and Fletcher, contains an under
plot in which the braggart knight Sir Pergamus
draws out to great length the chivalric lingo and
ceremonies which seem to have been cultivated by
the romance-nurtured dandies. These features of the
play do not differ in essential character from those
of Every Man Out of his Humour, just sketched, while
the satire is inferior in point and originality ; there
fore specific notice need not be given it.

Beside these three our four considerable treatments
of the romance -habit, the old plays contain innu
merable condemnatory flings at it in brief allusions.
Shakespeare gives the romances small notice, but he
is never complimentary1. Dekker uses them for iron
ical purposes in The Untrussing of the Humorous Poet.
Marston attacks them with his usual scurrility-.

1 Cf. / Henry IV 2. 2 ; 2 Henry IV 3. 2 ; Much Ado 2. I ; Lear 3. 4 ;
King John I. 2 ; Henry V I. I. « Cf. The Malcontent I. I.

Objects of the Satire xcv

Beaumont and Fletcher continually poke fun at them1.
The plays of the later dramatists, particularly Shirley,
Nabbes, and Habington, are seamed with contemp
tuous references to them2. These small satirical al
lusions and episodes in the old dramatists, of little
significance singly, in their collective aspect form a
convincing evidence of the prevalence and thecjdel-
eteripu^effect of Jihejfasjiion of romance-reading, and
' illuminate to an invaluable degree the cause and point
of Beaumont's elaborate satire.

b. Miscellaneous Stage-favorites j)f the Citizens^

The emphasis of the literary satire in The Knight
of the Burning Pestle is upon the romances and the
chivalric drama. There are oblique thrusts, however,
at a class of city stage-favorites, which, for lack of
a better term, may be called the civic drama. This
was a numerous series of plays which flamboyantly
set forth the lives of famous London worthies, and
extolled the virtues of London shopkeepers and ap
prentices. It is productions of this sort which the
Citizen, in the Induction of The Knight of the Burning
Pestle, insists should be substituted for the bill offered
by the Prologue; he is only pacified when the Wife
suggests the even more delectable treat to be en
joyed through Ralph's essay of a chivalric role. The
Legend of Whittington, a lost play, The Life and Death
of Sir Thomas Gresham, a play written by Heywood
under the actual title of If you know not me, you
know no body, and a play which the Wife calls Jane
Shore, but which is probably Heywood's First and

1 Cf. Rule a Wife 4. 2 ; Wild Goose Chase i. i ; Little French
Lawyer 2. 3 ; Scarnful Lady 3. I ; Philaster 5. 4 ; &c.

* Cf., for example, Shirley's Bird in a Cage 3. 2, and Honoria and
Mammon 2. I ; Nabbes' Tottenham Court 4. 7.

xcvi Introduction

Second Parts of King Edward the Fourth, are the rep

resentatives of the type mentioned in the Induction.

The fact that e'greffiouslv open addresses were

0.,-vJP.i.j "" — • - f- - - - ---

made to the vanity of the tradesmen is illustrated,
indeed, in such a play as The Four Prentices of Lon
don. jt^ will easily_ be seen that The Four Prentices
liTTntended to idealize the Supposititious) valorjof the
''' that to do so it stops short

ofjnolimit of probability or reason. "lh'deed7"Hey-
wood inscribes his _preface of the prinlelPcopy' 'to
the honest and high-spirited prentises, the__readers,'
compliments them olTTrleir'absurdly pretentious mil
itary drills in the newly revived practice of arms in
the Artillery Gardens, and concludes thus :

But to returne agayne to you, my braue spirited Prentises, vpon
whom I haue freely bestowed these Foure, I wish you all, that haue
their courages and forwardnesse, their noble Fates and Fortunes.

4 The noble Fates and Fortunes ' of the sons of
Bouillon were, then, deliberately set forth as within
the scope of possible attainment by the valiant ap
prentices, and were doubtless so looked upon by
those gullible youths. That their masters, too, re
garded the fiction as authentic and praiseworthy is
evidenced by the Citizen's triumphant appeal to it
as a witness that a grocer's boy may properly court
a king's daughter, if he so aspires (4. 64). The lines
of the play itself contain numbers of straightforward
appeals to the tradesmen's pride of caste and wealth.
The noble four loudly proclaim the honor and dig
nity of their tradesmen's calling. Godfrey declares:

I hold it no disparage to my birth

Though I be born an Earl, to have the skill

And the full knowledge of the Mercer's trade.

Guy expatiates upon the worth of the goldsmith's
vocation as a means to purchase 'steadfast wealth,'

Objects of the Satire xcvii

while ' state ' may waste, ' and towring honours fall ' ;
and Charles cries out to the old earl, his father :

Or should I say the Citty-trades are base
For such a great mans sonnes to take on them :
Your fatherly regard would straight aduise mee
To chastise my rebellious thoughts.

There is more of the same sort. It is sufficient to
say that Eustace proudly emblazons the grocer's arms
upon his ensign, and Guy adopts the goldsmith's
emblem ; while throughout the headlong rush of ad
ventures the heroes loquaciously signify that they
are exerting their prowess to ' try what London pren-
tises can doe.'

The other plays named by the spectators were
palatable to them for much the same reason as was
The Four Prentices. The Legend of Whittington was un -
doubtedly a dramatization of the familiar story of
that celebrated grandee and his cat. The fabulous
nature of the tale must have made a deep impression
upon the childishly credulous fancy of the commoners
of the time, and, through the embodiment of their
commercial dignity and importance in this eminent
representative, their pride must have been immeas
urably flattered.

The second part of If you know not me is largely
devoted to a laudatory account of the public bene
factions of the famous merchant Sir Thomas Gresham,
particularly his erection of the great Bourse known
as the Royal Exchange. The play is tediously drawn
out in long-winded discourses, in which there are
many bombastic descriptions of the careers of ' prov
ident, valiant and learned citizens,' now gone to
their reward, and many boastful utterances from Sir
Thomas himself regarding the magnanimity of his
present enterprise, which, however, he incautiously

xcviii Introduction

remarks, is undertaken that thereafter young trades
men established in the Exchange may

speake in Gresham's praise,
In Gresham's work we did our fortunes raise.

What little action there is moves lumberingly along,
till, with much splurge and display, the climax is
reached in the christening of the building under the
hand of Queen Elizabeth herself. Monotonous and
dramatically hollow as is the piece, its popularity
among the purse-proud brethren of Sir Thomas was
natural enough, but it was as naturally exposed to
the gibes and ridicule of dramatists who could despise
its obsequious flattery of the citizens, and detect its
pretentiousness and absurdity.

A production more creditable to Heywood is his
King Edward IV. The main theme is concerned with
the king's mistress, Jane Shore, the story of whose
rise from obscurity, brief enjoyment of grandeur and
singular power, final downfall and repentance, is
treated with much of the simple dramatic effectiveness
and ' homely tenderness ' for which Heywood is famous.
An underplot has to do with the besieging of London
by the Bastard Falconbridge, and the valiant defence of
the same by the Lord Maior and the Citizens. It is in
this latter feature that our Citizen doutbless takes
his greatest delight. Here the worthiness of himself
and his fellows is set forth in glowing colors.
Their apprentices bravely defy the rebels in these
terms :

Nay scorn us not that we are prentices.
The Chronicles of England can report
What memorable actions we haue done,
To which the daies achievement shall be knit,
To make the volume larger than it is.

The prentices make good their boast in the stirring
repulses which they give the enemy. The army of

Objects of the Satire xcix

citizens at length gains the victory, the leaders are
knighted by the king, and the episode concludes
with the Lord Mayor's somewhat unprovoked, but
edifying, account of his rise from a grocer's appren
ticeship in his youth to his present high dignity.

The plebeian appeal of such plays as these is
self-evident1. Another of Beaumont's objects of at
tack is a nondescript drama of marvels and adven
ture, represented by ' The story of Queen Elenor/
Mucedorus, and The Travailes of the Three English
Brothers. Queen Eleanor's story is told in Peele's
King Edivard the First, a sub-plot of which is entitled
the sinking of Queene Elinor, who sunck at Charing
crosse, and rose againe at Potters-hith, now named Queene—
hith. This fate was supposed to have been meted
out to the unpopular, but really virtuous, princess
because of her reported murder of the Lord Mayor's
wife, and its incidents were very absurdly set forth
for the stage in Peele's version of the scandal.
Plays like Mucedorus are of a hybrid order, develop
ing in a most childish fashion some of the features
of the romances- — such as rescues of fair damsels

from beasts and wild-men- of-the-woods together

with the broadest buffoonery of the old-time Vice,
through his descendant, the clown. The Travailes of
the Three English Brothers was written by Day, Rowley,
and Wilkins. The fortunes of the three Shirleys —

Thomas, Anthony, and Robert at the courts of

Persia and other Eastern countries, form an interesting
chapter in the history of Elizabethan travelers. Many
fabulous stories were related about these men, and

1 It is concisely illustrated by Earle in his Microcosmography, 1628,
in his character of ' A Mere Gull Citizen ' : ' He is one loves to hear the
famous acts of citizens, whereof the gilding of the cross [by Ed. I in
memory of Queen Elenor] he counts the glory of this age, and the four
prentices of London above all the nine worthies.'

g 2

c Introduction

Day and his associates incorporated them into their
play. This production is a very odd affair. The
action is propelled by means of dumb shows and
choruses, which transport the brothers all over Europe
and Asia in a fashion more disconnected than that
of The Four Prentices itself ; and, after many strange
happenings, the plot finds issue in the marriage of
Sir Robert Shirley to the Sophy of Persia's daughter,
concluding with the christening of their first-born in
dumb show - an incident which our Citizen wishes
Ralph to enact (4. 44).

Finally, a word should be said upon that much
belabored old stage-piece, The_ Spanish Tragedy of
Thomas Kyd. As is well known, the playwrights are
never tired of casting slurs at the rant and blood-
andzthunder fustian, of this long-lived favorite of the
citizens...... Modern _ critics have7ound]consijderable dra

matic skill and real tragic power beneath the weak-

but Kyd's contemporaries in

the drama could only sneer - perhaps incited by
some feeling of jealousy oj" its unequalled popularity.
Beaumont and Fletcher make theirjno.st .considerable
sporT^of it in The Knight of the Burning Pestle. As
early as the Induction, its plebeian patronage is
denoted by the Citizen's declaring that~T?aIph was
to have"1 played J^ronimo with a shooemaker for a
Wager' before^ jhe wardens of tJie__Grocers' Company.
In two later passages it is outspokenly parodied.
At the opening of Thf ftp******. TV^/j^ Andrea's
ghost_enters and says :

My name is DonAndrea ; my descent,
Though not ignoble, yet inferior far
To^ gratious fortunes of my tender youth.

Thegejtoiea_£rejdicnled in__ojuL^pIav--(4.- 442-3) by
Ralph's utterance :

Objects of the Satire ci

My name is T?j^h__hjy_Jjm^_Hff:npnt thmigh nnt ignnhlp

Yet far inferior to the stock

The whole of Ralph's concluding speech (5. L 319-69),
when his ghosfenters with * a forked arrow through
his~Tiead,' seems to be conceived in a spirhjoT bur
lesque uporTDon Andrea|s jdeclamation. A few definite
rjarajlels can be establisji£d.»— Andrea's ghost begins :

When this eternall substance of my soule
Did Hue imprisond in my wanton flesh,
j» Ech in their function serving others need,

I was a Courtier in the Spanish Court.

Thus Ralph : 9

When I was mortal, this my costive corps
Did lap up figs and raisins in the Strand.

Andrea continues :

For there in prime and pride of all my years,
My duteous service and deserving love,
In secret I possest a worthy dame,
\Vhich hight sweet Belimperia by name.

Ralph says correspondingly :

Where sitting, I espied a lovely dame,

Whose master wrought with lingel and with awl.

From here on the speeches diverge according to the
difference between Ralph's and Andrea's narratives
of their achievements in life. There seems to be
a connection, however, in the accounts of their
deaths. Andrea says :

But in the harvest of my summer joys,
Death's winter nipt the blossoms of my bliss.

Though totally dissimilar in content, Ralph's grotesque
description may be a parody on Andrea's solemn
utterance. Ralph has it:

Then coming home, and sitting in my shop
With apron blue, Death came into my stall
To cheapen aqtuwitae ; but ere I
Could take the bottle down and fill a taste,
Death caught a pound of pepper in his hand,
And sprinkled all my face and body o'er,
And in an instant vanished away.

cii Introduction

Lastly, there seems to be an intentionally ludicrous
contrast drawn between the final havens of these
two martial souls. When Andrea has arrived in
Hades, Rhadamant declares :

He died in warre, and must to Martial fields.

But Ralph says, after describing the singular manner
of his decease:

Then took I up my bow and shaft in hand,
And walk't into Moorfields to cool myself.

2. TiManneracobean Audiences.

Perhaps _the. feature_ ofJT/^ J^^A* _^fjj^e Burning
Pestle ...3Khich.-is -the ...-mosLjremote from modern com
prehension is the conduct of the Citizen and his
Wife" No amount of extranebus__descrlption or
passing allusion in Jacobean literature can re-create
fof us_jhe popular mappers wKich_Beaumont has
typified in the behavior of his rough-and-ready spec
tators! To come into proper sympathy with these
good people, one must realize them, not through
Britten accounts of the rude social life of that olden
time, but through a free exercise of his own creative
imagmation. He must project himself into a ^vanished
civilization, whose rough, hftflrty life was^ essentially
different from our modern urbanity and restraint, and
he must make that life his own. Only by~~"scf doing
can he accept with full relish and conviction" the
forceful, realistic humor of Beaumont's satire.
""Most of all, for the right understanding of The
Knight of the Burning Pestle, the modern ^playgoer
must transport himself in imagination into the con
ditions which ealed6 common theatre of the

time" "of James the First He must hold before his
mental vision as clearly as may be the outlines of

Objects of the Satire ciii

the Jacobean playhouse its high circular interior, ,

roofless for the most part, and lighted by the open »
sky. ;_ its. Primitve stagej made of rough timbers pro
jecting into the centre of the yard, and wholly de
void of curtains or of scenery, save for a few jtra-
verses and painted cloths^ its low-thatched gallery, J
running around the walls at _a_ short distance from '
the ground ; and its more decorative balconies above
and behind the platform, which are reserved for the
well-to-do spectators. He must then bring into his
mind's eye one of the jypical audiences of London.
He must picture the aristocratic, haughty occupants
of the ' twelve-penny rooms ' at the rear or sides of
the stage. {He must look with proper deference upon
the gaudily dressed and copiously mannered gallants
who are seated in cherished prominence upon the
stage itself, where they blazon forth their finery, and,
with complacent skill, blow fantastically fashioned
wreaths of tobacco smoke, to the admiration or the
envious Qppro britnfrrofait ' the opposed rascality ' down
in the yard below ; or who, better still, are stretched
their whole resplendent length upon the very boards,
'the very Rushes where the Comedy is to daunce,
yea, and vnder the very state of Cambises himselfe,'
where their recumbent forms interfere mightly_wjth
the business of the actors, who have to shuffle about
"as best they can in the narrow space which is yet
vouchsafed to them. But still further must our hy
pothetical modern divest himself of his accustomed
notions of a theatre familiar to his own experience,
with its comfortable furnishings, its highly finished
appointments, and its sleek and placid patrons ; he
must in imagination shove his way into the midst
of the_noisy, jostling throng gathered upon the bare
earth there, and crogded about the very edge of the

J I . I "" *—- ' «. — r.- ^^-^ •" rf — ^>

civ Introduction

stage_itself in zealous determination to draw out
every iota of ^their sixpence worth of delight from
whatever dramatic display that unpromising structure
may set forth. It is a motley and turbulent assem
blage yeomen, tradesmen, sailors, quarrelsome ap
prentices, tittering s^r^aJil^drlS4__and aggressive city
wives, withhere_and there, mayhap, a furtive puritan
brother, who has slipped away from his disapproving
fold to glance for a wicked hour upon the 'vanity,'
and snatch a fleeting and fearful joy from this high
carnival of the ungodly.

Here it is that our translated spectator will find
the worthy grocer, accompanied by his bustling
wife and his stage-struck apprentice-boy Ralph.
The good man is protesting loudly to his assenting
neighbors against the impertinence of that placard
hanging from the rafters of the stage, which an
nounces that the play to be presented is called The
London Merchant. There is assuredly some sinister
meaning in this name, for have not numerous stage-
pieces in these days, under cover of just such a
smooth-sounding title as this, hurled ridicule and in
sult at the honorable tradesmen of London, who are
the salt of the land, and the support and prop of
the state? And, indeed, have not many of their
number of best degree and quality been brought
into disrepute by these rascally players, so that more
than once the Worshipful Company of Aldermen, and
even the Lords of the Privy Council themselves,
have interfered and forbidden the libelous perform
ances? And, moreover, is it not their money and
their patronage by which these shows are maintained,
and why should they not have in return for their
outlay whatsoever kind of an entertainment may
please them ? Why should they not have something

Objects of the Satire cv

presented 'notably in honour of the commons of the
city,' such as The Legend of Whittington} The Building
of the Royal Exchange, or The Four Prentices of London ?
f As the interested modern listens to this garrulous
shopkeepers assumption of authority over the im
mediate behavior of the dramatic muse, he finds
himself little by little drawn into sympathy with an
unwonted" point of view, and it seems altogether
natural, and expressively human, when the indignant
worthy, in a gathering storm of wrath, suddenly pushes
his way through the excited crowd, leaps bodily upon
.t^e_AtageiJtnrot^es ^e astonished Prologue, who has
just entered_fe" speak trie "accustomed prearirCT^~and
shouts in that functionary's defenseless ear : ' Hold
your peace, goodman boy! - this seven years there
hath~been plays _at this house, I have' observed it,
you have still girds at citizens _j_ and no w_ypu call
your" play The London Merchant. Down with your
title, boy ! down with your title ! '

J^heji.-flnce..Jhe._beholder ..has been swept into the
spirit of this_vigorous conduct, it seems not at all a
bizarre or incredible circumstance that presently the
agitated Wife should also go clambering up fKe
stage, nor that^fteFTier due <^b^^mce)to the usually
haughty, but in this case indulgent, gallants, she
should abet her irate spouse in his stormy protest
against the bill proposed. And it seems quite in the
natural order of life that she should volubly insist
upon giving the boy Ralph a__chance__tp exercise his
vaunted gift for histrionics^or^as an jjpshopof the
whole dispute, that Ralph should I actually be assigned
a role as a valiant grocer-errant, and be allowed to
scramble through the five acts of the comedy as best
he may-— -to the slight impairment

Merchant, to be sure, but to the vast delectation of

cvi Introduction

hisjnaslSJLandjnistresSj and to them a welcome relief
from the expected pertness of the appointed play.
In this vivid creation of the Citizen and his Wife,
Beaumont is but striking off with perfect accuracy
tHe^assurance and actual manners of his own theatrical
public, who tried to^ overrule the playwrights, and
not infrequently succeeded in dictating the_produc-
tions of the stage. There is, of course, an essentially
fanciful element in the interwoven antics of Ralph,
tmfthe boisterous conduct of the spectators~Ts no
wise^ oveTSrawrju/ Indeed, its . delin.eat.ion__seems to be
restrained, if we may accept as fact the following
account of theatrical audiences by a contemporary
of Beaumont :

Men come not to study at a playhouse, but love such expressions
and passages which with ease insinuate themselves into their capacities.
Lingua, that learned comedy of the contention betwixt the five senses
for the superiority, is not to be prostituted to the common stage, but
is only proper for an academy ; to bring them Jack Drum's Enter
tainment, Greens Tu Quoque, The Devil of Edmonton, and the like ;
or if it be on holidays, when Sailors, Watermen, Shoemakers, Butchers,
and Apprentices, are at leisure, then it is good policy to amaze those
violent spirits with some tearing tragedy full of fights and skirmishes,
as the Guelph and Ghibbelines, Greeks and Trojans, or The Three
London Apprentices *, which commonly ends in six acts, the spectators
frequently mounting the stage, and making a more bloody catastrophe
among themselves than the players did. I have known upon one of
these festivals, but especially at Shrove-tide, where the players have
been appointed, notwithstanding their bills to the contrary, to act
what a major part of the company had a mind to; sometimes Tamer-
laine, sometimes Jugurth, sometimes The Jew of Malta, and sometimes
parts of all these ; and at last, none of the three taking, they were
forced to undress and put off their tragic habits, and conclude the day
with The Merry Milkmaids. And unless this were done, and the
popular humor satisfied, as sometimes it so fortuned that the players

; were refractory, the benches, the tiles, the laths, the stones, oranges,
apples, nuts, flew about most liberally ; and as there were mechanics
of all professions, they fell every one to his own trade, and dissolved

[ a house in an instant, and made a ruin of a stately fabric*.

1 Probably Heywood's Four Prentices of London is here meant
(5)Gayton, Festivous Notes Upon Don Quixote, 1654, p. 271.

Objects of the Satire cvii

This graphic account gives us a clear index to the
coclFof public manners, and the irresponsible criticism
of plays, which Beaumont's acute but kindly satire
sets forth in a delightfully humorous fashion in The
Kmghj^ of the Burning Pestle. It was of course quite
inevitable that such spectacular "exhibitions of human
nature in the rough should Tiave attracted the play
wrights^ In modified form, they were used for pur-
poses of cEaracterizatioh by other dramatists besides
Beaumont. In Summer's Last Will and Testament, prob
ably performed at some nobleman's castle in 1592,
Thomas Nash has Henry the Eighth's jester, Will
Summer, sit upon the stage, flout the actors, and
cast satirical flings at the themes of the play. In the
last act of Middleton's Mayor of Queenborough, Simon,
an illiterate tanner who has become mayor of his
native town, is made to break in upon a play which
he thinks is being improperly acted, and assume a
role himself, to his ultimate discomfiture through
having his pockets picked by one of the cast, whose
part necessitates this indignity. Simon's interested
and credulous participation in the feigned occurences,
as though they were all real events, and his inter
posed comments upon the relative cleverness of the
actors, bear a marked resemblance to the conduct
of our Citizen and his Wife. Randolph, in The Muses'
Looking Glass, acted about 1635, has two Puritans
inveigled into witnessing a play, and uses the spec
tator-motive to satirize the Puritans' bigoted opposition
to the stage, on the one hand, and, on the other,
to try to convert these skeptics to a belief in its
moralizing influence. Brome, in his Antipodes, 1638,
humorously portrays an unsophisticated country
woman, Diana by name, who sits in the audience,
and makes naive comments upon the play, this

cviii Introduction

being her first experience of the theatre. These
treatments of the spectator-motive are illustrative of
such contemporary manners as are depicted by Beau
mont, but they are sligh t^m cidejital-Sketches, w hi 1 e
mjrfae^Knight of the Burning ..Pestle.. . the jCitizen and
his Wife are in the centre of attention, and are the
prime movers of the action^

It^ was "left tftJtoamnont-.and.-.tQ.JBeii^Ignson, in
deed, to give the fullest__e^^jtiMs_c>f_titie_jimcouth-
ness and__the___ar_rogance of their theatrical public.
The_manner of their delineations varied according
to the purposes and the peculiar genius of the two
men". Jonson, the cynic, the scorner of human kind,
warped and distorted Eis exp onents. ,of the popular
taste into grotesque caricatures, which^ symbolized
his~p^rsonallyn5iased joutlook upon his audiences ;
and, Jheayy moralist that he was, he laid on his blows
with unsparing severity, often directing the whole
movement, moreover, to the exposition of some artistic

• ____ __ _ ..— .— -*— — ~^ __ JT _ — - — — •

or ethical thesis rather than to the Jruly dramatic
exposition of life itself. ___ jQn^pn_fumes_and rails and
CvituperaftgEh in the vpry__jac^_of_his_ audience. He
squarely tells the groundlings that they are ^aUrude
barbarous crew, a people_t3iaiJiave-no .bjrains,' who
'will hiss anything that mounts above their giiound-

ed' capacities1; flnd hft sayS t1lp rapririnns_grfl11an ts

1 have such a habit of dislike in all things, that they
will approve nothing, be it never so conceited or
elaborate ; but sit dispersed, making faces^and spitting,
wagging_thpir nprTghi

sjrnrjly uttering their owrL_rnnditir>n '2. _ In^JJie. In
duction of Cynthia's Revels, he sums up, with the most
acrid denunciation, the various sorts of stupiditiy and
presumption in his audience which excite his wrath :

1 Tlie Case is Altered 2. 4. * Ibid.

Objects of the Satire cix

As some one civet-wit among you, that knows no other learning
than the price of satin and velvets ; nor other perfection than the
wearing of a neat suit ; and yet will censure as desperately as the most
professed critic in the house, presuming his clothes should bear him
out in it. Another, whom it hath pleased nature to furnish with more
beard than brains, prunes his mustaccio, lisps, and, with some score
of affected oaths, swears down all that sit about him ; ' That the old
Hieronimo, as it was first acted, was the only best and judiciously
penned play in Europe.1 A third great-bellied juggler talks of twenty
years since, and when Monsieur was here, and would enforce all wits
to be of that fashion, because his doublet is still so. A fourth miscalls
all by the name of fustian that his grounded capacity cannot aspire
to. A fifth only shakes his bottle-head, and out of his corky brain
squeezeth out a pitiful learned face, and is silent.

These abusive denunciations are typical of Ben. He
lengthily draws out more of the same sort through
the medium of the spectators. Dampley, in The Mag
netic Lady, and the Gossips, iri The Staple of News,
through Leatherhead's rascally catering to the ple
beian public's low taste by means of his puppet-shows,
in the last act of Bartholomew Fair, and through the
well-known preachments of Jonson's spokesman, Asper,
upon the purposes of dramatic art and the contempti-
bility of popular opinion, in Every Man out of his Humour.
Ben's harsh and untempered invectives, expository
as they are of the boorish manners and shallow the
atrical judgment of the playwrights' average auditors,
have little in common with Beaumont's satirical meth
od. Beaumont is every inch a dramatist, and never
ajporalizer or a self-opinionated dlenouncer. He had,
indeed, had reason enough for invective, for, early
in 1610^ the ' many-headed bench ' had hissed from
the boards his colleague Fletcher's beautiful pastoral,
The Faithful Shepherdess, and he had written to his
mortified friend some indignant verses on the stu
pidity and injustice of the ignorant rabble,

Scarce two of which can understand the laws
Which they should judge by, nor the parties cause ;

ex Introduction

yet who, even

as the boy doth dance
Between the acts, will censure the whole play1.

It is sometimes very naturally surmised that The Knight
of the Burning Pestle was written as a rebuke to the
city for its rejection of The Faithful Shepherdess*, but
if that is so, the author has wholly submerged the
personal motivet and refrained froj^gxp^gg^^ de
nunciation. ,Like a true dramatist, he hiqiself is
c^mpjejely_j^n^otrirnital. He— allows his bigoted
citizens to be exposed to humiliatingj-idicule through
their own^self^rojected absurdities, and_tHe^rocess
is neither hindered nor abetted by interpretations in-
jecTed~"5y the author frorn^ without The satire is a
faithful reflex__of_actual Ufe, whollyjinspoiled by the
tang and asperity of the cantankerous Bens^admix-
tures. It is inwrought with^ the texture
itself --iLi's ronrfiived, no* as

_ _

but_as_a_pure expression of vital dramatic humor.

3. Minor Objects of the Satire.
Duringthe course of The Knight of the Burning

Pestle. JBeaumont laTlgtellm^jin' indulgent way at
numHers of the small foibles and superstitions of the
commoners. The_WjfeJs vociferous repugnance to
the new fashion of smoking tobacco (1. 224-8); her
faith in the medicinal efficacy of green

skin (8. 212), of tsjnelling to the toes '
(3. 216), and of carduus^benedictus and mare's milk
of jier_spouse and herselTTn the

purjirjet-shows and other rare sights ^3.295-308) ; the
boastful spirit aroused by the exercises at the fencing-
schopls (2. 368^^21); the^ absurdities of the old civic

1 Cf. The Works of Beaumont dr9 Fletcher, ed. Dyce, 2. 9.

2 Cf. Macaulay, Francis Beaumont, p. 152.

Objects of the Satire cxi

display known as Arthur's Show (4.65) ; the childish
interest of the citizens in the May-garne{4^42JM)2.)
-^these ~aiirl~~otrrer eccentricities of the common
folk the dramatist archTy"jgIances at in passing, and,
in_a^_cleYej__bul_kindly manner, he sets them out
to denote the ignorance and thejegotism ofthe self-
constituted censors of the stage_whom he desires to
ridicule and reprove. The features of these minute
media of the satire are sufficiently illustrated in the
notes, and need not here be further specified.

A word should be said, however, upon one of the
lesser satirical episodes which Beaumont developes
at some length, and with .{Immitabljp spirit. I refer
to the playful burlesque upon the drills at Mile End
Green in Act 4, IL (55-185. The mimicry which is
there introduced through the Wife's suggestion is in

^ . . — **•- — — _. _.„ JPJBL-.T, ,__L_ „__

ridicule of the pompous manoeuvers of the City train
bands, merged in later times in the Royal London
Militia. Mile End, just outside the bounds of Old
London, was established. as the mustering place of
this "order by Henry VIII^ in 1532, when the organiza
tion was^provisfonalfy formed. Entick says :

The king laid a scheme to find out the real strength of his metrop
olis, by ordering a general muster to be made of all the defensible
men within the City or the liberties, from the age of 1 6, to 60, to
be held at Mile-end, on the fields between Whitechapel church and
Stephney church ; and commanding that their names, and an account
of the weapons, armour, and other military accoutrements belonging
to the City, should then be also taken down and sent him1.

There are records of two important musters under
Elizabeth, one in 1559 at Greenwich, the other in
1585, when about 4000 men were chosen out of the
Companies of the City by command of the Queen.
They mustered daily at Mile End and in St. George's
Fields, and were inspected by the Queen at Green-

1 Survey of London i. 184.

cxii Introduction

wich. By a commission dated Aug. 21, 1605, King
James authorized a general muster to be made of
the forces of the City, and especially of such trained
men as had been enrolled under Elizabeth. Eventu
ally these bodies were organized into companies,
under the name of train bands. They were officered by
members of the Honorable Artillery Company, with
which they are sometimes confounded. The Artillery
Company dates its present existence from 1610, hence
from the immediate period of our play. Its formation
immensely stimulated the jmilitar^interest of the
Londoners, and induced the excessive fondness for
drills which thfilplavliatirizes. The train bancfifwere

not "Brought into active requisition until the Civil
War. Then, however, though their practical utility
had been cheaply esteemed, they distinguished them
selves by their skill and their bravery1.

IC-is—the^Jactitious dangers .and illusory bravery
in_vol_ved in thesejbattles at Mile End which so mightily
stir the military ardor of our representative Citizen
and his wiie^ancl_which so (mate the bosom of the
redoubtable Ralph, as he marshals his invincible troops
across the stage. Nothing could more cleverly denote
tf\e_childish futility of these displays, andjtK 'citizens'
inflated prKUT in their imagined magnificence and
importance, ihan our grocer's seeming belief in his
own hairbreadth escapes when he himself was a
pikeman there * in the~~hotte8t of the day,' or his
terror before the sham fire, and his devout gratitude
that ' for all this I am heere wench/ or Ralph's solemn
inspection of~the faulty munitions, or Greengoose's
egregious rashness in firing his gun. * partlyTo secure

1 For accounts of the City train bands, cf. Francis Grose, The Anti
quarian Repertory I. 251—270, and G. A. Raikes, The History of the
Honourable Artillery Company.

Objects of the Satire cxiii

her, and partly for audacity,' or Jhe captahVs fear
oFjthe 'Butchers jiookes at white-Chappe!,' or his
inspiring address to the soldiers, with his reassuring
adjuration: * Feare__not Jthe_face__of the enemy, nor
the nojse_of^ the guns: for beleeue me bretHren7^e
rude rumbling of a Brewers Carre is farre jnore
terrible,' and his T comforting promise to them : ' for
you shall see~~(J do not doubT it)~and that very
shortly" ymif louing wives ~ agameT" and yoursweet
children^whose^ care doth beare you company_in

Here again the genius of a truly dramatic satirist
is at work. The citizens_are allowed to bring down
ridicule upon themselves of their own imtiative, and"
frornimpulses whicb 'are.jQaiiy.ft, i" vajyjn^jtegirasrj
tcTall mankind. The satire is implicit in its objects,
and is made expressive by means of the unfolding
of a typical, if designedly exaggerated, picture of
absurd contemporary customs, through which, tiow-
ever, are exposed the—iundamental and eternally
ludicrous vanities and weaknesses of human nature
itself. Here7 as elsewhere in The Knight of the Burn
ing Pestle, Beaumont, though his medium is some
what obscure, because of its re'rnoteness~fforrr~Dur
experience, is directing his ridicule at the ingrained
"absurdities of men, and, therefore, is here, as~elser
where, manifesting his powers, no_t_merely as~a~social
satirist, whose work must necessanly_have a ternpb-
rary appiicationTonly, buTas a dramatist setting- forth
a vitally humorous, hence penetrating and perennially
^truthful interpretation of life.

It is in this larger aspect that, in the last analysis,
The Knight of the Burning Pestle should be remem
bered. It shadows forth popular fashions and manners
and social oddities which have long^ since vanished ;

cxiv Introduction

itis_Jn its occasion _a .burlesque upon some of th e
outworn vagaries of the race ; but, unlike many of
itsjorgotten contemporaries on thepublic stage, its
essence inheres not in its occasionorTts immediate
material, but in the_ elemental peculiarities of our
common nature. It should excite, therefore, not mere-
jy^an aritiquaTian, bu^ also a vital apd gyitipatt]pifir.
interest.

THE KNIGHT

THE BURNING PESTLE

TEXT

EDITOR'S NOTE

THE text adopted for the present edition is that of
a copy of the First Quarto, dated 1613, which is
preserved in the Boston Public Library. Except for
pagination, line-numbering, and a few substitutions
of modern for archaic characters, the text here given
aims to be an exact reproduction of the Quarto.

In the compilation of variants, the guiding principle
has been to record only those alterations of the
original text which materially clarify or strengthen
the sense, or which supply alternate readings having
a peculiar interest. This has involved the noting of
all suggestive changes of punctuation ; all changes
in spelling of which the result is a difference of form
or removal of ambiguities ; and all stage-directions
and scene-headings supplied by the editions of Weber
and Dyce. Frequently, also, the egregious blunders
and inconsistencies of punctuation in the First Quarto
have led me to note subsequent corrections, even in
passages of which the meaning is perfectly clear. I
have limited myself, however, to the emendations of
only the more obtrusive of such errors; to have noticed
all of them would have involved a task manifestly
disproportionate to the value of its results.

I have not given separate treatment to the edition
of 1811, since it is merely a reprint of that of 1778,
nor to Darley's editions of 1840 and 1866, since they
are reprints of the text of Weber. Keltic's text of
the play in his Works of the British Dramatists, 1870,
and Fitzgibbon's text in Famous Elizabethan Plays,
1890, are based on the editions of Weber and Dyce,

A 2

4 Editors Note

and are therefore unnoticed. The text in Morley's
Burlesque Plays and Poems, 1885, is based on the
edition of 1750, and presents no variants not bor
rowed from the editions of 1778, Weber, or Dyce;
consequently, it also has been disregarded. Strachey's
(Mermaid) edition and Moorman's (Temple Dramatists)
edition, though they follow Dyce very closely, present
a few unique variants of significance, which are duly
recorded.

Q2 = The first quarto of 1635.
Q8 = The second quarto of 1635.

F = Folio of 1679.
1711 = Edition of 1711.
1750 = Edition of Theobald, Seward, and Sympson,

1750.

1778 = Edition of 1778.
W = Weber's edition, 1812.
Dy = Dyce's edition, 1843.
S = Strachey's (Mermaid) edition, 1887.
M = Moorman's (Temple Dramatists) edition,

1898.

om. = omitted.
f. = and all later editions.

At the end of the text may be found the title-
page, the address to the readers, the prologue, and
the speakers' names, which are prefixed to the Second
Quarto, 1635.

THE KNIGHT

the Burning Pestle.

Quod si

Indicium subtile, videndis artibus illud

Ad libros & ad haec Musarum dona vocares:

Boeotum in crasso iurares aere natum.

Horat. in Epist. ad Oct. Aug.

(Printer's Device.)

LONDON,

Printed for WALTER BURRE,

and are to be sold at the signe of the Crane

in Paules Church-yard.

1613.

TO HIS MANY
WAIES ENDEERED

friend Maister Robert Keysar.

R, this unfortunate child, who
in eight dates (as lately I haue
learned) was begot and borne,
soone after, was by his parents
(perhaps because hee was so vn-
like his brethren) exposed to the
wide world, who for want of
iudgement, or not vnderstanding
the priuy marke of Ironie about
it (which shewed it was no of-spring of any vulgar
braine) vtterly reiected it : so that for want of accep
tance it was euen ready to giue vp the Ghost, and was in
danger to haue bene smothered in perpetual! obliuion, if
you (out of your direct antipathy to ingratitude) had not
bene moued both to relieue and cherish it: wherein I must
needs commend both your iudgement, vnderstand
ing, and singular loue to good wits; you afterwards sent
it to mee, yet being an infant and somewhat ragged, I
haue fostred it priuately in my bosome these two yeares,
and now to shew my loue returne it to you, clad in good
lasting cloaths, which scarce memory will weare out, and
able to speake for it selfe; and withall, as it telleth mee,
desirous to try his fortune in the world, where if yet it be
welcome, father, foster-father, nurse and child, all
haue their desired end. If it bee slighted or traduced, it

This dedication was first reprinted by W DEDICATION OF THE
FIRST EDITION, 1613. W Maister] Master W, f. passim after W, f.
of-spring} offspring W, f. yet, W ragged: Dy

8 The Epistle Dedicatory

hopes his father will beget him a yonger brother, who
shall reuenge his quarrell, and challenge the world eith
er of fond and nteerely liter all interpretation, or illite
rate misprision. Perhaps it will be thought to bee of the
race of Don Quixote : we both may confidently sweare,
it is his elder aboue a yeare; and therefore may (by ver-
tue of his birth-right) challenge the wall of him. I doubt
not but they will meet in their aduentures, and I hope the
breaking of one staff e will make them friends ; and per
haps they will combine themselues, and trauell through
the world to seeke their aduentures. So I commit him to
his good fortune, and my selfe to your loue.

Your assured friend
W. B.

W. B] W. B(URRE). Dy

The famous Historic

Of the Knight of the burning

PESTLE.

Enter PRO LOG FE.

FRom all that's neere the Court, from all
that's great

Within the compasse of the Citty-wals,
We now haue brought our Sceane.

Enter Citizen. 5

Cit. Hold your peace good-man boy.
Pro. What do you meane sir?

Cit. That you haue no good meaning : This seuen
yeares there hath beene playes at this house. I haue
obserued it, you haue still girds at Citizens ; and now ,0
you call your play, The London Marchant. Downe with
your Title boy, downe with your Title.

Pro. Are you a member of the noble Citty?

Cit. I am.

Pro. And a Free-man? IS

Cit. Yea, and a Grocer.

Pro. So Grocer, then by your sweet fauour, we
intend no abuse to the Citty.

The famous Historic Of the Knight of the burning PESTLE. ] The
Knight of the Burning Pestle. F, f. INDUCTION. W, f. Enter

PROLOGVE. ] Enter speaker of the Prologue. 1778 W, f. The Citizen,

his Wife, and RALPH, sitting below the Stage among the Spectators. Several
Gentlemen sitting upon the Stage. W, f. 5 Enter Citizen. ] Citizen

leaps upon the stage. W, f. II Marchant] Merchant Q2) f. passim

io The Knight of the burning Pestle [IND.

Cit. No sir, yes sir, if you were not resolu'd to

»o play the lacks, what need you study for new subiects,

purposeley to abuse your betters ? why could not you

be contented, as well as others, with the legend of

Whittington, or the life & death of sir Thomas Gresham ?

[10] with the building of the Royall Exchange? or the

*s story of Queene Elenor, with the rearing of London

bridge vpon wool-sackes ?

Prol. You seeme to bee an vnderstanding man :
what would you haue vs do sir ?

Cit. Why present something notably in honour
30 of the Commons of the Citty.

Pro. Why what doe you say to the life and death
of fat Drake, or the repairing of Fleet-priuies ?

Cit. I do not like that, but I will haue a Citizen,
and hee shall be of my owne trade.
35 Pro. Oh you should haue told vs your minde a
moneth since, our play is ready to begin now.

Cit. 'Tis all one for that, I will haue a Grocer,
and he shall do admirable things.
Pro. What will you haue him do?

40 Cit. Marry I will haue him

Wife. Husband, husband.
Eafe. Peace mistresse.

Wife. Hold thy peace Rafe, I know what I do I
warrant tee. Husband, husband.
45 Cit. What sayst thou cunny?

Wife. Let him kill a Lyon with a pestle husband,
let him kill a Lyon with a pestle.

Cit. So he shall. Il'e have him kill a Lyon with a pestle.

19 No, sir? 1778 W No, sir! Dy 22 The .... Whittington,

Dy 23 The .... Exchange? Dy Gresham, W, f. 25 The

.... ivoolsaaks ? Dy 3 1 The .... Fleet-priues ? Dy 36 month
F, f. passim 42 Rafe ] Ralph F, f . passim 44 tee ] ye Q, Q, F
1711 1750 Dy you 1778 thee W 45 cunny] cony 1711, f. passim

48 Il'e] I'll F, f. passim

IND.] The Knight of the burning Pestle n

Wife. Husband, shall I come vp husband?

Git. I cunny. Safe helpe your mistresse this way : so
pray gentlemen make her a little roome, I pray you
sir lend me your hand to helpe vp my wife : I thank
you sir. So.

Wife. By your leaue Gentlemen all, Im'e some
thing troublesome, Im'e a strager here, I was nere 55
at one of these playes as they say, before; but I
should haue scene Jane Shore once, and my husband
hath promised me any time this Tweluemoneth to
carry me to the Bold Beauchams, but in truth he did
not, I pray you beare with me. 60

Cit. Boy, let my wife and I haue a cupple stooles,
and then begin, and let the Grocer do rare things.

Prol. But sir, we haue neuer a boy to play him,
euery one hath a part already. [11]

Wife. Husband, husband, for Gods sake let Safe 65
play him, beshrew mee if I do not thinke he will
goe beyond them all.

Cit. Well remembred wife, come vp Safe : II' e tell
you Gentlemen, let them but lend him a suit of
reparrell, and necessaries, and by Gad, if any of them 70
all blow winde in the taile on him, Il'e be hang'd.

Wife. I pray you youth let him haue a suit of
reparrell, Il'e be sworne Gentlemen, my husband tels
you true, hee will act you sometimes at our house,
that all the neighbours cry out on him : hee will 75
fetch you vp a couraging part so in the garret, that
we are all as feard I warrant you, that wee quake
againe: wee'l feare our children with him if they bee

50 I] ay 1711, f. passim in this sense 53 So.] Wife comes upon

the stage. W, f. 54 Im'e] I'm F, f. passim 55 stranger Qt) f. nere] ne'er
1711, f. passim 6 1 couple of stools Q,, f. 62 things.] Stools are
brought. W, f. and they sit down. W. 71 hanged. ] RALPH comes

on the Stage. W, f. 73 reparrell 1778 W reparrel. Dy 78 him;
1778, f.

12 The Knight of the burning Pestle. [IND..

neuer so vn-ruly, do but cry, Rafe comes, Safe comes
so to them, and they'l be as quyet as Lambes. Hold
vp thy head Rafe, shew the Gentlemen what thou
canst doe, speake a huffing part, I warrant you the
Gentlemen will accept of it.

Cit. Do Rafe, do.

85 Rafe. By heauen me thinkes it were an easie leap
To plucke bright honour from the pale-fac'd Moone,
Or diue into the bottome of the sea,
Where neuer fathame line touch't any ground,
And plucke vp drowned honor from the lake of hell.
90 Cit. How say you Gentlemen, is it not as I told you?
Wife. Nay Gentlemen, hee hath playd before,
my husband sayes, Musidorus before the Wardens of
our Company.

Cit. I, and hee should haue playd leronimo with
95 a Shooemaker for a wager.

Pro. He shall haue a suite of apparrell if he will go in.
Cit. In Safe, in Rafe, and set out the Grocery in
their kinde, if thou lou'st me.

Wife. I warrant our Rafe will looke finely when
ioo hee's drest.

Pro. But what will you haue it cal'd?
Cit. The Grocers honour.

Pro. Me thinks The Knight of the burning Pestle
were better.

i°s Wif. Il'e be sworn husband, thats as good a name
2] as can be.

Cit. Let it be so, begin, begin, my wife and I wil
sit downe.

Pro. I pray you do.

no Cit. What stately mucsike haue you? you have
shawmes.

88 fathom F, f. 97 Grocery] Grocers 1711 1750 107 so. Dy, f.
no mucsike J music F, f.

IND.] The Knight of the burning Pestle 13

Pro. Shawnes ? no.

dt. No? Im'e a thiefe if my minde did not giue
me so. Eafe playes a stateley part, and he must
needs haue shawnes : IPe be at the charge of them
my selfe, rather then wee'l be without them.

Pro. So you are like to be.

Cit. Why and so I will be : ther's two shillings,
let's haue the waits of South-warke, they are as rare
fellowes as any are in England : and that will fetch
them all or'e the water with a vengeance, as if they
were mad.

Pro. you shall haue them : will you sit downe
then?

at. I, come wife.

Wife. Sit you merry all Gentlemen, Im'e bold to
sit amongst you for my ease.

Pro. From all that's neere the Court, from all

that's great.

Within the compasse of the Citty-walles,
We now haue brought our Sceane : flye farre from

hence

All priuate taxes, immodest phrases,
What ere may but shew like vicious :
For wicked mirth neu^r true pleasure brings,
But honest minds are pleas'd with honest things.
Thus much for that we do : but for Eafes part
You must answere for your selfe.

at. Take you no care for Rafe, hee'l discharge
himselfe I warrant you.

Wife. I faith Gentlemen Il'e giue my word for Eafe.

112 shawnes] shawmes F, f. passim 116 then] than F, f. passim

in this sense 118 shillings (gives money) ; Dy 121 or'e] o'er 1711, f.
passim 123 you] You Q2, f. 126 all, F, f. 127 ease.] Citizen

and Wife sit down. Dy, f. 129 great Q.2, f.

14 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT i

Actus primi, Scoena prima.
Enter Narchant, and lasper his Prentice.

March. Sirrah, Il'e make you know you are my

Prentice,

And whom my charitable loue redeem'd
Euen from the fall of fortune, gaue thee heate
[13] $ And growth, to be what now thou art, new cast thee,
Adding the trust of all I haue at home,
In forren Staples, or vpon the Sea
To thy direction, ti'de the good opinions
Both of my selfe and friends to thy endeauours,

10 So faire were thy beginnings, but with these,
As I remember, you had neuer charge,
To loue your Maisters daughter, and euen then,
When I had found a wealthy husband for her.
I take it, sir, you had not ; but how euer,

is Fie breake the necke of that commission,
And make you know you are but a Merchants Factor.

lasp. Sir, I do liberally confesse I am yours,
Bound, both by loue and duty, to your seruice ;
In which, my labour hath bene all my profit;

20 I haue not lost in bargaine, nor delighted
To weare your honest gaines vpon my backe,
Nor haue I giuen a pencion to my bloud,
Or lauishly in play consum'd your stocke.
These, and the miseries that do attend them,

«s I dare, with innocence, proclaime are strangers
To all my temperate actions ; for your daughter,
If there be any loue, to my deseruings,

Scoena prima . . . . A Room in the Hoiise of Venterwels. W, f. VEN-
TUREWELL Dy passim Enter Marchant. ] Enter Venter-wells. W, f.

I March. ] Vent. W, f. passim 7 foreign 1 7 1 1 , f. 9 endeavors ;
1778, f. i o beginnings. Dy 22 blood 1 7 1 1 , f. passim 27 love Qs, f.
deservings 1778, f.

ACT i] The Knight of the but ning Pestle 1 5

Borne by her vertuous selfe, I cannot stop it ?

Nor, am I able to refraine her wishes.

She's priuate to her selfe and best of knowledge, 30

Whom she'le make so happy as to sigh for.

Besides, I cannot thinke you meane to match her,

Vnto a felow of so lame a presence,

One that hath little left of Nature in him.

Mar. 'Tis very well sir, I can tell your wisedome 35
How all this shall bee cur'd. lasp. Your care becomes
you.

March. And thus it must be sir, I heere discharge you
My house and seruice, take your liberty,
And when I want a sonne Fie send for you. Exit

lasp. These be the faire rewards of them that loue.

0 you that Hue in freedome neuer proue
The trauell of a mind led by desire.

Luce. Why, how now friend, struck with my fathers
thunder ? 45

lasp. Strucke and strucke dead vnlesse the remedy
Be full of speede and vertue ; I am now,
What I expected long, no more your fathers.

Luce. But mine. lasp. But yours, and onely yours

I am, so

That's all I haue to keepe mee from the Statute,
You dare be constant still. Luce. O feare me not,
In this I dare be better then a woman.
Nor shall his anger, nor his offers moue me,
Were they both equall to a Princes power. ss

lasp. You know my riuall? Luce. Yes and loue

him deerly
Euen as I loue an ague, or foule weather,

1 prethee lasper feare him not. lasp. O no,

28 it: Q3 F 1711 1750 it; 1778, f. 38 must be] shall be Q,

F 1711 1750 1778 Dy 49 mine? 1778 W 50 am ; 1778, f.

51 statute; 1711 1750 statute. 1778, f. 52 still?, Qs, f.

1 6 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT i

60 1 do not meane to do him so much kindnesse,
But to our owne desires, you know the plot
We both agreed on. Luce. Yes, and will performe
My part exactly, lasp. I desire no more,
Fare-well and keepe my heart, 'tis yours. Luce. I take it,

65 He must do miracles makes me forsake it. R

Cittiz. Fye vpon am little infidels, what a matters
here now? well, Fie be hang'd for a halfe-penny, if
there be not some abomination knauery in this Play,
well, let 'em looke toot, Eafe must come, and if there

70 be any tricks abrewing, —

Wife. Let 'em brew and bake too husband, a
Gods name, Eafe will find all out I warrant you, and
they were older then they are, I pray my pretty
youth is Eafe ready.

75 Boy. He will be presently.

Wife. Now I pray you make my commendations
vnto him, and withall carry him this sticke of Licoras,
tell him his Mistresse sent it him, and bid him bite
a peece, 'twill open his pipes the better, say.

8o Enter Marchant, and Maister Humfery.

Mar. Come sir, shee's yours, vpon my faith she's yours
You haue my hand, for other idle lets
Betweene your hopes and her, thus, with a wind
They are scattered and no more : my wanton Prentice,
[15] 85 That like a bladder, blew himselfe with loue,
I haue let out, and sent him to discouer
New Maisters yet vnknowne. Humf. I thanke you sir,
Indeed I thanke you sir, and ere I stir

60 kindnesse. 1778, f. 62 on? 1778, f. 64 it; 1778, f.

65 Exeunt severally. Dy 66 am ] 'em Q2l f. 69 toot ] to't Qs, f.
72 and] an 1778, f. passim in this sense 73 are. Q2, f. (Enter
Boy.) S 74 ready? Q2, f. 77 licorice 1778, f. 80 SCENE II. — Another
room in the house of VENTUREWELL Enter VENTUREWELL and HUMPHREY
Dy 8 1 faith she's yours, Q2, f. 82 hand: 1778, f.

ACT i] The Knight of the burning Pestle 1 7

It shall bee knowne, how euer you do deeme,

I am of gentle bloud and gentle seeme. 9°

March. O sir, I know it certaine. Hum/. Sir my friend,
Although, as Writers say, all things haue end
And that we call a pudding, hath his two

0 let it not seeme strange I pray to you,

If in this bloudy simile, I put 95

My loue, more endlesse, then fraile things or gut.

Wife. Husband, I prethee sweete lambe tell me
one thing,
But tell mee truely : stay youths I beseech you, till

1 question my husband. Citiz. What is it mouse ? 100

Wife. Sirrah, didst thou euer see a prettier child ?
how it behaues it selfe, I warrant yee, and speakes,
and lookes, and pearts vp the head ? I pray you
brother, with your fauor, were you neuer none of M.
Monkesters schollars. 105

Cit. Chicken, I prethee heartely containe thy selfe,
the childer are pretty childer, but when Eafe comes,
Lambe.

Wife. I when Eafe comes conny ; well my youth,
you may proceed no

Mar. Wei sir, you know my loue, and rest, I hope,
Assur'd of my consent, get but my daughters,
And wed her when you please ; you must be bold,
And clap in close vnto her, come, I know
You haue language good enough to win a wench, "s

Wife. A whoreson tyrant has ben an old stringer
in's daies I warrant him. Humf. I take your gentle
offer and withall
Yeeld loue againe for loue reciprocall.

Mar. What Luce within there. Lu. Cal'd you sir ? «<>
March. I did.

93 two, F, f. 1 16 tyrant! 1778, f. h'as Dy been Q,,f. 120 Luce I
1778, f. there? F 1711 1750 there! 1778, f.

1 8 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT i

Giue entertainement to this Gentleman
And see you bee not froward : to her sir,
My presence will but bee an eye-soare to you. Ext,

"5 Humf. Faire Mistresse Luce, how do you do, are

you well ?

Giue me your hand and then I pray you tell,
How doth your little sister, and your brother?
[16] And whether you loue me or any other.
'30 Luce. Sir, these are quickely answered Humf. So

they are

Where women are not cruel: but how farre
Is it now distant from this place we are in,
Vnto that blessed place your fathers warren.
135 Luce. What makes you think of that sir?

Humf. Euen that face

For stealing Rabbets whilome in that place,
God Cupid, or the Keeper, I know not whether
Vnto my cost and charges brought you thither,
'40 And there began. Luce. Your game sir. Humf. Let

no game,

Or anything that tendeth to the same.
Bee euermore remembred, thou faire killer
For whom I sate me downe and brake my Tiller.
J4s Wife. There's a kind Gentleman, I warrant you,
when will you do as much for me George?

Luce. Beshrew me sir, I am sorry for your losses,
But as the prouerbe saies, I cannot cry,
I would you had no scene me. Humf. So would I.
'so Vnlesse you had more maw to do me good.

Luce. Why, cannot this strange passion be withstood.
Send for a Constable and raise the Towne.

125 you do, are] you, are F, f. 134 warren? W, f. 136 face

Q,, f. 138 whether, Q.3) f. 140 began . . . 1778, f. Sir? 1778 W
142 same, Q2 f. 148 cry; 1711 1750 1778 cry: Dy 149 would

Ii I?11, f- I5I strange] strong 1750 withstood? 1711, f.

ACT i] The Knight of the burning Pestle 19

Humf. O no, my valiant loue will batter downe
Millions of Constables, and put to flight,
Euen that great watch of Mid-summer day at night. *ss

Luce. Beshrew me sir, 'twere good I yeelded then,
Weake women cannot hope, where valiant men
Haue no resistance. Humf. Yeeld then, I am full
Of pitty, though I say it, and can pull
Out of my pocket, thus, a paire of gloues, *6°

Looke Lucy, looke, the dogs tooth, nor the Doues
Are not so white as these ; and sweete they bee,
And whipt about with silke, as you may see.
If you desire the price, sute from your eie,
A became to this place, and you shall espie '65

F. S. which is to say, my sweetest hony,
They cost me three and two pence, or no money.

Luce. Well sir, I take them kindly, and I thanke you, [17]
What would you more ? Humf. Nothing. Luce. Why

then fare-well. '7°

Humf. Nor so, nor so, for Lady I must tell,
Before we part, for what we met together,
God grant me time, and patience, and faire weather.

Luce. Speake and declare your minde in termes

so briefe. *75

HUMF. I shall, then first and formost for reliefe
I call to you, I if that you can affoord it,
I care not at what price, for on my word, it
Shall be repaid againe, although it cost me
More then Fie speake of now, for loue hath tost me, i8°
In furious blanket like a Tennis ball,
And now I rise aloft, and now I fall.

Luce. Alas good Gentleman, alas the day.

Humf. I thanke you hartely, and as I say,
Thus do I still continue without rest, igs

164 shoot 1711, f. 172 together ; 1778 W together: Dy 177 I
if] if Q2, f. 184 heartily Q,, f.

20 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT i

I'th' morning like a man, at night a beast,
Roaring and bellowing myne owne disquiet,
That much I feare, forsaking of my diet,
Will bring me presently to that quandary,

*9° I shall bid all adeiw : Luce. Now by S. Mary

That were great pitty. Hum. So it were beshrew me,
Then ease me lusty Luce, and pitty shew me.

Luce. Why sir, you know my will is nothing worth
Without my fathers grant, get his consent,

*9s And then you may with assurance try me.

Humf. The Worshipfull your sire will not deny me.
For I haue askt him, and he hath repli'd,
Sweete Maister Humfrey, Luce shall be thy Bride.
Luce. Sweete Maister Humfrey then I am content.

200 Humf. And so am I intruth. Luce. Yet take me

with you,

There is another clause must be annext,
And this it is, I swore and will performe it ;
No man shall euer ioy me as his wife

2°s But he that stole me hence, if you dare venter
I am yours ; you need not feare, my father loues you,
If not farewell for euer. Humf. Stay Nimph, staie,
[18] I haue a double Gelding coulored bay,
Sprung by his father from Barbarian kind,

210 Another for my selfe, though somewhat blind,
Yet true as trusty tree. Luce. I am satisfied,
And so I giue my hand, our course must lie
Trough Waltham Forrest, where I haue a friend
Will entertaine vs, so fare-well sir Humfrey.

215 And thinke vpon your businesse. Humf. Though I die,
I am resolu'd to venter life and lim,
For one so yong, so faire, so kind, so trim.

195 with assurance] with full assurance 1750 1778 W 201 you ;

1778, f. 203 is: 1778, f. it, 1778, f. 205 hence. Dy venter, Q,
Q, venture, F, f. 206 loues you; Dy 216 limb, 1711, f.

ACT i] The Knight of the burning Pestle 2 1

Wife. By my faith and troth George, and as I am
vertuous, it is e'ne the kindest yong man that euer
trod on shooe leather, well, go thy waies if thou hast »*>
her not, 'tis not thy fault 'faith.

Cit. I prethee mouse be patient, a shall haue her,
or i'le make some 'em smoake for't.

Wife. That's my good lambe George, fie, this
stinking Tobacco kils men, would there were none MS
in England, now I pray Gentlemen, what good does
this stinking Tobacco ? do you nothing, I warrant
you make chimnies a your faces : o husband, husband,
now, now, there's Rafe, there's Safe.

Enter Rafe like a Grocer in's shop, with two Prentices 930
Reading Palmerin of England.

Cit. Peace foole, let Rafe alone, harke you Rafe',
doe notstraine your selfe too much at the first, peace,
begin Rafe.

Rafe. Then Palmerin and Trineus snatching their 23S
Launces from their Dwarfes, and clasping their Hel
mets gallopt amaine after the Gyant, and Palmerin
hauing gotten a sight of him, came posting amaine,
saying : Stay trayterous thiefe, for thou maist not so
carry away her, that is worth the greatest Lord in 24»
the world, and with these words gaue him a blow
on the shoulder, that he stroake him besides his Ele
phant, and Trineus comming to the Knight that had

219 e'ne] e'n 1711, f. passim 220 Well, 1778, f. ways; 1778, f.

221 'faith] i'faith 1778, f. 223 'em] of 'em Q,, f. 224 George.
1778, f. 225 men] me. 1750 Dy England ! 1778, f. 227 tobacco
do you ? 1750, f. 228 you; make 1778 W you: make Dy a] o' Dy
passim in this sense faces!] SCENE II. W SCENE III Dy A Grocer's
Shop. W, f. 230 Enter RALPH, as a grocer, reading Palmerin of

England, with TIM and GEORGE. Dy 235 Ralph (Reads.) W, f.

235—49 "Then . . . me." 1778, f. 236 lances Qj, f. passim

239—41 'Stay . . . world ;' 1778, f. 242 struck F, f.

22 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT i

Agricola behind him, set him soone besides his horse,
245 with his necke broken in the fall, so that the Prin-

cesse getting out of the thronge, betweene ioy and

griefe said ; all happy Knight, the mirror of all such
[19] as follow Armes, now may I bee well assured of the

loue thou bearest me, I wonder why the Kings doe
250 not raise army of foureteene or fifteene hundred

thousand men, as big as the Army that the Prince

of Portlgo brought against Rosicler, & destroy these

Giants, they do much hurt to wandring Damsels, that

go in quest of their Knights.
255 Wife. Faith husband and Rafe saies true, for they

say the King of Portugall cannot sit at his meate,

but the Giants & the Ettins will come and snatch it

from him,

Git. Hold thy tongue, on Rafe.
»6» Rafe. And certainely those Knights are much to

be commended, who neglecting their possessions,

wander with a Squire and a Dwarfe through the

Desarts to relieue poore Ladies.

Wife. I by faith are they Rafe, let 'em say what
»6s they will, they are indeed, our Knights neglect their

possessions well enough, but they do not the rest.
Rafe. There are no such courteous and faire well

spoken Knights in this age, they will call one the

sonne of a whore, that Palmerin of England, would
270 haue called faire sir ; and one that Rosicler would

haue cal'd right beauteous Damsell, they will call

dam'd bitch.

Wife. Tie be sworne will they Rafe, they haue

cal'd mee so an hundred times about a scuruy pipe
275 of Tobacco.

247—49 'All ... me.' 1778, f. 249 me. 1750, f. 258 him.

Qi, f. 259 tongue. 1778, f. 264 by faith] by my faith Q,, f.

265 indeed. 1778, f.

ACT i] The Knight of the burning Pestle 23

Rafe. But what braue spirit could be content to
sit in his shop with a flappet of wood and a blew
apron before him selling Methridatum and Dragons
icater to visited houses, that might pursue feats of
Armes, & through his noble atchieuments procure •&•
such a famous history to be written of his heroicke
prowesse.

Cit. Well said Rafe, some more of those words Rafe.

Wife. They go finely by my troth.

Rafe. Why should not I then pursue this course, **s
both for the credit of my selfe and our Company,
for amongst all the worthy bookes of Atchieuements
I doe not call to minde that I yet read of a Grocer
Errant, I will be the said Knight, haue you heard of
any that hath wandred vnfurnished of his Squire and »9°
Dwarfe, my elder Prentice Tim shall be my trusty [20]
Squire, and little George my Dwarfe, Hence my blew
Aporne, yet in remembrance of my former Trade,
vpon my shiled shall be purtraide, a burning Pestle,
and I will be cal'd the Knight oth burning Pestle. **s

Wife. Nay, I dare sweare thou wilt not forget thy
old Trade, thou wert euer meeke. Rafe. Tim.

Tim. Anon.

Rafe. My beloued Squire, & George my Dwarfe, I
charge you that from hence-forth you neuer call me 300
by any other name, but the Right Courteous and Valiant
Knight of the burning Pestle, and that you neuer call
any female by the name of a woman or wench, but
faire Ladie, if she haue her desires, if not distressed
Damsell, that you call all Forrests & Heaths Desarts, 305
and all horses Palfries.

282 prowess? 1778, f. 286 company? 1778, f. 289 Knight.

1778, f. 291 dwarf? Q3) f. 292 dwarf. 1778, f. 294 shiled]

shield Q,, f. portrayed Dy 295 oth ] of the Q3, f. 297 Ralph.

Tim! 1778, f. 304 not, F, f. 305 damsel; Q,, f. deserts Dy

24 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT i

Wife. This is very fine, faith, do the Gentlemen
like Rafe, thinke you, husband ?

Cittiz. I, I warrant thee, the Plaiers would giue all
31* the shooes in their shop for him.

Rafe. My beloued Squire Tim, stand out, admit
this were a Desart, and ouer it a Knight errant
pricking, and I should bid you inquire of his intents,
what would you say?

3*5 Tim. Sir, my Maister sent me, to know whether
you are riding ?

Rafe. No, thus ; faire sir, the Right Courteous and
Valiant Knight of the burning Pestle, commanded me
to enquire, vpon what aduenture your are bound,
320 whether to relieue some distressed Damsels, or other
wise.

Cit. Whoresome blocke-head cannot remember.
Wife. I'faith, & Rafe told him on't before, all
the Gentlemen heard him, did he not Gentlemen, did
3«s not Rafe tel him on't ?

George. Right Courteous and Valiant Knight of the
burning Pestle, here is a distressed Damsell, to haue
a halfe penny-worth of pepper.

Wife. That's a good boy, see, the little boy can
330 hit it, by my troth it's a fine child.

Rafe. Relieue her with all courteous language, now

shut vp shoppe, no more my Prentice, but my trusty

[21] Squire and Dwarfe, I must bespeake my shield and

arming-pestle.

335 Cit. Go thy waies Rafe, as Im'e a true man, thou
art the best on 'em all.
Wife. Rafe, Rafe.

309 thee; 1778, f. 315 whether] whither F, f. 320 Damsel, F
I7II 1750 Dy 322 whoreson Q2, f. 331 language. 1778, f.

332 Prentice(s) Dy 333 dwarf. 1778, f. 334 pestle. (Exeunt TIM
and GEORGE Dy

ACT i] The Knight of the burning Pestle. 25

Rafe. What say you mistresse ?

Wife. I pre'thee come againe quickly sweet Safe.

Safe. By and by. 340 Exit

Rafe.

Enter Jasper, and his mother mistresse Merri-thought.

Mist, merri. Giue thee my blessing? No, Il'e ner'e
giue thee my blessing, Il'e see thee hang'd first ; it
shall ner'e bee said I gaue thee my blessing, th'art
thy fathers owne sonne, of the right bloud of the 345
Merri-thoughts, I may curse the time that er'e I knew
thy father, he hath spent all his owne, and mine too,
and when I tell him of it, he laughs and dances, and
sings, and cryes, A merry heart Hues long-a. And thou
art a wast-thrift, and art run away from thy maister, 350
that lov'd thee well, and art come to me, and I haue
laid vp a little for my yonger sonne Michael, and
thou think'st to bezell that, but thou shalt neuer be
able to do it. Come hither Michael, come Michael,
downe on thy knees, thou shalt haue my blessing.

Mich. I pray you mother pray to God to blesse me.

Mist, merri. God blesse thee : but lasper shall neuer
haue my blessing, he shall be hang'd first, shall hee
not Michael? how saist thou?

Mich. Yes forsooth mother and grace of God. 360

Mist, merri. That's a good boy.

Wife. I faith it's a fine spoken child.

lasp. Mother though you forget a parents loue,
I must preserue the duty of a child.
I ran not from my maister, nor returne 365

To haue your stocke maintaine my Idlenesse.

Wife. Vngracious childe I warrant him, harke how

340 Exit. [SCENE III W SCENE IV Dy A Room in Merrythought's
House. W, f. 345 right om. Q, F 1711 1750 1778 350 wastethrift,
f. 354 it. {Enter MICHAEL W, f. 356 Mich. (Kneels.) W, f.

26 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT i

hee chops logicke with his mother : thou hadst best

tell her she lyes, do tell her she lyes.
37° Cit. If hee were my sonne, I would hang him vp
[22] by the heeles, and flea him, and salt him, whoore-

sonne halter-sacke.

lasp. My comming onely is to begge your loue,

Which I must euer, though I neuer gaine it,

And howsoeuer you esteeme of me,
375 There is no drop of bloud hid in these veines,

But I remember well belongs to you

That brought me forth, and would be glad for you

To rip them all againe, and let it out.

Mist, merri. I faith I had sorrow enough for thee
380 (God knowes) but II' e hamper thee well enough : get

thee in thou vagabond, get thee in, and learne of thy

brother Michael.

Old merri. within. Nose, nose, iolly red nose, and

who gaue thee this iolly red nose?
385 Mist, merri. Harke, my husband hee's singing and

hoiting, and Im'e faine to carke and care, and all

little enough. Husband, Charles, Charles Merithought.

Enter old Merithought.

Old merri. Nutmegs and Ginger, Cinnamon and
39° Cloues, And they gaue me this iolly red Nose.

Mist, merri. If you would consider your state, you
would haue little list to sing, I-wisse.

Old merri. It should neuer bee considered, while it

were an estate, if I thought it would spoyle my singing.

395 Mist, merri. But how wilt thou do Charles, thou art

an old man, and thou canst not worke, and thou hast

371 flay, Dy 373 only F, f, passim 382 Exeunt JASPER and

MICHAEL. Dy 384 Mer. (Singing within.) W. f. In stanzaic form :

Nose .... And .... nose? 1778, f. 389 Mer. (Singing.) W, f.

391 state] estate Q3 F 1711 1750 1778 392 list] lust W

ACT i] The Knight of the burning Pestle 27

not fortie shillings left, and thou eatest good meat,
and drinkest good drinke, and laughest ?

Old merri. And will do.

Mist, merri. But how wilt thou come by it Charles ? 400

Old merri. How ? why how haue I done hitherto
this forty yeares ? I neuer came into my dining roome,
but at eleuen & six a clocke, I found excellent meat
and drinke a'th table, my clothes were neuer worne
out, but next morning a Taylor brought me a new 405
suit ; and without question it will be so euer : vse
makes perfectnesse. If all should faile, it is but a
little straining my selfe extraordinary, & laugh my [23]
selfe to death.

Wife. It's a foolish old man this : is not he George ? 410

Cit. Yes Cunny.

Wife. Giue me a peny i'th purse while I Hue George.

Cit. I by Ladie cunnie, hold thee there.

Mist, merri. Well Charles, you promis'd to prouide
for lasper, and I haue laid vp for Michael, I pray you 415
pay lasper his portion, hee's come home, and hee
shall not consume Michaels stocke : he saies his maister
turnd him away, but I promise you truly, I thinke he
ran away.

Wife. No indeed mistresse Merrithought, though he
bee a notable gallowes, yet Il'e assure you his maister
did turne him away, euen in this place 'twas Ffaith
within this halfe houre, about his daughter, my hus
band was by.

Cit. Hang him rougue, he seru'd him well enough : 425
loue his maisters daughter ! by my troth Cunnie if
there were a thousand boies, thou wouldst spoile them
all with taking their parts, let his mother alone with him.

Wife. I George, but yet truth is truth.

402 this] these F, f. 404 a'th] o'th 1711, f. 413 by'r Lady

1750 1778 W 422 place; 1778, f.

28 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT i

430 Old merri. Where is lasper, hee's welcome how
euer, call him in, hee shall haue his portion, is he
merry?

Enter lasper and Michael.

Mist, merri. I foule chiue him, he is too merrie.
435 lasper, Michael.

Old merri. Welcome lasper, though thou runst
away, welcome, God blesse thee : 'tis thy mothers
minde thou should'st receiue thy portion; thou hast
beene abroad, and I hope hast learn'd experience
440 enough to gouerne it, thou art of sufficient yeares,
hold thy hand : one, two, three, foure, fiue, sixe, seuen,
eight, nine, there's ten shillings for thee, thrust thy
selfe into the world with that, and take some setled
course, if fortune crosse thee, thou hast a retiring
445 place, come home to me, I haue twentie shillings left,
bee a good husband, that is, weare ordinary clothes,
, , eate the best meate, and drinke the best drinke, bee
merrie, and giue to the poore, and beleeue me, thou
hast no end of thy goods.

[24] 450 lasp. Long may you Hue free from all thought of
ill, and long haue cause to be thus merry still. But
father ?

Old merri. No more words lasper, get thee gone,
thou hast my blessing, thy fathers spirit vpon thee.
455 Farewell lasper, but yet or ere you part (oh cruell')
kisse me, kisse me sweeting, mine owne deere iewell :
So now begone; no words. j

Mis. mer. So Michael, now get thee gone too.
Mich. Yes forsooth mother, but II' e haue my fathers
460 blessing first.

430 Jasper? Qs, f. 435 Jasper I Michael 1 1778, f. Enter Jasper

and Michael 1778, f. 442 thee. (Gives money) Dy 444 course:

1778, f. 445 left. 1778, f. 452 father . . . 1778, f. 455 Jasper !
(Sings) Dy 455—56 In stanzaic form : But . . . Kiss . . . Jewell. 1778, f.

ACT i] The Knight of the burning Pestle 29

Mis. mer. No Michael, 'tis now matter for his bless
ing, thou hast my blessing, begone ; Il'e fetch my
money & iewels, and follow thee : Il'e stay no longer
with him I warrant thee, truly Charles I'le begone too.

Old merri. What you will not. 465

Mis. merri. Yes indeed will I.

Old merri. Hey ho, fare-well Nan, Il'e neuer trust
wench more againe, if I can.

Mis. merri. You shall not thinke (when all your
owne is gone) to spend that I haue beene scraping 4?°
vp for Michael.

Old merri. Farewell good wife, I expect it not ; all
I haue to doe in this world, is to bee merry : which
I shall, if the ground be not taken from me : and if
it be, 475

When earth and seas from me are reft,
The skyes aloft for me are left. Exeunt.

Boy danceth. Musicke. Finis Actus primi.

Wife. Il'e be sworne hee's a merry old Gentleman
for all that. Harke, harke husband, harke, fiddles, 480
fiddles ; now surely they go finely. They say, 'tis present
death for these fidlers to tune their Rebeckes before
the great Turkes grace, is't not George? But looke,
looke, here's a youth dances : now good youth do a
turne a'th toe, sweet heart, I'faith lie haue Bafe come 485
and do some of his Gambols ; hee'l ride the wild
mare Gentlemen, 'twould do your hearts good to see
him. I thanke you kinde youth, pray bid Bafe come.

461 now] no Q,, f. 463 thee. (Exit MICHAEL.) Dy 465 What!
1778, f. not? Q,, f. 467-68 In stanzaic form: Hey-ho . . . I'll . . .
can. 1778, f. 477 Exeunt severally. Dy 478 Finis Actus primi.
om. Dy 480 that. (Music) Dy fiddless, fiddles I (Music) W 483 George ?
(Boy danceth.) W (Enter a boy and dances.) Dy, f. 485 a'th] o'th
F, f.

30 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT n

[25] Cit. Peace Cunnie. Sirrah, you scuruie boy, bid
49° the plaiers send Rafe, or by Gods— —and they
do not, Il'e teare some of their periwigs beside their
heads : this is all Riffe Raffe.

Actus secundi Scoena prima.
Enter Merchant and Humphrey.

March. And how faith ? how goes it now son
Humphrey ?

Humph. Right worshipfull, and my beloued friend
And father deere, this matters at an end.
5 March. "Tis well, it should be so, Im'e glad the
girle is found so tractable. Humph. Nay she must whirle
From hence, and you must winke : for so I say,
The storie tels, to morrow before day.

Wife. George, do'st thou thinke in thy conscience

10 now 'twil be a match? tell me but what thou thinkst

sweet rogue, thou seest the poore Gentleman (deere

heart) how it labours and throbs I warrant you, to

be at rest : Il'e goe moue the father fort.

Cit. No, no, I pre'thee sit still hony-suckle, thoul't
15 spoile all, if he deny him, Il'e bring halfe a doze
good fellows my selfe, & in the shutting of an euen-
ing knock't vp, & ther's an end.

Wife. Il'e busse thee for that i'faith boy ; well
George, well you haue beene a wag in your daies I
20 warrant you : but God forgiue, you, and I do with
all my heart.

March. How was it sonne ? you told me that to

morrow
Before day breake, you must conuey her hence.

490 by God's wounds 1778 W and] an 1778, f. ACT II. SCENE I.
A Room in the Hoitse of Venterwek. W, f. 7—8 (and . . . tells) I75of.
13 for't Qz, f. 15 dozen Q,, f.

ACT n] The Knight of the burning Pestle 3 1

Humph. I must, I must, and thus it is agreed, 25
Your daughter rides vpon a browne-bay steed,
I on a sorrell, which I bought of Brian,
The honest Host of the red roaring Lion
In Waltham situate ; then if you may
Consent in seemely sort, lest by delay, 30

The fatall sisters come and do the office,
And then you'l sing another song. March. Alasse
Why should you be thus full of griefe to me ?
That do as willing as your selfe agree
To any thing so it be good and faire, 35 [26J

Then steale her when you will, if such a pleasure
Content you both, I'le sleepe and neuer see it,
To make your ioyes more full, but tell me why
You may not here performe your marriage ?

Wife. Gods blessing a thy soule old man, i'faith 40
thou art loath to part true hearts, I see, a has her
Georg, & I'me as glad on't, well, go thy waies Hum
phrey, for a faire spoken man, I beleeue thou hast
not thy fellow within the wals of London, & I should
say the Suburbes too, I should not lie, why dost not 45
reioyce with me George ?

Cit. If I could but see Raph againe, I were as
merry as mine Host i'faith.

Hum. The cause you seeme to aske, I thus declare,
Helpe me o Muses nine, your daughter sweare so

A foolish oath, the more it was the pitty,
Yet none but my selfe within this Citty,
Shall dare to say so, but a bold defiance
Shall meete him, were he of the noble Science.
And yet she sweare, and yet why did she sweare ? 55
Truely I cannot tell, vnlesse it were

29 may, Q2, f. 33 me, F, f. 35 fair ? F, f. 38 full : Q2 Q,
F 1711 1750 full. 1778, f. 40 a thy] o'thy F, f. 41 hearts: Q,

Q, F 1711 1750 hearts. 1778, f. 42 on't! 1778, f. 45 not reioyce]
not thou rejoice Q8 F 1711 1750 1778 52 none] no one 1750, f.

32 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT n

For her owne ease, for sure sometimes an oath,
Being sworne thereafter is like cordiall broth.
And thus it was shee swore, neuer to marry,

60 But such a one, whose mighty arme could carry
(As meaning me, for I am such a one)
Her bodily away through sticke and stone,
Till both of vs arriue, at her request,
Some ten miles off, in the wilde Waliham Forrest.

6s March. If this be all, you shall not need to feare
Any deniall in your loue, proceed,
I'le neither follow, nor repent the deed.

Hum. Good-night, twenty good-nights, & twenty
more,

70 And 20 more good-nights, that makes three-score. Exe

Enter mistresse Mery-thought, and her son Michael.

Mist. mer. Come Michael, art thou not weary boy ?

Mich. No for-sooth mother not I.

Mist. mer. Where be we now child ?

[27] 75 Mich. Indeed for-sooth mother I cannot tell, vnlesse
we be at Mile-end, is not all the world Mile-end,
Mother ?

Mist. mer. No Michael, not al the world boy, but
I can assure thee Michael, Mile-end is a goodly matter,
so there has bene a pitch-field my child betweene the
naughty Spaniels and the English-men, and the Spaniels
ran away Michael, and the English-men followed, my
neighbour Coxstone was there boy, and kil'd them all
with a birding peece. Mich. Mother forsooth.
85 Mist. mer. What saies my white boy ?

Mich. Shall not my father go with vs too ?

Mist. mer. No Michael, let thy father go snicke-vp,
he shall neuer come between a paire of sheets with

58 thereafter, Q,, f. 59 thus ] this Q,, f. 70 Exeunt severally
Dy 71 SCENE II W, f. Night. W Waltham Forest. Enter &c. W, f.

ACT n

The Knight of the burning Pestle 33

me againe, while he Hues, let him stay at home &
sing for his supper boy, come child sit downe, and 9°
I'le shew my boy fine knacks indeed, look here
Michael, here's a Ring, and here's a Bruch, & here's
a Bracelet, and here's two Rings more, and here's
mony and gold bi'th eie my boy. Mich. Shall I haue
all this mother? 95

Mist. Mer. I Michael thou shalt haue all Michael.

Cit. How lik'st thou this wench?

Wife. I cannot tell, I would haue Raph, George;
Fie see no more else indeed-law, & I pray you let
the youths vnderstand so much by word of mouth, *»
for I tell you truely, Fme afraid a my boy, come,
come George, let's be merry and wise, the child's a
father-lesse child, and say they should put him into
a streight paire of Gaskins. 'twere worse then knot-
grasse, he would neuer grow after it. Enter

Cit. Here's Raph, here's Raph. Squire,

Wife. How do you Raph ? you are welcome Raph, and
as I may say, it's a good boy, hold vp thy head, and
be not afraid, we are thy friends Raph, the Gentlemen
will praise thee Raph, if thou plaist thy part with no
audacity, begin Raph a Gods name.

Raph. My trusty Squire vnlace my Helme, giue
mee my hat, where are we, or what Desart may this be ?

Dwarfe. Mirrour of Knight-hood, this is, as I take
it, the perrilous Waltham downe, In whose bottome «5
stands the inchanted Valley.

Mist. mer. O Michael, we are betrai'd, we are be-
traid here be Gyants, flie boy, flie boy, flie. Exeut

J J 7 J ' mother cr*

90 boy. 1778, f. 91 indeed: (Takes out a Casket} W (They sit Michael,

down ; and she takes o^tt a casket.) Dy 94 by th' eye Q3, f. 99 in
deed : law F i/n indeed la 1750, f. passim 101 a my] o'my F, f.
boy. 1778, f. 105—6 Squire, and Dwarfe. J Tim and George. 1778, f.
passim 115 in Q2, f. 116 enchanted 1778, f. passim 117 betrayed
1778, f. 118 Exent, etc.] Exit with Michael, leaving a casket. 1778. f.

34 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT n

[28] Rafe. Lace on my helme againe : what noise is this ?

120 A gentle Lady flying ? the imbrace

Of some vncurteous knight, I will releiue her.
Go squire, and say, the Knight that weares this pestle,
In honour of all Ladies, sweares reuenge
Vpon that recreant coward that pursues her.

"s Go comfort her, and that same gentle squire

That beares her companie. Squire. I go braue Knight.
Rafe. My trustie Dwarfe and friend, reach me my

shield,
And hold it while I sweare : First by my knight-hood,

13° Then by the soule of Amadis de Gaule,
My famous Ancestor, then by my sword,
The beauteous Brionella girt about me,
By this bright burning pestle of mine honour,
The liuing Trophic, and by all respect

135 Due to distressed Damsels, here I vow
Neuer to end the quest of this faire Lady,
And that forsaken squire, till by my valour
I gaine their liberty. Dwarfe. Heauen blesse the Knight
That thus reliues poore errant Gentlewomen. EX

140 Wife. I marrie Rafe, this has some fauour in't, I
would see the proudest of them all offer to carrie his
bookes after him. But George, I will not haue him
go away so soone, I shall bee sicke if he go away,
that I shall ; call Rafe againe George, call Rafe again,

MS I pre'thee sweet heart let him come fight before me,
and let's ha somme drums, and some trumpets, and
let him kill all that comes neere him, and thou lou'st
me George.

Cit. Peace a little bird, hee shall kill them all and

15° they were twentie more on 'em then there are. Ent

fasf

120 flying Q3, f. embrace Q2, f. passim 121 knight? 1778 W

knight I Dy 133 Pestle, 1750, f. honour 1750, f. 139 Exit. ]

Exeunt. Dy

ACT n] The Knight of the burning Pestle 35

lasp. Now Fortune, if thou bee'st not onely ill,
Shew me thy better face, and bring about
Thy desperate wheel, that I may clime at length
And stand, this is our place of meeting,
If loue haue any constancie. Oh age ! 155

Where onely wealthy men are counted happie :
How shall I please thee? how deserue thy smiles?
When I am onely rich in misery? [29]

My fathers blessing, and this little coine
Is my inheritance, a strong reuenew, 160

From earth thou art, and to the earth I giue thee,
There grow and multiply, whilst fresher aire, sPies the

Breeds me a fresher fortune, how, illusion !
What hath the Diuell coin'd himselfe before me?
'tis mettle good, it rings well, I am waking, '65

And taking too I hope, now Gods deere blessing
Vpon his heart that left it here, 'tis mine, .
These pearles, I take it, were not left for swine. Exit.

Wife. I do not like that this vnthrifty youth should
embecill away the money, the poore Gentlewoman 170
his mother will haue a heauy heart for it God knowes.

Cittiz. And reason good, sweet heart.

Wife. But let him go, Fie tell Raph a tale in's eare
shall fetch him againe with a Wanion I warrant him,
if hee bee aboue ground, and besides George, heere *7s
are a number of sufficient Gentlemen can witnesse,
and my selfe, and your selfe, and the Musitians, if
we be cal'd in question, but here comes Raph, George,
thou shalt here him speake, an he were an Emperall.

154 stand. Dy, f. 157 thee, 1778, f. smiles, 1778, f. 160 rev
enue ! 1778, f. 161 thee: [ Throws away the money. Dy 163 for
tune. 1778, f. 164 What, 1778, f. devil F, f. passim 168 Exit. ]

Exit with the casket. Dy 178 question. [ SCENE III — Another part of
the forest. Dy 179 an ] as Q, F 171 1 1750 1778 Dy.

C 2

36 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT n

Enter Bafe and Divarfe.
180 Raph. Comes not sir Squire againe?

Dwar. Right courteous Knight,
Your Squire doth come and with him comes the Lady.

Enter mistresse Merr : and Michael, and Squire.
For and the Squire of Damsels as I take it.
185 Rafe. Madam if any seruice or deuoire

Of a poore errant Knight may right your wrongs,
Command it, I am prest to giue you succour,
For to that holy end I beare my Armour,

Mist. mer. Alas sir, I am a poore Gentlewoman,
19° and I haue lost my monie in this forrest.

Rafe. Desart, you would say Lady, and not lost
Whilst I haue sword and launce, dry vp your teares
Which ill befits the beauty of that face :
[30] And tell the storie, if I may request it,
195 Of your disasterous fortune.

Mist. mer. Out alas, I left a thousand pound, a

thousand pound, e'ne all the monie I had laid vp for

this youth, vpon the sight of your Maistership, you

lookt so grim, and as I may sa}^ it, sauing your

200 presence, more like a Giant then a mortall man.

Rafe. I am as you are Ladie, so are they
All mortall, but why weepes this gentle Squire.

Mist. mer. Has hee not cause to weepe doe you
thinke, when he hath lost his inheritance?
205 Rafe. Yong hope of valour, weepe not, I am here
That will confound thy foe and paie it deere
Vpon his coward head, that dares denie,
Distressed Squires and Ladies equitie.
I haue but one horse, on which shall ride

182 Lady 1750 184 Fair, and 1750 Ralph. Fair! and 1778 W

193 befit 1778, f. 201 they, 1778 W, they; Dy 202 mortal. 1778, f.
209 on] upon 1750 1778 W.

ACT n] The Knight of the burning Pestle 37

This Ladie faire behind me, and before 210

This courteous Squire, fortune will giue vs more

Vpon our next aduenture ; fairelie speed

Beside vs Squire and Dwarfe to do vs need. Exeunt.

Cit. Did I not tell you Nel what your man would
doe ? by the taith of my bodie wench, for cleane action 2I5
and good deliuerie they may all cast their caps at him.

Wife. And so they may i'faith, for I dare speake
it boldly, the twelue Companies of London cannot
match him, timber for timber, well George, and hee be
not inueigled by some of these paltrie Plaiers, I ha 230
much maruell, but George wee ha done our parts if
the boy haue any grace to be thankefull.

Cittiz. Yes I warrant thee duckling.

Enter Humphrey and Luce.

Hum. Good Mistresse Luce how euer I in fault am 225
For your lame horse ; you're welcome vnto Waltham.
But which way now to go or what to saie
I know not truely till it be broad daie.

Luce. O feare not Maister Humphrey, I am guide
For this place good enough. Hum. Then vp and ride, 230
Or if it please you walke for your repose,
Or sit, or if you will go plucke a rose : [31]

Either of which shall be indifferent,
To your good friend and Humphrey, whose consent
Is so entangled euer to your will, 235

As the poore harmelesse horse is to the Mill.

Luce. Faith and you say the word we'le e'ne sit downe
And take a nap. Hum. 'Tis better in the Towne,
Where we may nap together, for beleeue me
To sleepe without a snatch would mickle grieue me. 240

219 timber. 1778, f. 223 duckling. [SCENE IV.— Another part

of the forest. Dy 226 horse, 1778, f.

38 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT n

Luce. You're merrie Maister Humphrey. Hum. So I am,
And haue bene euer merrie from my Dam.
Luce. Your nurce had the lesse labour.
Hum. Faith it may bee,
245 Vnlesse it were by chance I did beray mee.

J Jaspei

lasp. Luce deere friend Luce. Luce. Heere lasper.
lasp. You are mine.

Hum. If it be so, my friend, you vse me fine,
What do you thinke I am? lasp. An arrant noddie
250 Hum. A word of obloquie, now by Gods bodie,
I'le tell thy maister for I know thee well.

lasp. Nay, and you be so forward for to tell,
Take that, and that, and tell him sir I gaue it,
And saie I paid you well. Hum. O sir I haue it,
'ss And do confesse the paiement, praie be quiet.

lasp. Go, get to your night-cap and the diet,
To cure your beaten bones. Luce. Alas poore Humphrie
Get thee some wholsome broth with sage and comfrie :
A little oile of Roses and a feather,
260 To noint thy backe withall. Hum. When I came

hether,
Would I had gone to Paris with lohn Dorrie.

Luce. Fare-well my prettie Nump, I am verie sorrie
I cannot beare thee companie. Hum. Fare-well,
265 The Diuels Dam was ne're so bang'd in hell.

man

Wife. This yong lasper will proue me another #«

Things, a my conscience and he may be suffered;

George, dost not see George how a swaggers, and flies

[32] at the very heads a fokes as he were a Drago ; well

27° if I do not do his lesson for wronging the poore

Gentleman, I am no true woman, his friends that

249 noddie. Q2 f. 250 obloquy. 1778, f. 254 well. [ Beats him.
1778, f. 256 get to] get you to Q,, f. 261 hither, Q,, f.

263 Numps, 1750 267 thing S M a ] o' Dy 269 folks 1778, f.
269 Drago;] Dragon; Q3 F 1711 1750 dragon? 1778, f. 271 woman.
1778, f-

ACT n] The Knight of the burning Pestle 39

brought him vp might haue bene better occupied,
I wis, then ha taught him these fegaries, hee's e'ne
in the high-way to the gallows, God blesse him.

Cit. You're too bitter, conny, the yong man may 275
do wel enough for all this.

Wife. Come hither Maister Humfrey, has hee hurt
you? now beshrew his fingers for't, here sweet heart,
here's some greene ginger for thee, now beshrew my
heart but a has pepper-nel in's head, as big as a *8o
pullets egge, alas swete lamb, how thy Tempels beate ;
take the peace on him sweete heart, take the peace
on him.

a boy.

Cit. No, no, you talke like a foolish woman, lie
ha Raph fight with him, and swing him vp welfau- 285
ourdlie, sirrah boie come hither, let Raph come in
and fight with lasper.

Wife. I, and beate him well, he's an vnhappy boy.

Boy. Sir you must pardon vs, the plot of our Plaie
lies contrarie, and 'twill hazard the spoiling of our Plaie. 29°

Cit. Plot mee no plots; Fie ha Raph come out, Fie
make your house too hot for you else.

Boy. Why sir he shall, but if anie thing fall out
of order, the Gentlemen must pardon vs.

Cit. Go your waies good-man boie, Fie hold him 295
a pennie he shall haue his bellie-full of fighting now,
ho heere comes Raph, no more.

Enter Raph. mistresse Merri: Michael, Squire,

and Dwarfe.

Raph. What Knight is that Squire, aske him if he keep 3°<>
The passage, bound by loue of Ladie faire,

273 ha] have Q3 f. 278 for't! 1778, f. 279 thee. 1778, f.

285 swinge F, f. welfavourdly.— W, f. 286 hither. (Enter Boy.) Dy

295 boy 1 (Exit Boy.) Dy 296 now. 1778 297 Ralph! 1778, f.

more. [ SCENE V.— Another part of the forest. Dy 300 that, F, f.

Squire? 1778, f.

40 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT n

Or else but prickant. Hum. Sir I am no Knight.
But a poore Gentleman, that this same night,
Had stolne from me on yonder Greene,
3°s My louelie wife, and suffered to bee scene
Yet extant on my shoulders such a greeting,
That whilst I Hue, I shall thinke of that meeting.

Wife. I Raph hee beate him vnmercifully, Raph,
and thou spar'st him Raph I would thou wert hang'd.
[33] 3" Cit. No more, wife no more.

Rafe. Where is the caitife wretch hath done this

deed,

Lady your pardon, that I may proceed
Vpon the quest of this injurious Knight.
3js And thou faire Squire repute me not the worse,
In leauing the great venture of the purse,

0 Jasper

And the rich casket till some better leasure, and L

Hum. Here comes the Broker hath purloin'd my

treasure.

3*° Raph. Go, Squire, and tell him I am here,
An Errant Knight at Armes, to craue deliuery
Of that faire Lady to her owne Knights armes.
If he deny, bid him take choice of ground,
And so defye him. Squire. From the Knight that beares
32s The golden Pestle, I defie thee Knight.
Vnlesse thou make faire restitution,
Of that bright Lady.

lasp. Tell the Knight that sent thee
Hee is an Asse, and I will keepe the wench
33° And knocke his Head-peece.

Raph. Knight, thou art but dead,
If thou recall not thy vncurteous tearmes.

Wife. Breake's pate Raph, breake's pate Raph,
soundly.

304 on] upon 1750 1778 W 305-6 (to ... shoulders) 1750, f.

312 deed? Q2, f. 325 knight, 1750, f. 331 Knight om. F 1711

ACT n] The Knight of the burning Pestle 41

lasper. Come Knight, I am ready for you, now Snatches

T~. A , away his

your Pestel Pestje^

Shall try what temper, sir, your Morters off
With that he stood vpright in his stirrops,
And gaue the Knight of the Calue-skinne such a knocke,
That he forsooke his horse and downe he fell, 340

And then he leaped vpon him and plucking of his
Helmet.

Hum. Nay, and my noble Knight be downe so soone,
Though I can scarcely go I needs must runne. Exit

Wife. Runne Raph, runne Raph, runne for thy life boy, and Raph.
lasper comes, lasper comes.

lasper. Come Luce, we must haue other Armes for you,
Humphery and Golden Pestle both adiew. Exeunt.

Wife. Sure the diuell, God blesse vs, is in this
Springald, why George, didst euer see such a fire-drake, 350 [34]
I am afraid my boie's miscaried, if he be, though hee
were Maister Merythoughts sonne a thousand times, if
there bee any Law in England Tie make some of them
smart for't.

Cit. No, no, I haue found out the matter sweete- 355
heart, lasper is inchanted, as sure as we are heere, he
is inchanted, he could no more haue stood in Raph's
hands, then I can stand in my Lord Maiors, Fie haue
a ring to discouer all inchantments, and Raph shall
beate him yet : be no more vext for it shall be so. 360

Enter Raph, Squire, Dwarf e, mistresse Mery-thought

and MichaelL

Wife. O husband heere's Raph againe, stay Raph
let mee speake with thee, how dost thou Raph? art

337 off] of. Q2, f. 339 knock [ knocks RALPH down. Dy. 341 of]

off Q.J, f. 342 helmet I75O, f. [Knocks him down. W 344 Exit.

W, f. 346 comes ! [Exit RALPH taking up the pestle. W Exit RALPH. Dy
350 Fire-Drake ? 1750, f. 359 enchantments F, f. 360 so. [ SCENE III.
W SCENE VI. Dy-£efore the Bell Inn at Waltham. W, f.

42 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT n

365 thou not shrodly hurt ? the foule great Lungeis laid

V/vnmercifully on thee, there's some suger-candy for

thee, proceed, thou shalt haue another bout with him.

Git. If Eaph had him at the Fencing-schoole, if hee

did not make a puppy of him, and driue him vp and

370 downe the schoole he should nere come in my shop

more.

Mist. mer. Truely Maister Knight of the Burning
Pestle I am weary.

Mich. Indeed law mother and I am very hungry.
375 Eaph. Take comfort gentle Dame, and you faireSquire,
For in this Desart there must needs be plac't,
Many strong Castles, held by curteous Knights,
And till I bring you safe to one of those,
I sweare by this my Order nere to leaue you.
38o Wife. Well said Eaph. George, Eaph was euer com
fortable, was he not? Cit. Yes Ducke.

Wife. I shall nere forget him, when wee had lost
our child, you know, it was straid almost, alone, to
Puddle-wharfe and the Criers were abroad for it, and
385 there it had drown'd it selfe but for a Sculler, Eaph
was the most comfortablest to me ; peace Mistresse,
saies he, let it go, I'le get you another as good, did
he not George ? did he not say so ?

Cit. Yes indeed did he mouse.
[35] 390 Dwarfe. I would we had a messe of Pottage, and
a pot of drinke, Squire, and were going to bed.

Squire. Why we are at Waltham Townes end, and
that's the Bell Inne.

Dwarfe. Take courage valiant Knight, Damsel, &
395 Squire

I haue discouered, not a stone cast off,

365 shrodly] shrewdly Q,, f. 375 you] your Q, F 1711 1750

1778 Dy 382 him. Dy 383—85 (you . . sculler) 1778, f.

387 you om. W 395 Squire 1 1778, f. 396 stone's 1750, f.

ACT n] The Knight of the burning Pestle 43

An ancient Castle held by the old Knight

Of the most holy order of the Bell,

Who giues to all Knights errant entertaine :

There plenty is of food, and all prepar'd, 400

By the white hands of his owne Lady deere.

He hath three Squires that welcome all his Guests.

The first high Chamberlino, who will see

Our beds prepar'd, and bring vs snowy sheetes,

Where neuer foote-man stretch'd his butter'd Hams, 4°s

The second hight Tastero, who will see

Our pots full filled and no froth therein.

The third a gentle Squire Ostlero hight,

Who will our Palfries slicke with wisps of straw,

And in the Maunger put them Oa tes enough, 410

And neuer grease their teeth with candle snuffe.

Wife. That same Dwarfe's a pretty boy, but the
Squire's a grout-nole.

Raph. Knocke at the Gates my Squire with stately

launce. Enter

Tap. Who's there, you're welcome Gentlemen, will
you see a roome? [burning Pestle.

Dwarf e. Right curteous and valiant Knight of the
This is the Squire Tapstero.

Raph. Faire Squire Tapstero, I a wandering Knight 4*o
Hight of the burning Pestle, in the quest
Of this faire Ladies Casket, and wrought purse,
Loosing my selfe in this vast Wildernesse
Am to this Castle well by fortune brought,
Where hearing of the goodly entertaine 425

Your Knight of holy Order of the Bell
Giues to all Damsels and all errant Knights,
I thought to knocke, and now am bold to enter.

403 high] hight 1750, f. 406 Tastero,] Tapstero, 1778, f. passim
410 manger Q2, f. 415 lance. [ Tim knocks at the door. Dy

423 loosing] losing Q2, f.

44 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT n

[36] Tapster. An't please you see a chamber, you are
430 very welcome. Ex

Wife. George I would haue something done, and
I cannot tell what it is.
Cit. What is it Nell

Wife. Why George, shall Raph beate nobody againe?
435 Prethee sweete-heart let him.

Cit. So he shall Nel, and if I ioyne with him, wee'le
knocke them all.

Enter Humphery and Merchant.

Wife. O George here's maister Humphery againe
440 now, that lost Mistresse Luce, and Mistresse Lucies
father, Maister Humphery will do some -bodies errant
I warrant him.

Humf. Father, it's true, in armes I nere shall claspe her,
For shee is stolne away by your man lasper.
445 Wife. I thought he would tell him.

March. Vnhappy that I am to loose my child,
Now I beginne to thinke on laspers words,
Who oft hath vrg'd me thy foolishnesse,
Why didst thou let her go ? thou loust her not,
450 That wouldst bring home thy life, and not bring her.

Hum. Father forgiue me, shall I tell you true,
Looke on my shoulders they are blacke and blew.
Whilst too and fro faire Luce and I were winding,
He came and basted me with a hedge binding.
455 March. Get men and horses straight, we will be there
Within this houre, you know the place againe.
Hum. I know the place, where he my loines did
swaddle,

437 all. [SCENE IV. W SCENE VII. Dy — London. W A Room in the
House of Venterwcls. W, f. 441 father. 1778, f. errant] arrant,

Q2 Q;{ F 1711 1750 errand, 1778, f. 448 vrg'd me] urged to me

1750, f. foolishness: 1778, f. 451 me. Dy shall I] I shall Qt Q,

F 1711 1750 1778 true? W, f. 456 hour. 1778, f. againe ? Q2, f.

ACT H] The Knight of the burning Pestle 45

I'le get six horses, and to each a saddle.

Mar. Meane time I'le go talke with laspers father. Exeunt.

Wife. George, what wilt thou laye with mee now,
that Maister Humphery has not Mistresse Luce yet,
speake George, what wilt thou laie with me?

Cit. No Nel, I warrant thee lasper is at Puckeridge
with her. by this. 465

Wife. Nay George, you must consider Mistress
Lucies feete are tender, and, besides, 'tis darke and [37]
I promise you tuely. I doe not see how hee should
get out of W a Itm forrest with her yet.

Cit. Nay cunny, what wilt thou laie with me that 470
Baph has her not yet.

Wife. I will not lay against Baplt hunny, because
I haue not spoken with him, but looke George, peace,
heere comes the merry old Gentleman againe.

Enter old Merrle-thought. 475

Old mer. When it was growne to darke midnight,
And all were fast asleepe,
In came Margarets grimely Ghost,
And stood at Williams feete.

I haue mony, and meate and drinke before hand, 480
till to morrow at noone, why should I be sad? mee
thinkes I haue halfe a dozen louiall spirits within mee,
I am three merry men, and three merry men, To what
end should any man be sad in this world? giue me
a man that when hee goes to hanging cries, troule 485
the blacke bowle to mee : and a woeman that will sing

460 I'le] I will 1750, f. Exetint severally. Dy 468 tuely]

truly Q.,, f. 469 Waltham Q2, f. 471 yet? 1778, f. 473 him. W, f.
[ SCENE VIII.— A room in MERKYTOUGHT'S house. Dy 474 againe.

[ SCENE V.—An Apartment in MERRYTHOUGHT'S House. W 476 Mer.
(sings) W, f. 482 me ; [ Sings. / am three merry men, and three

merry men: 1750 Quotes 1778 W Small print Dy 485 Tro-wl the

black bowl to me, 1750 Quotes 1778 W Small print Dy

46 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT n

a cath in her Trauell. I haue scene a man come by

my dore, with a serious face, in a blacke cloake,

without a hat-band, carrying his head as if hee lookt

for pinnes in the streete, I haue lookt out of my window
490 halfe a yeare after, and haue spide that mans head

vpon London-bridge : 'tis vile, neuer trust a Tailor that

does not sing at his worke, his mind is of nothing

but filching.

Wife. Marke this George, tis worth noting: God-
495 /m/ my Tailor, you know, neuer sings, and hee had

foureteene yards to make this Gowne, and Fie be

sworne Mistresse Pennistone the Drapers wife had one

made with twelue.

Old mer. 'Tis mirth that fils the veines with bloud,
500 More then wine, or sleepe, or food.

Let each man keepe his heart at ease,

No man dies of that disease.

He that would his body keepe

From diseases, must not weepe,
505 But who euer laughes and sings,
[38] Neuer he his body brings

Into feuers, gouts, or rhumes,

Or lingringly his longs consumes :

Or meets with aches in the bone,
510 Or Catharhes, or griping stone :

But contented Hues for aye,

The more he laughes, the more he may.

Wife. Looke George, how saist thou by this George?

is't not a fine old man? Now Gods blessing a' thy
515 sweet lips. When wilt thou be so merry George ?

Faith thou art the frowningst little thing when thou

art angry, in a Countrey.

486 cath] catch Q2, f. 490 spied Q2, f. 492 of] on 1778 W

508 lungs Q,, f.

ACT n] The Knight of the burning Pestle 47

Enter Merchant.

Cit. Peace Coney, thou shalt see him taken downe
too I warrant thee ; here's Luces father come now. 520

Old mer. As you came from Walsingham, fro that
holy land, there met you not with my tru-loue by
the way as you came

March. Oh Maister Merri-thought ! my daughter's gone.
This mirth becomes you not, my daughters gone. 525

Old Merri. Why an if she be, what care I?
Or let her come or go, or tarry.

March. Mocke not my misery, it is your sonne,
Whom I haue made my owne, when all forsooke him,
Has stolne my onely ioy, my childe away. 530

Old Mer. He set her on a milk-white steed, &

himselfe vpo a gray,

He neuer turn'd his face againe, but he bore her
quite away.

March. Vnworthy of the kindnesse I haue shewn 535
To thee, and thine : too late I well perceiue
Thou art consenting to my daughters losse.

Old mer. Your daughter, what a stur's here wee
yer daughter? Let her goe, thinke no more on her,
but sing lowd. If both my sons were on the gallows, 540
I would sing downe, down, downe : they fall downe,
and arise they neuer shall.

March. Oh might I behold her once againe,
And she once more embrace her aged sire.

Old merri. Fie, how scuruily this goes : and she 545
once more imbrace her aged sire ? you'l make a dogge

520 thee. [Enter VENTERWELL. W, f. 521 Mer. (sings) W, f.

fro] from Q3, f. that] the Qz Q3 F 1711 1730 1778 W 523 came?

I75°i f- S32 VP° ] upon Q3, f. 538 wee yer] wi' y'r F 1711

1750 wi' your 1778, f. 541—42 In stanzaic form: Down . . . fall,

Down . . . shall. 1750, f. 543 (but) I behold 1750 I (but) behold W

545—46 'And . . . sire?' 1778, f.

48 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT n

on her, will yee ? she cares much for her aged sire
I warrant you.

[39] She cares cares not for her daddy, nor shee cares
55° not for her mammie,

For she is, she is, sheis, she is my Lord of Low-gaues

Lassie.

March. For this thy scorne, I will pursue
That sonne of thine to death.
555 Old merri. Do, and when you ha kild him,

Giue him flowers i'now Palmer : giue him flowers i'now,
Giue him red, and white, and blew, greene, and yellow.
March. II' e fetch my daughter.
Old merri. Il'e heare no more a your daughter, it
560 spoyles my mirth.

March. I say I'le fetch my daughter.

Old merri. Was neuer man for Ladies sake, downe,

downe,

Tormented as I poore sir Guy? de derry downe
565 For Lucies sake, that Lady bright, downe, downe,
As euer men beheld with eye? de derry doivne.
March. Il'e be reueng'd by heauen.

Musicke. Finis Actus secundi.

Wife. How do'st thou like this Georget
57° Cit. Why this is well coney : but if Raph were hot
once, thou shouldst see more.

Wife. The Fidlers go againe husband.
Cit. I Nell, but this is scuruy musicke : I gaue the
whoreson gallowes money, and I thinke hee has not
575 got mee the waits of South-warke, if I heare him not
anan, Il'e twinge him by the eares. You Musicians,
play Baloo.

551—52 In stanzaic form : She . . . She . . . For . . . Lord . . . Lassie.
^S0) f- 556 i'now] enow 1778, f. 559 a your] o'your F, f.

567 Exeunt severally. Dy 568 om. Dy 571 more. [Music. Dy

574 gallows-money W 575 him] 'em 1750, f. 576 anon, 1711, f.

ACT m] The Knight of the burning Pestle 49

Wife. No good George, lets ha Lachrimae.

Cit. Why this is it cony.

Wife. It's all the better George : now sweet lambe, 580
what story is that painted vpon the cloth? the confu
tation of Saint Paul ?

Cit. No lambe, that Raph and Lucrece.

Wife. Raph and Lucrece? which Raph? our Raph?

Cit. No mouse, that was a Tartarian. s*s

Wife. A Tartarian ? well, I'wood the fidlers had done,
that wee might see our Raph againe.

Actus tertius, Scoena prima. [40]

Enter lasper and Luce.

lasp. Come my deere deere, though we haue lost

our way,

We haue not lost our selues : are you not weary
With this nights wandring, broken from your rest?
And frighted with the terrour that attends •>

The darknesse of these wilde vn-peopled place?

Luce. No my best friend, I cannot either feare,
Or entertaine a weary thought, whilst you
(The end of all my full desires) stand by me.
Let them that loose their hopes, and Hue to languish »<>
Amongst the number of forsaken louers,
Tell the long weary steps, and number time,
Start at a shadow, and shrinke vp their bloud,
Whilst I (possest with all content and quiet)
Thus take my prettie loue, and thus imbrace him. is

lasp. You haue caught me Luce, so fast, that whilst

I Hue
I shall become your faithfull prisoner,

583 that's Qa, f. 586 wood] would 1778, f. ACT III SCENE I.
Waltham Forest. W f. I my deere deere, ] my deare Q, F 1711

my dear dear, 1750 1778 Dy my dear deer, W 6 these] this Q,, f.
IO loose ] lose Q,, f.

5O The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT in

And were these chaines for euer. Come sit downe,
20 And rest your body, too too delicate
For these disturbances ; so, will you sleepe ?
Come, do not be more able then you are,
I know you are not skilfull in these watches :
For women are no souldiers; be not nice,
25 But take it, sleepe I say.
Luce. I cannot sleepe,
Indeed I cannot friend.

lasp. Why then wee'l sing,
And try how that will worke vpon our sences.
30 Luce. Il'e sing, or say, or anything but sleepe.

:Ias. Come little Mer-maid, rob me of my heart
With that inchanting voyce.
Luce. You mocke me lasper.

[41] Song.

as lasp. Tell me (deerest) what is loue?

Luce. 'Tis a lightning from aboue,
'Tis an arrow, 'tis a fire
'Tis a boy they call desire,

'Tis a smile
40 Doth beguile

las. The poore hearts of men that proue.
Tell me more, are women true ?

Luce. Some loue change, and so do you.
las. Are they faire, and neuer kind?
45 Luce. Yes, when men turne with the winde.

las. Are they froward ?
Luce. Euer toward,
Those that loue, to loue anew.

19 were] weare Q2, f. 21 disturbances. (They sit down.) Dy

34 Song. [ They sing. Dy 47 toward Qf, f.

ACT m] The Knight of the burning Pestle 51

lasp. Dissemble it no more, I see the God
Of heauy sleepe, lay on his heauy mace so

Vpon your eye-lids. Luce. I am very heauy.

lasp. Sleep, sleep, & quiet rest crowne thy sweet

thoughts :

Keepe from her faire bloud, distempers, startings,
Horrors, and fearefull shapes : let all her dreames *$
Be ioyes, and chast delights, imbraces, wishes,
And such new pleasures, as the rauisht soule
Giues to the sences. So, my charmes haue tooke.
Keepe her you powers diuine, whilst I contemplate
Vpon the wealth and beauty of her minde. 6o

She is onely faire, and constant : onely kinde,
And onely to thee lasper. Oh my ioyes !
Whither will you transport me? let not fulnesse
Of my poore buried hopes, come vp together,
And ouer-charge my spirits : I am weake
Some say (how euer ill) the sea and women
Are gouem'd by the Moone, both ebbe and flow,
Both full of changes: yet to them that know,
And truly iudge, these but opinions are,
And heresies to bring on pleasing warre
Betweene our tempers, that without these were
Both void of ater-loue, and present feare.
Which are the best of Cupid. Oh thou child!
Bred from dispaire, I dare not entertaine thee,
Hauing a loue without the faults of women,
And greater in her perfect goods then men:
Which to make good, and please my selfe the stronger,
Though certainly I am certaine of her loue,
Il'e try her, that the world and memory

50 sleep 1778. f. 51 heavy. [ Sleeps. W, f. 52 Sleep, sleep;

1778, f. 54 distempers] all distempers 1750 1778 W 56 chaste F, f.
64 hopes F, f. 65 weak ; 1750 weak I 1778 W weak. Dy 72 ater-
loue] after-love Q2, f. feare; 1711, f. 73 child 1778, f.

D 2

52 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT in

so May sing to after times, her constancie.
Luce, Luce, awake. Luce. Why do you fright me, friend,
With those distempered lookes ? what makes your sword
Drawne in your hand? who hath offended you?
I pre'thee lasper sleepe, thou art wilde with watching.

85 lasp. Come make your way to heauen, and bid

the world

(With all the villanies that sticke upon it)
Fare-well; you'r for another life. Luce. Oh lasper !
How haue my tender yeares committed euill,

9° (Especially against the man I loue)
Thus to be cropt vntimely? lasp. Foolish girle,
Canst thou imagine I could loue his daughter,
That flung me from my fortune into nothing?
Discharged me his seruice, shut the doores

95 Vpon my pouerty, and scorn'd my prayers,
Sending me, like a boat without a mast,
To sinke or swin? Come, by this hand you dye,
I must haue life and bloud to satisfie
Your fathers wrongs.

ioo Wife. Away George, away, raise the watch atLudgate,
and bring a Mittimus from the Justice for this desperate
villaine. Now I charge you Gentlemen, see the King's
peace kept. O my heart what a varlet's this to offer
manslaughter vpon the harmlesse Gentlewoman?
105 Cit. I warrant thee (sweet heart) wee'l haue him
hampered.

Luce. Oh lasper ! be not cruell,
If thou wilt kill mee, smile and do it quickly.
And let not many deaths appeare before me.
[43] «o I am a woman made of feare and loue,

A weake, weake woman, kill not with thy eyes,

80 constancy. [ Draws. W, f. his sword. Dy 81 Luce! Luce!

1778, f. 97 swin] swim Qt, f. in woman; 1778, f.

ACT in] The Knight of the burning Pestle 53

They shoot me through and through. Strike I am

ready.
And dying stil I loue thee. Enter

IT 71 v Merchant,

March. Where abouts. Humphrey,

lasp. No more of this, now to my selfe againe. and his

Hnm. There, there he stands with sword like mar- m

tial knight

Drawne in his hand, therefore beware the fight iao

You that be wise : for were I good sir Beuis,
I would not stay his comming, by your leaues.

March. Sirrah, restore my daughter. lasp. Sirrah, no.

March. Vpon him then.

Wife. So, downe with him, downe with him, downe "s
with him : cut him i'th leg boies, cut him i'th leg.

March. Come your waies Minion, II' e prouide a Cage
For you, your growne so tame. Horse her away.

Humph. Truly Ime glad your forces haue the day. exeunt.

lasp. They are gone, and I am hurt, my loue is lost,
Neuer to get againe. Oh me vnhappy !
Bleed, bleed, and dye, I cannot : Oh my folly !
Thou hast betraid me. Hope where art thou fled?
Tell me if thou bee'st any where remaining.
Shall I but see my loue againe ? Oh no ! i35

She will not daine to looke vpon her butcher,
Nor is it fit she should ; yet I must venter.
Oh chance, or fortune, or what ere thou art
That men adore for powerfull, heare my cry.
And let me louing, Hue ; or loosing, die. Exit.

Wife. Is a gone Georgel

Cit. I conic.

112 Strike! I am ready; 1778, f. 115 Enter VENTUREWELL,

HUMPHREY and Attendants. Dy 116 Whereabouts ? Q,, f. 117 again.
[Aside Dy 118 sword, 1711, f. 119 knight, 1711, f. 121 be]
are Q, F 1711 1750 1778 124 then. [ LUCE is torn from JASPER. W
They attack JASPER and force LUCE from him. Dy 128 your] you're
Qj, f. 132 die. 1778 W diel Dy

54 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT ni

Wife. Marie and let him goe (sweet heart), by the

faith a my body a has put me into such a fright, that

MS I tremble (as they say) as 'twere an Aspine leafe :

looke a my little finger George, how it shakes; now

i truth euery member of my body is the worse for't.

Cit. Come, hugge in mine armes sweet mouse, hee

[44] shall not fright thee any more : alas mine owne deere

150 heart, how it quiuers.

Enter Mistresse Merrithought, Rafe, Michall, Squire

Dwarfe, Host, and a Tapster.

Wife. O Eafe, how dost thou Rafe? how hast thou
slept to night? has the knight vs'd thee well?
155 Cit. Peace Nell, let Rafe alone.

Tapst. Maister, the reckoning is not paid.
Rafe. Right curteous knight, who for the orders sake
Which thou has tane, hang'st out the holy bell,
As I this naming pestle beare about,
160 We render thankes to your puissant selfe,
Your beauteous Lady, and your gentle Squires,
For thus refreshing of our wearied limbes,
Stiffned with hard atchieuements in wilde desert.

Tapst. Sir there is twelue shillings to pay.
165 Rafe. Thou merry Squire Tapstero, thankes to thee,
For comforting our soules with double lug,
And if aduentrous fortune pricke thee forth,
Thou louiall Squire, to follow feats of armes,
Take heed thou tender euery Ladies cause,
17° Euery truery true Knight, and euery damsell faire faire ;
But spill the bloud of trecherous Sarazens,
And false inchanters, that with magicke spels,
Haue done to death full many a noble Knight.

147 in truth Qt) f. 150 quivers. [ SCENE II. A Room in the Bell-
Inn. W, f. Waltham. Dy 158 hast F, f. tane,] ta'en, 1711, f.
167 adventurous F, f. 1 70 truery om. Q2, f. faire faire;] fair; Q,, f.

ACT in] The Knight of the burning Pestle 55

Host. Thou valiant Knight of the burning Pestle,
giue eare to me, there is twelue shillings to pay, and 175
as I am a true Knight, I will not bate a peny.

Wife. George, I pray thee tell me, must Safe pay
twelue shillings now?

Cit. No Nell, no, nothing but the old Knight is
merrie with Eafe. 180

Wife. O is't nothing else? Eafe will be as merry
as he.

Eafe. Sir Knight, this mirth of yours becomes

you well,

But to requite this liberall curtesie, *85

If any of your Squires will follow armes,
Hee shall receiue from my heroicke hand
A Knight-hood, by the vertue of this Pestle. [45]

Host. Faire Knight I thanke you for your noble oifer,
Therefore gentle Knight. 19°

Twelue shillings you must pay, or I must cap you.
Wife. Looke George, did not I tell thee as much,
the Knight of the Bel is in earnest, Eaph shall not
bee beholding to him, giue him his money George,
and let him go snickvp. 195

Ci. Cap Eaph ? no ; hold your hand sir Knight of
the Bel, theres your money, haue you anything to say
to Eaph now? Cap Eaph!

Wife. I would you should know it, Eaph has friends
that will not suffer him to be capt for ten times so »oo
much, and ten times to the end of that, now take
thy course Eaph.

M.mer. Come Michael, thou & I wil go home to
thy father, he hath enough left to keep vs a day or
two, and we'leset fellows abrod to cry our Purse & »°s
our Casket, Shal we Michael ?

177 pray thee] prethee Q2 Q8 F 1711 prithee 1750, f. 196 Ralph!
Dy 198 Raphl] Ralph! Dy 20 1 that. 1778, f.

56 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT in

Mich. I, I pray Mother, intruth my feete are full of
chilblaines with trauelling.

Wife. Faith and those chilblanes are a foule trouble,

BIO Mistresse Merle-thought when your youth comes home

let him rub all the soles of his feete, and the heeles,

and his ancles, with a mouse skinne, or if none of

your people can catch a mouse, when hee goes to

bed, let him rowle his feete in the warme embers,

«s and I warrant you hee shall be well, and you may

make him put his fingers betweene his toes & smell

to them, it's very soueraigne for his head if he be

costiue.

Mist. mer. Maister Knight of the burning Pestle,
220 my son Michael and I, bid you farewel, I thanke your
Worship heartily for your kindnesse.

Raph. Fare-well faire Lady and your tender Squire,
If, pricking through these Desarts, I do heare
Of any traiterous Knight who through his guile,
225 Hath light vpon your Casket and your Purse,
I will despoile him of them and restore them.
Mist. Mer. I thanke your Worship.
Raph. Dwarfe beare my shield, Squire eleuate my

lance,
23° And now fare-well you Knight of holy Bell.

Cit. I, I Raph} all is paid.

[46] Raph. But yet before I go, speake worthy Knight,
If ought you do of sad aduentures know,
Where errant Knights may through his prowesse winne,
235 Eternall fame and free some gentle soules,

From endlesse bonds of steele and lingring paine.

Host. Sirrah go to Nicke the Barbor, and bid him
prepare himselfe, as I told you before, quickely.
Tap. I am gone sir.

Taps.

209 trouble. 1778, f 225 light] lit 1778 W 234 Knight 1711, f.
win Q,, f. 235 souls 1711, f. 237 Barber, Q2) f. passim

ACT in] The Knight of the burning Pestle 57

Host. Sir Knight, this wildernesse affoordeth none »4o
But the great venter, where full many a Knight
Hath tride his prowesse and come off with shame,
And where I would not haue you loose your life,
Against no man, but furious fiend of hell.

Raph. Speake on sir Knight, tell what he is, and where, 245
For heere I vow vpon my blazing badge,
Neuer to blaze a day in quietnesse ;
But bread and water will I onely eate,
And the greene hearbe and rocke shall be my couch,
Till I have queld that man, or beast, or fiend, *so

That workes such damage to all Errant Knights.

Host. Not far from hence, neere to a craggy cliffe,
At the North end of this distressed Towne,
There doth stand a lowly house

Ruggedly builded, and in it a Caue, *ss

In which an ougly Gyant now doth won,
Ycleped Barbaroso : in his hand
He shakes a naked lance of purest steele,
With sleeues turn'd vp, and him before he weares,
A motley garment, to preserue his cloaths 260

From bloud of those Knights which he massacres,
And Ladies Gent: without his dore doth hang
A copper bason, on a prickant speare :
At which, no sooner gentle Knights can knocke,
But the shrill sound, fierce Barbaroso heares, 365

And rushing forth, bings in the errant Knight,
And sets him downe in an inchanted chaire.
Then with an Engine which he hath prepar'd,
With forty teeth, he clawes his courtly crowne, [47]

Next makes him winke, and vnderneath his chinne, 270
Hee plants a brazen peece of mighty bord,

242 tried F, f. 256 ougly] ugly Q,, f. 257 Barbarossa. Dy

259 wears 1711, f. 265 sound 1711, f. 266 bings] brings Q2, f.
271 bord] bore 1750 1778.

58 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT ui

And knocks his bullets round about his cheeks,
Whilst with his fingers, and an instrument
With which he snaps his haire off, he doth fill

275 The wretches eares with a most hideous noise.
Thus euery Knight Aduenturer he doth trim,
And now no creature dares encounter him.

Raph. In Gods name, I will fight him, kinde sir,
Go but before me to this dismall Caue,

280 Where this huge Gyant Barbaroso dwels,
And by that vertue that braue Rosicleere,
That damned brood of ougly Gyants slew,
And Palmerin Frannarco ouerthrew :
I doubt not but to curbe this Traitor foule,

285 And to the Diuell send his guilty soule.

Host. Braue sprighted Knight, thus far I will performe
This your request, I'le bring you with in sight
Of this most lothsome place, inhabited
By a more loathsome man : but dare not stay,

290 For his maine force soopes all he sees away.

Raph. Saint George set on before, march Squire
and page.

Wife. George, dost thinke Raph will confound the
Gyant ?

295 Cit: I hold my cap to a farthing hee does : why Nel
I saw him wrastle with the great Dutch -man and
hurle him.

Wife. Faith and that Ducth-man was a goodly
man, if all things were answerable to his bignesse,

3<» and yet they say there was a Scotsh-man higher then
hee, and that they two and a Knight met, and saw
one another for nothing, but of all the sights that

278 him; 1778 him: W him. Dy 290 soopes] swoops Q,, f.

291 on, 1750 on; 1778 W before! Dy 296 wrestle F, f.

298 Ducth-man] Dutch-man Q,, f. 301 and a Knight] on a night

1750 1778

ACT ni] The Knight of the burning Pestle 59

euer were in London, since I was married, mee thinkes
the little child that was so faire growne about the
members was the prettiest, that, and the Hermophrodite. 305

Git. Nay by your leaue Nel, Niniuy was better.

Wife. Niniuie, O that was the story of lone and
the Wall, was it not George?

Cit. Yes lam.

Wife. Looke George, heere comes Mistresse Merry- Merry
thought againe, and I would haue Baph come and fight
with the Giant, I tell you true, I long to see't.

Cit. Good Mistresse Merry-thought be gone, I pray [48]
you for my sake, I pray you forbeare a little, you
shall haue audience presently, I haue a little businesse. 315

Wife. Mistresse Merry-thought if it please you to
refraine your passio a little, til Baph haue dispatch
the Giant out of the way we shal think our selues
much bound to you, I thank you good Mistresse
Merry-thought. &*# mist.

Merry-
-r, . thou :

Enter a boy.

Cit. Boy, come hither, send away Baph and this
whore-sonne Giant quickely.

Boy. In good faith sir we cannot, you'le vtterly
spoile our Play, and make it to be hist, and it cost 3»s
money, you will not suffer vs to go on with our plot,
I pray Gentlemen rule him.

Cit. Let him come now and dispatch this, and I le
trouble you no more.

Boy. Will you giue me your hand of that? 330

Wife. Giue him thy hand George, do, and Tie kisse
him, I warrant thee the youth meanes plainely.

307 lone] Joan 1711 1750 I7?8W 3O9lamb.F.f. SCENElIIW.f.
London. W The Street before Merrythought's House. W 317 passion ] Q,, f.
dispatcht Q4, f. 319 bound to you,] bound to thank you : Q, Q3 F 1711
1750 1778 W [Exit Mistress MERRYTHOUGHT. Dy 322 hither. (Enter Boy.)
Dy 326 plot. W, f.

60 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT m

Boy. I'le send him to you presently. Exit

Wife. I thanke you little youth, feth the child hath
335 a sweete breath George, but I thinke it bee troubled
with the wormes, Carduus Benedictus and Mares Milke
were the onely thing in the world for't, O Raph's here
George, God send thee good lucke Rapli.

Enter Raph, Host, Squire, and Dwarf e.

340 Host. Puissant Knight yonder his Mansion is,
Lo where the speare and Copper Bason are,
Behold that string on which hangs many a tooth,
Drawne from the gentle iaw of wandring Knights,
I dare not stay to sound, hee will appeare.

345 Raph. O faint not heart, Susan my Lady deere,
The Coblers Maid in Milke-streete, for whose sake?
I take these Armes, O let the thought of thee,
Carry thy Knight through all aduenterous deeds,
[49] And in the honor of thy beauteous selfe,

350 May I destroy this monster Barbaroso,

Knocke Squire vpon the Bason till it breake.

With the shrill stroakes, or till the Giant speake. Ente

Wife. O George, the Giant, the Giant, now Raph
for thy life.

355 Barber. What fond vnkno wing wight is this ? that dares
So rudely knocke at Barbarossa's Cell,
Where no man comes but leaues his fleece behind?
Raph. I, traiterous Caitiffe, who am sent by fate
To punish all the sad enormities

360 Thou has committed against Ladies Gent

334 Wife (kissing him.) Dy youth (Exit Boy.) Dy feth ] Faith W, f.
336 worms ; 1778, f. 337 for't. Q8) f. [ SCENE IV. — Before a barber's
shop, Waltham. Dy 338 George I 1778, f . - Ralph! [SCENE IV. Before
a Barber's Shop in Waltham. W 343 knights 1 1778, f. 345 heart !
1778, f. 350 Barbaroso I 1778, f. 351 break Q2, f. 352 speak.
[TlM knocks upon the bason. W. f. 353 Giant! Now 1778, f.

ACT m] The Knight of the burning Pestle 61

And errant Knights, traitor to God and men :
Prepare thy selfe, this is the dismall houre
Appointed for thee, to giue strickt account
Of all thy beastly treacherous villanies.

Barber. Foole-hardy Knight, full soone thou shalt aby 365
This fond reproach, thy body will I bang, Hee takes

And loe vpon that string thy teeth shall hang:

Prepare thy selfe, for dead soone shalt thou bee.

Eaph. Saint George for me. They fight.

Barber. Gargantua for me. 370

Wife. To him, Baph to him, hold vp the Giant,
set out thy leg before Baph.

Cit. Falsifie a blow Baph, falsifie a blow, the Giant
lies open on the left side.

Wife. Beare't off, beare't of still ; there boy, O 375
Baphe's almost downe, Baph's almost downe.

Baph. Susan inspire me, now haue vp againe.

Wife. Vp, vp, vp, vp, vp, so Baph, downe with him,
downe with him Baph.

Cit. Fetch him ore the hip boy. 32°

There boy, Jul], kill, kill, kill, kill, Baph~\

Cit. No Baph get all out of him first.

Baph. Presumptuous man, see to what desperate end
Thy treatchery hath brought thee, the iust Gods,
Who neuer prosper those that do despise them, 385
For all the villanies which thou hast done
To Knights and Ladies, now haue paid thee home [50]
By my stifFe arme, a Knight aduenturous,
But say vile wretch, before I send thy soule
To sad Auernus whether it must go, 390

What captiues holdst thou in thy sable caue.

Barber. Go in and free them all, thou hast the day.

375 of] off Q,, f. 380 ore] o'er W, f. boy [ RALPH knocks down
the Barber. W, f. 384 thee 1 Dy 388 adventurous. Q,, f.

390 whither Q,, f. 391 cave? F, f.

62 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT m

Baph. Go Squire & Dwarfe, search in this dread-
full Caue
395 And free the wretched prisoners from their bonds.

Exit Squire and Dwarfe.

Barber. I craue for mercy, as thou art a Knight,
And scornst to spill the bloud of those that beg.
Baph. Thou showdst no mercy, nor shalt thou

haue any,
400 Prepare thy selfe for thou shalt surely die.

Enter Squire leading one winking, with a Bason vnder

his chin.

Squire. Behold braue Knight heere is one prisoner,
Whom this wilde man hath vsed as you see.
405 Wife. This is the first wise word I heard the Squire

speake.
Baph. Speake what thou art, and how thou hast

bene vs'd,

That that I may giue condigne punishment,
410 1. Kni. I am a Knight that tooke my iourney post
North-ward from London, and in curteous wise,
This giant train'd me to his loathsome den,
Vnder pretence of killing of the itch,
And all my body with a powder strew'd,
415 That smarts and stings, and cut away my beard,
And my curl'd lockes wherein were ribands ti'de.
And with a water washt my tender eyes,
Whilst vp and downe about me still he skipt,
Whose vertue is, that till mine eyes be wip't
420 With a dry cloath, for this my foule disgrace,
I shall not dare to looke a dog i'th' face.

398 showdst] shewest Q2 F 1711 1750 shew'dst W, f. 402 Chin,
as prepared for shaving. W, f. 404 wilde] vile 1778 W vild Dy
409 That that I ] That I Q2, f. give condigne ] give him condign Qz, f.
punishment. F, f. 410 I Kni. ] Man Dy passim

ACT m] The Knight of the burning Pestle 63

Wife. Alas poore Knight, relieue him Raph, relieue
poore Knights whilst you Hue.

Raph. My trusty Squire conuey him to the Towne, Exit
Where he may finde releife, adiew faire Knight. Knight.

Enter Dwarf e leading one with a patch ore his Nose.

Dwar. Puisant Knight of the burning Pestle hight,
See here another wretch, whom this foule beast [51]
Hath scorcht and scor'd in this inhumaine wise.

Raph. Speake me thy name and eke thy place of

birth, 43o

And what hath bene thy vsage in this Caue.

2. Knight. I am a Knight, Sir Pocke-hole is my name,
And by my birth I am a Londoner
Free by my Coppy, but my Ancestors
Were French-men all, and riding hard this way, 435

Vpon a trotting horse, my bones did ake,
And I faint Knight to ease my weary limbes,
Light at this Caue, when straight this furious fiend.
With sharpest instrument of purest steele,
Did cut the gristle of my Nose away, 440

And in the place this veluet plaister stands,
Relieue me gentle Knight out of his hands.

Wife. Good Raph releiue sir Pocke-hole and send him
away, for, intruth, his breath stinkes, ,

Raph. Conuey him straight after the other Knight, 445
Sir Pocke-hole fare you well.

2. Kni. Kinde sir good-night. Exit.

Man. Deliuer vs. Woeman. Deliuer vs.

424 relief. 1778, f. [Exeunt Knight and TIM [Exit Man with
TIM, who presently re-enters Dy, 428 scorcht] scotch'd 1750, f.

432 2. Knight} Sec. Man. Dy passim 438 Light] lit 1778 W

441 stands: 1778, f. 444 stinks. Qa, f. 445 Knight. 1778, f.

447 [ Exit ^th GEORGE W, f. -who presently re-enters. Dy 448 Man. ]
Third Man. Dy passim

64 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT in

Wife. Hearke George, what a woefull cry there is,
450 I thinke some woman lies in there. Man. Deliuer vs.
Woeman. Deliuer vs.

Raph. What gastly noise in this ? speake Barbaroso,
Or by this biasing steele thy head goes off.

Barber. Prisoners of mine whom I in diet keepe,
455 Send lower downe into the Caue,

And in a Tub that's heated smoaking hot,
There may they finde them and deliuer them,

Raph. Run Squire and Dwarfe, deliuer them with Ex&
speed. Sqi

460 Wife. But will not Raph kill this Giant, surely I am ™
afeard if hee let him go he will do as much hurt, as
euer he did.

Cittiz. Not so mouse neither, if hee could conuert
him.

[52] 465 Wife. I George if hee could conuert him, but a Giant
is not so soone conuerted as one of vs ordinary people :
there's a pretty tale of a Witch, that had the diuels
marke about her, God blesse vs, that had a Giant to
her sonne, that was cal'd Lob-lie-by-the-fire, didst neuer
470 here it George ?

Enter Squire leading a man with a glasse of Lotion in

his hand, and the Dwarfe leading a woman, with diet-

bread and drinke.

Cit. Peace Nel, heere comes the prisoners.
475 Dwar. Here be these pined wretches, manfull Knight,
That for these sixe weekes haue not scene a wight.

Raph. Deliuer what you are, and how you came
To this sad Caue, and what your vsage was?

453 blazing Q,, f. 454 keep. 1778, f. 457 Aem. Q,, f.

460 giant? 1778, f. 461 afeard] afraid F, f. 474 prisoners.

[ Re-enter TIM leading a third man, etc. Dy 476 these ] this Q,, f.

ACT m] The Knight of the burning Pestle 65

Man. I am an Errant Knight that followed Armes,
With speare and shield, and in my tender yeares 480
I stricken was with Cupids fiery shaft,
And fell in loue with this my Lady deere,
And stole her from her friends in Turne-bull-streete,
And bore her vp and downe from Towne to Towne,
Where we did eate and drinke and Musicke heare, 485
Till at the length, at this vnhappy Towne
Wee did arriue, and comming to this Caue
This beast vs caught and put vs in a Tub,
Where we this two monthes sweate,and should haue done
Another Moneth if you had not relieu'd vs. 49°

Worn. This bread and water hath our diet bene,
Together with a rib cut from a necke
Of burned Mutton, hard hath bene our fare,
Release vs from this ougly Giants snare.

Man. This hath bene all the food we haue receiu'd, 495
But onely twice a day for nouelty,

He gaue a spoonefull of this hearty broth, Puls out

To each of vs, through this same slender quill.

Raph. From this infernall monster you shall go,
That vseth Knights and gentle Ladies so, s°°

Conuey them hence. Exeunt

Cit. Cony, I can tell thee the Gentlemen like Rafe.

Wife. I George, I see it well inough. Gentlemen [53]
I thanke you all heartily for gracing my man Rafe,
and I promise you you shall see him oftner. 505

Barber. Mercy great knight, I do recant my ill,
And henceforth neuer gentle bloud will spill.

Rafe. I giue thee mercy, but yet shalt thou sweare
Vpon my burning pestle, to performe
Thy promise vtterd. 5*°

493 mutton; 1711, f. fare! 1778 W fare: Dy 501 Exeunt man
and woman. J Third Man and Woman are led off by TIM and GEORGE,
who presently re-enter Dy 503 enough. Q3, f.

66 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT HI

Barber. I sweare and kisse.

Rafe. Depart then, and amend.

Come squire and dwarfe, the Sunne growes towards
his set, and we haue many more aduentures yet.
515 Cit. Now Rafe is in this humour, I know hee would
ha beaten all the boyes in the house if they had beene
set on him.

Wife. I George, but it is well as it is, I warrant
you the Gentlemen do consider what it is to ouer-
s»o throw a gyant : but looke George, heere comes mistresse
Merri-thought and her sonne Michael ; now you are
welcome mistresse Merrithought, now Rafe has done
you may go on.

Enter mistresse Merri-thought } and Michael.
s»s Mist. mer. Micke my boy ?
Mich. I forsooth mother.

Mist. mer. Be merry Micke we are at home now;
where I warrant you, you shall finde the house flung
out at the windowes: Harke, hey dogges, hey, this
530 is the old world I'faith with my husband ; if I get in
among 'em, He play em such a lesson, that they shall
haue little list to come scraping hither, againe. Why
maister Merri-thought, husband, Charles Merri-thought.
Old merri. within. If you will sing and daunce, and
535 laugh, and hollow, and laugh againe, and then cry
there boyes, there : why then
One, two, three, and foure,
We shall be merry within this houre :

Mist, merri. Why Charles, doe you not know your

511 kiss. [ Kisses the Pestle. W, f. 520 giant. [ SCENE V—TAe Street
before MERRYTHOUGHT' sHouse. W,f. Enter Mrs. MERRYTHOUGHT and MICHAEL
W, f. 529 at ] of Q3, f. windows. (Singing above.) W (Music -within.)
Dy Hark! hey, dogs, hey! 1778, f. 534 Mer. (Singing at the

Window above.") W (appearing above, and singing.) Dy In stanzaic form :
If ... And hollow . . . And then . . . One . . . We . . . hour. 1750, f.

ACT in] The Knight of the burning Pestle 67

owne naturall wife ? I say, open the doore, and turne 540 [54]
me out those mangy companions ; 'tis more then time
that they were fellow and fellow like with you : you
are a Gentleman Charles, and an old man, and father
of two children; and I my selfe (though I say it) by
'my mothers side, Neece to a worshipfull Gentleman, 543
and a Conductor, ha has beene three times in his
Maiesties seruice at Chester, and is now the fourth
time, God blesse him, and his charge vpon his iourney.

Old Mer. Go from my window, loue} goe /
Go from my window my deere, ss°

The winde and the raine ivlll driue you backe againe,
You cannot be lodged heere.

Harke you Mistresse Merrithought, you that walke vpon
aduentures, and forsake your husband, because hee
sings with neuer a peny in his purse ; What shall I ss%
thinke my selfe the worse ? Faith no, II' e be merry.

You come not heere, heer's none but lads of mettle,
lives of a hundred yeares, and vpwards, care neuer
drunke their blouds, nor want made 'em warble.

Hey-ho, my heart is heauy. 560

Mist. mer. Why Mr. Merrithought, what am I that you
should laugh me to scorne thus abruptly? am I not
your fellow-feeler (as we may say) in all our miseries ?
your comforter in health and sicknesse? haue I not
brought you Children ? are they not like you Charles ? 565
looke vpon thine owne Image hard-hearted man; and
yet for all this—

Old. mer. within. Begone, begone, my luggy, my

546 conductor ; 1778, f. ha ] hee Q, Qt he F, f. 548 charge,

1778, f. 549 Mer. [ Singing. W (sings.) Dy 555 What, 1711, f.

556 merry. [ Singing. W 557 — 60 In stanzaic form : You . . . Lives

. . . Care . . . Hey-ho 1778 W 559 warble, 1750, f. 560 'Hey

. . . heavy?' W, f. 561 Mr.] Master F, f. passim 568 Mer.

(Singing.) W (sings.) Dy In stanzaic form : Begone . . . Begone my . . .
The . . . 'Twill . . . Thou . . . here. 1750, f.

£2

68 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT m

puggy, begone my loue, my deere.
570 The weather is warme, twill do thee no harme, thou
canst not be lodged heere.

Be merry boyes, some light musicke, and more wine.
Wife. He's not in earnest, I hope George, is he ?
Cit. What if he be, sweet heart?

575 Wife. Marie if hee be George, He make bold to
tell him hee's an Ingrant old man, to vse his bed
fellow so scuruily.

Cit. What how does he vse her hunny ?
Wife. Marie come vp sir sauce-box, I thinke you'l
[55] 58o take his part, will you not ? Lord how hot you are
growne : you are a fine man an you had a fine dogge,
it becomes you sweetly.

' Cit. Nay pre'thee Nell chide not: for as I am an
honest man, and a true Christian Grocer, I doe not
585 like his doings.

Wife. I cry you mercie then George ; you know we
are all fraile, and full of infirmities. Dee heare Mr.
Merri-thought, may I craue a word with you?

Old mer. within. Strike vp liuely lads.

S9o Wife. I had not thought in truth, Mr. Merrithoughtf

that a man of your age and discretion (as I may say)

being a Gentleman, and therefore knowne by your

gentle conditions, could haue vsed so little respect

to the weaknesse of his wife : for your wife is your

595 owne flesh, the staffe of your age, your yoke-fellow,

with whose helpe you draw through the mire of this

transitory world : Nay, she's your owne ribbe. And

againe—

Old mer. I come not hither for thee to teach,
600 I haue no pulpit for thee to preach,

572 wine I [Exit from above. W, f. 576 Ingrant] ignorant 1711

587 Dee] D'ye 1711, f. 589 Mer. (At the Window.) W (appearing

above.} Dy 599 Mer. (Singing.) W (sings.) Dy

ACT in] The Knight of the burning Pestle 69

I would thou hadst kist me vnder the breech,
As thou art a Lady gay.

Wife. Marie with a vengeance.

I am hartely sorry for the poore gentlewoman : but if
I were thy wife, Ffaith gray-beard, I'faith • 6oS

Cit. I pre'thee sweet hunny-suckle, be content.

Wife. Giue me such words that am a gentlewoman
borne, hang him hoary rascall. Get mee some drinke
George, I am almost molten with fretting : now beshrew
his knaues heart for it. 610

Old mer. Play me a light Laualto : Come, bee
frolocke, fill the good fellowes wine.

Mist. mer. Why Mr. Merrithought, are you disposed
to make me wait here : you'l open I hope, II' e fetch
them that shall open else. 6*5

Old mer. Good woman if you wil sing Il'e giue you
something, if not —

Song. [56]

You are no loue for me Margret, I am no loue for you.
Come aloft Boyes, aloft. &*<>

Mist. mer. Now a Churles fart in your teeth sir:
Come Micke, wee'l not trouble him, a shall not ding
vs i'th teeth with his bread and his broth : that he
shall not: come boy, Il'e prouide for thee, I warrant
thee : wee'l goe to maister Venterwels the Merchant, 625
Il'e get his letter to mine Host of the Bell in Waltham,
there Il'e place thee with the Tapster; will not that
doe well for thee Micke? and let me alone for that old
Cuckoldly knaue your father, Il'e vse him in his kinde,
I warrant yee. 63o

603 vengeance, Q, F 1711 1750 1778 W 604 heartily Q,, f.

608 born ? 1778 W born I Dy 610 it. [ Citizen exit. W, f. 612 fro
locke, ] frolic(k). 1750, f. 617 not, [Sings. Dy 620 aloft 1 [Exit
from the Window. W [ Exit above. Dy 630 you I [ Exeunt. W, f.

FINIS Acrus TERTII. 1778 W om Dy Re-enter Citizen with Beer. W, f.

70 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT iv

Wife. Come George, wher's the beere?
Cit. Here loue.

Wife. This old fornicating fellow wil not out of my
mind yet; Gentlemen, II' e begin to you all, and I de-
635 sire more of your acquaintance, with all my heart.
Fill the Gentlemen some beere George.

Finis Actus tertij.

Actus quartus, Scoena prima.
Boy daunceth.

Wife. Looke George, the little boy's come againe,
mee thinkes he lookes something like the prince of
Orange in his long stocking, if hee had a little har-
nesse about his necke. George I will haue him dance
s Fading ; Fading is a fine ligge Il'e assure you Gent
lemen : begin brother, now a capers sweet heart, now
a turne a'th toe, and then tumble : cannot you tumble
youth ?

Boy. No indeed forsooth.
10 Wife. Nor eate fire? Boy. Neither.

Wife. Why then I thanke you heartily, there's two
pence to buy you points withall.

Enter lasper and Boy.

lasp. There boy, deliuer this : but do it well. Hast
15 thou prouided me foure lusty fellowes ?
[57] Able to carry me? and art thou perfect

In all thy businesse ? Boy. Sir, you need not feare,
I haue my lesson here, and cannot misse it:
The men are ready for you, and what else

635 heart. (Drinks.) Dy 636 George. (Soy danceth.) W (Enter Boy.)
Dy 6 brother. (Boy dances.) Dy 12 withall. (Acr IV. 1778, f.

SCENE I.— A Street. W, f. 15 fellows, [ Gives a letter. Dy

ACT iv] The Knight of the burning Pestle 71

Pertaines to this imployment. lasp. There my boy, »<>
Take it, but buy no land. Boy. Faith sir 'twere rare
To see so yong a purchaser: I flye,
And on my wings carry your destinie. Exit.

lasp. Go, and be happy. Now my latest hope
Forsake me not, but fling thy Anchor out, 35

And let it hold: stand fixt thou rolling stone,
Till I enioy my deerest : heare me all
You powers that rule in men coelestiall. Exit.

Wife. Go thy wayes, thou art as crooked a sprigge
as euer grew in London ; I warrant him hee'l come to 3°
some naughty end or other: for his lookes say no
lesse: Besides, his father (you know George) is none
of the best, you heard him take me vp like a flirt
Gill, and sing baudy songs vpon me : but Ifaith if
I Hue George 35

Cit. Let me alone sweet-heart, I haue a tricke in
my head shall lodge him in the Arches for one yeare,
and make him sing Peccaui, er'e I leaue him, and yet
hee shall neuer know who hurt him neither.

Wife. Do my good George, do. 40

Cit. What shall we haue Rafe do now boy?

Boy. You shall haue what you will sir.

Cit. Why so sir, go and fetch me him then, and
let the Sophy of Persia come and christen him a childe.

Boy. Beleeue me sir, that will not doe so well, 'tis 4$
stale, it has beene had before at the red Bull.

Wife. George let Rafe trauell ouer great hils, &
let him be very weary, and come to the King of
Oracouia's house, couered with veluet, and there let
the Kings daughter stand in her window all in beaten so
gold, combing her golden locks with a combe of

20 employment 1778, f. 21 land [ Gives money. Dy 28 celest

ial. Q,, f. 33 flirt Gill] Gill-flirt Q, F 1711 1750 1778 49 with

veluet] with black velvet 1778, f.

7 2 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT iv

luory, and let her spy Rafe, and fall in loue with him,
and come downe to him, and carry him into her fathers
house, and then let Bafe talke with her.
[58] ss Cit. Well said Nell, it shal be so : boy let's ha't
done quickly.

Boy. Sir, if you will imagine all this to be done
already, you shall heare them talke together : but wee
cannot present a house couered with blacke veluet,
60 and a Lady in beaten gold.

Cit. Sir boy, lets ha't as you can then.

Boy. Besides it will shew ill-fauouredly to haue a
Grocers prentice to court a kings daughter.

Cit. Will it so sir ? you are well read in Histories ;
65 1 pray you what was sir Dagonet ? was not he pren
tice to a Grocer in London? read the play of the
Foure Prentices of London, where they tosse their pikes
so : I pray you fetch him in sir, fetch him in.

Boy. It shall be done, it is not our fault gentlemen. Exit.
70 Wife. Now we shall see fine doings I warrant tee
George. O here they come; how pretily the king of
Cracuioa's daughter is drest.

Enter Rafe and the Lady, Squire and dwarfe.
Cit. I Nell, it is the fashion of that country, I war-
75 rant tee.

Lady. Welcome sir Knight vnto my fathers Court.
King of Moldauia, vnto me Pompiona
His daughter deere : but sure you do not like
Your entertainment, that will stay with vs
so No longer but a night. Rafe. Damsell right faire,
I am on many sad aduentures bound,

69 done. 1778, f. 70 tee] thee Q, F 1711 1750 1778 W ye

Dy, f. 71 George. [ SCENE II. — A hall in the King of MOLDAVIA'S court.
W, f. 72 Cracovia's Qt, f. 73 Lady ] POMPIONA 1778, f.

76 Court, 1711, f. 77 Moldavia; 1778, f.

9°

ACT iv] The Knight of the burning Pestle 73

That call me forth into the wildernesse :
Besides, my horses backe is something gal'd,
Which will inforce me ride a sober pace.
But many thankes (faire Lady) be to you,
For vsing errant Knight with curtesie.

Lady. But say (braue knight) what is your name
& birth ?

Safe. My name is Rafe, I am an English man,
As true as steele, a hearty Englishman,
And prentice to a Grocer in the strond,
By deed Indent, of which I haue one part:
But Fortune calling me to follow Armes,
On me this holy order I did take,
Of Burning pestle, which in all mens eyes,
I beare, confounding Ladies enemies. [59]

Lady. Oft haue I heard of your braue country -men,
And fertill soyle, and store of holesome food :
My father oft will tell me of a drinke
In England found, and Nipitato cal'd. io°

Which driueth all the sorrow from your hearts.

Rafe. Lady 'tis true, you need not lay your lips
To better Nipitato then there is.

Lady. And of a wild-fowle he will often speake,
Which poudred beefe and mustard called is : ios

For there haue beene great warres 'twixt vs and you,
But truly Rafe, it was not long of me.
Tell me then Rafe, could you contented be.
To weare a Ladies fauour in your shield?

Rafe. I am a knight of religious order, «°

And will not weare a fauour of a Ladies
That trusts in Antichrist, and false traditions.

Cit. Well sayd Rafe, conuert her if thou canst.

84 enforce Q3, f. 91 strond,] Strand Q, Q, F 1711 1750 1778 Dy
98 wholesome Q, f. 105 powdered 1711, f. 107 "long Dy

no of religious] of a religious 1750, f. in Ladies] Lady 1750,

74 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT rv

Rafe. Besides, I haue a Lady of my owne
"s In merry England, for whose vertuous sake
I tooke these Armes, and Susan is her name,
A Coblers maid in Milke-street, whom I vow
Nere to forsake, whilst life and Pestle last.

Lady. Happy that Cobling dame, who ere she be,
"o That for her owne (deere Rafe) hath gotten thee.
Vnhappy I, that nere shall see the day
To see thee more, that bearst my heart away.
Rafe. Lady fare-well, I needs must take my leaue.
Lady. Hard-harted Rafe, that Ladies dost deceiue.
«s Cit. Harke the Rafe, there's money for thee; giue
something in the King of Cracouia's house, be not be
holding to him.

Rafe. Lady before I go, I must remember
Your fathers Officers, who truth to tell,
130 Haue beene about me very diligent.

Hold vp thy snowy hand thou princely maid,
There's twelue pence for your fathers Chamberlaine,
[60] And another shilling for his Cooke,

For by my troth the Goose was rested well.
135 And twelue-pence for your fathers horse-keeper,
For nointing my horse backe; and for his butter
There is another shilling. To the maid
That wash't my boot-hose, there's an English groat;
And two pence to the boy that wip't my boots :
MO And last, faire Lady, there is for your selfe
Three pence to buy you pins at Bumbo faire.

Lady. Full many thankes, and I will keepe them safe
Till all the heads be off, for thy sake Rafe.

Rafe. Aduance my Squire and Dwarfe, I cannot
MS stay.

Lady. Thou kilst my heart in parting thus away.

125 thee [gives money] Dy 133 And another] And there's another 17 50, f.
134 roasted 1711, f. well;!778,f. 136 'nointing 17 50, f. horse-back 17 78, f.

ACT rv] The Knight of the burning Pestle 75

Wife. I commend Rafe yet that hee will not stoope
to a Cracouian, there's properer women in London
then any are there I-wis. But heere comes Maister
Humphrey and his loue againe now George. 150

Cit. I cony, peace.

Enter Marchant, Humphrey, Luce and a Boy.

March. Go get you vp, I will not be intreated.
And gossip mine, Il'e keepe you sure hereafter
From gadding out againe with boyes and vnthrifts, »ss
Come, they are womens teares, I know your fashion.
Go sirrah, locke her in, and keepe the key. Exit Luce

Safe as you loue your life. Now my sonne Humfrey,
You may both rest assured of my loue
In this, and reape your owne desire. «6o

Hum. I see this loue you speake of, through your

daughter,

Although the hole be little; and hereafter
Will yeeld the like in all I may, or can,
Fitting a Christian, and a gentleman. 165

March. I do beleeue you (my good sonne) and

thanke you :
For 'twere an impudence to thinke you flattered.

Humph. It were indeed, but shall I tell you why,
I haue beene beaten twice about the lye. 17°

March. Well son, no more of complement, my

daughter

Is yours againe ; appoint the time, and take her,
We'le haue no stealing for it, I my selfe [61]

And some few of our friends will see you married. 175

1 47 Rafe yet that ] Rafe, yet that F Ralph yet, that 1 7 1 1 , f. 1 49 i-wis.
[SCENE III. — A Room in the house of VENTUREWELL Dy 151 peace I
[SCENE III.— The House of Venterwels. W 153 entreated. 1778, f.

155 unthrifts: 1778, f. 157 key 1711, f. 158 Safe, 1778.

169 why? 1778, f. 171 compliment. 1778, f.

7 6 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT iv

Hum. I would you would i'faith, for be it knowne
I euer was afraid to lie alone.

March. Some three daies hence then.

Hum. Three daies, let me see,
180 :Tis some-what of the most, yet I agree,
Because I meane against the appointed day,
To visite all my friends in new array. Enter

J J

Ser. Sir there's a Gentlewoman without would
speake with your Worship. March. What is shee?
i8s Seru. Sir I askt her not.
Merch. Bid her come in.

Enter mistresse Merry-thought and Michael.

Mist. mer. Peace be to your Worship, I come as

a poore

19° Suter to you sir, in the behalfe of this child.
Merch. Are you not wife to Merrie-thought ?
Mist. mer. Yes truely, would I had nere scene his
eies, ha has vndone me and himselfe and his children,
& there he Hues at home & sings, & hoights, &
*9s Reuels among his drunken companions, but, I warrant
you, where to get a peny to put bread in his mouth,
he knowes not : and therefore if it like your Worship,
I would entreate your letter, to the honest Host of
the Bel in Waltham, that I may place my child vnder
200 the protection of his Tapster, in some setled course
of life.

Merch. I'me glad the heauens haue heard my pray
ers : thy husband

When I was ripe in sorrows laught at me,
2°s Thy sonne like an vnthankefull wretch, I hauing
Redeem'd him from his fall and made him mine,

179 days ? 1778 W days ! Dy 186 in. [ Exit Servant. Dy 193 ha]
he Q,, f.

ACT rv] The Knight of the burning Pestle 77

To shew his loue againe, first stole my daughter,
Then wrong'd this Gentleman, and last of all,
Gaue me that griefe, had almost brought me downe
Vnto my graue, had not a stronger hand 210

Releiu'd my sorrowes, go, and weepe, as I did
And be vnpittied, for I heere professe
An euerlasting hate to all thy name.

Mist. mer. Wil you so sir. how say you by that?
come Micke, let him keepe his winde to coole his 215 [62]
Porrage, we'le go to thy Nurces Micke, shee knits
silke stockings boy, and we'le knit too boy, and bee
beholding to none of them all. Exeunt

Michael
and

Enter a boy with a letter. mother.

Boy. Sir, I take it you are the Maister of this house. 220

Merch. How then boy?

Boy. Then to your selfe sir comes this letter.

Merch. From whom my pretty Boy?

Boy. From him that was your seruant, but no more
Shall that name euer bee; for hee is dead, 225

Griefe of your purchas'd anger broke his heart,
I saw him die, and from his hand receiu'd
This paper, with a charge to bring it hither,
Reade it, and satisfie your selfe in all.

Letter. 230

March. Sir, that I haue wronged your loue, I must
confesse, in which I haue purchast to my selfe, besides
myne owne vndoing, the ill opinion of my friends, let not
your anger, good sir, outline me, but suffer mee to rest
in peace with your forgiuenesse, let my body (if a dying 235

211 Sorrows: 1778 W sorrows. Dy 216 Porrage] Pottage Q$, f.
222 letter. [ Gives letter. Dy 225 dead! 1778 W dead: Dy

226 Heart; 1711 1750 heart: 1778 W heart. Dy 228 hither:

1778, f. 231 Merch. (reading.) 1778, f. 233 friends. Q8, f.

235 forgiveness: 1778, f.

78 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT rv

man may so much preuaile with you) bee brought to your
daughter, that shee may truely know my hote flames are
now buried, and, wiiliall, receiue a testimony of the zeale
1 bore her vertue : farewell for euer} and be euer happy.

240 lasper.

Gods hand is great in this, I do forgiue him,
Yet I am glad he's quiet, where I hope
He will not bite againe : boy bring the body
And let him haue his will, if that be all.

245 Boy. 'Tis here without sir. Merch. So sir, if you
You may conduct it in, I do not feare it. [please
Hump. I'le be your Vsher boy, for though I say it,
He owd me something once, and well did pay it. Exeun

Enter Luce alone.

•

350 Luce. If there be any punishment inflicted

Vpon the miserable, more then yet I feele,

Let it together ceaze me, and at once
[63] Presse downe my soule, I cannot beare the paine

Of these delaying tortures : thou that art
255 The end of all, and the sweete rest of all ;

Come, come o death, bring me to thy peace,

And blot out all the memory I nourish

Both of my father and my cruell friend.

O wretched maide still liuing to be wretched,
260 To be a say to fortune in her changes,

And grow to number times and woes together,

How happy had I bene, if being borne

My graue had bene my cradle? Enter

Ser. By your leaue
265 Yong Mistresse, here's a boy hath brought a coffin,

237 hote] hot Q8, f. 241 this I 1778 W this: Dy 248 Exeunt.
[SCENE IV.— Another Room in the same House. W, f. 252 seize Q,, f.
255 all, 1711, f. 256 bring] and bring 1750 263 cradle I 1778, f.
265 coffin : Dy

ACT iv] The Knight of the burning Pestle 79

What a would say I know not, but your father
Charg'd me to giue you notice, here they come.

Enter two bearing a Coffin, lasper in it.

Luce. For me I hop't 'tis come, and 'tis most welcome.

Boy. Faire Mistresse let me not adde greater griefe 27o
To that great store you haue already ; lasper
That whilst he liu'd was yours, now dead,
And here enclos'd, commanded me to bring
His body hither, and to craue a teare
From those faire eyes, though he deseru'd not pitty, 375
To decke his funerall, for so he bid me
Tell her for whom he di'de. Luce. He shall haue
Good friends depart a little, whilst I take [many : Exeunt
My leaue of this dead man, that once I lou'd : carrier

Hold, yet a little, life and then I giue thee & boy.

To thy first heauenly being ; O my friend !
Hast thou deceiu'd me thus, and got before me?
I shall not long bee after, but beleeue me,
Thou wert too cruell lasper gainst thy selfe,
In punishing the fault, I could haue pardoned, 28s

With so vntimely death ; thou didst not wrong me,
But euer wer't most kind, most true, most louing ;
And I the most vnkind, most false, most cruell.
Didst thou but aske a teare? Il'e giue thee all, [64]
Euen all my eies can powre downe, all my sigh's 39°
And all my selfe, before thou goest from me
There are but sparing rites : But if thy soule
Be yet about this place, and can behold
And s-ee what I prepare to decke thee with,
It shall go vp, borne on the wings of peace 29s

267 notice. 1778, f. 268 Enter two Men bearing a Coffin, and

the Boy. W, f. JASPER laid out as a corpse within tt, covered with
a Cloth. W 269 hop't] hope Q,, f. 280 life I 1778, f.

290 sighs 1711, f. 291 me : 1778, f. 292 There] These 1711, £

8o The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT iv

And satisfied: first will I sing thy dirge,

Then kisse thy pale lips, and then die my selfe,

And fill one Coffin and one graue together.

Song.

300 Come you whose loues are dead,

And whiles I sing
Weep and wring
Euery hand and euery head,
Bind with Cipres and sad Ewe,
3°s Ribands blacke, and candles blew,

For him that was of men most true.

Come with heauy mourning,

And on his graue

Let him haue

31° Sacrifice of sighes and groaning,

Let him haue faire flowers enow,
White and purple, greene and yellow,
For him that was of men most true.

Thou sable cloth, sad couer of my ioies
315 1 lift thee vp, and thus I meete with death.

lasp. And thus you meete the liuing. Luce. Saue

me heauen.

las. Nay do not flie me faire, I am no spirit,
Looke better on me, do you know me yet?
320 Luce. O thou deere shadow of my friend.

lasp. Deere substance,
I sweare I am no shadow, feele my hand,
It is the same it was, I am your lasper,
Your lasper that's yet liuing, and yet louing,
3»s Pardon my rash attempt, my foolish proofe

303 hand, 1711, f. head 1750, f. 304 Ewe,] ewe; 1750 yew;

J778, f. 305 Ribands] Ribbons 1778 W 307 mourning] moaning
I75°> ^ 3*5 death. [ She takes off the Cloth, and he rises otit of the
Coffin. W, f. 322 shadow ; 1711, f. 324 loving ! 1778 W loving. Dy

ACT iv] The Knight of the burning Pestle 81

I put in practise of your constancy, [65]

For sooner should my sword haue drunke my bloud,
And set my soule at liberty, then drawne
The least drop from that body ; for which boldnesse
Doome me to any thing : if death I take it 330

And willingly. Luce. This death Fie giue you for it,
So, now I am satisfied: you are no spirit,
But my owne truest, truest, truest friend,
Why doe you come thus to mee.

lasper. First to see you, 335

Then to conuey you hence.

Luce. It cannot bee,

For I am lockt vp here and watcht at all howers,
That 'tis impossible for me to scape.

lasp. Nothing more possible, within this coffin 340
Do you conuey your selfe, let me alone,
I haue the wits of twenty men about me,
Onely I craue the shelter of your Closet
A little, and then feare me not; creepe in
That they may presently conuey you hence : 345

Feare nothing deerest loue, Il'e be your second,
Lie close, so, all goes well yet ; Boy.

Boy. At hand sir.

lasp. Convey away the Coffin, and be wary.

Boy. 'Tis done already. 3s<>

lasp. Now must I go coniure. Exit.

Enter Merchant.
Merch. Boy, Boy.
Boy. Your seruant sir.

331 it! [Kisses him. W, f. 333 friend! 1778 W friend; Dy

334 me ? Q2, f. 338 hours Q2, f. 340 possible : 1778 W possible. Dy
341 self; 1750 1778 W self: Dy 347 Boy! [ She goes into the Coffin,
and he covers her -with the Cloth. W, f. 349 wary. [ The Men carry out
the Coffin. W, f. 351 conjure. [Exit into a Closet. W, f.

82 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT rv

ass Merck. Do me this kindnesse Boy, hold here's a
crowne : Before thou bury the body of this fellow,
carry it to his old merie father, and salute him from
mee, and bid him sing, he hath cause.

Boy. I will sir.

36o Merck. And then bringe me word what tune he is in,
and have another crowne: but do it it truely.
I haue fitted him a bargaine, now, will vex him.
[66] Boy. God blesse your Worships health sir.
March. Fare-well boy.

365 Enter Maister Merrie-thought.

Wife. Ah old Merry-thought, art thou there againe,
let's here some of thy songs.

Old Mer. Who can sing a merrier noate,
Then he that cannot change a groat?
37° Not a Denier left, and yet my heart leapes, I do
wonder yet, as old as I am, that any man will follow
a Trade, or serue, that may sing and laugh, and walke
the streetes, my wife and both my sonnes are I know
not where, I haue nothing left, nor know I how to
375 come by meate to supper, yet am I merry still ; for
I know I shall finde it vpon the Table at sixe a clocke,
therefore hang Thought.

I would not be a seruingman to carry the cloke-bag still,
Nor would I be a Fawleconer the greedy Hawlkes to fill.
380 But I would be in a good house, & haue a good

Maister too.

But I would eat & drink of the best, & no work
would I do.

358 sing; 1778, f. 364 Exeunt. SCENE V. W, f. Exeunt severally.
Dy A Room in Merrythought's House. W Street before MERRYTOUGHT'S
house. Dy 368 Mer. (Singing.) W (sings) Dy 370 leaps : 1778, f.
373 streets. 1778, f. 376 o'clock; 1778, f. 377 thought! [Sing

ing. W Sings. Dy 379 falconer 1778, f. hawks Q,, f.

ACT iv] The Knight of the burning Pestle 83

This is it that keepes life and soule together, mirth,
this is the Philosophers stone that they write so much 385
on, that keepes a man euer yong.

Enter a Boy.

Boy. Sir, they say they know all your mony is gone,
and they will trust you for no more drinke.

Old mer. Will they not ? let am choose, the best 39°
is I haue mirth at home, and neede not send abroad
for that, let them keepe their drinke to themselues.
For lillian of Berry shee dwels on a Hill,
And shee hath good Beere and Ale to sell.
And of good fellowes she thinks no ill, 395

And thetherwill we go now, now, now, now, and thether
Will wee go now.

And when you haue made a little stay,
You need not aske what is to pay,
But kisse your Hostesse and go your way, And 4°<>
thither, &c.

Enter another Boy.

2. Boy. Sir, I can get no bread for supper.

Old mer. Hang bread and supper, let's preserue our [67]
mirth, and we shall neuer feele hunger, I'le warrant 405
you, let's haue a Catch, boy follow me, come sing
this Catch.

Ho, ho, no body at home, meate, nor drinke, nor money
ha wee none, fill the pot Eedy, neuer more need I.

Old mer. So boies enough, follow mee, let's change 410
our place and we shall laugh afresh. Exeunt.

390 am] 'em Q,, f. choose I 1778 W choose. Dy 392 that; Q8, f.
396 thither Q,, f. 406 you. 1778, f. catch : boy 1778 W catch, boy(s) ;
Dy, f. come. [ They sing. Dy sing this Catch, om. Dy 407 catch

[ They sing the following catch. W 408—09 In stanzaic form : Ho . . .
Meat . . . Fill . . . Never . . . I. 1750, f. 409 none ? 1778 W none. Dy

84 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT iv

Wife. Let him goe George, a shall not haue any
countenance from vs, nor a good word from any i'th'
Company, if I may strike stroke in't.
415 Git. No more a shannot loue ; but Nel I will haue
Baph doe a very notable matter now, to the eternall
honour and glory of all Grocers, sirrah you there boy.
can none of you heare?

Boy. Sir, your pleasure.

42° Cit. Let Baph come out on May-day in the morning
and speake vpon a Conduit with all his Scarfes about
him, and his fethers and his rings and his knacks.

Boy. Why sir you do not thinke of our plot, what
will become of that then?

425 Cit. Why sir, I care not what become on't, Tie haue
him come out, or I'le fetch him out my selfe, I'le haue
something done in honor of the Citty, besides, he
hath bene long enough vpon Aduentures, bring him
out quickely, or if I come in amongst you —
43° Boy. Well sir hee shall come out, but if our play
miscarry, sir you are like to pay for't. Exit

dt. Bring him away then.

Wife. This will be brauei'faith, George shall not he

dance the morrice too for the credit of the Strand.

435 Cittiz. No sweete heart it will bee too much for

the boy, o there he is Nel, hee's reasonable well in

reparell, but hee has not rings enough.

Baph. London, to thee I do present the merry Month

of May

[68] 440 Let each true Subiect be content to heare me what I say :
For from the top of Conduit head, as plainely may appeare,
I will both tell my name to you and wherefore I came heere.

415 sha'not W, f. 417 grocers. 1778, f. 418 hear? [Enter Boy.
Dy 419 pleasure? 1778, f. 427 city. 1778 W city: Dy 428 ad
ventures. Dy 433 i'faithl 1778, f. 434 Strand ? 1711, f. 436 boy.
[ Enter RALPH, dressed as aMay-lord. Dy Same W after 437 439 May ;
1778, f.

ACT iv] The Knight of the burning Pestle 85

My name is Raph, by due discent, though not ignoble I,
Yet far inferior to the Flocke of gratious Grocery.
And by the Common-councell, ofmyfellowes in the Strand, 445
With guilded Staffe, and crossed Skarfe, the May-lord

here I stand.

Reioyce, o English hearts, reioyce, reioyce o Louers deere,
Reioyce o Citty, Towne, and Country, reioyce eke euery Shire ;
For now the fragrant Flowers do spring and sprout in 450

seemely sort,
The little Birds do sit and sing, the Lambes do make fine

sport.
And now the Burchin Tree doth bud that maks the Schoole

boy cry 455

TheMorrice rings while Hobby-horse dothfoote itfeateously :
The Lords and Ladies note abroad for their disport and play,
Do kisse sometimes vpon the Grasse, and sometimes in

the Hey.

Now Butter with a leafe of Sage is good to Purge the bloud, 460
Fly Venus and Phlebotomy for they are neither good.
Now little fish on tender stone, beginne to cast their bellies,
And sluggish snails, that erst were mute, do creep out of

their shelles

The rumbling Riuers now do warmefor little boies to padle, 465
The sturdy Steede, now goes to grasse, and vp they hang

his saddle.
The heauy Hart, the bellowing Bucke, the Rascal and the

Pricket,
Are now among the Yeomans Pease, and leaue the feare- 470

full thicket.

And be like them, o you, I say, of this same noble Towne,
And lift aloft your veluet heads, and slipping of your gowne :

444 Flocke] Stock Dy gracious Q,, f. 455 cry, Qs F 1711 1750
1778 W cry; Dy 459 hay F, f. 463 mute] mew'd 1750, f.

464 shellies. 1711 1750 1778 W shellies ; Dy 466 steed 1711, f.

468 bellowing] blowing Q2 Q3 F 1711 1750 1778 473 off W, f.

gown, 1750, f.

86 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT rv

With bels on legs, and napkins cleane vnto your shoulders
475 tide,

With Scarfes & Garters as you please, & Hey for our

Town cri'd
March out and shew your willing minds by twenty and

by twenty,

480 ToHogsdon or to Newington, where Ale and Cakes are plenty :
And let it nere be said for shame, that we the youths of

London,
Lay thrumming of our Caps at home, and left our custome

vndone.
485 Vp then, I say, both yong and old, both man and maide

a Maying
With Drums and Guns that bounce alowd, & mery Taber

playing.

Which to prolong, God saue our King, and send his
49° Country peace

And roote out Treason from the Land, and so, my friends
I cease.

Finis Act. 4.

[69] Actus 5. Scoena prima.

Enter Marchant, solus.

March. I will haue no great store of company at
the wedding, a cupple of neighbours and their wiues,
and weewill haue a Capon in stewed broth, with marrow,
and a good peece of beefe, stucke with rose-mary.

s Enter lasper, his face mealed.

lasp. Forbeare thy paines fond man, it is too late.
March. Heauen blesse me: lasper?

476-77 'hey... town!1 W,f. cri'd : Q2 Q3 F 1711 1750 cried.i778W
cried, Dy 486 Maying, 1711, f. 491 land! 1778, f. Ad V.

SCENE I. A Room in the Jfoztse of Venterwels. Enter VENTERWELS W, f.

ACT v] The Knight of the burning Pestle 87

lasp. I, I am his Ghost

Whom thou hast iniur'd for his constant loue:
Fond worldly wretch, who dost not vnderstand i°

In death that true hearts cannot parted be.
First know thy daughter is quite borne away,
On wings of Angels, through the liquid aire,
To farre out of thy reach, and neuer more
Shalt thou behold her face: But shee and I 15

Will in another world enioy our loues,
Where neither fathers anger, pouertie,
Nor any crosse that troubles earthly men
Shall make vs seuer our vnited hearts.
And neuer shalt thou sit, or be alone 20

In any place, but I will visit thee
With gastly lookes, and put into thy minde
The great offences wich thou didst to me.
When thou art at thy Table with thy friends
Merry in heart, and fild with swelling wine, 25

Il'e come in midst of all thy pride and mirth,
Inuisible to all men but thy selfe,
And whisper such a sad tale in thine eare,
Shall make thee let the Cuppe fall from thy hand,
And stand as mute and pale as Death it selfe. 30

March. Forgiue me lasper ; Oh ! what might I doe ?
Tell me, to satisfie thy trobled Ghost? [70]

lasp. There is no meanes, too late thou thinkst of this.

March. But tell me what were best for me to doe?

lasp. Repent thy deede, and satisfie my father, as
And beat fond Humphrey out of thy dores,

Enter Humphrey.

Wife. Looke George, his very Ghost would haue
folkes beaten.

8 I, I] Ay, I 1711, f. 14 Too Q2 Q, F 1711 1778 W 23 which

88 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT v

40 Humph. Father, my bride is gone, faire mistresse -Lwee,

My soule's the fount of vengeance, mischiefes sluce.

March. Hence foole out of my sight, with thy fond

passion
Thou hast vndone me.
45 Humph. Hold my father deere,
For Luce thy daughters sake, that had no peere.
Mar. Thy father foole? there's some blows more,

begone.

lasper, I hope thy Ghost bee well appeased,
5° To see thy will performed, now will I go
To satisfie thy father for thy wrongs. Exit.

Humph. What shall I doe? I haue beene beaten

twice,

And mistresse Luce is gone? helpe me deuice:
55 Since my true-loue is gone, I neuermore,
Whilst I do Hue, vpon the sky will pore;
But in the darke will weare out my shooe-soles
In passion, in Saint Faiths Church vnder Paules. Exit-

Wife. George call Rafe hither, if you loue me call
60 Eafe hither, I haue the brauest thing for him to do
George; pre'thee call him quickly.
Cit. Rafe, why Rafe boy.
Rafe. Heere sir.

Cit. Come hither Rafe, come to thy mistresse boy.

65 Wife. Rafe I would haue thee call all the youthes

together in battle-ray, with drums, and guns, and flags,

and march to Mile end in pompous fashion, and there

exhort your Souldiers to be merry and wise, and to

keepe their beards from burning Eafe, and then skir-

70 mish, and let your flagges flye, and cry kill, kill, kill :

43 passion. Q, passion, Q3 F 1711 1750 passion 1 1778, f. 44 me.
[Seats htm. W, f. 45 Hold, 1778, f. 48 begone. [Beats him.

1711, f. 50 performed. 1778, f. 51 Exit. ] Aside and exit. Dy

54 gone! W gone. Dy 69 burning, 1711, f. 70 'kill, kill, kill!'
1778, f.

ACT v] The Knight of the burning Pestle 89

my husband shall lend you his lerkin Rafe, and there's
a scarfe; for the rest, the house shall furnish you,
and wee'l pay for't: doe it brauely Eafe, and thinke [71]
before whom you performe, and what person you rep
resent. 75

Rafe. I warrant you mistresse if I do it not for the
honour of the Citty, and the credit of my maister, let
me neuer hope for freedome.

Wife. 'Tis well spoken Ifaith; go thy wayes, thou
art a sparke indeed. so

Cit. Rafe, Rafe, double your files brauely Rafe.

Rafe. I warrant you sir. Exit Rafe.

Cit. Let him looke narrowly to his seruice, I shall
take him else, I was there my selfe a pike-man once
in the hottest of the day, wench ; had my feather shot &s
sheere away, the fringe of my pike burnt off with
powder, my pate broken with a scouring-sticke, and
yet I thanke God I am heere. D™™

J within.

Wife. Harke George the drums.

Cit. Ran, tan, tan, tan ; ran, tan : O wench an thou 90
hadst but scene little Ned of Algate, drum Ned, how
hee made it rore againe, and layd on like a tyrant:
and then stroke softly till the ward came vp, and then
thundred againe, and together we go : sa, sa, sa, bounce
quoth the guns ; courage my hearts, quoth the Cap- 95
taines : Saint George, quoth the pikemen ; and withall
here they lay, and there they lay : And yet for all
this I am heere wench.

Wife. Be thankfull for it George, for indeed 'tis
wonderfull. 100

83 service; 1778, f. 84 else. 1778, f. 88 yet, 1778, f. God,

1778, f. Drum] Drums 1778, f. 93 stroke] struck F, f.

94 bounce ! Dy 100 wonderful. [ SCENE II. W, f. Mile-End. W

A street (and afterwards Mile-End.) Dy Enter RALPH, WILLIAM
HAMERTON, GEORGE GREENGOOSE, and Others of his Company, with
Drums and Colours. W, f.

90 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT v

Enter Safe and his company with Drummes and colours.
Eafe. March faire my hearts, Lieutenant beate the
reare vp : Ancient, let your colours flye ; but haue a
great care of the Butchers hookes at white-Chappell,
105 they haue beene the death of many a faire Ancient.
Open your files that I may take a view both of your
persons and munition : Sergeant call a muster.
Serg. A stand, William Hamerton peuterer.
Ham. Here captaine.
«° Rafe. A Corselet, and a Spanish pike ; 'tis well,

can you shake it with a terror?
[72] Ham. I hope so Captaine.

Eafe. Charge vpon me, 'tis with the weakest: put
more strength William Hammerton, more strength : as
us you were againe. Proceed Sergeant.
Serge. George Greene-goose, Poulterer?
Greene. Heere.

Eafe. Let me see your peece neighbour Greene-
goose, when was the shot in?

120 Greene. And like you maister Captaine, I made a
shot euen now, partly to scoure her, and partly for
audacity.

Eafe. It should seeme so certainely, for her breath

is yet inflamed : besides, there is a maine fault in the

125 touch-hole, it runnes, and stinketh ; and I tell you

moreouer, and beleeue it : Ten such touch-holes would

breed the pox in the Army. Get you a feather,

neighbour, get you a feather, sweet oyle, and paper,

and your peece may do well enough yet. Were's

130 your powder ?

Greene. Heere.

102 The whole of this military scene in blank verse. 1778 fair, 1778, f.

hearts I F, f. 104 white-Chappell ] Whitechapel Qs, f. 1 08 stand !

1778, f. 113 me. 1750, f. me. (He charges on Ralph.} Dy laoAnd]
An't 1778, f.

ACT v] The Knight of the burning Pestle 91

Eafe. What in a paper? As I am a Souldier, and
a Gentleman, it craues a Martiall Court : you ought
to dye for't. Where's your home ? answere me to that.
Greene. An't like you sir, I was obliuious. 135

Eafe. It likes me not you should bee so ; 'tis a shame
for you, and a scandall to all our neighbours, beeing
a man of worth and estimation, to leaue your home
behinde you: I am afraid 'twill breed example. But
let me tell you no more on't ; stand, till I view you *4°
all. What's become o'th nose of your flaske?

1. Souldier. Indeed law Captaine, 'twas blowne
away with powder.

Eafe. Put on a new one at the Cities charge.
Wheres the stone of this peece? 145

2. Souldier. The Drummer tooke it out to light To
bacco.

Eafe. 'Tis a fault my friend, put it in againe : You
want a Nose, and you a Stone ; Sergeant, take a note
on't, for I meane to stoppe it in the pay. Remoue *so
and march, soft and faire Gentlemen, soft and faire : [73]
double your files, as you were, faces about. Now you
with the sodden face, keepe in there : looke to your
match sirrah, it will be in your fellowes flaske anone.
So, make a crescent now, aduance your pikes, stand *ss
and giue ear. Gentlemen, Countrey-men, Friends,
and my fellow-Souldiers, I haue brought you this day
from the Shops of Security, and the Counters of Con
tent, to measure out in these furious fields, Honour "* ***'•'*
by the ell ; and prowesse by the pound : Let it not, 160
o let it not, I say, bee told hereafter, the noble issue
of this Citie fainted: but beare your selues in this
faire action, like men, valiant men, and free-men;
Feare not the face of the enemy, nor the noise of the

140 on't. 1778, f. 151 March! W, f. (They march.) W, f.
fair, gentleman 1778, f. 154 anon F, f. 156 ear! 1778, f.

92 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT v

165 guns : for beleeue me brethren, the rude rumbling of
a Brewers Carre is farre more terrible, of which you
haue a daily experience: Neither let the stinke of
powder offend you, since a more valiant stinke is
nightly with you. To a resolued minde, his home is

170 euery where : I speake not this to take away the hope
of your returne ; for you shall see (I do not doubt it)
and that very shortly, your louing wiues againe, and
your sweet children, whose care doth beare you com
pany in baskets. Remember then whose cause you

175 haue in hand, and like a sort of true-borne Scauingers,

scoure me this famous Realme of enemies. I haue

/*, no more to say but this : Stand to your tacklings lads,

-X and shew to the world you can as well brandish a

sword, as shake an apron. Saint George and on my

180 hearts. Omnes. S1. George, Sl. George. Exeu

Wife. 'Twas well done Rqfe, Il'e send thee a cold
Capon a field, and a bottle of March-beere ; and it
may be, come my selfe to see thee.

Cit. Nell, the boy has deceiued me much, I did

185 not thinke it had beene in him : he has performed
such a matter wench, that if I Hue, next yeare Il'e haue
him Captaine of the Gally-foist, or Il'e want my will.

Enter old Merri-thought.

Old mer. Yet I thanke God, I breake not a rinkle

i9o more then I had, not a stoope boyes : Care Hue with

Cats, I defie thee, my heart is as sound as an Oke ;

[74] and though I want drinke to wet my whistle, I can sing :

1 66 Carre ] cart W 169—80 To ... hearts. In blank verse. Dy
170—80 I ... hearts. In blank verse W 179 on, my hearts! 1778, f.
St. George, St. George! 1778, f. 181 Ralph! 1778, f. 182 a-field

1778, f. 187 will. [SCENE III. A Room in Old Merry thoiight' s

Jfoztse. W, f. 189 wrinkle 1711, f. 190 had. 1778, f. boys?

Q2, f. 192 sing. [Sings. W, f.

ACT v] The Knight of the burning Pestle 93

Come no more there boyes, come no more there :
For we shall neuer whilst we Hue, come any more

there. 195

Enter a boy with a Coffin,

Boy. God saue you sir.

Old mer. It's a braue boy : canst thou sing ?

Boy. Yes sir, I can sing, but 'tis not so necessary
at this time. 20o

Old merri. Sing wee, and chaunt it, whilst loue
doth grant it.

Boy. Sir, sir, if you knew what I haue brought
you, you would haue little list to sing.

Old mer. O the Mimon round, full long long I haue 205

thee sought,

And now I haue thee found, & what hast thou here
brought ?

Boy. A Coffin sir, and your dead son lasper in it.

Old mer. Dead ? why fare-well he : 210

Thou wast a bonny boy, and I did loue thee.

Enter lasper.

lasp. Then I pray you sir do so still.
Old mer. laspers ghost? thou art welcome from

Stygian lake so soone, 215

Declare to mee what wondrous things in Pluto's court

are done.

lasp. By my troth sir, I nere came there, tis too
hot for me sir.

196 Enter a Boy, and two men bringing in the Coffin. W, f. -with
LUCE in it. W 201 Mer. (sings) Dy In stanzaic form: Sing . . .

Whilst ... it. 1750, f. 205 Mer. (sings) Dy long long I] long I

Q2, f. 209 it. [Exit with Men. Dy 210 Mer. Dead I (sings) Dy

In stanzaic form : Dead ? (Why Dy) . . . Thou . . . And . . . brought ?
1750, f- 214 ghost! Dy, f. {Sings. W, f.

94 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT v

220 Old mer. A merry ghost, a very merry ghost.
And where is your true-loue? o where is yours?
las. Marie look you sir.

Old mer. Ah ha! Art thou good at that Ifaith?
With hey trixie terlery-whiskin, the world it runnes on
225 wheeles,

When the yong mans . . . vp goes the maidens heeles.

Mistresse Merri-thought and Michael within.
Mist. mer. What Mr. Merry-thought, will you not let's
in? what do you thinke shall become of vs?
23° Old mer. What voyce is that that calleth at our
doore ?

Mist. mer. You know me well enough, I am sure
[75] I haue not beene such a stranger to you.

Old mer. And some they whistled, and some they

235 sung, Hey downe, downe : and some did lowdly say, euer

as the Lord Barnets home blew, away Musgraue, away.

Mist. mer. You will not haue vs starue here, will

you Mr. Merri-thought?

lasp. Nay good sir be perswaded, she is my mother :

240 if her offences haue beene great against you, let your

owne loue remember she is yours, and so forgiue her.

Luce. Good Mr. Merri-thought let mee entreat you,

I will not be denied.

Mist. mer. Why Mr. Merri-thougt, will you be a vext
245 thing still.

Old mer. Woman I take you to my loue againe,
bot you shall sing before you enter: therefore dis
patch your song, and so come in.

220 very merry ghost I [ Sings. W, f. 222 Marry, Q3, f. Heaves
vp the Coffin. ] Removes the cloth, and LUCE rises out of the coffin. Dy

228 Mist. Mer. (within.] Dy 232 Mist. Mer. (-within.} Dy 234 Mer.

(Sings') W, f. In stanzaic form : And . . . Hey . . . And . . . Ever . . .

Away . . . away. 1750, f. 236 Musgrave, away I Dy 237 Mist.

Mer. (within). Dy 239 persuaded; 1778, f. 244 Mist. Mer.
(within?) Dy 245 still ? Q2, f.

ACT v] The Knight of the burning Pestle 95

Mist. mer. Well, you must haue your will when al's
done. MicJce what song canst thou sing boy? 250

Mich. I can sing none forsooth, but a Ladies
daughter of Paris properly.

Mist. mer. Song. It was, a Ladies daughter, &c.

Old mer. Come, you'r welcome home againe.
If such danger be in playing, and iest must to earnest 255

turne,
You shall go no more a maying.

March, within. Are you within sir, Maister Merri-
thougt ?

lasp. It is my maisters voyce, good sir go hold 260
him in talke whilst we conuey our selues into some
inward roome.

Old mer. What are you? are you merry? you must
bee very merry if you enter.

March. I am sir. 265

Old mer. Sing then.

March. Nay good sir open to me.

Old mer. Sing, I say, or by the merry heart you
come not in.

March. Well sir, Il'e sing. 270

Fortune my Foe, &c.

Old mer. You are welcome sir, you are welcome,
you see your entertainment, pray you bee merry.

March. O Mr. Merri-thought, I am come to aske you
Forgiuenesse for the wrongs I offered you, 275 [76]

And your most vertuous sonne, they're infinite,
Yet my contrition shall be more then they.

249 Mist. Mer. (within!) Dy 251 Mich, (within.} Dy 251—52^...
properly. Dy [ Sings -within. W, f. 253 Mist. Mer. Song. ] Mich.

(sings) 1778 om. W, f. &°c. [MERRYTHOUGHT opens the door. Dy
Enter Mrs. MERRYTHOUGHT and MICHAEL W, f. 254 again. [ Sings Dy
260 voice: Dy 262 room. [Exit with LUCE. W, f. 270 sing.

[ Sings. W, f. 271 &c. [MERRYTHOUGHT opens the door. Dy Enter
VENTERWELS W, f.

96 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT v

I do confesse my hardnesse broke his heart,
For which, iust heaven hath giuen me punishment
»8o More then my age can carry, his wandring spirit
Not yet at rest, pursues me euery where
Crying, Tie haunt thee for thy cruelty.
My daughter she is gone, I know not how,
Taken inuisible, and whether liuing,
285 Or in graue, 'tis yet vncertaine to me.

O Maister Merry-thought these are the weights,
Will sinke me to my graue, forgiue me sir.

Old mer. Why sir, I do forgiue you, and be merry,
And if the wag, in's life time, plaid the knaue,
990 Can you forgiue him too ? March. With all my

heart sir.

Old mer. Speake it againe, and hartely.
Merch. I do sir,
Now by my soule I do.

=95 Old mer. With that came out his Paramoure.
Shee was as white as the Lillie flower,
Hey troule trollie lollie. Ente*

With that came out her owne deere Knight,
He was as true as euer did fight. &c.
3°° Sir, if you will forgiue him, clap their hands together,
there's no more to be sad i'th' matter.
Merch. I do, I do.

Git. I do not like this, peace boies, heare me one
of you, euery bodies part is come to an end but
3°s Raphes, and hee's left out.

Boy. 'Tis long of your selfe sir, wee haue nothing
to doe with his part.

282 Til . . . cruelty.' 1778, f. 285 in (the) grave, 1750, f.

287 grave! 1778, f. 288 you; 1778, f. 292 heartily. Qt, f.

294 do. [ Re-enter LUCE and JASPER Dy 295 Mer. (Sings.} W, f.

297 lollie] loly 1711, f. 301 sad] said Q2, f. 303 this: 1778 W
this. Dy Peace, boys I 1778, f. 304 you! 1778, f. 306 'long Dy

ACT v] The Knight of the burning Pestle 97

Cit. Eaph come away, make on him as you haue
done of the rest, boies come.

Wife. Now good husband let him come out and die. 31°

Cit. He shall Nel, Eaph come away quickely and
die boy.

Boy. 'Twill be very vnfit he should die sir, vpon
no occasion, and in a Comedy too. [77]

Cit. Take you no care of that sir boy, is not his 3-5
part at an end, thinke you, when he's dead? come
away Raph.

Enter Raph, with a forked arrow through his head.

Raph. When I was mortall, this my costiue corps
Did lap vp Figs and Raisons in the Strand, 3*0

Where sitting I espi'd a louely Dame,
Whose Maister wrought with Lingell and with All,
And vnder ground he vampied many a boote,
Straight did her loue pricke forth me, tender sprig
To follow feats of Armes in warlike wise, s»s

Through Waltham Desert, where I did performe
Many atchieuements, and did lay on ground
Huge Barbaroso that insulting Giant,
And all his Captiues soone set at liberty.
Then honour prickt me from my natiue soile, 330

Into Moldauia, where I gain'd the loue
Of Pompana his beloued daughter :
But yet prou'd constant to the blacke thum'd maide
Susan, and skorn'd Pompianaes loue :
Yet liberall I was and gaue her pinnes, 335

308 away 1 1778, f. make on ] Make an end on 1778, f. 309 boys ;
1778, f. 311 Nell. 1778, f. 322 All,] awl, 1778, f. 323 boot:
1778 W boot. Dy 324 sprig, 1711, f. 332 Pompana ] Pompiana
Qt Q» F !7H I75° Pompiona 1778, f. passim 333 black-thumb'd
1778, f.

98 The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT v

And money for her fathers Officers,
I then returned home, and thrust my selfe
In action, and by all men chosen was
Lord of the May, where I did flourish it,

340 With skarfes and Rings, and Poesie in my hand,
After this action, I preferred was,
And chosen Citty Captaine at Mile-end,
With hat and feather and with leading staffe,
And train' d my men and brought them all of cleere

345 Saue one man that berai'd him with the noise.
But all these things I Raph did vndertake,
Onely for my beloued Susans sake.
Then comming home, and sitting in my Shop
With Apron blew, death came vnto my Stall

350 To cheapen Aqua-vitae, but ere I

Could take the bottle downe, and fill a taste,
[78] Death caught a pound of Pepper in his hand,
And sprinkled all my face and body ore,
And in an instant vanished away.

355 Cit. 'Tis a pretty fiction i'faith.

Raph. Then tooke I vp my Bow and Shaft in hand,
And waklt into Moore-fields to coole my selfe,
But there grim cruell death met me againe,
And shot this forked arrow through my head,

360 And now I faint, therefore be warn'd by me,
My fellowes euery one of forked heads.
Fare-well all you good boies in merry London,
Nere shall we more vpon Shroue-tuesday meete
And plucke downe houses of iniquitie.

365 My paine increaseth, I shall neuer more
Hold open, whilst another pumpes both legs,
Nor daube a Satten gowne with rotten egs :

336 officers. I7II, f. 340 Pcfcie 1750 posy 1778 Dy poesy W
hand. 1778, f. 344 off Q2, f. 360 faint; 1778, f. 365 increa
seth ; Dy

ACT v] The Knight of the burning Pestle 99

Set vp a stake, o neuer more I shall,

I die, flie, flie my soule to Grocers Hall, oh, oh, oh, &c.

Wife. Well said Eaph, doe your obeysance to the 370
Gentlemen and go your waies, well said Eaph.

Exit Raph.

Old mer. Methinkes all we, thus kindly and vnex-
pectedly reconciled should not depart without a song.
Merck. A good motion. 375

Old mer. Strike vp then.

Song.

Better Musicke nere was knowne,
Then a quire of hearts in one.
Let each other that hath beene, 380

Troubled with the gall or spleene:
Learne of vs to keepe his brow,
Smoth and plaine as ours are now.
Sing though before the houre of dying
He shall rise and then be crying. 385

Hey ho, 'tis nought but mirth.
That keepes the body from the earth.

Exeunt Omnes.

Epilogus. [79]

Cittiz. Come Nel, shall we go, the Plaies done. 39°
Wife. Nay by my faith George, I haue more
manners then so, I'le speake to these Gentlemen first :
I thanke you all Gentlemen, for your patience and

368 shall! 1778, f. 369 die! 1778, f. Oh, oh, oh. &c. [ Dies. Dy
370 Ralph! 1778, f. 371 ways. 1778 W ways: Dy Ralph! 1778, f.
[ RALPH rises, makes obeisance, and exit. Dy 374 reconciled, F. f.

depart] part Q2 Q, F 1711 1750 1778 380 been 171 1, f. 381 spleen,
I7II, f. 382 brow I7II, f. 383 Smooth Q2, f. 384 dying;

1778, f. 385 crying, Q2, f. 386-87 'Heyho . . . earth.' 1778, f.

388 Exeunt Omnes. ] Exeunt. W, f. 390 play's F, f.

ioo The Knight of the burning Pestle [ACT v

countenane to Raph, a poore fatherlesse child, and if

393 1 might see you at my house, it should go hard, but

I would haue a pottle of wine and a pipe of Tabacco

for you, for truely I hope you do like the youth,

but I would bee glad to know the truth: I referre it

to your owne discretions, whether you will applaud

400 him or no, for I will winke, and whilst you shall do

what you will, I thanke you with all my heart, God

giue you good night; come George.

FINIS.

394 countenance Q2, f. child I 1778 W child; Dy 397 for you:

Dy 401 will. I7II heart. 1778, f. 402 night 1 1778, f.

George. [Exeunt, W, f.

THE

KNIGHT

Of the

BVRNING
PESTLE.

Full of Mirth and Delight.

Written by

Francis Beamount,

and
lohn Fletcher.

Gent.

As it is now acted by her Majesties Servants

at the Private house in Drury lane.

1635.

Quod si

Indicium subtile, vivendis artibus illud

Ad libros &• ad haec Musarum dona vocares:

Boeotum in crasso jurares acre natum.

Horat. in Epist. ad Oct. Aug.

LONDON:

To the Readers of this
Comedy.

GEntlemen, the World is so nice
in these our times, that for Ap-
parrell there is no fashion: For
Musicke which is a rare Arte,
(though now slighted) no In
strument; for Dyet, none but the
French Kickshoes that are delicate; and for
Playes, no invention but that which now
runneth an invective way, touching some par
ticular persons, or else it is contemned before
it is thoroughly understood. This is all that I
have to say, that the Author had no intent to
wrong any one in this Comedy, but as a merry
passage, here and there interlaced it with de
light, which he hopes will please all, and be
hurtfull to none.

This address om. 1711 1750
music, F, f. Kickshoes] quelque chose 1778
kickshaws W, f. but, 1778, f.

THE PROLOGVE.

W 'Here the Bee can sucke no Honey, shee
leaves her sting behind; and where the
Beare cannot finde Origanum to heale
his griefe, hee blasteth all other leaves
with his breath. We feare it is like to fare so with
us; that seeing you cannot draw front our labours
sweet content, you leave behind you a sower mis-
like, and with open reproach blame our good
meaning, because you cannot reape the wonted
mirth. Our intent was at this time to move in
ward delight, not outward lightnesse; and to
breed (if it might be) soft smiling, not loud
laughing: knowing it (to the wise) to be a great
pleasure, to heare Counsel/ mixed with Wit, as
to the foolish to have sport mingled with rudenesse.
They were banished the Theater of Athens, and
from Rome hissed that brought Parasites on the
Stage with apish actions, or fooles with uncivill
habits, or Courtezans with immodest words.
We have endeavoured to bee as farre from unseemly
speeches to make your eares glow, as wee hope you
will be free from unkind reports, or mistaking
the Authors intention (who never aymed at a-
ny one particular in this Play,) to make our cheeks
blush. And thus I leave it, and thee to thine owne
censure, to like, or dislike. Vale.

THE

all other] all the other W
sower ] sour 1711, f.

Author's 1711 1750 1778

The Speakers Names.

The Prologue.

Then a Cittizen.

The Citizens wife, and

Raph her man, sitting below

amidst the Spectators.
A rich Marchant.
lasper his Apprentise.
Master Humphry, a friend to

the Marchant.
Luce Marchants daughter.
Mistresse Merry-thought,

laspers mother.
Michael, a second sonne of

Mistresse Merri-thought.

Old M. Merry-thought.

A squire.

A Dwarfe.

A Tapster.

A Boy that danceth and

singeth.
An Host.
A Barber.
Two Knights.
A Captaine.
A Sergeant.
Souldiers.

The Speakers Names. ] The Actors Names F Dramatis Personae 1711
f. Raph her man.] Ralph, his apprentice. 1778, f. the Knight of
the Burning Pestle. 1778 Two Knights.] Three supposed Knights.
1778 W Three men, supposed captives. Dy Souldiers] Soldiers, and
Attendants. Dy William Hammerton. W, f. George Greengoose.
W, f. Woman captive. 1778 W Woman supposed a captive. Dy

Pompiona, princess of Moldavia. W POMPIONA, daughter to the king
of Moldavia. Dy

NOTES

References to the text of The Knight of the Burning Pestle
are by act and line of this edition. Other references to Beau
mont and Fletcher are by act and scene in Dyce's edition.
In citations from the plays of these dramatists the authors'
names are omitted ; a like omission occurs in citations from
Shakespeare. Acknowledgment is uniformly made for notes
quoted or adapted from other editions of The Knight of the
Burning Pestle. Wheatley- Cunningham's London Past and
Present is indicated by the abbreviation Wh.-C. Explanation
of other abbreviations is supplied by the Bibliography.

TITLE-PAGE.

The Knight of the Burning Pestle. Attempts to find an
origin for this title have resulted in mere conjecture. Weber,
in speaking of the play's general resemblance to Don Quixote,
says: 'Indeed the very name of the play seems to be taken
from the Knight of the Burning Shield, though no doubt our
poets may have derived the appellation from some ancient
romance, as Shakespeare probably did the epithet of the
Knight of the Burning Lamp, which Falstaff bestows on
Bardolph.' Cf. / Henry IV. 3. 3. Dyce (1. XXXIV) says the
'title was perhaps suggested by that of an earlier (and not
extant) play, The history of the Knight in the Burning Rock.1
This play was produced at Court at Whitehall in 1578-9.
Cf. Cunningham, Extracts from the Accounts of the Revels
at Court, 1842, p. 142.

Quod si, &c. In Elgood's translation of Horace, these
lines are rendered thus : 'Yet were you to criticize that same
judgment, which he exercised with such keen discrimination
as regards the arts, in connection with books and the Muses'
gifts, you would swear that he had been born in the leaden
air of the Boeotians.' Ep. 2. 2. 241-4.

•••

106 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [TIT.

Walter Burre. Cf. Arber's Transcript of the Stationers'
Registers, 1554-1640, 2. 148:

14 Septembris

master Watkins Walter Burre sonne of [blank] BURRE
of the parishes of SOUTHMYMMES in the county of HERT
FORD y[e]oman hathe putt himself apprentice to Richard
Watkins citizen and Staconer of London for the terme
of nyne yeres from the feast of the nativitie of Sainct
John babtiste Laste Paste [24 June 1587].

Burre was admitted to the Stationers' Company June 25,
1596, and printed and published from 1597 to 1621.

at the signe of the Crane in Paules Church-yard. 'Be
fore the Fire, which destroyed the old Cathedral, St. Paul's
Churchyard was chiefly inhabited by stationers, whose shops
were then, and until the year 1760, distinguished by signs.'
Wh.-C.

DEDICATION.

.*•*
/** To his many waies endeered friend Maister Robert

£ / Keysar. This dedicatory epistle is found, among the early
editions, only in the quarto of 1613. Weber was the first
/ to reprint it. The succeeding editors have followed him.
^^ Nothing is ascertainable regarding Robert Keysar.

parents. Considerable controversy has arisen as to
!•* the respective shares of Beaumont and Fletcher in the au

thorship. Cf. Introd., pp. XXI-XXXI.

Vnlike his brethren. None of the other plays of Beau
mont and Fletcher are to any marked extent similar to The
Knight of the Burning Pestle in purpose or in manner of
development. Cf. Introd., p. XXXI.

who for want of judgement^ . . vtterly rejected it.
~ ^jt appears tnaT7i;g

Knight of the Burning Pestle wasjlamned on its first appear
ance: It was probabTyTKe^rage of the citizens, and~partic-

which condemned

a: pruJncttolTin~'which they were so~severely satirized.

DED.] Notes 107

father, foster-father, nurse and child. Here is an in
dication of single authorship, for foster-father and nurse mani
festly mean Robert Keysar and Walter Burre.

it hopes his father will beget him a younger brother.
Another indication of single authorship.

Perhaps it will bee thought to bee of the race of Don
Quixote. The similarity between our play and Don Quixote
in the objects and method of their burlesque has produced
a theory that Beaumont drew his inspiration from Cervantes.
Cf. Introd., pp. XXXII-LVHI.

it is his elder aboue a yeare. On Jan. 19, 1611—12, there
was entered on the Stationers' Registers 'A booke called, The
delightful! history of the witty knighte Don Quishote? This
was Shelton's translation of the first part of Cervantes' ro
mance, which was first printed at Lisbon in 1605. The second
part was not printed till 1615, when it appeared at Madrid.

may (by vertue of his birth-right) challenge the wall
of him. That is, by reason of his seniority, it my claim the
inner side of the path as a mark of acknowledgment. 'To
take the wall of, to pass(one) on that part of the road nearest
the wall (this, when there were no sidewalks, was to take
the safest and best position, usually yielded to the superior in
rank) ; hence, to get the better of in any way.' Cent. Diet.

W. B. Walter Burre. The publisher.

INDUCTION.

Enter PROLOGVE. In the old-time theatre, the speaker
of the prologue entered immediately after the third sounding
of a trumpet, which was blown as an announcement that
the play was about to begin, and that the audience, always
noisy enough before the performance and during intermis
sions, should compose itself. The speaker was usually clothed
in a black velvet gown, and crowned with a garland of bays.
Cf. Weber's stage-direction in the variants. 'This stage
direction,' says Weber, 'as well as that respecting the citizen
and his wife, has been added, being evidently indicated by
the context.'

io8 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [IND.

It was a custom for gallants and fine gentlemen to occupy
seats on the stage during a theatrical performance. The
insolence and haughty bearing of these spectators toward
the 'groundlings' and toward the actors became an object
of much ridicule in old plays and pamphlets. Dekker's
satirical tract, The Gull's Hornbook, has a chapter on 'How
a Gallant should behave himself in a Playhouse.' The manner
of entering the theatre is thus described: 'Whether therefore
the gatherers of the publique or priuate Play-house stand
to receive the afternoons rent, let your Gallant (hauing paid
it) presently advance himself up to the Throne of the Stage.
I meane not into the Lords roome (which is now but the
Stages Suburbes). . . . But on the very Rushes where the
Comedy is to daunce, yea, and under the state of Cambises
himselfe must our fathered Estridge, like a piece of Ord
nance, be planted valiantly (because impudently) beating
down the opposed rascality.' Dekker says to his imagined
hero: 'Present not yourselfe on the Stage (especially at a
new play) until the quaking prologue hath (by rubbing) got
culor into his cheekes, and is ready to giue the trumpets
their cue, that hees upon point to enter : ... for if you should
bestow you person upon the vulgar, when the belly of the
house is but half full, you apparell is quite eaten up, the
fasion lost, and the proportion of your body in more danger
to be devoured then if it were served up in the Counter
amongst the Powltry : avoid that as you would the Bas-
tome.'

The affectations of the dandies at the theatre are satirized
in The Woman Hater 1.3:' Or, if I can find any company,
I'll after dinner to the stage to see a play ; where, when I
first enter, you shall have a murmur in the house ; every
one that does not know, cries, "What nobleman is that,"
all the gallants on the stage rise, vail to me, kiss their hand,
offer me their places ; then I pick out some one whom I
please to grace among the rest, take his seat, use it, throw
my cloak over my face, and laugh at him ; the poor gentle
man imagines himselfe most highly graced, thinks all the
auditors esteem him one of my bosom friends, and in right

IND.] Notes 109

special regard with me.' Ben Jonson has lines of similar
import in The Devil is an Ass 1. 6:

To-day I go to the Blackfriars playhouse,

Sit in the view, salute all my acquaintance,

Rise up between the acts, let fall my cloak,

Publish a handsome man, a rich suit;

And that's a special end why we go thither,

All that pretend for't on the stage:

The Ladies ask, who's that? for they do come

To see us, love, as we do them.

In the Prologue to The Devil is an Ass, Jonson vigorously
protests against the custom of giving spectators seats upon
the stage, since the actors were left insufficient space in
which to perform their parts.

The garrulous and insulting comments passed upon the
plays by the gallants are ridiculed in The Gull's Hornbook,
chap. 6, and in Ben Jonson's The Case is Altered 2. 4.

1-4. Prom all that's neere the court . . . Sceane. In the
absence of adjustable scenery on the Elizabethan stage, the
prologue, or one of the actors, often described or briefly
announced the location of the play. Cf. Collier, Annals of
the Stage 3. 375. A familiar example is in the choruses of
Shakespeare's Henry V. Davenant's The Siege of Rhodes
(ed. 1673) contains an elaborate description of the scenes of
the play. Cf. also Ben Jonson, Cynthia's Revels, Ind.

Sidney, in his Defense of Poesy (ed. Cook, p. 48), cries out
upon the conditions which made proclamations of the scenes
necessary in the romantic drama : ' But if it be so in Gor-
boduc, how much more in all the rest ? Where you shall
have Asia of the one side, and Afric of the other, and so
many other under-kingdoms, that the player, when he cometh
in, must ever begin with telling where he is, or else the tale
will not be conceived.'

3. compasse of the Citty-wals. ' The circuit of the wall
of London on the land side, to wit, from the tower of London
in the east unto Aldgate, is 82 perches ; from Aldgate to
Bishopsgate, 86 perches ; from Bishopsgate in the north to
the postern of the Cripplegate, 162 perches ; from Cripplegate
to Aldersgate, 75 perches ; from Aldersgate to Newgate, 66

1 10 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [IND.

perches ; from Newgate in the west to Ludgate, 42 perches ;
in all 513 perches of assize. From Ludgate to the Fleetdike
west, about 60 perches ; from Fleetbridge south to the river
Thames, about 70 perches ; and so the total of these perches
amounteth to 643, every perch consisting of five yards and
a half, which do yield 3536 yards and a half, containing
10.608 feet, which make up two English miles and more by
608 feet.' Stowe, Survey of London, 1598 (ed. Thorns, 1842).

There is a good account of the city walls in Knight's
London, Vol. 1, chap. 9.

5. Enter Citizen. Weber substitutes this stage-direction :
' Citizen leaps upon the stage.' Cf. variants. The change
is authorized by the context.

The Citizen is simply making rather vigorous use of a
practice of the time : audiences were in the habit of fre
quently interrupting a play, and audibly expressing their
opinion of it. Not infrequently they emphasized their dis
approval of a play by the use of physical force. Cf. Introd.,
p. CVL

7. What do you meane sir? Our Prologue's composure
throughout the Citizen's stormy interruptions in the Induction
does not at all accord with Dekker's ' quaking prologue,' or
what purports to be a representative picture of the character
at the opening of Hey wood's Four Prentices : ' What meane
you, my maisters, to appeare thus before your times? doe
you not know that I am the Prologue ? Do you not see this
long blacke velvet cloake upon my backe ? Haue you not
sounded thrice? Do I not looke pale, as fearing to be out
in my speech? Nay, haue I not all the signes of a Pro
logue about me? Then, to what end come you to inter
rupt me?'

8. This seven yeares there hath beene playes at this
house. The playhouse in which the Citizen finds himself is
probably Whitefriars. In 1610, the date of our play, Beaumont
and Fletcher seem to have been writing for the Company
of Queen's Revels of Children, who appeared at Whitefriars
from January of that year onward. Cf. Fleay, Biog. Chr. 2.
403-4, and Hist, of Stage, pp. 186, 203.

IND.] Notes in

The history of Whitefriars is obscure. There is brief
mention of an early play-place called Whitefriars in a passage
quoted in Prynne's Histriomastix , 1633, p. 492, from a tract
by Richard Rawledge, called A Monster lately found out and
discovered, or the Scourging Tipplers. The writer speaks of
the magistrates as having, soon after 1580, ' obtained leave
from her Majesty to thrust the players out of the city, and
to pull down all playhouses and dicing houses within their
liberties; which accordingly was effected.' Among the five
playhouses which he enumerates is one in Whitefriars. This
suppression of the early theatrical resorts occurred, in Fleay's
estimation, in 1583. Cf. Hist, of Stage, p. 54. Until recent
years, it was supposed that there was no other record of a
Whitefriars play -place before the patent of the Queen's
Revels Company was issued in 1610. Certain discoveries
of James Greenstreet prove, however, that the new White
friars was in operation prior to this date. In the New Shak-
spere Society's Transactions, 1888, there is an article by
Mr. Greenstreet, entitled The Whitefriars Theatre in the Time
of Shakspere, based upon the prosecution of a Chancery suit
over the affairs of Whitefriars, which took place in 1609.
The dispute hinged upon points in the management of White
friars dating from the spring of 1607. This proceeding is
of interest to us in showing that Whitefriars was a regularly
organized theatre before 1610, and therefore that Fleay's
position regarding the place of our play's representation is
not invalidated by the Citizen's saying ' This seven yeares
there hath beene playes at this house.' The speech would
indicate that the play-house had been in operation since
1603.

The Whitefriars theatre was the old hall or refectory of
a dissolved monastery, which stood in the district of White
friars, between Fleet Street and the Thames. Like the Cock
pit and Blackfriars, Whitefriars was a private theatre. 'These
private theatres were enclosed dwellings, had pits with seats
instead of open yards, there were locks on the box or room
doors, the performances were by candlelight, and part of
the audience sat on the stage smoking, &c. They grew

1 1 2 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [IND.

out of the private performances at marriages, &c., of the
gentry and the Inns of Court Revels, just as the public
theatres did out of the inn-yard play-houses and the open-
air scaffolds in market places.' Hist, of Stage, p. 153.

10. you haue still girds at Citizens. The resentment of
the citizens against their treatment in stage-representations
is embodied in the following decree of 1605 : 'Whereas,
Kempe Armyn, and others, players at the Black-Friers, have
again not forborn to bring upon their stage one or more of
the Worshipful Company of Alderman of the City of London,
to their great scandal and to the lessening of their authority,
the Lords of the Right Honourable the Privy Council are
besought, to call the said players before them and to inquire
into the same that order may be taken to remedy the abuse,
either by putting down or removing the said theatre.' Of
similar interest is a letter of May 10, 1601, addressed to
'Certain justices of the peace of the county of Middlesex'
in which it is stated that ' certain players in Moorefields, do
represent upon the stage in their interludes the persons of
some gentlemen of good desert and quality, that are yet
alive, under obscure manner, but yet in such sort as all the
hearers may take notice both of the matter and the persons
that are meant thereby.' Cf. Leonhardt, Uber Beaumont
und Fletcher s Knight of the Burning Pestle, p. 17.

11. The London Marchant. Dyce states that the Citizen
here refers to a work by Ford entitled The London Merchant,
which was among the rare collection of old plays destroyed
by the cook of the antiquary, John Warburton. The play
appears never to have been printed, though entered on the
Stationers' Books, June 29, 1660. Fleay remarks that The
London Merchant has only been attributed to Ford. He says
further, and very reasonably, that the title, as embodied here,
was the original name of The Knight of the Burning Pestle,
and that Dyce quite misunderstood the passage. Cf. Biog.
Chr. 1. 235.

11. Downe with your Title boy. The Citizen refers to
the placard upon which the name of the play was printed.
The title was usually pasted upon a board, and hung in

Notes 113

some conspicuous part of the stage, so that the audience
might read it. Cf. Kyd, The Spanish Tragedy 4. 3:

Well doon, Balthazar, hang up the Title.

In the Induction to Ben Jonson's Cynthia's Revels, the third
child advances to the front of the stage, saying : ' First, the
title of his play is Cynthia's Revels, as any man that hath
hope to be saved by his book can witness.' At the opening
of Ben Jonson's Poetaster, Envy, rising in the midst of the
stage, beholds the signboard and says : ' What's here ? Th'
Arraignment.' Cf. note in Poetaster, ed. Mallory (Yale Studies
in English, 1905).

13. Are you a member of this noble Citty? Are you a
citizen of this noble city ? Cf. Ben Jonson, Bartholomew Fair
2. 1 : ' Neuer shall I enough commend a worthy worshipfull
man, sometime a capitall member of this City.'

15. And a Free-man. That is, a citizen free to all the privi
leges of the city. The primal qualification of a full citizen
ship seems to have been, from the earliest periods of the
civic constitution, that of inhabitancy as a householder paying
scot and lot. About the time of Edward II, however, a
mercantile limitation was attached to the exercise of com
plete rights. The growth in power of the trading classes
gave them practical control of civic affairs. Through the
charters granting many peculiar privileges to the mercantile
orders, these orders came to monopolize civic functions to
such an extent that the Corporation of London was really
one concentrated Mercantile Guild, composed of many sub
divisions, rather than a concentration of territorial guilds,
which, in a political and more constitutional sense, it really
was. It was obviously to the joint interest of the trading
companies to exclude from the participation of their chartered
monopolies those who had not earned or paid for their
fellowship in one or the other of their associations. Restraint
by the tradesmen of the number of competitors was effected
by the system of apprenticeship. The usual avenue to the
privileges of the franchise came to be precisely through this
service, the apprentices being ordinarily enrolled into the

1 14 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [mo.

freedom of the city upon the expiration of their term. Citi
zenship, however, was not necessarily acquired in this manner.
One might be admitted to the freedom of the city by virtue
of his title by birth or patrimony; or he might become a
candidate for admission either by donation or upon a pecun
iary payment usually enacted on such occasions. Cf. George
Norton, Commentaries on the History, Constitution, and Chart
ered Franchises of the City of London, 1869, pp. lOlff.

16. yea, and a Grocer. The Citizen wishes to empha
size the peculiar importance of his citizenship. The Grocers
formed one of the twelve great livery companies of London,
which surpassed in wealth and power all the other guilds
of the city. Their origin dates from the reign of Edward III,
when the trading guilds were first generally chartered, and
all artificers and ' people of mysteries ' were obliged each to
choose a single occupation, to the exclusion of every other.
Upon this clear demarcation of the trades, the twelve great
companies rose to greater and greater prominence. Of all
the trade fraternities, they sent the largest number of members
to the Common Council. From them the Lord Mayor was
exclusively chosen for centuries. To them was generally ac
corded the honor of entertaining foreign princes and digni
taries. They took precedence in all civic triumphs and state
processions through the city. They were the companies who
were always most largely assessed in all levies for the gov
ernment of the City. The principal commercial interests
of the kingdom were centered in them, and they drew their
members from the chief citizens.

The Grocers were in the very front rank among the
twelve companies in wealth and influence. 'This company
furnished one hundred lord mayors, and is further dignified
by enrolling among its honorary members five kings, several
princes, eight dukes, three earls, and twenty lords together
with numerous distinguished statesmen, naval and military

officers, &c.' Maitland, New View of London, 1708, 2. 297.

In Wh.-C. 2. 160, there is a long list of the distinguished
members of the Grocers' Guild. The chief authorities on
the great companies which are employed in these notes are

IND.] Notes 115

Herbert, History of the Twelve Great Livery Companies, and
Heath, Some Account of the Grocers1 Company.

19. if you were not resolu'd to play the lacks. To play
the Jacks was a proverbial expression of the time, indicating
a mean or underhanded trick. Cf. The Tempest 4. 1 : ' Monster,
your fairy, which you say is a harmless fairy, has done little
better than played the Jack with us.'

22. The legend of Whittington. The play does not now
exist, but its theme was undoubtedly the old tale of Whitting
ton and his Cat, which is still familiar in the nursery. 'The
"legend" of Whittington is not known to have been narrated
before 1605. On 8 Feb., 1604—5, a dramatic version, en
titled "The History of Richard Whittington, of his lowe byrth,
his great fortune, as yt was plaied by the prynces servants,"
was licensed for the press (Arber, Stationers' Register 3. 282).
On 16 July, 1605, a license was granted for the publication
of a ballad called "The vertuous Lyfe and memorable Death
of Sir Richard Whittington, mercer, sometyme Lord Maiour."
Neither play nor ballad is known to have survived. The
earliest extant references to the "legend" figure in Thomas
Heywood's "If you know not me, you know nobody" (act 1.
sc. 1.) published in 1606, and in Beaumont and Fletcher's "Knight
of the Burning Pestle," which appeared five years later. Both
references imply that serious liberties had been taken in the
legend with the historical facts.' Diet, of Nat. Biog.

The real Richard Whittington was not the poor lad of
the legend, whose fortunes were made through the singular
agency of his cat, but the son of a peer. In his manhood
he became a rich merchant, and was three times chosen
Mayor of London. He died in 1423. On account of his many
public benefactions, 'Whittington's name was a household
word with the Londoners of the sixteenth century, when
many of the scanty facts of his Hie had already been for
gotten.' Our grocer's desire to have the story of this pop
ular hero and representative guild-leader enacted is emin
ently natural.

23. the life & death of sir Thomas Gresham ? with the
building of the Roy all Exchange ? ' Means certainly (Weber

n6 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [nn>.

says "probably") a drama by Heywood, entitled If you know
not me, You know nobody. The Second Part, With the building
of the Royal Exchange. And the famous Victory of Queen

Elizabeth: anno 1588, first printed in 1606.' Dyce. The

play is a narration of the founding of the Royal Exchange
by the celebrated Elizabethan merchant, Thomas Gresham,
who out of his vast fortune furnished the money for the
enterprise, and presented the Bourse to the city. Cf. Introd.,
p. XCVII.

The first stone of the Royal Exchange was laid June 7,
1566, and the building was opened by Queen Elizabeth in
person, Jan. 23, 1570—71, an incident which is incorporated
into Heywood's play. The building was not only a mart of
exchange ; it rivaled Paul's Walk in the Cathedral as a
gathering-place for newsmongers, who lounged and gossiped
in the 'pawn' or covered corridor, which extended about
the first story over the inner quadrangle or court. The
'pawn' was lined with a great number of small shops. The
merchants were both English and foreign, and so great was
the variety of nationalities that Dekker says : ' At every turn
a man is put in mind of Babel, there is such a confusion of
tongues.' Gresham's Exchange was destroyed in the great
fire of 1666. Two buildings of kindred purpose have since
been erected. Cf. Wh.-C.

24. the story of Queene Elenor, with the rearing of London
bridge upon wool-sacks. 'An allusion doubtless (Weber says
""probably") to The Famous Chronicle of king Edward the
first, sirnamed Edward Longshankes, with his returne from
the holy land. Also the life of Llevellen rebell in Wales.
Lastly, the sinking of Queene Elinor, who sunk at Char-
ingcrosse, and rose againe at Patters-hith, now named Queens-
hith, first printed in 1593 : it was written by Peele, and may
be found in my ed. of his Works, vol. i. "The rearing of

London Bridge upon woolsacks" is added in jest.' Dyce.

The episodes in this play which are concerned with Queen
Eleanor were drawn by Peele from a libelous ballad called
A Warning Piece To England Against Pride And Wickedness.
Cf. Introd., p. XCIX.

DO).] Notes 1 1 7

' The building of London Bridge upon wool-packs ' is an old
saying which arose from the duty on wool levied to defray
the cost of rebuilding the bridge. Cf. Knight, London 1. 79.
There was also a dance so called. Cf. The London Chan
ticleers, 1636 ?, Dods-Haz., Old Eng. Plays 12. 341 :' I have
been one in my days when we kept the Whitson ale, where
we danced The Building of London Bridge upon wool-packs,
and The Hay upon a grass-plot.' Wool-sacks in the text is
evidently a misprint, though none of the editions have cor
rected it.

27. you seem to bee an vnderstanding man. The stage-
director in Bartholomew Fair speaks of 'the vnderstanding
Gentlemen o'the ground,' the class to which our Citizen
belongs.

30. the Commons of the Citty. Commons is here the
ordinary term for ' the body of free citizens, bearing common

burdens, and exercising common rights.' N. E. D. Cf.

Grafton, Chronicles, 1568, 2. 142 : ' The Commons of the Citie
of London chose unto their Maior for that yere Thomas Fitz
Thomas.'

31-2. the life and death of fat Drake, or the repairing of
Fleetpriuies. ' " This probably likewise refers to a contem
porary play, though I have not met with any other allusion
to it." Weber. There could have been no such drama : the
title is merely a jocose invention.' Dyce.

42. Rafe. This is a form of Ralph still used in Suffolk.
Cf. Wright, Eng. Dial. Diet. It must have been common
in the 17th century, for, as the variants show, the modernized
name was not inserted in our text until 1711.

46. Let him kill a Lyon with a pestle. Conflicts with
lions and other wild beasts are so common a feature of old
tales that it is hazardous to specify any one instance as the
object of the satire here. One need not read any other
romances than the Palmerin cycle, with which our play is
directly concerned, to find this motive recurring again and
again. The Wife's suggestion, however, has been supposed
to have been inspired, not by the romances, but either by
an incident in Heywood's Four Prentices of London, or by a

n8 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [IND.

ballad entitled The Honour of a London Apprentice. Cf.
Introd., p. LXL

49. shall I come vp husband ? The Wife here appeals for
her husband's approval of her mounting the stage. Seats
on the stage were reserved for men, preferably for gallants
alone (cf. note on Weber's stage-direction, page 107—9), and
this intrusion of a commoner's wife is very unusual. She
herself seems to have some feeling of her indiscretion,
though she boasts of her audacity later on. Cf. Ind. 127.

Jonson, in the Induction to The Staple of News, clearly
indicates the immodesty of such actions as the Wife's. The
four Gossips in that play force a passage to the front of the
platform with much boldness, but with some trepidation
notwithstanding, and with an evident sense of novelty. One
of them, Gossip Tatle, appears to be embarrassed, and does
not wish to be seen :

' Mirth. Come Gossip, be not ashamed. The Play is the
Staple of News, and you are the Mistresse, and Lady of
Tatle, lets's ha' your opinion of it : Do you heare Gentleman ?
What are you? Gentleman-usher to the play? Pray you
helpe us to some stooles here.

Prologue. Where, o' the Stage, Ladies ?

Mirth. Yes, o' the stage; wee are persons of quality, I
assure you, and women of fashion ; and come to see, and to
be seene: My Gossip Tatle here, and Gossip Expectation,
and my Gossip Censure, and I am Mirth, the daughter of
Christmas, and spirit of Shrovetide. They say, It's merry
when Gossips meet, I hope your play will be a merry one .'

Prologue. Or you will make it such, Ladies. Bring a
forme here, but what will the Nobleman thinke, or the Grave
Wits here, to see you seated on the bench thus ?

Mirth. Why what should they thinke ? but that they had
Mothers, as we had, and those Mothers had Gossips (if their
children were Christened) as we are, and such as had a
longing to see Playes, and sit upon them, as wee doe, and
arraign both them and their Poets.'

Cf. note in The Staple of News, ed. Winter (Yale Studies
in English, 1905).

55. I'me a strager here. The Wife was probably a stranger
at the theatre because of the general disapproval of women's
appearance there. As would appear from Ind. 55-60, the

IND.] Notes 119

Citizen has been reluctant about taking his spouse to the
theatre at all.

For an expression of the Puritans' opposition to women's
attendance at the playhouse, cf. Stephen Gosson, School of
Abuse, pp. 58 ff. (Arber's Reprints}. Disapproval of the prac
tice, however, was not confined to the Puritans. From the
following ordinance, passed as early as Dec. 6, 1574, by
' Order of the Common Council of London in restraint of
Dramatic Exhibitions,' we learn of the peculiar snares held
out to women at the playhouses, as well as the dissolute
character of the audiences, and the tendency of the more
respectable part of the municipality to frown upon the evils
attending the early theatres: 'Whereas heartofore sondrye
great disorders and inconvenjences have been found to
ensewe to this Cittie by the inordynate hauntynge of greate
multitudes of people, specially youthe, to playes, enterludes
and shewes ; namelye occasyon of frayes and quarrels, eavell
practizes of incontinencye in great Innes, havinge chambers
and secrete places adjoynynge to their open stagies and
galleries, inveyglyngbge and allewrynge of maides, speciallye
orphanes, and good cityzens children under age, to previe
and unmete contracts, the publishing of unchaste, uncomeleye,
and unshamefaste speeches and doyings, withdrawinge of the
Quenes Majesties subjects from dyvyne service on Soundaies
& hollydayes.' Hazlitt, Drama and the Stage, p. 27.

Ben Jonson is careful to extend the dangers to wifely virtue,
in particular, to other influences besides the theatres, deftly
including the Puritan service itself : ' Alas sir, doe you ever
thinke to find a chaste wife, in these times now ? when there
are so many masques, plaies, puritan preachings, mad folks,
and other strange sights to be seen daily, private and
publique?' Epicoene 2. 2.

57. should haue seene. Was to have seen. ' Should is
sometimes used as though it were the past tense of a verb
" shall," meaning " was to," not quite "ought." Compare the
German "sollen".

"About his son that should (was to) have married a shep
herd's daughter." W. T.

120 The Knight of the Burning Pestle

"The Senate heard them and received them curteously,
and the people the next day should (were to) assemble in

counsell to give them audience." N.P. Alcibiades, 170.'

Abbott, Shakes. Gram., p. 170.

57. Jane Shore. We cannot unmistakably identify the play
to which allusion is here made. In the Stationers' Registers
(Arber's Transcript 3. 147) we read: 'Entred from their
copyes Vnder the handes of the Wardens : Twoo playes beinge
the ffirst and Second parts of Edward the IlIJth and the
Tahner of Tamworth With the history of the life and deathe
of Master Shore and Jane Shore his Wyfe as yt was lately
acted by the Right honorable the Erie of Derbye his servantes?
The date of the entry is Aug. 28, 1599. Fleay asserts that
this is the play to which the Wife refers, but that it is not
unquestionably the work of Heywood, as is assumed by
Collier, Halliwell, and others. Cf. Biog. Chr. 1. 288. Ward
ascribes the work to Heywood, and says that our passage
bears reference to it. Cf. Eng. Dram. Lit. 2. 556. Dyce is
inclined to look upon the Jane Shore of the text as some
drama which bore that title, and which is not extant. He
suggests that it may be a lost play of Chettle and Day, who
in January 1601—2 were paid forty shillings by Henslowe
in order that the 'booke play of Shoare' might be 'newly
written.' Jane Shore appears in a few scenes of the old
play, The True Tragedie of Richard III, 1594, which is asso
ciated with Shakespeare's Richard III ; and ' the well-fre
quented play of Shore' is mentioned in a metrical tract
entitled Pimlyco, or Runne Red-cap, 1609.

Whatever may have been the character of the lost play
or plays to which these allusions relate, there is sufficient
probability that the drama commonly attributed to Heywood
was in great favor with the citizens, and hence that the Wife
had it in mind. Cf. Introd., p. XCVIH.

59. Bold Beauchams. This is among the plays traditionally
ascribed to Heywood, but not now extant. 'Among the latter
may be mentioned The Bold Beachams (Beauchamps), which
in the Induction to The Knight of the Burning Pestle the
Citizen's Wife longingly couples with one of Heywood's

IND.] Notes 1 2 1

established City favorites.' Ward, Eng. Dram. Lit. 2. 583.

The ' established favorite ' is Jane Shore. The play is supposed
to have celebrated the valor of Thomas Beauchamp, Earl
of Warwick, 'who in the year 1346, with one squire and
six archers, fought in hostile manner with an hundred armed
men, at Hogges in Normandy, and overthrew them, slaying

sixty Normans, and giving the whole fleet means to land.'

Ray, Proverbs, ed. 1768, p. 218. Warwick's bravery became
so proverbial that the phrase bold Beauchamp or as bold
as Beauchamp passed current as a term applicable to any
man of surpassing courage. 'Drayton derives it from the
bravery of the earls of Warwick, of that name in general.

So hardy great and strong,
That after of that name to an adage grew,
If any man advent'rous hapt to shew,
Bold Beauchamp men him term'd, if none so bold as he.

Polyolb, song XVIII, p. 1007.' Nares, Glossary.

61. Boy. Boys attended at the theatres, and supplied the
wants of the spectators. Cf. Ben ]onson, Bartholomew Fair 5. 3 :
' Have you none of your pretty boys now, to bring stools, fill
tobacco, fetch ale, and beg money, as they have at the other
houses ? '

61. stooles. The spectators who sat upon the stage were
provided with stools. Dekker directs his gallant to wait until
the prologue is to begin, and then 'to creepe from behind
the Arras, with your Tripos, or three-footed stoole, in one hand,
and a teston [i. e. sixpence] mounted between a forefinger

and a thumbe in the other.' Gull's Hornbook, chap. 6.

Cf. The Staple of News, Induction.

We learn from Dekker that the price of a stool was
sixpence. Cf. Cynthia's Revels, Induction :

lj Child. A stool, boy !

2 Child. Ay, sir, if you'll give me sixpence I'll fetch
you one.'

63. we have neuer & boy to play him. It should be re
called that The Knight of the Burning Pestle was first acted
by the Children of the Queen's Revels at Whitefriars Theatre.
Cf. Ind. 8, and note. This company was organized from the

122 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [IND.

Children of the Chapel Royal, who had from the beginning
of Elizabeth's sovereignty presented plays at court. Towards
the end of her reign they were made into a regular company,
and ' set up ' at the Blackfriars, which was opened in 1597.

Under the Privy Seal of James I, Jan. 31, 1604, the
Chapel Children were reorganized as the Children of Her
Majesty's Revels. The warrant appoints Edward Kirkman,
Alexander Hawkins, Thomas Kendall, and Robert Payne 'to
provide, keepe, and bring up a convenient number of Child
ren. And them to practize and exercise in the quallitie of
playing, by the name of Children of the Revells to the Queene
wthin the Blackfryers in our Cittie of London, or in any other
convenient place where they shall thinck fitt for that pur
pose.' The complete document is reprinted in Hazlitt's The
English Drama and Stage, p. 40.

In 1610, January 4, the lease of Blackfriars having been
turned over to the King's company, the Children received
a new patent, and removed to Whitefriars. We learn from
the list of actors prefixed to Ben Jonson's Epicoene, which
was produced by this second Queen's Revels, that one mem
ber of the reorganized company was Nat Field, who was
even then becoming celebrated as an actor. Near the date
of our play, the Queen's Revels Children acted, besides The
Knight of the Burning Pestle, the following productions of
Beaumont and Fletcher: Four Plays in One, Love's Cure,
The Scornful Lady, The Coxcomb, and Cupid's Revenge.

For these and further particulars regarding the Queen's
Revels Children, consult Collier, Annals of the Stage 1. 352 ff.;
Fleay, Hist of the Stage ; and H. S. Mallory, ed. Ben Jonson's
Poetaster, pp. 137 ff.

69. a suit of reparrel and necessaries. The enactments
which regulated the apparel of the different classes of so
ciety were not extended to the dress of actors. The 'Act
of Apparel,' 3 and 4 Edw. IV, 1484, which specified these
regulations, made a distinct exception in regard to 'players
in their enterludes.' Like reservation was made in similar
enactments under Henry VIII. Cf. Collier, Annals of the
Stage 1. 27, 60.

IND.] Notes 123

The costliness of the stage-dresses varied no doubt ac
cording to the playhouse. Whitefriars, where our play was
presented, being a private theatre, and under royal patron
age, was presumably richer in its appointments than the
more public places. We gather, however, from the Induc
tion to Ben Jonson's Staple of News, that even the wardrobe
of the King's Servants, who acted that comedy, was meagre :
' O Curiosity, you come to see who wears the new suit today ;
whose cloathes are best pen'd, whatever the part be ; which
actor had the best leg and foot; what king plays without
cuffs, and his queen without gloves: who rides post in
stockings, and dances in boots.1

71. blow winde in the taile on him. F. W. Moorman,
editor of our play in The Temple Dramatists, glosses the
phrase to speak disparagingly of, an interpretation which has
in its support the similar meaning of the obsolete phrase
to blow upon, i. e. to criticize; but we have here, it seems
to me, the coarse, but sufficiently clear, indication of a
specific indignity.

80. Hold up the head. This is the figurative use of the
phrase To hold up one's head, i. e. to maintain one's dignity,
self-respect, or cheerfulness.

Do's he hold up his head (as it were ?) and strut in his gate ?
Merry Wives of Windsor 1. 4.

The proud man holds up his head too high to see his way.

Morris, Treat. Humility 8. 339.

85 — 9. By heauen . . . lake of hell. These lines are taken,
with slight alterations, from Hotspur's speech in / Henry IV
1. 3, where they stand thus :

By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap,

To pluck bright honour from the pale-fac'd moon ;

Or dive into the bottom of the deep,

Where fathom-line could never touch the ground,

And pluck up drowned honour by the locks.

Weber gives credence to the notion that this passage
as it stands in our play is in direct ridicule of Shakespeare.
This is an unwarranted assumption, for any reader of Henry IV
will see that Shakespeare intentionally introduces bombast

124 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [IND.

here in order to reflect the character of Hotspur ; and un
doubtedly Ralph is made to spout the lines simply in order
that he may appropriately comply with the Wife's request
that he speak a ' huffing part.' It can hardly be doubted
that Shakespeare's contemporaries understood his purpose in
the speech, and would not have attempted to travesty it.
There is in our passage, however, an evident satire on the
crude taste of the citizens, who assuredly would have taken
Hotspur's sounding phrases with a relish.

91. before. 'Perhaps crept into the text by the mistake
of the original compositor.' Dyce.

92. Musidorus. The first extant edition of this play, 1598,
bears the following title : A Most pleasant Comedie of Muse-
dorus the kings sonne of Valentia and Amadine the Kings
daughter of Arragon, with the merie conceits of Mouse. Newly
set foorth, as it hath bin sundrie times plaide in the honor
able Cittie of London. Both the action and the language
of Mucedorus are exceedingly childish and absurd. The hero,
Prince Mucedorus, secretly leaves his father's court, and in
the disguise of a shepherd rescues the King of Arragon's
daughter, Amadine, from the clutches of a bear. To him
her affections are speedily transferred from her affianced
lover, Segasto, who had precipitately fled at the sight of
the bear. Amadine and Mucedorus are on the point of elop
ing, when the princess is carried away by a wild-man-of-
the-woods named Bremo. Her lover, this time disguised as
a hermit, rescues her by killing the savage. They return
to court, Mucedorus reveals his identity, and the match is
sealed. The extraordinary popularity of the play is attrib
utable to 'the merie conceits' of Mouse, the clown, whose
antics are the broadest sort of buffoonery. The popular
success of Mucedorus was so enduring that no less than
eleven editions appeared between 1598 and 1668, and during
the suppression of the theatres it was acted by strolling
players. Cf. Introd., p. XCIX.

The authorship of the play is unknown. It was once
attributed to Shakespeare, but on the slightest evidence.
Fleay regards Thomas Lodge as the author, since Lodge

IND.] Notes 125

was the only playwright connected with the Queen's men
of 1587 (by whom it was acted) who could have written it.
Cf. Biog. Chr. 2. 50, and Ward, Eng. Dram. Lit. 2. 225.

92. before the Wardens of our Company. We recall here
the well-known fact that the early miracle plays were often
acted by the guilds. After the development of the regular
drama, plays continued to be presented by the members of
the different fraternities in the separate guildhalls. This was
especially the custom at the ceremonies which installed new
officers. Short dramas, like Mucedorus, and many of the
old miracle plays, interludes, and other pieces consisting of
a single subject, and making but one action, were particularly
in vogue. This taste continued until long after the establish
ment of the regular theatres. There is an illustration of the
practice given by an original license from the Master of
Revels in 1662, preserved in the Guildhall library, which
authorizes 'George Bailey, musitioner, and eight servants,
his company, to play for one year a play called Noah's
Flood.' The eight persons were just sufficient to personate
the patriarch and his family. Cf. Herbert, History of the
Twelve Great Companies 1. 85.

Normally, a livery guild was composed of a prime or
master warden, secondary wardens, a court of assistants, a
livery, and the general body of freemen. To them may be
added the apprentices, making in all six grades. Cf. Hazlitt,
The Livery Companies of the City of London, p. 19. In
speaking of the Grocer's Guild, Maitland says : ' This com
pany consists of a prime and three other wardens, fifty-two
assistants, and one hundred and twenty-seven livery-men,

whose fine upon admission is twenty pounds.' History of

London, p. 1232.

94. hee should haue played Jeronimo with a shoemaker
for a wager. Jeronimo is the name of the hero of two Eliz
abethan plays. The First Part of Jeronimo, not printed
till 1605, is very questionably attributed to Thomas Kyd.
The Spanish Tragedy, or Hieronimo is mad againe, is the
undoubted production of Kyd ; the earliest extant edition
which bears a date is the quarto of 1594, though there is

126 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [IND.

another undated quarto which is seemingly earlier. Cf.
F. S. Boas, Works of Thomas Kyd, 1901.

The Spanish Tragedy is now acknowledged to contain
a great deal of dramatic power ; yet it contains in an ex
cessive degree the extravagances of ' the tragedy of blood,'
of which it is the chief example. In its own day, its ab
surdities called forth repeated ridicule in contemporary lite
rature. Some of the best known allusions or quotations are
found in Taming of the Shrew, Ind. 1 ; 3 Henry VI 5. 6 ;
Ben Jonson's Every Man In his Humour 1. 4 ; Cynthia's
Revels, Ind. 2 ; Alchemist 3. 2 ; and The New Inn 2. 2. In
our play, the most direct and extendejLsatixe^on the tragedy
is^Act 5, 11. 319-71.

It seems not to have been uncommon to act a part for
a wager. Cf. Dekker, The Gull's Hornbook, chap. 7 : ' And
let any hooke draw you either to a Fencers supper, or to
a Players that acts such a part for a wager ; for by this
meanes you shall get experience, by beeing guilty to their
abhominable shauing.' In Malone's Shakespeare (in Boswell
3. 235), there is printed a letter based upon a wager that
the actor Alleyn would equal his predecessors Bentley and
Knell in some play wherein the latter had appeared. It is
addressed to Alleyn, and concludes : ' I see not how you can
any waie hurt your credit by this action : for if you excell
them, you will then be famous ; if equall them, you win both
the wager and credit ; if short of them, we must and will
saie, Ned Allen still.

Your friend to his power
W. P.'

96. if he will go in. The speaker of the prologue is sug
gesting that Ralph enter the players' dressing-room, which
was known as the 'tiring-house,' and was situated directly
behind the stage. There, because of the frequent change
of bills in the old theatres, a large supply of properties
likely to be needed was kept on hand. Ralph doubtless
found the desired grocer's garments stored there. Cf. In-
trod., p. LXXIX, for a passage from Brome's Antipodes which

IND.] Notes 127

gives a ludicrous description of the incongruous medley of
dresses and other stage-furniture in the tiring-house.

97. Grocery. The dictionaires give this word as a term for
the goods or the trade of the grocers, and do not apply it
as a collective term for the members of the grocers' guild,
which is evidently its meaning here. Eds. 1711 and 1750
read grocers. Cf. variants.

97. in their kinde. 'The grocers' resolutions prescribed
the wearing of a livery to that company, at their first
meeting in 1345; and from their ordinances in 1348, which
are, perhaps, the earliest known in which the fashion of it
is particularized, we find that the common habit consisted
of an upper and an under garment, called a "coat and a
surcote ; " the cloak or gown, and the hood, being reserved
for ceremonials, and completing what was termed "the full
suit." There seems also to have been an undress, or part
dress, called the " hooding," perhaps allowed to freemen, who
were not esteemed "full brothers," like the livery. ... To
be admitted on the livery of a company was technically
called "having the clothing." The grocers' fraternity were
to be "clothed once a year in a suit of livery ; and if they
desire more, the same to be by assente, whether as coats
or surcotes ; " the purchase of this dress was to be made by
the wardens, who were to receive a deposit of one penny
from each person ordering it, forty pence more when the
livery was bought, and the balance when it was delivered
to the wearer. It was to be worn by all the fraternity, and
was to last for two years. . . . All the companies continued
to vary in the colour of their habit, until it became settled,
about the beginning of the seventeenth century ; but they
appear, notwithstanding their differences as to colours, to
have dressed, as to fashion, nearly uniform as now.' Her
bert, History of the Twelve Livery Companies of London 1. 58.
There seems always to have been a combination of colours
in the habit of the Grocers. In 1411 it was scarlet and
green, in 1418 scarlet and black ; later it was blue and dark
red, then 'vylotte in grayne and for hodyes, pasted with
crymsen,' &c. &c.

128 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [nn>.

110. What stately music have you? The custom of intro
ducing music between the acts seems to have been in vogue
from the earliest period of the English drama. 'At the end
of Act 2 of Gammer Gurton's Needle, Diccon, addressing
himself to the instrumental performers, tells them : " In the
meantime, fellows, pipe up your fiddles;" and, perhaps, we
may conclude that music was also played at the close of the
other acts, although it is not mentioned. In The Two Italian
Gentlemen, by Anthony Munday (printed about 1584), the
different kinds of music to be played after each act are
mentioned, whether " a pleasant galliard," " a solemn dump,"
or " a pleasant allemaigne." Marston is very particular in
his Saphonisba, 1606, in pointing out the instruments to be

played during the four intervals of the acts: "the coronets

and organs playing loud full music " for Act i ; " organs mixed
with recorders" for Act ii; "organs, viols, and voices" for

Act iii ; and "a base lute a treble viol" for Act iv.' Collier,

Annals of the Stage 3. 448.

111. shawmes. A shawm 'was clearly a reed instrument
like the shepherd's pipe, although Mr. Chappell thinks it more
closely allied to the modern clarinet. The older dictionaries
define it as " a hautboy or cornet," and it is so frequently
associated with the bagpipe that there must evidently have

been some affinity between the two instruments.' Grove,

Dictionary of Music and Musicians.

114. Rafe playes a stately part, and he must needs haue
shawnes. The Citizen rightly regards the music of the shawm
as ' stately,' and appropriate to ' a stately part,' since the in
strument was commonly played on state occasions. The
pageant of the Lady of the Lake for Queen Elizabeth at
Kenilworth Castle, 1575, was, according to the account of
an eye-witness, 'clozed vp with a delectable harmony of
Hautboiz, Shalmz, Cornets, and such other looud muzik.'
Cf. Laneham's Letter (Ballad Soc. Pub., 1871, p. 7).

119. waits. ' Originally certain minstrels or musical watch
men attached to the households of kings and other great
persons, who paraded an assigned district sounding the hours
at night. Until very recently, the Waits of the City of West-

IND.] Notes 129

minster were regularly sworn before the " court of Burgesses."
. . . Many cities and towns, both English and foreign, en
couraged and licensed their "waits", Exeter among other
places having a regular company as early as the year 1400.
. . . The word was sometimes used to describe those who
acted as the town musicians but who did not do duty as
watchmen. It was also given to any company of performers
when employed as serenaders. The instruments used were
a species of hautboys, called also shawms, and from their use

"waits".' Stainer and Barrett, Dictionary of Musical Terms.

Cf. Shirley, Witty Fair One 4. 2 : ' We will haue the city
waites down with us, and a noise of trumpets.'

119. South-warke. This now important borough of London,
situated on the south side of the Thames, was even in the
17th century a district of considerable size. ' In 1631, during
a time of scarcity, the Lord Mayor counted 16,880 mouths
in Southwark.' Wh.-C.

120. that will fetch them all or'e the water. It will be
recalled that the Citizen is in the Whitefriars Theatre, situ
ated near Fleet Street, and hence on the side of the ' water '
opposite Southwark. Cf. Ind. 8, and note.

126. sit you merry all. Sit you merrily all. Adjectives
are freely used as adverbs in Elizabethan English. Cf. Mac
beth 2. 4 :

Which the false man does easy.

Cf. also Measure for Measure 5. 1 :

And she will speak most bitterly and strange.

133. priuate taxes. 'Charges, censures on individuals.'
Dyce. Cf. As You Like It 2. 7:

Who cries out on pride,
That can therein tax any private party?

Who can come in and say that I mean her,
When such a one as she such is her neighbor?

The sentiment of the two prologues of Ben Jonson's Epi-
coene is similar to that of the present passage. We are
told that the art of making plays is ' to content the people,'

130 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT i

and to avoid personal censures, though vices should be
scourged :

And still't hath been the praise of all best times,
So persons were not touched, to tax the crimes.

Cf. The Magnetic Lady 2. 1 : ' Prol. A play, though it apparal
and present vices in general, flies from all particularities in
persons.'

133. immodest. Ed. 1778 and Weber print for metrical
reasons ' all immodest.'

138. The prologue, having been allowed to finish his lines,
discloses the usual purpose of such speeches as his, which
was to elicit a favorable attention for the actors by con
ciliating the audience or hinting at the theme of the ensuing
play.

ACT I.

3. And whom. And one whom. There is an ellipsis of
the predicative nominative here, in conformity with the fre
quent 17th century practice of omitting the nominative when
ever there can be no doubt what it is. Cf. Abbott, Shakes.
Gram., p. 287.

4. gaue thee heate and growth. This is a figurative ex
pression, of which the meaning is suggested by the context.
The Merchant means that he has lifted Ralph out of the
discouragements attendant upon 'fortune's fall,' that he has
given him new animation, vigor, spirit, and the chance of
advancement in life.

30. She's priuate to her selfe and best of knowledge.
She is alone aware of her own purposes, is her own mistress,
and ' best knows whom she'll make so happy as to sigh for.'

38. must be. All eds. except Qx and Weber read shall
be, an alteration which gains support from the presence of
shall be in the preceding line. It is probable, however, that
the original text is right. Must be in the sense of simple
futurity, devoid of any idea of compulsion, is sometimes
found in the Elizabethan writers. Cf. A Midsummer Nighfs
Dream 2. 1 :

ACT i] Notes 131

Why art thou here,

Come from the farthest steppe of India ?
But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon,
Your buskin'd mistress and your warrior love,
To Theseus must be wedded.

Cf. also Macbeth 5. 8. 12, and Abbott, Shakes. Gram., p. 223.

51. Statute. Fleay, without naming the articles of the act,
asserts that the statute to which an allusion is here made
was passed on Jan. 7, 1609. Cf. Biog. Chr. 1. 183. Parlia
ment, hi the first place, was not in session on that date, and,
moreover, none of its provisions passed in this period of
James' reign are applicable to our passage.

54. offers. An obsolete sense of offer in N. E. D. is that
of something presented for acceptance. This is not far from
the sense of the text; but, as opposed to the Merchant's
shows of anger, the word would seem to have the more
specific meaning of something held out as a bribe or means of
persuasion (i. e. to induce Luce to forsake Jasper and marry
Humphrey), and I have so defined it in the Glossary.

61. desires. ' "Probably designs". — Ed. 1778. The text
is perfectly right, being accordant with the language of the
age, and meaning, " to what we ourselves desire to consum
mate." ' Weber.

72. and. Modern eds. read an, meaning if. The alteration
is unwarranted. Both and and an, in the sense of if, were
in good usage in the 17th century. See Glossary. Cf.Shelton,
trans, first part of Don Quixote, 1612, Bk. 3, chap. 7, p. 183 :
' They may tell it and they please.'

77 — 9. Licoras . . . bid him bite a peece, 'twill open his
pipes the better. The Wife attests the early use of liquorice
for loosening the phlegm and clearing the voice. N. E. D.
cites Horman, Vulg. 1519, p. 39: 'Lycuresse is good for the
voyce.' Cf. also Boorde, Dyetary, 1542, p. 287 : ' Lyqueryce
. . . doth loose fleume.'

92. Although, as Writers say, all things haue end. Cf.
Heywood, If you know not me, p. 266, ed. Dyce :

All things that haue beginnings haue their ends :
Your hate must haue conclusion ; then be friends.

132 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT i

101. didst thou euer see a prettier child. Cf. Ind. 8, and
note. As the context proves, the Wife's meaning is, ; didst
thou ever see a more clever, better trained, child ? ' Cf. pretty
in Glossary.

104. M. Monkester's schollars. Richard Monkester, or Mul-
caster, was one of the celebrated pedagogues of the day.
He was made head-master of the Merchant Taylors' School
upon its organization in 1561. It is supposed that the poet
Spenser was one of his earliest pupils at the Merchant Tay
lors'. In 1596, he was elected head-master of St. Paul's School.
He held this office until his resignation in 1608. He died
in 1611. His pedagogical methods are of peculiar interest
in connection with the Wife's query, in that he trained his
pupils in the performance of masks and plays, the boys often
appearing before Elizabeth and the Court. Cf. Diet, of Nat.
Biog. Collier makes mention of plays enacted by these
children before Hampton Court, at Christmas and Shrovetide.
Cf. Annals of the Stage 1. 295, 208-9, 248-9.

109. conny. This old term of endearment, as is here ex
emplified, may be applied to a man, although N. E. D. notices
it only as applied to a woman. For the more prevalent
employment cf. 4. 44, 32. 487, &c.

116. has. '"He has" is frequently pronounced and some
times written "has." . . .

Bring him forth ; has sat in the stockes all night,
A.W.IV. 3. 116.' Abbott, Shakes. Gram., p. 288. Modern
ized by Dyce to h'as. Cf. variants.

134. your fathers warren. The Merchant has an eye to
the profit which was derived at the time from the sale of
rabbits' skins. 'As for warrens of conies, judge them almost
innumerable, and daily like to increase, by reason that the
black skins of those beasts are thought to countervail the
prices of their naked carcases, and this is the only cause
why the grey are less esteemed. Near unto London their
quickest merchandise is of the young rabbits.' — Harrison,
Description of England, 1577, Bk. 2, chap. 15.

144. Tiller. In obsolete use, a tiller is the handle of a
crossbow ; hence it is employed, as in the present instance, to

ACT i] Notes 133

denote the bow itself. See Glossary. Cf. The Scornful Lady 5. 1 :
'Bring out the cat-hounds; I'll make you take a tree then
with my tiller bring down your gib-ship.'

148. But as the proverb sales, I cannot cry, I would you
had not seen me. I have found no such proverb. Luce, in
keeping with the situation, seems to be uttering foolishness.

Dyce supplies a satisfactory alteration of the punctuation.
Cf. variants.

151. strange passion. ' Sympson says, "To send for a con
stable and raise a town, to withstand a STRANGE passion,
borders seemingly near upon nonsense ;" he would there
fore read, STRONG passion: but we see no reason why she
may not go from one metaphor to another.' Ed. 1778.

155. that great watch of Midsummer day at night. Dyce
quotes from Herbert, Hist, of the Twelve Great Livery Com
panies 1. 196: 'The setting out of what was called "the Mid
summer watch," we should have noticed earlier, as properly
belonging to the more ancient class of the companies' shows
already mentioned, but shall describe it here. This was, as
we have seen "in the Order of the companies for the Marching
Watch," a ceremony of established use in the 6th of Ed
ward IV, and similar directions appear to have been regu
larly given every succeeding reign. Stow gives a splendid
account of this pageant in the reign of Henry VEL, which
monarch came purposely with his queen to view it. We
shall not again repeat his account, which has been often
copied, but merely observe, that the Marching Watch was
a grand sort of annual military muster of the citizens, em
bodying all the companies, for the purpose of forming a reg
ular guard for the city during the ensuing year. The emu
lation for magnificence on this occasion created an expense
so great and detrimental that Henry "VTfl. prohibited the
show, and confined the citizens to the merely serviceable
and efficient object of the assembling. It was afterwards
revived on a more economical plan, and continued under
the name of the "Standing Watch," till the force was finally
superceded by the City Trained Bands, now the Artillery
Company.'

134 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT i

160. a paire of gloues. Among the most ancient of mar
riage-customs is that of presenting gloves as love-tokens both
at the betrothal and the wedding. In The Scornful Lady 1. 1
are these lines :

Believe me, if my wedding-smock were on,

Were the gloves bought and given, the licence come,

I would not wed that year.

The vagaries aroused in lovers' minds by exchanging
gloves before marriage are indicated in the following passage
from the Arraignment of lewd, idle, forward, and unconstant
Women, 1632: 'Some thinke that if a woman smile on
them, she is presentlie over head and ears in love. One
must weare her glove, another her garter, another her
colours of delight.'

Gloves were given not only to the contracting parties, but
also to the wedding guests. In Ben Jonson's Epicoene 3. 6,
Lady Haughty, incredulous as to the predicted marriage of
Morose, says : ' We see no ensigns of a wedding here, no
character of a Bridall. Where be our Scarves and Gloves ? '
The mementos were even sent to friends who were absent
from the ceremony. Cf. Field, Amends for Ladies : ' I am
come from Master Ingen this morning, who is married, or
to be married; and though your ladyship did not honour
his nuptials with your presence, he hath by me sent each
of you a pair of gloves.1 Cf. further, Beck, Gloves, their An
nals and Associations, London, 1883, pp. 235-238, and Brand,
Popular Antiquities 2. 125.

161. the dogs tooth, nor the Doues. One might easily
presume that Humphrey is referring to the dog-tooth violet,
through his being oblivious to the fact that this flower is
purple in color ; however, the conjunction of the dog's tooth
with the dove's would at least indicate that he has the
strictly canine article in mind. Moreover, the latter inter
pretation is quite in keeping with the absurdity of Humphrey's
utterances in general.

163. whipt about with silk. Expensive gloves were usually
very elaborate affairs, made of fine leather or wool, and

ACT i] Notes 135

embellished with intricate designs embroidered in silk. Cf.
Beck, Gloves, their Annals, chap. 10.

166. F. S. This is probably some glove-dealer's trade
mark, by which the price of Humphrey's gift is indicated.

167. They cost me three and two pence. Weber says
that these gloves are very cheap when compared with some
worn at the time. As a matter of fact, Humphrey has made
rather a lavish expenditure. Beck, in Gloves, their Annals,
p. 246, instances a great number of costly gloves given by
Oxford University to high dignitaries in church and state
under the Tudors, and in these cases, the price is usually
below three-and-a-half shillings.

171. nor so, nor so. This hardly seems to be the ordi
nary use of the correlatives nor . . . nor, meaning neither . . .
nor. Rather, it looks as though there were here the nega
tive of an ordinary colloquial phrase, or so, meaning some
thing of the kind, in which case Humphrey's utterance would
have the sense, nothing of the kind, not at all, no, no. The
affirmative phrase is employed in Ben Jonson's Every Man
Out of His Humour 1. 1 : 'I will take occasion of sending
one of my suits to the tailor's, to have the pocket repaired,
or so.' My interpretation seems to be supported by the fol
lowing passage in Nash's Pierce Pennilesse (Wks. 2. 91).
Nash says that ' the Trades and Traders of the Citie ' oppose
playhouses, because they surmise 'if there were no Playes,
they should have all the companie that resort to them bye
bowzying and beere-bathing in their houses every afternoon.
Nor so, nor so, good brothers all, for there are other places
beside where money can bestow itself.'

180. loue hath tost me, In furious blanket. Humphrey's
figurative expression may have been suggested by an un
happy experience in an actual blanket. Blanket-tossing was
a sort of irregular punishment often inflicted for the hu
miliation of the victim and the amusement of the spectators.
Falstaff says of Pistol : ' A rascally slave ! I will toss the rogue

in a blanket.1 2 Henry IV 2. 4. Sancho Panza is tossed

in a blanket, Don Quixote, Part 1, chap. 17. Cf. Ben Jonson,
Epicoene 5. 4 : ' We'll have our men blanket ' hem i ' the hall.'

136 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT i

And Dekker, The Guls Horn-Booke, chap. 6 : ' You shall dis
grace him worse then by tossing him in a blanket.1

184. hartely. The modern eds. spell heartily. I am in
clined to regard hartely and heartily as distinct words. Ac
cording to N. E. D., hartely is a 17th century spelling of
heartly, an obsolete adverb having practically the same
meaning as the modern heartily, but separate from it in
usage. Moreover, it is doubtful whether the modern word
ever presented the variant spelling of the text. However,
as the meaning is the same whichever reading is chosen,
it is a matter of small importance.

188. forsaking of my diet. A rigid course of diet was a
common sort of treatment in venereal diseases. Cf. 3. 426,
and note. Is Humphrey to be counted among the class of
patients whom Ralph rescues from the barber in Act 3 ?

195. with assurance. The variant reading, ' with full as
surance,' was made for the sake of the metre.

200. take me with you. In Cent. Diet, and Nares' Glossary,
this phrase is equivalent to let me accompany or follow your
course of thought, let me understand you. In the text, however,
it apparently means hear me out, understand me fully, and
is so denned by Dyce. It bears the second interpretation
in Massinger's Plays, ed. Gifford 2. 488, and 3. 66.

209. Barbarian kind. Barbarian, as here used, is an ob
solete term applying to the Saracen countries lying along
the north coast of Africa. See Glossary. Barbary horses, or
barbs, are a breed introduced by the Moors into Spain from
Barbary and Morocco, and remarkable for their speed, en
durance, and docility. In Spain this race has greatly de
generated, and true barbs are rare even in their own country.

213. Waltham Forrest. This was one of the great wood-
and game-preserves which were established in the early
history of England. The remnant of it which still exists is
know as Epping Forest, the portion of the ancient Forest
of Essex which lies N. and W. of the Roding between the
town of Epping and Forest Gate, near Stratford. 'In its
original untouched condition, the Forest of Essex appears to
have stretched across the country from the Forest of Mid-

ACT i] Notes 137

dlesex at Waltham to Colchester and the sea ... By grants
enclosures, and encroachments, the forest was gradually
diminished in extent as, with the growth of population, the
land grew in value, until it was limited to the S. W. portion,
which then, no longer the Forest of Essex, came to be known
as the Forest of Waltham . . . The boundaries of Waltham
Forest as thus defined [Act of 16 Charles I, 1640], comprised
twelve parishes wholly within the forest, and 9 partly within
it; and included what have since been known as Epping
and Hainault Forests. The area of the forest, according to
a computation made from their survey by a Commission in
1793, was in all about "60,000 statute acres, of which about
48,000 acres, are the estimated contents of enclosed private
property, and the remaining 12,000 acres, the amount of the
enclosed woods and wastes." Of this enclosed land 9000

acres belonged to Epping Forest, 3000 to Hainault.' Thome,

Handbook to The Environs of London 1. 191. During the
19th century Hainault was entirely destroyed. Epping Forest,
though reduced to considerably less than half its former size,
was still, in 1876, an open woodland of nearly 3000 acres area.

Waltham or Epping Forest was always a favorite resort
of the London citizens. During the last century, it was the
especial recreation-ground for the crowded districts of the East
End. A popular privilege, handed down from the time of
Henry I, was that accorded to the citizens of hunting deer
and other game within the forest once a year, on Easter
Monday. This occasion came to be known as the 'Epping
Hunt.'

Some of the scenes of the play, The Merry Devil of Ed
monton, anon., 1607, are laid in Waltham Forest.

218. By my faith and troth. There is an anonymous
epigram, printed by Bullen, Middleton's Works 3. 22, which
indicates the successive vogue of different oaths :

In elder times an ancient custome t'was

To swear in weighty matters by the masse,

But when the masse went downe ye old men note

They swore then by the crosse of this same grote ;

Then by their faith the common oath was sworne;

138 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT i

Last, having sworne away all faith and troth,

Only God damme me was ye common oath.

This custom kept decorum by gradation,

That loosing Masse, Crosse, Faith, they find Danation.

The passage in The Family of Love 1. 3, upon which
Bullen makes this annotation, contains practically the same
list of oaths.

221. 'faith. Though ordinarily our play has i' faith or 'i
faith, the substitution of these forms in the present passage
by former editors was needless. 'Faith as an abbreviation
of the phrase in faith was formerly of frequent occurence.
Cf. 1. 233. Cf. A Day, English Secretary, 1586, 2. 48: 'Faith
sir ... tis but as the wiser hold opinion.'

223. i'le make some 'em smoake for't. I'll make some of
them suffer for it. Cf. Titus Andronicus 4. 3 :

This maugre all the world will I keepe safe,
Or some of you shall smoke for it in Rome.

224. fie, this stinking Tobacco. The literature of the
time contains a vast number of allusions to the/laJ:d.y^jicQiu££j;L
habit of smoking tobacco. Edmund Howes, in his continu
ation of Stowe's Annals, ed. 1631, p. 1038, says: 'Tobacco
was first brought and made known in England by Sir John
Hawkins about the year 4^65^ but not used by Englishmen
in many years after.' Sir Walter Raleigh is generally ac
credited with having made the use of it fashionable.

The public was divided into two hostile camps the smokers

and the non-smokers. In our play the Wife, as we see, plants
herself stoutly on the side of the opposition. The most con
spicuous opponent of the new habit was the king, James I.
His celebrated Counterblaste to Tobacco (published in Arber's
Reprints) is an arrogant and furibund diatribe, quite devoid
of judgment or logic, but very amusing. He concludes in
this fashion: 'A custom lothsome to the eye, hateful to the
nose, harmefull to the braine, dangerous to the Lungs, and
in the black stinking fume thereof, neerest resembling the
horrible Stigian smoke of the pit that is bottomless.'

Among the devotees of the weed, smoking became so much
the fad as to be taught and practised as an art. There were

ACT i] Notes 139

regular places of instruction throughout London, particularly
the shops of druggists, where adepts gave training in this
'noble art' to social aspirants who wished to be properly
equipped for appearance in fashionable resorts. The gallants
looked upon the ability to smoke gracefully as one of the
first marks of a gentleman.

Smoking in all parts of the audience of the early theatres
was very common. In our play the Wife addresses the gallants
on the stage. The dandies' display of their accomplishments
in the art was especially offensive and ridiculous at the
theatre. Ben Jonson takes occasion to satirize it in Cynthia's
Revels, Induction. In The Scornful Lady 1. 2, the riotous
companions of young Loveless are spoken of as fellows ' that
wear swords to reach fire [i. e. strike their lights], at a play,
and get there the oiled end of a pipe for their guerdon.'

An adequate treatment of the general subject of tobacco,
with a special chapter on its literary connections, is Fairholt's
Tobacco : Its History and Associations, London, 1859.

225. men. 'me] 'So Sympson rightly printed "from the
conjecture of an unknown friend." Old eds. "men"; which
the later editors absurdly gave.' Dyce.

226-8. The variants should be consulted for an intelli
gible rendering of these exceedingly corrupt lines. Dyce gives
the only completely rational punctuation.

228. make chimneys a your faces. One is reminded of
the impression of Paul Hentzner, a German, traveling in
England in 1598, who speaks of the constant custom of
smoking at Bear Gardens and other public places. He says :
'At these spectacles, and everywhere else, the English are
constantly smoking tobacco, and in this manner : They have
pipes on purpose, made of clay, into the farther end of which
they put the herb, so dry that it may be rubbed into powder,
and putting fire to it, they draw the smoke into their mouths,
which they puff out again, through their nostrils, like funnels.'
— A Journey into England. (Augervylle Soc. Reprints, p. 28).

230. like a Grocer in's shop. That is, in coat, surcoat, and
blue apron, as distinguished from the grocers' livery which
was worn on state occasions. Cf. Ind. 97, and note. I am

140 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT i

inclined to think that the Wife exspected Ralph to appear
in the state paraphernalia of the grocers. Otherwise her
joyous anticipation of seeing him in his finery (Ind. 99) would
have been pointless.

231. Beading Palmerin of England. From the next note
it will be seen that this is a mistake, since Ralph reads out
of Palmeri n de Oliva; but, as Weber remarks, this must either
be an inadvertence of the author, or an intentional mistake,
as Palmerin of England is again mentioned at 1. 269.

Palmerin de Oliva is the first, at least considered in re
lation to the order of events, of a famous series of romances
which is concerned with the imaginary history of the Palmerin
family. It first appeared in Spanish, and was printed at
Salamanca in 1511. During the 16th century, a number
of impressions in Spanish and French were published. The
romance was translated into English by Antony Munday. The
first part of this version was published in 1588, the second
in 1597, both in black letter. The full title is Palmerin D1 Oliva,
or the Honorable Historie of Palmerin D" Oliva. Continuing
his rare fortunes, Knightly deeds of Chivalry, happy successe
in love, and how he was crowned Emperor of Constantinople.
Herein is likewise concluded the variable troubles of the Prince
Trineus, and faire Agricola the Kings daughter of England :
with their fortunate marriage.

235-49. Then . . . me. The passage is condensed from
chap. 51 of the first part of Munday's translation of Palmerin
de Oliva. The chapter is entitled 'How the Queene of
England, and Agricola her daughter were in danger to be
ravished by the Giant Franarco, and of the succour they
had, by Trineus, Palmerin, and Ptolme.' Palmerin, the hero
of the romance, and his friend Ptolme, have accompanied
Trineus, the Prince of Allmaigne, to England, and because
of the love of Trineus for the English princess, Agricola,
they have fought with the English army in a victorious battle
against the King of the Scots, whom the father of Trineus,
the Emperor of Allmaigne, has befriended. The brother of
Franarco has been slain in the battle by Palmerin, and the
giant attempts to wreak the vengeance which is indicated

ACT i] Notes 141

by the heading of the chapter. Since the adventure is highly
characteristic of the romances of chivalry, so far as they are
the object of satire in our play, I here transcribe a large
part of the account of it :

'The king returning from his chase with his Company,
little minding any unfortunate event, and conferring with
Palmerin, till they drew nere vnto their Tents: at length
they heard a great Tumult, and behold a Squire making
towards them, so fast as his horse could gallop. Palmerin
doubting some vnhappy chance, and remembering his dreame
said to the king: Neuer credit me my Lord, if the Squire
come not to you about some speciall affaires, as well may be
gathered by his speedy pace. At these words the Gentle
man came to the King, reporting how the Giant Franarco,
Lord of the castle of Carbones, since his departure came to
the tents, and from thence had violently taken the Queene
and her daughter Agricola, notwithstanding the resistance of
many Knights, who striuing to defend her, lost their Hues.
The King with these words, stroken in wonderfull griefe, said,

Ah Gentleman, this villainous Traytor hath notoriously
wronged vs: How is it possible to recover them againe,
before they be dishonered : Trineus and Palmerin moued at
these bad newes, asked the Squire which way he went with
the Queene and her daughter: In truth my Lord (quoth he)
I cannot tell you which way he tooke, we all were so
troubled and misused by his Traine : except they went along
the Forrest, and so are gone to the next village. Then
Palmerin clasping on his Helmet, and snatching his Lance
from his Dwarf e, galloped amaine after the Giant, not speak
ing a word Trineus, who accompanied with Ptolome, rode
apace after him, and as they passed by the Queenes Tent,
they saw the Ladies and the Gentlemen heauly lamenting,
especially Eufemia, the chiefe companion to the Princesse
Agricola. Diuers knights beside armed themselves to pursue
the Giant but Trineus not a little enraged, followed the
tracks of the horse, demanding of all he met if they saw
the Villain that had stolne away the Ladies. . . . Trineus
hauing gotten the sight of them, came posting to the Giant,

142 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT i

saying. Stay trayterous theife, for thou mayest not so carry
her away, that is worthy of the greatest Lord in the world.
With these words they ran fiercely together, Trineus giuing
the Giant a sore wound on the shouldier, as he f el from his
horse with hals vpward. Palmerin being not far off, and
doubting least the Prince had bin slain, came in a great
rage to Franarco, saying: Monstrous enemy to manhood,
what maketh thee so fancy to lay violent hands on Ladyes
of such account: By my sword villaine, I shall make thee
barely to pay for thy folly. So couching their lances they
met together, the Giant fayling, and their horses roughly
shouldring one another, as their Masters were both thrown
to the ground, Franarco (being heavy and vnwieldy) had
such a fall, as easily he could not recover himselfe. But
Palmerin nimbly getting vp againe, gaue the Giant such a
wound on his right legge, as the flesh hung downe pitti-
fully to behold. The Giant not being able to stand any
longer on that Legge, set his knee to the ground, being glad
to defend the strokes of Palmerin, who reached him such
a sound blow on the forehead, with the hilts of his sword,
as the Giant fel on his back, when Palmerin soon setting
his foote on his breast, with his sword diuided his head
from his shouldiers. During this fight, Trineus and Ptolome
made after the Queene and her daughter whom the Gyants
Knights drove cruelly before them.

Now was it matter well worthy memory, to see the braue
behauiour of these two knights, but chiefly of Trineus before
his sweete Mistresse, whose presence endued him with such
exceeding courage, as he thought himself able to conquer
the Whole world, and therefore sufficient for them all, were
they as many more in number. But strength doth not always
equal courage, and Louers think more then they are able
to doe, as to Trineus perill it had now fallen out, but that
a company of the Kings Knights pursued, whereupon began
a hot encounter betweene them, and Trineus camming to
the Knight that had Agricola behind him, set him soon beside
his horse, with his knecke broken his fall, so that the Prin-
cesse getting forth of the throng, and seeing her beloved so

ACT i] Notes 143

valiant in prowesse, betweene joy and grief e, she said: Ah
happy Knight, the myrrour of such as follow Armes, I desire
thy high Fortune may proue, as thou and thy good com
pany may haue victory ouer these Traytors. Now may I
be well assured of the Loue thou bearest me: for which . . .
perswade thy selfe not to passe vnrecompenced.' The re
maining knights of the giant press once more upon Trineus,
who is upon the point of being slain, when he is rescued
by the King and Palmerin. The traitorous knights are put
to death, and their bodies burned along with that of their
chief. Then the royal party returns to court

237-9. Palmerin . . . came posting amaine, saying. Ralph
reads inaccurately. It is Trineus who makes the speech, as
may be seen in the passage quoted above.

242. he stroake him besides his Elephant. In the original
text the giant was thrown, not from an elephant, but from
his horse. Cf. the passage quoted above. The alteration
is no doubt intentionally made to illustrate the absurd
fashion of introducing beasts of the tropics into tales whose
setting is that of northern Europe.

244. set him soone besides his horse. This is a recurrent
expression in old romances, used to indicate that the de
feated knight has been unhorsed. Similarly, in chap. 21 of
Part 1 of Palmerin de Oliva, it is said that Palmerin 'laid
so lustily on a knight as he set him quickly besides his
Saddle.'

247. all happy Knight. This singular expression springs
from an oversight of the authors; or perhaps they are in
tentionally causing Ralph to blunder. In Munday's trans
lation the phrase is, lAh happy Knight.' Cf. passage quoted
above.

247. the mirror of all such as follow Armes. One need
only to recall the English title of Espeio de Caballerias, viz.,
The Mirrour of Knighthood, and a sub-title of Palmerin de
Oliva itself, viz., The Mirror of Nobility, &c., to realize
that the hero of romance was extensively described as a
glass, wherein all knightly virtues were reflected. Don
Quixote is spoken of as 'the light and mirror of all Manchical

144 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT i

chivalry,' ' the mirror of all knighthood ; ' also, as ' the flower
and cream of gentility, the shadow and remedy of the
afflicted, and the quintessence of knights-errants.'

249. me. The quotation ends here, as the modern editors
have noted. Cf. variants, 1. 235-49. The remaining portion
of Ralph's speech is his personal deduction from the in
cident read.

251. as big as the Army that the Prince of Portigo
brought against Eosicler. ' Theye were characters in the
celebrated Espeio de Caballerias, one of the romances con
demned by the curate in Don Quixote to the flames. The
first part, consisting of two books, and written by Diego
Ortunez, was printed in 1562. A second part, also divided
into two books, by Pedro de la Sierra, was published in
1580. The third and fourth parts, each consisting of two

books, were written by Marcos Martinez.' Weber. The

whole work was translated into English in nine parts, the last
printed in 1602, under the title of The Mirrour of Knight
hood . . . The Mirrour of Princely Deeds and Knighthood,
wherein is shewed the worthinesse of the Knight of the Sunne,
and his brother Rosicler, <S°c. Cf. Introd., p. LXVTG.

The only copy of the romance which I have found available
in America is a French version preserved in the Boston
Public Library under the title of L1 Admirable Historic Du
Chevalier Du Soleil. Ou Sont Racontees Les Immortelles
prouesses de ce't invincible Guerrier, <S» de sonfrere Rosiclair,
enfans du grand Empereur de Constantinople. Avec les Ex
ploits Genereux, & les avantures Amoureuses de la belle &
vaillante Princesse Claridiane, & autres grands Seigneurs.
Ouvrage qui sert de Miroir a tous Princes & Chevaliers.
Traduite en nostre language par Francois de Rosset. Paris.
Chez Mathieu Guillemot, rue S. lacques au coin de la rue de
la Parche minerie. M.DC.XL1H. This version consists of
eight octavo volumes, containing from 300 to 600 pages each.

In the French version, there is no mention of an army
brought against Rosicler by the Portugese prince. This latter
personage is of subordinate importance, and is not brought
into collision with the heroes. The only episode in which

ACT i] Notes 145

armies play an extensive part is at the conclusion of the
third volume, when the hosts of many Christian princes
assemble at Constantinople to wage war against the infidels.
Ralph is apparently confused in his allusion to the romance.

255. for they say the King of Portugall cannot sit at
his meate, &c. This incident is not contained in the Mirror
of Knighthood, as might be suggested by Ralph's reference
to that romance in the preceding speech.

263. to relieue poore ladies. The law of chivalry whereby
a knight was bound to 'relieue poor ladies' is indicated in
Palmenn of England, Part 1, chap. 34 : 'As soon as she
saw him, she rode up to him, saying, Sir, as you regard
the honour of knighthood, help to defend me from this
wretch that seeks to dishonor me. He, seeing a knight
coming after her, who was well armed and bravely mounted
rode up to meet him, saying, I perceive both knighthood
and that armour is ill bestowed upon you, that employ your
self in the persecution of a damsel, when your are both
bound by duty, and by law of arms, to defend her.' In
Amadis, Bk. 1, chap. 33, we read: 'The boon I ask is this,
said Brisena, that ye always defend dames and damsels from
all wrong ; and if by chance you have made promise of two
suits, one to a man, the other to a woman, you shall ac
complish the woman's request first, as being the weakest
person, and who hath most need to be holpen. Thus shall
women travel more safely along the highways, and discourt
eous and cruel men shall fear to offer them force or injury.'

265. our Knights neglect their possessions well enough,
but they do not the rest. The honor of knighthood was
often purchased from King James, and the character of
the order so formed is frequently sneered at by old writers.
Cf. Hans Beer Pot, 1816 :

Twas strange to see what knighthood once would do,

Stir great men up to lead a martiall life,

Such as were nobly born of great estates,

To gain this honour and this dignity,

So noble a mark to their prosperity.

But now, alas! it's grown ridiculous,

146 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT i

Since bought with money, sold for basest prize,
That some refuse it which are counted wise.

269. Palmerin of England. The hero of the romance of
the same name. The tale is of Spanish and Portugese origin,
and belongs to the second family chronicle carried on in
the romances of the Peninsula. The first is concerned with
the fortunes of Amadis of Gaul and his descendants. Pal
merin de Oliva, to which notice has already been given,
begins the series. It is followed by the romance of Prima-
leon, son of Palmerin de Oliva and Polinardo. Lastly comes
the history of Palmerin of England, son to Don Duardos,
Prince of England, and Florida, daughter of the Emperor
Palmerin de Oliva. The earliest extant edition of Palmerin
of England was written in Spanish, and was published at
Toledo in 1547. Recent investigations have proved this print
to be a translation of an original Portugese version by Fran
cisco de Moraes, which was written about 1544. Cf. C.Micha-
e'lis de Vasconcellos and T. Braga, Grundriss der Romanischen
Philologie, 1897, 2. 334, and W. E. Purser, Palmerin of
England, 1904. Next to Amadis of Gaul, Palmerin of Eng
land is the most meritorious of the Peninsular romances,
and in England it long retained its popularity. An English
version of the tale was entered 13 Feb., 1581, but no perfect
copy earlier than Anthony Munday's translation from the
French in 1602 is known to exist. Cf. Introd., p. LXVIH.

277. flappet of wood. Ralph refers to the grocer's counter.
Cf. Glossary.

277. blew apron. Worn by tradesmen. Sometimes the
term blue apron was used substantively to specify a trades
man. Blue garments, especially blue coats, were a common
badge of servitude. Ben Jonson, in his Masque of Christ
mas, describing the habits of his characters, makes this stage-
entry for one of them: "New Years' Gift, in a blew coat
like a servingman." Howe, the continuator of Stow e's Annals,
tells us (p. 1039) that ' in the reign of Mary, and the be
ginning of Queen Elizabeth's, all the apprentices in London
wore blue cloaks in the summer, and in the winter blue
gowns ; but it was not lawful for any man, who was a servant,

ACT i] Notes 147

to have his gown lower than to the calves of his legs, ex
cept he were upward of 60 years of age : but as the length
of their cloaks was not limited, they used to wear them so
long that they reached down to then- heels.'

278. Methridatum and Dragons water. Dekker, speaking
of the fearful plague of 1603, says : ' This intelligence runs
currant, that every house lookt like S Bartholomewes Hos-
pitall, and every streete like Buclersbury, for poor Methre-
datum and Dragonwater (being both of them in all the world,
scarce worth three-pence) were bort in every corner, and

yet were both drunke every houre at other men's cost.'

The Wonderful Year (Wks. 1. 112). Faith in the value of
both these specifics resulted from the radical superstitions
of the time.

Mithridate, or mithridatum, was a medical compound sup
posed to serve either as antidote or preservative against
poison and the plague. The name was derived from Mithri-
dates VI, King of Pontus, who was supposed to have so
charged himself with the poisons with which he experimented
that he acquired an immunity from all of them. Cf. the
speech of the poisoned emperor, Valentinian 5. 2 :

What can your doses do now, and your scrapings,
Your oils, and mithridates?

Dragon- water is defined in Nares' Glossary as ' a medicinal
remedy which appears to have been very popular in the
earlier half of the 17'th century.' Qf. Taylor's Works, 1630 :

And triacles powder is wonderously exprest,
And dragon-water in most high request.

Cf. Dekker and Webster's Westward Ho 3. 3: 'Ran into
Buckleberry for two ounces of dragon-water? I find no
mention of dragon- water in medical reference-books. Weber's
suggestion that the term is a substitute for dragon's-blood
seems plausible, dragon's-blood being an extract from certain
tropical plants which is sometimes used as a tonic and an
astringent; his conclusion, however, that Ralph is simply
making a ludicrous mistake is invalidated by the serious
employment of the term in the passages cited.

148 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT i

Grocers did not merely sell drugs ; the Grocers' Company
was entrusted with the commission of garbling and examining
drugs and spices, &c., sold within the city. There is a
copy of the original document, granting this privilege, in
the appendix to Heath's Account of the Grocers' Company,
p. 392. It was made under Henry VI, 1447.

279. to visited houses. 'That is, to houses visited by
the plague.' Weber. Cf. Ben Jonson, The Alchemist 5. 1 :

Fare. The house, sir, has been visited.
Love. What, with the plague?

The old dramatists repeatedly allude to the fearful visi
tations of the Plague or Black Death which swept over
Europe during the 16th and 17th centuries. The most fatal
of them all was that of 1603, when the mortality in London
alone reached 38,000. During the years immediately suc
ceeding 1603 the epidemic gradually abated, and in 1610,
the year of our play's production, it had practically died
out, not to reappear until 1625. Cf. Creighton, History of
Epidemics 1. 493 : ' There was little plague in 1604, and
not much in 1605; but in 1606 the infection again became
active, and continued at its endemic level for some five or
six years.'

280. through his noble atchieuments procure such a
famous history to be written. Don Quixote, it will be re
called, muses at length upon his posthumous renown, to be
enshrined in ' a true history of his famous acts ' (Bk. 1,
chap. 2).

288. I doe not call to minde that I yet read of a Grocer
Errant. Apparently Ralph has not read The Four Prentices
of London, in which are related the adventures of the gro
cer's boy, Eustace, who becomes a knight. The Citizen is
better informed than Ralph; cf. 4. 66-8.

289. haue you heard of any that hath wandred vn-
furnished of his Squire and Dwarfe ? Amadis of Gaul is
usually accompanied by his squire Gandalin and his dwarf
Ardian. Palmerin de Oliva's regular attendant is his dwarf
Urbanillo, but he is sometimes followed by a number of

ACTI] Notes 149

esquires. Neither Palmerin of England nor Don Quixote has
more than a squire. Cf. Introd., pp. XXXVI— VIII.

291. my elder Prentice Tim shall be my trusty Squire.
Service as a squire was ordinarily a stepping-stone to knight
hood. 'The youth more usually remained an esquire

the next step to that of a page till he was twenty. He

attended the knight to whose person he was attached, dressed
and undressed him, trained his horses, kept his arms bright
and burnished, and did the honours of the household to the
strangers who visited it; so that Spencer takes the squire

as the type of such courtesy.' Sir C. Strachey, Introduction

to Morte Darthur.

293. yet in remembrance of my former Trade, vpon my
shiled shall be purtraide, a burning Pestle. 'This is in
ridicule of Eustace, in Hey wood's Four Prentices of London,
bearing the grocer's arms upon his shield.' Weber. Eu
stace, who is a grocer's apprentice, says:

For my trade's sake, if good success I have,
The Grocer's Arms shall in mine ensign wave.

The representation of a burning pestle upon Ralph's shield
is indeed a travesty on the elaborate design of the grocers'
arms. ' Their arms,' says Maitland, ' are, argent a chevron,
gules, between six cloves in chief and three in base, sable ;
crest, a helmet and torse, a loaded camel trippant proper, brid
led of the second, two griffins perfess gules and or ; motto,
"God grant thee grace."' New View of London 2. 207.

295. cal'd the Knight oth burning Pestle. It was usual
for knights to derive their name from some function, achieve
ment, or trait which characterized them. Gayton says of
Don Quixote, otherwise called the Knight of the Ill-favour'd
Face, Festivous Notes Upon Don Quixote, p. 99 :' It is usual
for Knights and Dons Errant to take appellative names
from their successes, places of Birth, Conquest or Favour.
. . . He stiles himselfe of the Ill-favoured Face, not im
properly, nor farre fetcht.' The Don himself says: 'It
hath seemed fit to the wise man, to whose charge is left
the writing of my history, that I take some appellative name,

15° The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT i

as all the other knights of yore have done ; for one called
himself the Knight of the Burning Sword; another that of
Unicorn; this, him of the Phoenix; the other, that of the
Damsels ; another the Knight of the Griffin ; and some other,
the Knight of Death ; and by these names and devices they
were known throughout the compass of the earth. And so
I say, that the wise man whom I mentioned set in thy mind
and tongue the thought to call me the Knight of the Ill-
favoured Face, as I mean to call myself henceforth; and
that the name may become me better, I will, upon the first
occasion, cause to be painted in my shield a most ill-favoured
countenance ' (Bk. 3, chap. 5).

301—5. Bight Courteous and Valiant Knight . . . dis
tressed Damsell. These chivalric terms of address may be
partially illustrated from Palmerin de Qliva, Part 1, chap. 21 :
'Fatre Virgin (saide Palmerin) doo not discomfort yourself,
but shew me which way they rode that dealt with you so
discourteously. Gentle Knight (quoth she) if your hap be
to restore my losse againe, you doe the most gracious acte
that euer Knight did for a distressed Damosel. . . . And may
all happinesse repay this gentle daede, Fayre KnightS In
stances of the use of the formula fair lady are innumerable.
It is perhaps needless to say that Ralph is made to exaggerate
the sufficiently ceremonious manner in which the knights
themselves were addressed. Isolated epithets, like fair,
courteous, gentle, are habitually applied to them, but seldom
will one find such a sounding and lengthy designation as
that which Ralph demands for himself.

305. that you call all Forrests & Heaths Desarts. A
somewhat extreme demand. Don Quixote and the ro
mances have both forests and deserts. Indeed, the two
words are sometimes joined : Palmerin of England's brother
Florian is called Florian of the Desert, because the forest
wherein he was born was called the Desert Forest.

306. and all horses Palfries. A reference to the passage
quoted above will show that Ralph is somewhat excited, for
even the old romancers sometimes called a spade a spade:
the giant Franarco ' fel from his horse,1 and ' the knight that

ACT i] Notes 151

had Agricola behind him ' was soon set ' besides his horse'
The steeds, however, which carry ' distressed,' or other ' dam
sels,' are almost invariably called palfreys.

309. the Plaiers would giue all the shooes in their shop
for him. The Citizen is thinking of the shoes in the players'
dressing-room, known as the tiring-house. Cf. Ind. 97,
and note.

311—14. admit . . . what would you say? This is a con
ventional mode of interrogation in the. romances. Cf. Pal-
merin of England, Bk. 1, chap. 35 : ' Admit (quoth the damsel)
myself would be the means to provide you all of horses and
armour again, would you grant the boon I should put forth
unto you ? '

312. a Desart, and ouer it a Knight errant pricking.
One is instantly reminded of the first verse of The Faerie
Queen :

A gentle knight was pricking o'er the plain.

Gayton remarks in satirical vein: 'This order of Knight er
rantry is very ancient, when there were but three persons
in the World, one was of this Order, even Cain, who for
the murther of his Brother was a Fugitive and a Vagabond
over the whole earth, a larger extent than our Dons peregri
nations; he had beside this marke another like to our
Knight-errants, that none should slay him, for you never
read of a Knight-errant that was slaine in the whole world.'
Festivous Notes Upon Don Quixote, p. 9.

The Don himself follows tradition in looking upon King
Arthur as the chief instigator and exemplar of knight-er
rantry. ' In this good king's time was first instituted the
famous order of knighthood of the Knights of the Round
Table, . . . and from that time forward, the order of knight
went from hand to hand, dilating and spreading itself through
many and sundry parts of the world ' (Bk. 2, chap. 5).

328. a halfe penny-worth of pepper. Pepper was for a
long time the chief commodity hi which the grocers dealt,
and, according to Herbert, their license to deal in it is still
obliged to be especially inscribed over the doors of the shops.

152 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT i

Indeed, the Grocers trace their descent and origin from an
amalgamation between the Pepperers of Soper's Lane and
the Spicers of Cheap in 1345. This union led to the adop
tion of the more comprehensive name, ' which,' says Hazlitt,
' obviously signifies engrosser, or dealer in miscellaneous ar
ticles of consumption.' Livery Companies of London, p. 188.

335. true man. 'That is, an honest man, generall used

in opposition tho thief.' Weber. Nares cites the following

examples :

Whither away so fast?
A true man, or a thief, that gallops thus?

Love's Labour's Lost 4, 3.

The thieves have bound the true men.

i Henry IV 2. 2.

We will not wrong thee so
To make away a true man for a thief.

Edward II, Dodsley's Old Plays 2. 362.

349. A merry heart lines long-a. 'Resembles a line in
the first verse of "Jog on, jog on the foot-path way," &c.,
a song printed in An Antidote against Melancholy, &c. 1661,

p. 73.' Dyce. This song is not at hand, but according

to Dyce the first verse of is it sung by Autolycus in the
Winters Tale 4. 3:

Jog on, jog on, the footpath way,

And merrily hent the stile-a:
A merry heart goes all the day,

Your sad tires in a mile-a.

372. halter-sacke. Cf. Four Plays in One: 'Thy begin
ning was knap-sack, and thy ending will be halter-sack, .' Also,
cf. A King and No King 2.2:' Away, you halter-sack, you.'
' Haltersack. A term of reproach equivalent to hang-dog.
Minshew writes it haltersick, and explains it, "One whom
the gallows groans for." Coles has, " One halter-sick, nebulo
egregius." . . . Mr. Seward also conjectured haltersick. These
conjectures may be right; but from the incongruity of
calling a person halter-sick, before the halter has ap
proached him, I rather think that halter-sack meant, that the

ACT i] Notes 153

person so called was doomed to hang upon a halter, like

a sack.' Nares, Glossary. N. E. D. agrees with Nares.

383. Nose, nose, iolly red nose, and who gaue thee this
iolly red nose ? ' These and the next two lines sung by
Merrythought are taken from a song (No. 7) in Ravens-
croft's Deuteromelia, 1609, beginning,

" Of all the birds that euer I see,
the Owle is the fayrest," &c.

where they stand thus:

"Nose, nose, nose, nose,

and who gaue thee that iolly red nose?

Sinamont and ginger, Nutmegs and Cloves,
and that gaue me my iolly red nose.'"

Dyce.

386. carke and care. ' To Cark. To be careful or thought
ful. It is often joined with to care, as if not perfectly synon
ymous.

" Why knave, I say, have I thus cark'd and car'd,
And all to keep thee like a gentleman?"

Lord Cromwell, Sh. Supp., H. 377.

"In times past neither did I labor, carcke, nor care,
For business, for family, for foode, nor yet for fare."

North's Plut., p. 392, E.' Nares, Glossary.

386. and all little enough. And not as much as the case
warrants. Cf. Prologue to The Four Prentices of London :
'Three prologues to our Play? pardon me, we have need
of three hundred me thinkes, and all little enough.1

403. at eleuen & six a clocke. 'These were the dinner
and supper hours of our ancestors, when this play was

written.' Weber. In The Woman-Hater 1. 2, Lazarillo

directs a boy to hasten to spy out what is being cooked
for dinner. The boy replies : ' I run ; but not so fast as your
mouth will do upon the stroke of eleven? Cf. Ben Jonson's
The Case is Altered 2. 3 :

Eat when your stomach serves, saith the physician,
Not at eleven and six.

154 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT i

In Dekker's Dead Term ( Wks. 4. 50), we read : ' What layinge
of heads is there together and sifting of the braine, still and
anon, at is growes towards eleven of the Clocke (euen amongst
those that weare guilt Rapiers by their sides) where for that
noone they may shift from Duke Humfrey, & bee furnished
with a Dinner at some meaner mans Table.'

413. by Ladie. ' i. e. by our Lady, a common form.

Altered by the modern editors to " by'r Lady." ' Dyce.

Cf. Every Woman in her Humour, 1609 :

A teadious time, by Lady ; a month were enough.
Cf. also Guy Earl of Warwick, a Tragedy, 1661 :

Ha, ha, the world's well amended with me, by Lady.

413. hold thee there. Adhere rigidly to, 'stick to,' your
opinion. The reflexive use of hold in this sense is not no
ticed in the dictionaries.

434. foule chiue him. May ill luck befall him. A rare
old phrase. Cf. Sir A Cockain, Obstinate Ladyr 1657, 3. 2:
' Foul cheeve him for it.' ' " 111 mote he cheve " is in Chaucer.
Cheve, chieve, and chive, are only different forms of the same
word, chevir, old French; and still existing here as a pro
vincial word, to prosper.' Nares, Glossary.

455. but yet or ere you part (oh cruell). 'Varied from
part of the first verse of a song (No. 15) printed in The first
Booke of Songes or Ayres of foure parts with Tableture for
the Lute, &c., 1597, by Dowland:

" Wilt thou, unkind, thus reaue me of my heart

and so leaue me?
Farewell; but yet or ere I part (O cruell)

Kiss me sweete, my Jewell " ' Dyce.

For the use of the phrase or ere, meaning before, cf.
Lear 2. 4 :

I have full cause of weeping; but this heart
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws,
Or ere I'll weep.

Cf. also Swinburne, Cent. Roundels, 23 :
These, or ever man was, were.

ACT i] Notes 155

478. Boy danceth. Gosson, the Puritan, tells us that a
theatrical entertainment in the time of Elizabeth was di
versified through the wiles of the devil, who 'sendeth in
garish apparell, masques, vaulting, tumbling, dancing of
gigges, galiardes, morisces, hobby-horses, shewing of juggling
castes, . . . nothing forgot, that might serve to set out the
matter with pompe, or ravish the beholders with variety of

pleasure.' Playes confuted in Five Actions, reprinted in

Hazlitt's Drama and Stage.

According to Malone in his Shakespeare (Boswell 3. 140),
in the time of Shakespeare there was a great deal of
extemporaneous buffoonery on the part of the clown, who
solicited the attention of the audience by singing and dancing
between the acts, and either by a song or metrical jig at
close of the play.

Beaumout says, in his lines to Fletcher on The Faithful
Shepherdess:

Nor want there those, who, as the boy does dance
Between the acts, will censure the whole play.

We learn from Paul Hentzner that the dancing was ac
companied by music. Cf. A Journey into England (Augervy lie
Soc. Reprints, p. 28).

481. They say, 'tis present death for these fidlers to
tune their Rebeckes before the great Turkes grace. The
Wife probably refers to an episode in some romance or
ballad. I have been unable to trace the allusion.

482. Rebeckes. 'Rebec. A Moorish word, signifying an
instrument with two strings, played on with a bow. The
Moors brought the Rebec into Spain ; whence it passed into
Italy, and after the addition of a third string, obtained the
name of Rebecca ; whence the old English Rebec, or fiddle
with three strings.' Moore, Encyclopaedia of Music.

The instrument was the parent of the viol and the violin.
It was used throughout western Europe in the Middle Ages.
It was sometimes employed in the state bands. At the time
of our play it was used also, as is made evident by the
context here, to accompany dancing. After the invention

156 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT n

of the viol and violin, the rebec was banished from the
city, but it long remained popular at country festivals. Hence
Milton's mention of the ' jocund rebeck ' played at the rural
dance in L' Allegro.

486. ride the wild mare. Dyce quotes from Douce's Illus
trations of Shakespeare 1. 458 a passage in which it is main
tained that riding the wild mare is another name for the
childish sport of see-saw.

In 2 Henry IV 2. 4, Falstaff speaks of Poins as one who
' rides the wild-mare with the boys.'

490. Gods . ' The editors of 1778 and Weber printed

" God's wound's" without informing their readers that the
latter word is not in the old editions.' Dyce.

490. and. Modern editions read an. Cf. 1. 66. and note.

491. periwigs. The performers of male characters fre
quently wore periwigs, which in the age of Shakespeare
were not in common use. Cf. Hamlet 3. 2 : ' O, it offends
me to the soul, to hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear
a passion to tatters.' Cf. Every Woman in Her Humour,
1609: 'A none wear hoods but monks and ladies, . . . and
none periwigs but players and pictures.'

ACT II.

28. red roaring Lion. The ancient custom of distinguishing
taverns, not by worded, but by figured, signboards often
led to curious combinations of images, articles, and colors.
' We may mention incidentally, the Bull and Mouth, the Bull
and Gate, the Belle Sauvage, the Goat and Compasses, the
Cat and Fiddle, the Cock and Pie, the Cock and Bottle, the
Goat in Boots, the Swan with Two Necks, the Bag of Nails,
the Pig and Whistle, the George and Vulture, the Bolt in
Tun, the Bear and Harrow, the Elephant and Castle. Our
streets are filled with Blue Boars, Black Swans, and Red

Lions, not to mention Flying Pigs and Hogs in Armour.1

Fraser's Magazine, cited by Brand, Pop. Antiq. 2. 357.

ACT n] Notes 157

' Since pictorial or carved signs have fallen into disuse,
and only names given, . . . The Red Lion is by far the most
common; doubtless it originated with the badge of John of
Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, married to Constance, daughter
of Don Pedro the Cruel, king of Leon and Castille. The
duke bore the lion rampant gules of Leon as his cognizance,
to represent his claim to the throne of Castille, when that
was occupied by Henry de Trastamare. In after years it
may often have been used to represent the lion of Scotland.'
Larwood and Hotten, History of Signboards, p. 120.

29. In "Waltham situate. Harrison names in 'a table of
the best thorowfaires and townes of greatest travell in Eng
land, in some of which there are twelve or sixteen innes

at the least.' Description of England, p. 415 (in Holin-

shed's Chronicles, ed. 1807, London).

31. The fat ale sisters. The Three Fates.

44. within the wals of London. Cf. Ind. 8, and note.

45. the Suburbes. The suburbs were the districts lying
immediately outside the walls of the city. Here the citizens
had their pleasure-resorts. These were places where intrigues
and many disorderly projects were carried on. Most of the

inhabitants of the suburbs were a ruffianly class thieves,

murderers, and every mischief-maker, among whom Hum
phrey would have had small honor in finding an equal in
" fair speech." Cf. Stow, Survey, pp. 156 ff. ; Nares, Glossary;
and Wheatley, ed Every Man in His Humour.

54. were he of the noble Science. ' Meaning the noble

science of defence; a master of fencing.' Mason. 'And

for defence and use of the weapon, there is a special pro
fession of men that teach it.' Stow, Survey, p. 36. ' The

author of a description of the colleges and schools in and
about London, which he calls "The Third University of
England," printed in black letter in 1615, says, " In this city,"
meaning London, " there be manie professors of the science
of defense, and very skilful men in teaching the best and
most offensive and defensive use of verie many weapons, as
of the long-sword, back-sword, rapier and dagger, single
rapier, the case of rapiers, the sword and buckler, or targate,

158 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT n

the pike, the halbard, the long-staff, and others. Henry VIII
made the professors of this art a company, by letters patent,
wherein the art is entitled The Noble Science of Defence" '

Strutt, Sports and Pastimes, p. 262.

68-70. God-night . . . three-score. Emil Koeppel (Quellen-
Studien zu den Dramen Ben Jonsons, John Marston's, und
Beaumont und Fletcher's, 1895, p. 43) regards it as probable
that these lines are in ridicule of the frequent repetition of
the words Good night in the garden scene of Romeo and
Juliet 2. 2 : ' Sweet, good night ! ,' 1. 120 ; ' Good night, good
night ! ,' 1. 123 ; ' Three words good Romeo, and good night
indeed!,' 1. 142; 'A thousand times good night!,' 1. 154;
' God night, good night ! parting is such sweet sorrow That
I shall say good night till it be morrow.' 1. 184.

79. Mile-end. ' An ancient manor and hamlet of Stepney
(or Stebonheath) parish, lying to the east of Whitechapel. . . .
It was " so called," says Strype, " from its distance from the
middle parts of London," or more probably from its distance

from Aldgate Mile End Bar, where Mile End begins, being

exactly a mile from Aldgate. . . . Mile End in the 17th cen
tury was still in " the country," and a resort of Londoners

for fresh air, and cakes and ale.' Wh.-C. The green

at Mile End was long famous as a rendezvous for the mil
itary. Cf. next note, 5. 67 ff., and notes.

80. there has bene a pitch-field my child betweene the
naughty Spaniels and the English-men. 'This must relate
to some mock-fight which was fought at Mile End, where
the train-bands of the city were often exercised. One of
the ballads mentioned in Monsieur Thomas (vol. VI, p. 489),
is " The Landing of the Spaniards at Bow, with the Bloody
Battle at Mile-End." Again in the epilogue to a Wife for
a Month (vol. VIII, p. 252), " the action at Mile-End " alludes
to the same or a similar mock-fight.' Weber.

85. white boy. This is a term of endearment common in
our old writers. It was usually applied to a favorite son
or dependent. Thus in The Two Lancashire Lovers, 1640,
p. 19 : ' Fie, young gentleman, will such a brave sparke as
you, that is your mother's white-boy, undoe your hopes.' The

ACT H] Notes 159

term, however, though in itself an indication of favor, might
have an opprobrious association, as in a tract printed 1644
which was entitled The Devill's While Boyes, a mixture of
malicious malignants, with their Evill Practices against the
Kingdome and Parliament, &c.

87. let thy father go snicke-vp. ' Sneck-up, or snick-up.
An interjection of contempt, thought to be of little meaning,
till it was proved by one passage to signify "go and be
hanged," or "hang yourself"; which sense, indeed, agrees
best with most of the instances. Mr. Malone had conjectured
that this was the meaning. The passage alluded to is this :

A Tiburne hempen-candell will e'en cure you:

It can cure traytors, but I hold it fit

T'apply't ere they the treason do commit.

Wherefore in Sparta it ycleped was

Snick-up, which is in English gallow-grass.

Taylor, Praise of Hempseed [p. 66, Works, 1630].

This was quoted by Mr. Weber ; and from it we may not
unfairly conjecture that "neck-up," or "his neck-up," was

the original notion.' Nares, Glossary. Cf. Heywood, Fait

Maid of the West ( Wks., ed. Dyce, 2. 268) :

She shall not rise, sir, go, let your Master snick-up.
Cf. also Twelfth Nigth 2. 3:

We did keep time, sir, in our catches. Sneck up!

94. bi'th eie. Apparently the expression means in unlimited
quantity. N. E. D. cites passages which seem to bear out
this definition : c. 1394 P. PI. Crede, 84 : ' Grete-hedede quenes
wij) gold by be eigen.'; c. 1592 Marlowe, Jew Of Malta 3. 4:
' Thou shalt have broth by the eye.1

98. I cannot tell. ' I know not what to say or think of it.

A common phrase in old plays.' Halliwell, Arch, and Prov.

Diet. Cf. Ben Jonson, The Magnetic Lady 2. 1 :

Plea. Which would you choose now, mistress.
Pla. 'Cannot tell;
The copy does confound one.

160 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT n

Cf. also Bartholomew Fair 1.3: ' Quar. ... I pray thee
what ailest thou, thou canst not sleep? hast thou thorns in
thy eyelids, or thistles in thy bed?

Winw. I cannot tell: it seems you had neither in your
feet, that took this pain to find me.'

99. Tie see no more else. I'll see nothing else ; I'll see no
thing except (Ralph). A similar Elizabethan idiom is no more
but, in which but in the sense of except follows a negative
comparative, where we should use than.

These poor informal women are no more
But instruments of some mightier member.

— Measure for Measure 5. 1.

Cf. Abbott, Shakes. Gram., p. 86.

99. indeed-law. The compound expression is not given
in the dictionaries. In separating the words, however, the
editors have been unwarranted in changing law to la. Cf.
variants. Law may originally have been an alteration of la,
but it has existed for centuries as a distinct exclamatory
word. It is now vulgar.

102. let's be merry and wise. This is an old saw, which,
so far as it has any point at all, seems to mean 'let's be
merry, but also wise.' Cf. Ralph Roister Doister 1. 1:

As long lyueth the mery man, they say,
As doth the sory man, and longer by a day.
Yet the grassehopper for all his summer pipyng,
Sterueth in winter with hungrie gryping.
Therefore an-other sayd sawe doth men aduise
That they be together both mery and wise.

Touchstone, the merchant in Chapman's Eastward Ho, at
tributes his prosperity in part to the observance of certain
'sentences,' as 'Touchstone, keep thy shop, and thy shop
will keep thee,' ' Light gain makes heavy purses,' ' Tis good
to be merry and wise.1

In an old play, Every Woman in her Humor, the Host

says : ' lets be merrie and wise, merrie hearts live long.'

Bullen's Old Plays 4. 366.

ACT n] Notes 161

103. and say they should put him into a straight paire
of Gaskins. Gaskins were a fashion of breeches rather
looser than the ordinary hose. They were much in vogue
in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The Wife is
afraid that Ralph will be cramped by being clothed in
gaskins too small for him, streight in this connection mean
ing stretched or tight. Cf. Glossary.

104. knot-grasse. ' So called for the numerous nodes in
its stems, and its thickly spreading habit. It is a tough
trailing and branching plant, common in trodden ground,
and often carpeting dooryards, &c. An infusion of it was
formerly supposed to retard bodily growth.' Cent. Diet.

We want a boy extremely for this function,
Kept under for a year with milk and knotgrass.

— Coxcomb, 2. 2.

Get you gone, you dwarf;
You minimum, of hindering knotgrass made.

Mid. Sum. Nighfs Dream 3. 2.

107—11. How do you Raph . . . audacity. At the close
of Nash's Summer's Last Will and Testament, Will Summer,
who is sitting on the stage, gives a similar encouragement
to a little boy who enters to speak the epilogue: 'Here a
pretty boy comes with an Epilogue to get him audacity.
I pray you sit still a little, and hear him say his lesson without
book. It is a good boy, be not afraid : turn thy face to my
lord. Thou and I will play at pouch tomorrow morning for
breakfast. Come and sit on my knee, and I'll dance thee,
if thou canst not endure to stand.'

114. Mirrour of Knight-hood. Cf. 1. 247, and note.

115. the perrilous Waltham downe. Perrilous is an epithet
habitually used in the romances to describe a region which
is supposed to be characterized by dangers. One of the
knights in Amadis is called Gavarte of the Perrilous Valley.

117. We are betraid here be Cry ants, flie boy. Mr. Merry
thought is evidently conversant with romances, and is aware
that discreet ladies are uniformly made to flee from monsters,
except for good cause. Thus, in Palmerin of England, Part 1,

1 62 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT n

chap. 3, on the appearance of the ' Savage Man ' in the
forest, there was great dismay among the courtly attendants
of the princess, ' who at this presence of so grim a sire be
took themselves to flight.'

120. A gentle Ladle flying? the imbrace Of some vncour-
teous knight. This is a recurrent feature of the romances.
Cf. Introd., pp. XXXVIII-XL.

121. I will releiue her. Cf. 1. 263, and note.

125. gentle squire. This is a chivalric formula so fre
quently employed as scarcely to need illustration.

129. while I sweare. I would be practically an endless
task to quote the instances of vows taken by knights-errant
when entering upon a quest or a combat.

129. by my knight-hood. Cf. Don Quixote, Bk. 1, chap. 4:
' And so that he will swear to me to observe it, by the order
of knighthood which he hath received, I will set him free.'

130. by the soule of Amadis de Gaule. Similarly, in Pal-
merin de Oliva, Part 1, chap. 35 : ' By the soule of King
Arthur, said the Duke, looke thou guard thyself well.'

Amadis of Gaul is the most widely known of the con
tinental prose romances. The oldest extant version is in
Spanish. It was made by Garcia Ordonez de Montalvo, and
was printed in Saragossa in 1508. The author admits that
most of his book is mere translation. There is practical
unanimity of opinion that the lost original was written in
Portugese by the troubadour Joao Lobeira (1261—1325). Cf.
C. Michaelis de Vasconcellos and T. Braga, Geschichte der
Portugiesischen Litteratur in Grundriss der Romanischen
Philologie, 1897, 2. 216 ff. Also cf. J. Fitzmaurice-Kelly,
Spanish Literature, 1904, p. 123. During the early part of
the 17th century, an English version was accomplished
by Anthony Munday, translator of the Palmerin series.
Cf. Introd., p. LXVffl.

131. My famous Ancestor. As may be inferred from the
judgment of Cervantes, Ralph derives small honor from
classing himself among the descendants of Amadis, since
the excellences of their original are but dimly reflected in
them. Cf. Introd., p. LXIX.

ACT nj Notes 163

131. by my sword. So Palmerin, in the combat with
Franarco, swears: 'By my sword, villain, I shall make
thee dearly to pay for thy folly.' Cf. Amadis of Gaul,
Bk. 1, chap. 1 : ' The king whose will was already disposed
by God that that which ensued might come to pass, took his
sword which was by him, and laying his right hand upon
the cross of its hilt, pronounced these words : / swear by
this cross, this sword wherewith I received the order of
knighthood, to perform whatever you shall require for the
Lady Elisena.'

132. The beauteous Brionella girt about me. Weber er
roneously says that Brionella is Palmerin de Oliva's dwarf.
Urbanillo is the name of the dwarf; his most important
function is as intermediary in the love-affairs of his master.
Brionella is the companion of the Princess Polianardo, who
is daughter of the German emperor, and the beloved of
Palmerin. Brionella is also the mistress of Palmerin's friend
Ptolme, who, in the course of the story, wins and weds her.

141. offer to carrie his bookes after him. Try to emulate
or equal him.

152. bring about Thy desperate wheel, that I may clime
at length And stand. In later classic mythology the goddess
Fortuna was represented with wings, or with her eyes bound,
standing upon a ball; and her usual attribute was a wheel,
the turning of which signified the instability of change. The
image of Fortune's wheel constantly recurs in literature.
Cf. Boethius, Consolation of Philosophy (Temple Classics,
p. 29) : 'I [Fortune] turn my wheel that spins its circle fairly ;
I delight to make the lowest turn to the top, the highest to
the bottom. Come to the top if you will, but on this con
dition, that you think it no unfairness so sink when the rule
of my game demands it.'

Heywood's Four Prentices of London begins with these lines :

Daughter, thou seest how Fortune turns her wheel.

We that but late were mounted up aloft

Lull'd in the skirt of that inconstant Dame,

Are now thrown head-long by her ruthless hand,

To kiss that earth whereon our feet should stand.

1 64 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT n

173. I'le tell Eaph a tale in's eare. To tell or whisper
a tale in the ear seems to have been a proverbial expression ;
cf. 5. 28. Cf. also Romeo and Juliet 1.5:

I have seen the day
That I have worn a visor and could tell
A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,
Such as would please.

174. Wanion. 'Used only in the phrase with a wanion,
but totally unexplained, though exceedingly common in use.
It seems to be equivalent to with a vengeance, or with a
plague! Nares, Glossary.

'Ho, clod-pate, where art thou? Come out with a ven
geance, come out with a wannion.' Ozell's Rabelais, Bk. 4,

chap. 47.

179. an. 'Weber printed with the first 4 to, "an."'

Dyce. But may not Weber and Q! be right ? Dyce would
read as, but an as a contraction of and, in its obsolete sense
of as if, fits the context quite as well. It bears this mean
ing in Midsummer Nighfs Dream 1. 2: 'I will roar you
an 'twere any Nightingale.' Cf. also Troilus and Cressida
1. 2 : ' O he smiles valiantly. . . . O yes, and"t were a cloud
in autumn.'

179. Emperall. Undoubtedly the word is the same as
emperial, an obsolete form of imperial, which often in the 16th
and 17th centuries, as seemingly here, meant an emperor.

Cf. Two Gentlemen of Verona 2. 3 : 'I ... am going with
Sir Proteus to the Imperial's Court.'

184. For and the Squire of Damsels as I take it. The
obsolete adv. phr. for and, meaning and also, and besides,
puzzled the early editors. Ed. 1750 altered it and subjoined
it to the preceding sentence, reading:

Your squire doth come and with him comes the lady
Fair, and the Squire of Damsels, as I take it.

Ed. 1778 and Weber read:

Your squire doth come and with him comes the lady.
Ralph. Fair! and the Squire of Damsels, as I take it!
Madam, if any service, &c.

ACT u] Notes 165

Dyce restored the original reading, and cited the following
instances to show that the expression for and is not unfre-
quently used by our early writers:

Syr Gy, Syr Gawen, Syr Cayus, for and Syr Olyvere.
Skelton's second poem Against Garnesche.-

Works 1. 119, ed. Dyce.

A hippocrene, a tweak, for and a fucus.
Middleton's Fair Quarrel 5. 1. Works 3. 544, ed. Dyce.

A pick-axe, and a spade, a spade,

For and a shrouding sheet Hamlet 5. 1.

Mason observed that the " Squire of Damsels " is an al
lusion to Spencer's Squire of Dames. Cf. Faere Queen,
3. 7. 51, &c. Cf. Monsieur Thomas 1. 1 :

Hylas. I must be better,

And nearer in my service, with your leave, sir,
To this fair lady.
/ Val. What, the old Squire of Dames still?

The expression seems to have become proverbial as a
specification of any man who is particularly attentive to
women. Cf. Massinger, Emperor of the East 1.2:

Marry, there I'm call'd
The Squire of Dames, or Servant of the Sex.

187. I am prest to giue you succour, For to that holy
end I beare my Armour. In accordance with the oath of
knighthood. ' He [the knight] swore, and received the holy
communion in confirmation of his oath, to fulfil the duties
of his profession ; to speak the truth ; to maintain the right ;
to protect women, the poor, and the distressed ; to practice
courtesy; to pursue the infidels; to despise the allurements
of ease and safety, and to maintain his honour in every

perilous adventure.' Sir E. Strachey, Introduction to Morte

Darthur.

193. the beauty of that face. The good Mrs. Merrythought
cannot easily be thought of as beautiful. One is reminded
here of Don Quixote's raptures over the imagined beauty
of the Asturian wench, Maritornes, in Bk. 3, chap. 2. Cf.
Introd., p. LI.

1 66 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT n

209. I haue but one horse, on which shall ride This Ladie
faire behind me. This is a very unknightly proposition;
Ralph is driven to hard shifts by his lack of the proper ac
coutrements. The approved manner of exit for the ' relieved '
damsel is on a palfrey of her own, which she rides in front
of her benefactor. Galaor rescued a ' distressed damsel '
from six villains and a dwarf, and, after he had given his
arms to his squire, said : ' Damsel, go you before me, and

I will guard you better than I have done.' Amadis, Bk. 1,

chap. 13.

209. on. Eds. 1750, 1778, and Weber printed, for the
metre, upon.

216. they may all cast their caps at him. According to
N. E. D., this phrase means to show indifference to, give up
for lost. In the text, however, the meaning clearly is that

the rivals of Ralph may all salute i. e. cast their caps —

before him as a superior. For the definition in the Glossary
I am indebted to F. W. Moorman, ed. of The Knight of
the Burning Pestle in The Temple Dramatists.

The Citizen is making a sweeping denial of the Londoners'
being able to equal Ralph in histrionic achievements. Caps
were the common headdresses of the citizens. Hence, it came
about that the citizens obtained the name of Flatcaps, and
were so called, in derision, by the pages of the court. The
city flatcap was round, perfectly flat, and tight-fitting, and
was held close to the crown by a narrow band about the
bottom. Cf. Strutt, Dress and Habits of England 1. 316 ;
2. 137.

218. the twelue Companies of London. Cf. note to Ind. 16.
The twelve great companies of London were the Mercers,
the Grocers, the Drapers, the Fishmongers, the Goldsmiths,
the Skinners, the Merchant Tailors, the Haberdashers, the
Salters, the Ironmongers, the Vintners, and the Clothworkers.

219. and hee be not inueigled by some of these paltrie
Plaiers. The Wife's anxiety is not caused by a wholly
imaginary danger. There are evidences to show that boys
were not only ' inveigled ' into the service of theatrical com
panies, but were sometimes forcibly kidnapped. In the Athe-

ACT n] Notes 167

naeunt, Aug. 10, 1889, 2. 203—4, James Greenstreet prints
a bill of complaint from the father of a boy who had been
kidnapped by the agents of Blackfriars. The complaint
makes mention of other boys thus stolen, among them ' Nathan
ffield, a scholler of a grammer schoole in London, kept by
one Mr. Monkester.' Nathan Field became a famous actor
in later years. His schoolmaster was the same Monkester
to whom the Wife has once referred, 1. 105. Such cases of
enforced service at the theatres as Greenstreet records are
typical. Cf. H. S. Mallory, ed. Ben Jonson's Poetaster 1. 6
(Yale Studies in English, 1905, p. 138).

231. walke for your repose, Or sit, or if you will go
plucke a rose. Cf. Middleton, The Changeling 1. 2: 'Yes,
sir, for every part has his hour : we wake at six and look
about us, that's eye-hour ; at seven we should pray, that's
knee-hour ; at eight walk, that's leg-hour ; at nine gather
flowers and pluck a rose, that's nose-hour ' ; &c.

Pluck a rose is a euphemism of fairly obvious meaning;
= ahum exonerare, Class. Cf. Grose, Diet, of Vulgar Tongue
in v. Pluck.

240. mickle grieue me. The adverbial use of ntickle is
unusual. It is not noticed in the dictionaries.

250. by Gods bodie. Humphrey is swearing by the bread
of the sacrament. See Glossary. Cf. / Henry IV 2. 1 :
' Gods body ! the turkeys in my pannier are quite starved out'
Diminutive oaths of this sort were considered as ornaments
of conversation, and were adopted by both sexes, in order
to give spirit and vivacity to their language. 'A shocking
practice,' says Drake, ' which seems to have been rendered
fashionable by the reprehensible habit of the Queen, whose

oaths were neither diminutive nor rare.' Shakes, and his

Times, p. 423. One easily recalls Captain Bobadill, the ' Paul's
man,' in Every Man in his Humour, and his frequent oaths,
and the despair of Master Stephen, the country gull, who
exclaims : ' O, he swears most admirably ! By Pharaoh's foot !

Body o' Caesar! 1 shall never do it, sure. Upon mine

honor, and by Saint George! No, I ha' not the right

grace,' 3. 5.

1 68 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT n

It is somewhat surprising to see the expletive by Goafs
body in our play, since there is upon the statute book 'an
Act to restrain the abuses of players' (3 Jac. 1, chap. 21),
wherein it is enacted, ' That if at any time or times after the
end of this present Session of Parliament, any person or
persons do or shall in any Stage-play, Enterlude, Shew, May-
game, or Pageant jestingly or profanely speak or use the
holy name of God, or of Christ Jesus, or of the Holy Ghost,
or of the Trinity, which are not to be spoken, but with fear
and reverence, shall forfeit for every such offence by him
or them committed ten pounds.' Cf. Wheatley, ed. Every
Man in his Humour, Introduction, p. XLII.

252. for to tell. ' For to, which is now never joined with
the infinitive except by a vulgarism, was very common in
E. E. and A. S., and is not uncommon in the Elizabethan
writers. It probably owes its origin to the fact that the prep
ositional meaning of " to " was gradually weakened as it
came to be considered nothing but the sign of the infinitive.

"Forbid the sea for to obey the moon." W. T. 1. 2.

427.' Abbott, Shakes. Gram., p. 152.

256. get you to your night-cap and the diet. The pre
scription of a diet in sickness is elsewhere mentioned in our
play. Cf. 1. 188; 3. 454; 3. 491.

; Nightcaps are first mentioned in the time of the Tudors.
In an inventory of the Wardrobe of Henry VIE we find :
" A nightcappe of blacke velvett embroidered." They were
worn in the day-time by elderly men and invalids.

When Zoilus was sick he knew not where,
Save his wrought nightcap and lawn pillow-bear.

Davies' Epigrams.

They are frequent in the portraits of the seventeenth cen
tury, some of velvet or silk, occasionally richly embroidered
and edged with lace.' Planche, Diet, of Costume.

262. to Paris with lohn Dorrie. The reference is to a
song entitled John Dory, which was exceedingly popular.
Weber, in a note on a passage in The Chances 3. 2, where
one of the characters calls for John Dory, prints all the

ACT n] Notes 169

verses of the song. The tune is to be found in Chappell's
Popular Music of the Olden Time 1. 68, and Hawkins' His
tory of Music 5. 478. Ritson, Ancient English Songs 2. 57,
says that this was the favorite performance of the English
minstrels as late as the reign of King Charles n. Cf. Earle,
Microcosmographyt " Character of a Poor Fiddler " : ' Hunger
is the greatest pains he takes, except a broken head some
times and laboring John Dory.1

263. my prettie Nump. Presumably, Nump is here used for
numps, the obsolete term for dolt or blockhead. See Glossary.
Cf. Bp. Parker, Reproof of Rehearse/ Trans., 1673, p. 85:

Take heart, numps! here is not a word of the stocks.

In Ben Jonson's Bartholomew Fair 1. 4 the word is a cor
ruption of 'Humphrey,' Humphrey Waspe being addressed
as 'Mr. Numps,1 and it is possible that the same nickname
is here applied to our Humphrey.

265. The Diuels Dam. This and the similar phrase, 'the
devil and his dam,' were very common in the literature of
the time. Englische Studien, Vol. 32, prints the following
quotation, taken from Henry Brinfelow's Complaynt of Rod-
eryck Mors (1542 ; E. E. T. S.), as an irrefutable proof that
the second expression must already have been a very usual
one in the first half of the 16th century: 'It is amended,
even as the devel mendyd his dayms legg (at it is in the
proverbe).' This is an evidence, added to that of our pas
sage, that the devil's dam was accustomed to undergo some
sort of physical maltreatment. Moreover, the ridicule of these
infernals was one of the dramatists' favorite appeals to the
groundlings, a motive which came by direct descent from
the later miracle and morality plays, in which the devil was
often a comic character.

266. will prone me another Things. Strangely enough,
the correction of Things to thing escaped the early editors,
and even Dyce, but was finally made by Strachey. Cf. va
riants.

271. I am no true woman. Cf. / Henry IV 2. 2: ' Now,
as I am a true woman, holland of eight shillings an ell.'

170 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT n

279. here's some greene ginger for thee. A specific brought,
no doubt, from the Wife's own still-room. The housewives
of the time were richly versed in remedial lore, and manu
factured many of the domestic medicines. Cf. 3. 211, and
note.

297. no more. This phrase is an old form of demanding
silence. Cf. King John 4. 1 :

Hub. Peace; no more. Adieu. . . .

Arth. O heaven! I thank you, Hubert.

Hub. Silence; no more: go closely in with me.

Cf. also Heywood's / Edward IV, p. 24, ed. Dyce :
Peace, wife, no more. Friend, I will follow ye.

297. In Dyce's arrangement, the fifth scene begins at this
point. Cf. variants. ' Though Humphrey had not quitted
the stage, having been detained by the Citizen's Wife, there
can be no doubt that the audience were to imagine a change
of scene on the entrance of Ralph: I have already noticed
more than once that our early theatres were not furnished
with moveable painted scenery.' Dyce.

300. aske him if he keep The passage. In the old ro
mances, the entrances to castles, &c., are frequently defended
from intruders by knights who were placed as sentries over
them. For illustrations, one may turn to Palmerin of Eng
land. In Part 1, chap. 10, Primaleon comes to Dramuziando's
castle. 'And being come near the castle, the noble prince
Don Duardos came forth upon the bridge. . . . Primaleon,
no less abashed at the bravery of the castle, than to see a
knight so well appointed at arms, began in this order to
use his speeches: Sir Knight, will you not give passage to
one who wishes to see this castle, without making him prove
the strenght of our hands ? If, replied Don Duardos, you
knew how little necessary that wish is, I well believe you
would bend your way elsewhere. The custom is, that you
must joust with me, and if you overthrow me, pass through
other full doubtful dangers, which will show themselves.'
The keeping of a passage for ' the love of lady fair ' seems
exemplified in Part. 1, chap. 20 : ; As concerning why I keep

ACT n] Notes 171

this passage, thus it is : a certain lady, who cured the wounds
I received at my last encounter, against two knights whom
I slew, commanded me to keep this passage until I should
win a knight whom she greatly desireth.'

304. on. Eds. 1750, 1778, and Weber printed, for the
metre, upon.

311. Where is the caitive wretch, &c. Ralph's espousal
of Humphrey's cause is reflective of the chivalric defense
of all distressed mortals, male as well as female. Cf. Don
Quixote, Bk. 2, chap. 5: 'And therefore I travel through
these solitudes and deserts, seeking adventures with full res
olution to offer mine own arm and person to the most
dangerous that fortune shall present, in the aid of weak and
needy persons.' Cf. 1. 263, and note.

316. the great venture of the purse And the rich casket.
'Adventures of the casket' are not infrequent in the ro
mances. Cf. Introd., p. XXXIX.

318. Here comes the Broker hath purloin'd my treasure.
There is double meaning in this sentence. Humphrey uses
the word broker not only in its ordinary significance, but,
more emphatically, in the obsolete sense of pander, or go-
between in love-affairs; here, with an ironical implication.

323. bid him take choice of ground, And so defye him.
This reflects the conventional mode of challenging an enemy
to a contest or trial of skill. Frequently the summons was
carried by a subordinate of the challenger. Thus in Amadis
of Gaul, Bk. 2, chap. 12 :' Then said the knight, King, I defy
thee on the part of Famongomaden, the giant of the Boil
ing Lake.'

325-7. I defie . . . bright Lady. Cf. Amadis of Gaul,

Bk. 1, chap. 17 :' Gal vanes then let loose the bridle; You

threaten us, and you will not release the damsel as right
is, therefore I defy you on my own behalf, and for all errant
knights ! And I defy you all, replied the duke ; in an evil
hour shall any of you come here ! '

338-42. With that . . . Helmet. ' Quoted, or parodied,
from some romance.' Dyce.

339. such a knocke. That he forsooke bis horse and

172 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACTII

downe he fell. The passage is typical. Cf. Amadis, Bk. 1.
chap. 12 :' When he of the lions heard that he with whom
he must yet deal was the lord of the castle, he delivered
him such a rigorous blow on the helmet that he lost his
stirrups, and staggered and fell upon the horse's neck.'

341. And then he leaped vpon him and plucking of his
Helmet. We are to assume that Jasper fitted the action to
the word. The removing of the vanquished knight's helmet
was usually the prelude to his acknowledgement of defeat,
in the absence of which he suffered death. The passage in
Amadis just quoted continues : ' The knight then seized his
helmet and plucked it off, . . . and cried, Yield thyself or
thou art dead. Mercy, quoth he, good knight, and I am
your prisoner.' Cf. also Bk. 2, chap. 19: 'Amadis followed
close and caught him by the helmet, and plucked it off, and
brought him to the ground at his feet, then knelt upon him
and cut off his head, to the great joy off all.'

349. God blesse vs. God preserve us. The utterance is
a precaution from any evil which might arise from pro
nouncing the devil's name. Cf. Ben Jonson, The Devil is
an Ass 4. 4:

Wit. What's his name?

Fit. Devil, o'Darbi-shire. Hit. Bless us from him!

352. if there bee any Law in England. Seemingly a com
mon expression. Cf. A Woman is a Weathercock, Dods.-Haz.,
Old Eng. Plays 9. 57 : ' She is my kinswoman, and I would
be loth our house should suffer any disgrace in her; if
there be law in England, . . . the wench shall take no wrong.'

358. Tie haue a ring to discouer all inchantments. An
indication of the credence given by the Citizen and his class
to the tales of enchantment and the magical properties of
rings, which were scattered throughout the old romances.

368. Fencing-schoole. Cf. 2. 54, and note. ' The manner
of the proceeding of our fencers in their schools is this : first,
they which desire to be taught at their admission are called
scholars, and, as they profit, they take degrees, and proceed to
be provosts of defence ; and that must be wonne by public

ACT n] Notes 173

trial of their proficiencie and of their skill at certain weapons,
which they call prizes, and in the presence and view of many
hundreds of people; and, at their next and last prize well
and sufficiently performed, they do proceed to be maisters
of defence, or maisters of fence, as we commonly call them.'

— The Third University of England, 1615, quoted by Strutt,
Sports and Pastimes, p. 262.

379. I sweare by this my Order. The fictitious Order of
the Burning Pestle. As to the custom of taking oaths, cf.
2. 129-38, and notes.

383. was straid. In the passive of some few intransitive
verbs, mostly of motion, both be and have are still used,
though the use of be is almost wholly restricted to the
passive forms of transitive verbs. In 17th century English,
the use of be with intransitive verbs was very common. Cf.
Abbott, Shakes. Gram., p. 206.

384. Puddle-wharfe. Now called Puddle Dock. It is situ
ated at the foot of St. Andrew's Hill, Upper Thames Street,
Blackfriars, in Castle Bay ward Ward. ' The Blacke-friers
stairs, a free landing-place. Then a Watergate at Puddle
wharf, of one Puddle that kept a wharf on the west side
thereof, and now of Puddle Water, by means of many
horses watered there.' Stow, Survey, ed. Thorns, p. 16.

384. the Criers were abroad for it. There is in the British
Museum an undated folio volume containing a curious little
collection, on three sheets, of early London cries. The
customary duty of the town crier in advertising lost children
is hit off on the third sheet, upon which as a picture of this
officer, bearing a staff and keys. Beneath the picture are
these humorous lines:

O yes, any man or woman that
Can tell any tydings of a little
Mayden childe of the age of 24
Yeares. Bring word to the Cryer
And you shall be pleased for

Your labor,
And God's blessinge.

Cf. A. W. Tuer, Old London Street Cries, p. 22.

174 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT n

386. most comfortablest. The double superlative is of
frequent occurrence in our old writers. 'The inflections er
and est, which represent the comparative and superlative
degrees of adjectives, though retained, yet lost some of their
force, and sometimes received the addition of more, most
for the purpose of greater emphasis. . . . Ben Jonson speaks
of this as " a certain kind of English atticism, imitating the

manner of the most ancientest and finest Grecians." B. J.

786. But there is no ground for thinking that this idiom was
the result of imitating Greek. We find Bottom saying : " The

more better assurance." M. N. D. II. 1. 49.' Abbott, Shakes.

Gram., p. 22.

387. you. ' Omitted by Weber !' Dyce. The play on

get is sufficiently evident.

392. Waltham Townes end. Waltham Abbey, or Waltham
Holy Cross, is a small market-place of Essex. It is situated
on the river Lea, some thirteen miles out from the Liver
pool Street Station, London. It was built on the edge of
the great forest of Waltham, in which some of the scenes
of our play are laid.

393. the Bell Inne. The representation of a bell was a
common tavern-sign. In Chambers' Book of Days 1. 278,
there is a picture of the Bell Inn in Warwick Lane, in which
the signboard is very clearly marked. There was a famous
Bell Inn in Holborn. 'The bell is one of the commonest
signs in England, and was used as early as the fourteenth
century, for Chaucer says that the "gentil hostelrie that
heighte the Tabard," was " fast by the Belle." Most probably
bells were set up as signs on account of our national fond
ness for bell-ringing, which procured for our island the name
of the "ringing island," and made Handel say, that the bell
was our national musical instrument; and long may it be
so ! ' Larwood and Hotten, History of Signboards, p. 477.

'Those townes that we call thorowfaires [of which Waltham
was one] have great and sumptuous innes builded in them,
for the receiuing of such trauellers and strangers as passe
to and fro. The manner of harbouring wherein, is not like
to that of some other countries, ... in which the host or

ACT n] Notes 175

goodman of dooth chalenge a lordlie authoritie ouer his
ghests, but cleane otherwise, sith euerie man may vse his
inne as his owne house in England, and have for his monie
how great or little varietie of vittels and what other sendee
himself shall think expedient to call for.' Harrison, Des
cription of England (Holinshed's Chronicles i. 414).

397. An ancient Castle. Cf. Introd., pp. XL-XLVI.

398. the most holy order of the Bell. The introduction
of this fictitious order is in evident ridicule of the great
number and variety of fraternities among the knights. ' We
have had many orders of Knighthood, plaine Knights, Knights
of Bath, Knights and Baronets, Knights Bannerets, Knights
Templars, Knights of Jerasulem, Knights of Windsor, and
Knights of the Post, which two last were very much like
the Knight errants, for they could reply to the Question as

quick as the Don, and as point blanke.' Gayton, Festivous

Notes Upon Don Quixote, p. 9.

' While the form of chivalry was martial, its object became
to a great extent religious and social : from a mere military
array chivalry obtained the name of the Order, the Holy Order,
and a character of seriousness and solemnity was given to
it.' Sir E. Strachey, Introduction to Morte Darthur, p. XXIV.

403. Chamberlino, who will see Our beds prepar'd. ' Cham-
berlino, properly Chamberlain. An attendant in an inn, equiv
alent to the present head waiter or upper chambermaid,
or both offices united; sometimes male, sometimes female.
Milton says that Death acted to Hobson the carrier:

In the kind office of a chamberlin,

Show'd him his room where he must lodge that night,

Pull'd off his boots, and took away the light.

— On the Univ. Carrier, 1. 14.

I had even as live the chamberlaine of the White Horse
had called me up to bed.

— Peele's Old Wive's Tale, i, 1.

The character of a chamberlaine is given at large by Wye
Saltonstall, in the 18th of his Characters (1631), where some
of his tricks are exposed. Among his perquisites was that
of selling faggots to the guests. He is also said to be " sec-

1 76 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT n

retary to the kitching and tapsty," i. e. the tap. He also
made the charge for the reckoning. The author concludes
by saying,

But I forbeare any farther description, since his picture
is drawne to the life in every inne.

See Mr. Warton's ed. of Milton's smaller poems, p. 323. A
chamberlaine was also a servant in private houses. See
Johnson.'— Nares, Glossary.

404. and bring vs snowy sheetes. ' Ech comer is sure to
lie in cleane sheets, wherein no man hath beene lodged since
they came from the landresse, or out of the water wherein

they were last washed.' Harrison, Description of England

(Holinshed's Chronicles 1. 414).

405. Where neuer foote-man stretch'd his butter'd Hams.
' This alludes to the running footmen, a fashionable piece of
splendid folly prevalent at the time. They were still kept
by some noblemen in Scotland about the middle of the last
century, ane are to be met with occasionally on the continent.
Like the jockeys, they are put upon a particular diet; and,
in order to prevent cramps, the calves of their legs are
greased, and to this the text refers.' Weber.

409. our Palfries slicke with wisps of straw. 'Their
horsses in like sort are walked, dressed and looked vnto by
certaine hostelers or hired seruants, appointed at the charges
of the house, who in hope of extraordinarie reward will deale
verie diligentlie after outward appeerance in this their func
tion and calling.' Harrison, Description of England (Holin
shed's Chronicles 1. 414). ' For as soon as a passenger comes
to an Inne, the servants run to him, and one takes his horse
and walks him till he be cold, then rubs him and gives him
meate, yet I must say they are not much to be trusted in
this last point, without the eye of the Master or his servant
to oversee them.' Fynes Moryson, cited by Besant, London
in the Time of the Tudors, p. 335.

411. grease their teeth with candle snuffe. This seems
to have been a common trick of the ostlers to prevent the
horse from eating the provender. In Lanthorne and Candle-

ACT H] Notes 177

light ( Wks. 3. 298), Dekker describes the manner in which
a certain ostler proceeded to wean his charges of their taste
for hay. He stole down to the stable in the dead of night,
and took away their provender. ' The poore Horses looked
very rufully vpon him for this, but hee rubbing their teeth
onely with the end of a candle (in steed of a Corrol) tolde
them, that for their ladish trickes it was now time to weane
them: And so wishing them not to be angry if they lay
vpon the hard boards, cosidering all the beddes in the house
were full, back againe he stole to his Coach, till breake of
day: yet fearing least the sunne should rise to discouer his
knauery, vp hee started, & into the stable he stumbled,
scarce halfe awake, giuing to euery lade a bottle of hay for
his breake-fast ; but al of them being troubled w the greasy
tooth-ach could eate none, which their maisters in the morning
espying swore they were either sullen or els that provender
pricked them.'

416. Tap. Who's there, you're welcome gentlemen. Cf.
Timon of Athens 4. 3 :

Thou gav'st thine ears like tapsters that bid welcome
To knaves and all approachers.

425. goodly entertains. ' And it is a world to see how
ech owner of them [i. e. the inns] contendeth with other for
goodnesse of interteinement of their ghests, as about finesse
& change of linnen, furniture of bedding, beautie of roomes,
service at the table, costlinesse of plate, strength of drinke,
varietie of wines, or well vsing of horses.' Harrison, De
scription of England, p. 415.

441. Maister Humphery will do some-bodies errant. Cf.
variants. Errand, in this connection, denotes some dignified
enterprise. The Wife is predicting that Humphrey, like
Ralph, will prove his quality by undertaking the rescue of
some distressed knight or damsel. Cf. Kane, Arctic Explo
rations 2. 21. 207 : ' The scene impressed my brother when
he visited it on his errand of rescue' Cf. Glossary.

448. Who oft hath vrged me thy foolishnesse. Who
oft hath brought to my mind, pressed upon my attention,

1 7 8 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT n

thy foolishness. For a similar use of urge, cf. The Coxcomb
5. 2:

Ric I do beseech you

To pardon all these faults, and take me up
An honest, sober, and a faithful man !
Viola [raising him]. For God's sake, urge your faults no
more, but mend !

By supplying to, the modem editors have mended the
lame metre.

454. hedge binding. According to N. E. D., this compound
word is obsolete. It is used to denote 'something used to
bind together the bushes composing a hedge.'

464. Puckeridge. According to Harrison, ' Puchrich ' was
on 'the waie from Walsingham to London,' some thirteen
miles from Waltham, and twenty-five from London. De
scription of England, p. 415.

468. tuely. Misprint. Cf. variants.

476. When it was growne to darke midnight. 'This
stanza is from the ballad of Fair Margaret and Sweet William,
Reliques of Ancient Poetry [Vol. 3, Bk. 2], where it is thus
given [from " a modern printed copy "] :

"When day was gone, and night was come,

And all men fast asleep,
Then came the spirit of fair Marg'ret,

And stood at William's feet. " Weber.

The full title of the ballad is Fair Margarets Misfortunes;
or Sweet William' s frightful dreams on his wedding night,
with the sudden death and burial of those noble lovers. Mar
garet has died of grief because her lover has deserted her,
and wedded another. Her ghost appears in his dreams to
rebuke him. He is overcome with remorse, and dies. The
tune to the ballad is printed in Chappell's Popular Music
of the Olden Time 1. 383.

483. I am three merry men, and three merry men. Chap-
pell in his Popular Music of the Olden Time i. 216, prints
the tune to a catch which runs thus:

ACT H] Notes 179

I in the wood, and thou on the ground
And Jack sleeps in the tree.

These verses are rehearsed in Peele's Old Wives' Tale ;
they are sung in Act 2 of Ram Alley (Dods-Haz., Old Eng.
Plays 10. 298); are referred to in Dekker and Webster's
Westward Ho, and other old plays ; and in Fletcher's tragedy,
The Bloody Brothers, 3. 2, they occur in the following form :

Three merry boys, and three merry boys,

And three merry boys are we,
As ever did sing, three parts in a string,

All under the triple tree.

Sir Toby, in Twelfth Night 2. 3, says that < Malvolio's a
Peg-a-Ramsey, and Three merry men be we! Hawkins, in
his History of Music, says that it is a conclusion common
to many old songs. The refrain, indeed, goes back at least
to the Robin Hood Ballads:

Then Robin Hood took them by the hands

With a hey, &c.
And danced about the oak-tree;
For three merry men, and three merry men,

And three merry men be we.

485. troule the blacke bowle to me. ' Trowle, or trole the
bowl was a common phrase in drinking for passing the vessel
about, as appears by the following beginning of an old catch :

"Trole, trole the bowl to me,

And I will trole the same again to thee."

— Sir John Hawkins' History of Music 3. 22.

It is probably the above catch which Merrythought intro
duces into his speech ! ' Weber. Dyce says that Hawkins'

quotation is from Ravenscroft's Pammelia 1609, a book which
is not for the present purpose obtainable.

Cf. the song at beginning of Act 2, Gammer Gurton's
Needle, stanza 3 :

Then dooth she trowle to mee the bowle,

Euen as a mault-worme shulde,
And sayth, " Sweete hart," I tooke my part

Of this iolly good ale and olde.

i8o The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT n

In the Second Three Men's Song, Dekker's Shoemaker's
Holiday 5. 4, there is this stanza :

Trowl the bowl, the jolly nut-brown bowl,

And here, kind mate, to thee :
Let's sing a dirge for Saint Hugh's soul,

And down it merrily.

The tune to Hey wood's song is in Chappell's Popular Music
of the Olden Time 1. 278.

487. cath. A misprint of catch. Cf. variants. ' A catch
is a species of vocal harmony to be sung by three or more
persons ; and is so contrived, that though each sings precisely
the same notes as his fellows, yet by beginning at stated
periods of time from each other, there results from the per
formance a harmony of as many parts as there are ringers.
Compositions of this kind are, in strictness, called Canons
in the unison; and as properly, Catches, when the words in
the different parts are made to catch or answer each other.'
Johnson and Steevens' Shakespeare 4. 57.

490. mans head vpon London-bridge. ' Old London Bridge
was a stone bridge over the Thames from London to South-
wark, 926 feet long, 60 feet high, and 40 feet broad, built
between 1176 and 1209, under the superintendence of Peter
of Colechurch, chaplain of the former church of St. Mary
Colechurch, in the Old Jewry. The heads of traitors and
heretics were set upon poles at first over the drawbridge, and
then over the bridge gate at Southwark, which was taken
down in 1726, but the custom of exposing traitors' heads
had been discontinued before then, although the gate was
rebuilt of stone in 1728. . . . Hentzener, when in England
in 1598, counted " above thirty " heads upon the bridge.
The last head exhibited on the bridge was that of Venner,

the Fifth Monarchy zealot, in the reign of Charles II.'

Wh.-C. The old bridge disappeared in 1832, after the open
ing of the new structure in 1831.

492. of. 'Altered by the editors of 1778 to "on"; and
so Weber : but they ought to have recollected that of in

the sense of on was formerly very common.' Dyce. Cf.

Glossary.

ACT n] Notes 1 8 1

517. in a Countrey. This was a common expression. Cf.
Nash, Summer's Last Will and Testament, Dods., Old Eng.
Plays 9. 67 : ' This same Harry Baker is such a necessary
fellow to go on errands as you shall not find in a country.'1

521. As you came from Walsingham. The printed version
of the ballad, As ye Came from the Holy Land, from which
the quotation in the text is taken, gives the stanza thus:

As ye came from the holy land

Of blessed Walsingham,
O met you not with my true love

As by the way ye came?

—Percy's Reliques, Vol. 2, Bk. 1.

This is the query of a forsaken lover, who proceeds to
descant upon the fickleness of womankind.

Walsingham was a place of pilgrimage. Cf. next note.
Percy says 'that pilgrimages undertaken on pretense of
religion, were often productive of affairs of gallantry, and
led the votaries to no other shrines than those of Venus.'
He quotes from Langland, Piers Plowman:

Hermets on a heape, with hoked staves,
Wenten to Walsingham, and her wenches after.

The verses in our passage are also found in an old play
entitled Hans Beerpot, his Invisible Comedy, 1618. The tune
is printed in Chappell's Popular Music of the Olden Time 1. 123.

521. fro that holy land. Walsingham is an old-fashioned
market-town, lying in Norfolk about seven miles from the
sea. It is of interest to-day because of the remains of an
ancient Augustinian priory, which once contained the famous
shrine of Our Lady of Walsingham, which was as celebrated
for miraculous influences as that of St. Thomas at Canter
bury. Down to the time of the dissolution of the priory in
1538, this image of the Virgin was a close rival to equally
renowned continental fanes in the numbers of pilgrims which
it attracted yearly from all parts of the world. Cf. Cham
bers, Book of Days 2. 174, and Murray, Handbook of Essex,
Suffolk, Norfolk, and Cambridgeshire.

All eds. except Qa and Dyce print 'the holy land,' a

1 82 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT n

reading which ignores the sacred associations of Walsingham,
and gives a misleading suggestion of Jerusalem.

531. He set her on a milk-white steed. 'A similar verse
occurs in a ballad called The Douglas Tragedy, printed in
the Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, Vol. 2, p. 217 [ed.
1810] :—

" He's mounted her on a milk-white steed,

And himself on a dapple grey,
With a bugelet horn hung down by his side,

And lightly they rode away." '

Weber.

'And in The Knight and Shepherd's Daughter:

" He sett her on a milk-white steede,

And himself upon a graye ;
He hung a bugle about his necke,

And soe they rode awaye."

Percy's Reliques Vol. 3, Bk. 1.

Perhaps the verse as given by Merrythought, may exist
in some ballad with which I am unacquainted.' Dyce.

Child considers these conjectured originals for Merry
thought's verses to be of equal probability. Cf. English
and Scottish Popular Ballads 2. 457.

The Douglas Tragedy tells of the abduction of Margaret,
Lord Douglas' daughter, by Lord William, the fight be
tween father and lover, the slaying of the latter, and Margaret's
death from grief.

The Knight and Shepherd's Daughter is a tale of seduc
tion and desertion. In the end the knight is forced to wed
the heroine, with an attendant discovery that she is a duke's
daughter in disguise, and that he is but a squire's son.

541—2. downe .... shall. Dyce found these verses in a
masque which was presented on Candlemasnight at Cole-
Overton, but which has never been printed. He quotes the
following passage :

Puck What newes abrode ? where the vengeance

haes thou been thus long.

Bob. Why, goblin, He tell thee, boy ; all over England,
where hospitality-downe he sings,

ACT n] Notes 1 83

Downe, downe it falls,

Downe, and arise, downe, and arise it never shall.

543. Ed. 1750, for the metre, reads ' but I behold,' and
Weber, ' I but behold.'

546. you'l make a dogge on her. ' We usually talk of a
dog's sire and dam.' Weber.

556. Giue him flowers i' now Palmer. The custom of
strewing flowers upon the biers and graves of departed
friends is of great antiquity. Brand has a chapter upon its
history. Pop. Antiq. 2. 302, if.

562. Was neuer man for Ladies sake. 'A stanza from
the Legend of Sir Guy ; Percy's Reliques of Antient Poetry,
Vol. 3, Bk. 2:

Was ever knight for ladyes sake
Soe tost in love, as I Sir Guy
For Phelis fayre, that lady bright
As ever man beheld with eye.

The ballad is again quoted in The Little French Lawyer,

Act 2, sc. 3.' Weber. The Little French Lawyer has only

one of the lines:

Was ever man for lady's sake? Down, down!

' " The Legend of Sir Guy " contains a short summary of
the exploits of this famous champion, as recorded in the old
story books ; and is commonly intitled, " A pleasant song of
the valiant deeds of chivalry achieved by that noble knight
Sir Guy of Warwick, who, for the love of fair Phelis, be
came hermit, and dyed in a cave of craggy rocke, a mile
distant from Warwick."' —Percy, Reliques.

The original metrical romance is cited by Chaucer as pop
ular even in his time:

Men speke of romances of prys,

Of Horn childe and Ypotys,

Of Bevis, and sir Gy. Rime of Sir Thopas.

The tune of The Legend of Sir Guy is in Chappell's Pop
ular Music of the Olden Time 1. 172.

184 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT n

573. I gaue the whoreson gallows money. ' Gallows is a.
common term of reproach, meaning, one who deserves the
gallows ; yet Weber printed " I gave the whoreson gallows-
money " ! ' Dyce.

575. him. ' 'em. 'Old eds. " him," a frequent misprint.'—
Dyce. Cf. variants.

577. Baloo. ' See Percy's Reliques of Antient Poetry Vol. 2,
Bk. 2, Lady Anne Bothwell's Lamentation; in which the
concluding lines of each stanza are these;

Balow, my babe, lie stil and sleipe!
It grieves me sair to see thee weepe. '

—Ed. 1778.

' There are several other popular songs which have a sim
ilar burden, but the text alludes to the tune, which was
still popular in the reign of Charles II.' Weber.

Lady Bothwell, in the ballad mentioned, croons over her
babe a lullaby into which she infuses a lament over her
lord, who has deserted her.

578. Lachrimae. Specifically, Lachrimae was a tune, written
by Dowland, a celebrated lutanist and composer. It is pre
served in two MSS. of Dowland's (consisting of lute-music)
in the Public Library at Cambridge, in Queen Elizabeth's
Virginal Book. Dowland also published a musical volume
entitled Lachrymae, or Seven Teares figured in seaven passion
ate Pavans, &c., which has been confused with the tune
itself by Weber, Nares, and other commentators. Cf. Dyce.

There are numerous references to the tune in the old
dramatists.

581. what story is that painted vpon the cloth? Painted
cloth was a term frequently applied to a species of cheap

hangings, upon which designs, i. e. 'stories' were

painted in imitation of tapestry. Since tapestry was very
expensive, painted cloths were used for decorative purposes
even in the houses of the aristocracy. Cf. Nares, Glossary.

If one were to accept the statements of Malone and Collier
that curtains were used in front of the old stages, we might
regard the painted cloth to which the Wife refers as a drop-

ACT n] Notes 185

curtain. Recent investigators, however, discountenance the
conclusions of the older authorities on this point. W. J.
Lawrence, in an article entitled Some Characteristics of the
Elizabethan and Stuart Stage (Englische Studien, Vol. 32, 1903),
in an argument too long to reproduce here, shows that some
of the passages cited by Malone in support of his contention
have no bearing on the period, and that all the others refer,
not to a front curtain, but to the traverses. The traverses
were hangings at the rear of the stage, sometimes used for
scenic purposes, and sometimes serving, when drawn, to
make another and inner apartment, if the business of the
play so required.

Especially pertinent to our play is this paragraph in Law
rence's article : ' Much of what we know definitely concerning
the physical conditions of the Elizabethan-Stuart theatres,
and of the play-going customs of the time, argues of the
absence of a front curtain. The stage was simply a rush-
strewn scaffold jutting out into the pit. It had no feature
that approximated to our modern proscenium arch. Between
player and spectator there was as yet no strict line of de
marcation. If the action demanded it (as in The Knight of
the Burning Pestle), the player could seat himself tempora
rily in the pit ; the spectator, on his part, could retaliate by
occupying a stool on the stage. Moreover, as there were
boxes at the back of the stage as well as on the sides,
there was as little necessity for a front curtain at an early
playhouse as in a latterday circus.'

Weber remarks in connection with our passage : ' It may
here be observed, that the present play is one of the
strongest proofs in favour of Mr. Malone's argument, that
there were no moveable scenes in the ancient theatres; as
the citizen and his wife would certainly have made their
observations on the different alterations, which must have
been necessary had the scenery intended to be imagined
been actually represented.'

581. the confutation of Saint Paul. The Wife undoubtedly
means The Conversion of St. Paul; but the one title for the
' story ' probably has as much significance for her as the other.

1 86 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT in

583. that Raph and Lucrece. An evident blunder for
the Rape of Lucrece.

585. that was a Tartarian. ' " The citizen's mistake and
his wife's consequent surprise will not be understood with
out recollecting that Tartarian was a cant term for a thief.

So in The Merry Devil of Edmonton, the Host says,

' There's not a Tartarian nor a carrier shall breathe upon
your geldings; they have villainous rank feet, the rogues,
and they shall not sweat in my linen.' And in The Wander
ing Jew, 1640, as quoted by Mr. Reed, the Hangman says,

' I pray, Master Jew, bestow a cast of your office upon me,
a poor member of the law, by telling me my fortune ; and
if any thieving Tartarian shall break in upon you, I will
with both hands nimbly lend a cast of my office to him.'

' Weber, who was indebted to the index of Dodsley's

Old Plays for these examples of a word not of common
occurrence, and the meaning of which they leave somewhat
indefinite.' Dyce.

ACT III.

1. my deere deere. Weber foolishly printed ' my dear
deer \ ' Of course the modern reading should be ' my dear
dear,1 i. e. my dear darling. Cf. variants.

25. But take it. Moorman, ed. of The Knight of the Burning
Pestle (Temple Dramatists), supplies the right meaning of
this phrase, viz. give way, acquiesce, and cites, by way of
illustration, Hamlet's soliloquy at the end of 2. 2 :

Who calls me villain? breaks my pate across?
Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face !
Tweaks me by the nose ? gives me the lie i ' the throat,
As deep as the lungs? who does me this, ha?
' Swounds, I should take it.

35. Tell me (deerest) what is loue ? This song occurs in
The Captain 2. 2, with variations and an added stanza.
47. Euer toward, Those that loue, to loue anew. The

sense is helped by the omission of the comma after toward.
Anew is a puzzling word. It apparently has a meaning ex
tending beyond any definition supplied by the dictionaries.

ACT in] Notes 187

I have given it the definition of freshly ; as a novelty ; with
some implication of fickleness. Cf. Glossary. This is an inter
pretation warranted by the drift of the whole lyric, throughout
which Luce lightly banters Jasper upon the unfaithfulness
of lovers.

49—51. I see the God, Of heauy sleepe, lay on his heauy
mace Vpon your eye-lids. Here is the familiar conception
of Somnos lulling to sleep whomsoever he touches with his
golden wand. Cf. Julius Caesar 4. 3. 267.

54. distempers. ' Sympson, for the metre, printed " all
distempers; " and so his successors. Something perhaps may
have dropt out from the line : it is nevertheless certain that
our early poets very frequently used fair as a dissyllable.'
Dyce.

63. let not fulnesse Of my poore buried hopes, come vp
together. The employment of together in connection with
a verb the subject of which is in the singular is peculiar;
it can best be explained here by considering the notion of
plurality involved in the word fulnesse through its association
with hopes.

The comma after hopes is omitted by F. and succeeding
editions, as of course it should be. Cf. variants.

66. the sea and women Are gouern'd by the Moone.
The idea is proverbial. In Hey wood's 2 Edward IV,
p. 162, ed. Dyce, Mistress Blague, a false friend of Jane
Shore, says:

And what can be objected for the same
That once I lov'd her: well perhaps I did;
And women all are govern d by the moon,
But now I am of another humour;
Which is, you know a planet that will change.

The notion is embodied by Shakespeare in Richard 111
2. 2, in a speech of Queen Elizabeth:

All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes,

That I, being governed by the watery moon,

May send forth plenteous cries to drown the world !

Cf. also Love's Labour's Lost 5. 2 :

1 88 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACTIII

Rosalind. My face is but a moon, and clouded too

Not yet ! no dance ! Thus change I like the moon.
King. Will you not dance? How come you thus

estranged ?
Rosalind. You took the moon at full, but now she's changed.

100. watch at Ludgate. The sentinels who stood guard
at Ludgate, one of the entrances through the city wall. Cf.
Ind. 3, and note. These officers were stationed along all parts
of the wall. Pepys' Diary 3. 410 (ed. Wheatley, 1893) has
this entry: 'Home in a coach, round by the Wall, where
we met so many stops by the Watches that it cost us much
time and some trouble, and more money, to every watch,
to them to drinck.'

The Wife's suggestion that the watch at Ludgate be called
is perhaps especially significant in that she knew of Ludgate,
not only as a passage-way into the city, but also as a prison
which was set apart for the free citizens of her own class
who were committed for debts, trespasses, and like offenses.
Ludgate was first erected into a prison in the reign of
Richard II. Traitors and other criminals were committed
to Newgate. Cf. Massinger, The City Madam:

. . . built with other men's monies
Ta'en up at interest, the certain road
To Ludgate in a citizen.

102. the King's peace. ' orig. The protection secured to
certain persons by the king, as those employed on his bus
iness, travelling on the king's highway, &c. ; hence, the gen
eral peace of the kingdom under the king's authority.' N.

E. D. ' By the end of the thirteenth century . . . the king's
peace had fully grown from an occasional privilege into a
common right.' Sir T. Pollock, Oxford Lectures, p. 88.

121. Sir Beuis. The hero of a celebrated mediaeval ro
mance, entitled Sir Bevis of Hampton, which has as its sub
ject the wondrous adventures and daring of an English knight,
principally in the East. The legend is widely spread in the
literatures of mediaeval Europe. The original English version
(13th cent.) seems to have been derived from a French
source. The story is related in Drayton's Pofyolbton, Bk. 2.

ACT in] Notes 189

122. stay his comming. In the cant of knight-errantry ^
this is a stock phrase meaning to await his arrival or onset.
Cf. Palmerin de Oliva, Part 1, chap. 6 : ' He got over the
Wall againe, where Trenato stayed his comming.'1 ' As for
the rest they should be going on before, and stay his com
ming at an appointed place.'

145. I tremble (as they say) as 'twere an Aspine leafe.
Cf. 2 Henry IV 2. 4 : ' Host. ... By my troth, I am the
worse when one says " swagger ; " feel, masters, how I shake ;
. . . yea, in very truth, do I, an 'twere an aspen-leaf: I cannot
abide swaggerers.'

156. the reckoning is not paid. 'In the evening or in
the morning after breakfast .... he, the guest, shall have a
reckoning in writing, and if it seeme vnreasonable, the Host
will satisfie him, either for the due price, or by abating part,
especially if the servant deceive him any way, which one
of experience will soone find.' Fynes Moryson, Itinerary,
1617, p. 151.

160—2. We render thankes . . . For thus refreshing of
our wearied limbes. One is reminded of Don Quixote's
gratitude to the host in Bk. 3, chap. 3. Cf. Introd.,
p. XLI.

164. there is twelue shillings to pay. Ralph and his
attendants have spent the night at the inn, and have prob
ably had supper and breakfast. Whether or not the charge
for the accommodations is exorbitant may be reckoned from
the following passage in Fynes Moryson's Itinerary, 1617,
p. 61 : ' In the Innes men of inferiour condition vse to eate
at the Host's Table, and pay som six pence ameale : but
Gentlemen have their chambers, and eate alone, except
perhaps they have consorts and friends in their company,
and of their acquaintance. If they be accompanied, perhaps
their reckoning may commonly come to some two shillings
a man, and one that eates alone in his owne chamber with
one or two servants attending him, perhaps vpon reckoning
may spend some five or six shillings for supper and break
fast. . . . One horses meate will come to twelve pence, or
eighteene pence the night for Hay, Oates and Straw.'

190 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT m

164. to pay. The infinitive active is often found where
we use the passive. Cf. Abbott, Shakes. Gram., p. 259.

166. double lug. 'Mentioned by Cleveland in The Rebel
Scot :

" Or which of the Dutch States a double Jug
Resembles most in Belly or in Beard."

Works, p. 41, ed. 1687.' Dyce.

176. I will not bate a peny. Apparently the Host thinks
that Ralph has been fairly treated during his sojourn. Cf.
3. 164, and note.

179. nothing but. (It is) nothing but. Abbott gives num
erous examples of the omission of it is in Shakespearean
English. Cf. Shakes. Gram., p. 290.

179. the old Knight is merrie with Ralph. Gayton, in
speaking of the tavern-keeper in Don Quixote, chap. 3, thus
accounts for the proverbial merriment of mine Host : ' It is
ordinary for Hosts to be knavishly witty, the latter being a
set-off to the former. Much of the reckoning goes current
for the Drolery of the Maker of the Bill. There is a kind
of Leachery in neat and ingenious cozenage. It doth find
mercy before a Judge, and applause amongst most. . . . Just
as mine Host is here, so is every Host almost upon all rodes
of the Temper with his Guest ; he is a Knight errant with
a Knight errant; Are you a Cavaliere, he is a Cavaliere. . . .
They are the veriest Apes in the World, and to be short,
generally Bonii Socii, and very Sofia's : Like guest, like Land
lord.' Festivous Notes Upon Don Quixote, p. 8.

183. Sir Knight, this mirth of yours becomes you well.
Ralph's obtuseness regarding the reckoning eclipses even
that of Don Quixote upon leaving the inn in Bk. 3, chap. 3.
Cf. Introd., pp. XLI-II.

185. But to requite this noble curtesie. Don Quixote
similarly offers to give a knightly recompense for his enter
tainment. Cf. Introd., p. XLI.

186-8. If any of your Squires will follow annes, Hee shall
receiue from my heroicke hand A Knight-hood. It will be
recalled that Don Quixote was much afflicted until he was

ACT in] Notes 191

dubbed knight, 'forasmuch as he was fully persuaded that
he could not lawfully enterprise, or follow any adventure,
until he received the order of knighthood ' (Bk. 1, chap. 2).
All the chivalric heroes, before they enter into the full swing
of their adventures, see to it that they become knighted.
Amadis says : ' Sir, it behoves me to obtain knighthood, that
I may win honour and the praise of prowess. The king
saw him, how fair he was, and approaching him said, Would

you receive the order of knighthood ? 1 would. In the

name of God, then ! and may He order it that it be well
bestowed on you .... Then, putting on the right spur, he
said, now are you a knight, and may receive the sword.
The king took the sword and gave it him, and the child
girded it on' (Bk. 1, chap. 5). In Don Quixote, the cere
mony is more familiar to us : the host who performs it deals
blows upon the neck and shoulders with his sword.

189. Faire Knight I thanke you for your noble offer.
Don Quixote's host is less courteous than Ralph's. Cf. Introd.,
p. XLII.

190. Therefore gentle Knight. 'The incomplete sense
shows that some words which preceded " Therefore " have
dropt out from the second line.' Dyce.

190. gentle Knight. A very frequent formula in the ro
mances. Cf. Amadis, Bk. 1, chap. 19: 'Ah, gentle knight,
God protect thee and give thee reward.'

195. let him go snickvp. Cf. 2. 87, and note.

197. theres your mony, haue you any thing to say to
Raph now ? This solution of the difficulty has no parallel
in Don Quixote. Cf. Introd., p. XLII.

210. when your youth conies home, &c. The housewife
was the great ally of the doctor in the old times. A still-
room was a common department in the Elizabethan house.
There the good woman of the house concocted numerous
specifics for the family's use, and found, in so doing, one
of her most regular employments. The medical superstitions
of the age were numerous, and the strange remedies which
the Wife proposes for ills in various parts of our play are
a faithful reflection of ideas current in her day.

192 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACTIII

Thornbury has some interesting pages on the domestic
medicine of the Elizabethan age in his Shakespeare's Eng
land, Vol. 2, chap. 14.

211. let him rub all the soles of his feete, and the heeles,
and his ancles, with a mouse skinne. I have been able to
get no information regarding the belief that a mouse's skin
was remedial for chilblains. Some curious superstitions re
garding other medical uses of mice are recorded in an old
book by one Robert Lovell, published in 1661. Its title is
Panzoologicomineralogia, or a Compleat History of Animals
and Minerals. The following extract is taken from Notes
and Queries, Series 1, Vol. 4, p. 52 : ' The flesh eaten causeth
oblivion, and corrupteth the meat ; yet those of Chalecut eat
them; it is hot, soft, and fattish, and expelleth melancholy.
... A mouse dissected and applied, draweth out reeds,
darts, and other things that stick in the flesh. . . . Mice
bruised, and reduced to the consistence of an acopon, with
old wine, cause hair on the eyebrows. . . . Being eaten by
children when rested, they dry up the spittle. The magic
ians eat them twice a month against the pains of the teeth.
The water in which they have been boiled helps against
the quinsey. . . . The fresh blood kills warts. The ashes of
the skin, applied with vinegar, help the paines of the head.
The head worn in a cloth, helps the headache and epilepsy.'
There is more of the same sort, to the extent of nearly three
closely printed pages.

217. it's very soueraigne for his head if he be costiue.
The virtue of smelling to the toes is a feature in folk-lore
medicine upon which I have found no information. Smelling
to unlikely curatives, however, seems not to have been un
common. In Lovell's Compleat History of Animals and
Minerals, p. 80, quoted above, 3. 211, we are told that the
dung of a ' Horse hindereth too much bleeding, after phle-
bomie, being applied : So smelling to.'

225. light. The word is an obsolete pp. of the verb to
light. It is unwarrantably altered to lit by ed. 1778 and Weber.

228. Dwarfe beare my shield, Squire eleuate my lance.
Portions of the armour were regularly borne by the knight's

ACT ni] Notes 1 93

attendants. Thus in Palmerin de Oliva : ' In the morning they
arose, and armed themselves, all save their Helmets and
Lances, which their Squires carried.' Elsewhere, we read
of two squires who carry the hero's helmet, shield, and mace ;
and, in Palmerin of England, of a squire who bears the
shield and helmet.

232. speake worthy Knight, If ought you do of sad ad-
uentures know. Cf. the speech which Gayton in his Festt-
vous Notes, p. 83, causes Don Quixote to utter upon leaving
the inn:

High Constable of this large Castle, kown,
I cannot pay you, what I present owe
For all the favours shewne, for the sweet oyles,
Yet fragrant on my wounds got in late broyles.
But chiefly for the Queens affections,
And for your Daughters gentle frictions,
Never was Knight so handled : wherefore say,
(For new adventures call your guest away)
Is there a Miscreant who hath dar'd to blast
Your Queen or Daughter, as they were unchast;
Or that your selfe are of no noble spirit,
(Courteous above almost Knights-errants merit)
Shew me the Varlet that I may confound him,
Before I go to fight the world so round in.

244. Against no man, but furious fiend of hell. Against
a creature who is not a man, but a furious fiend of hell.

246. For heere I vow vpon my blazing badge, Neuer to
blaze a day in quietnesse. Weber reminds the reader that
in the romance of Perceforest (edit. 1531, Vol. 1, chap. 41)
Alexander the Great and his chivalry take an oath that
they will never rest one day in one place until the great
quest is accomplished.

247. blaze. Dyce reasonably conjectures that the word is
a misprint, occasioned by the eye of the original compositor
having caught the word ' blazing ' in the preceding line.
He says the sense seems to require 'lose' or 'pass.' This
is true ; nevertheless it is consistent with the context to re
gard the word as meaning to shine resplendently, whereby
Ralph would mean that he would not be content to sit in
idleness, resplendent with his armor and his blazing badge, &c.

194 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT HI

248. But bread and water will I onely eate, &c. Cf. Don
Quixote, Bk. 2, chap. 2: 'But when Don Quixote saw that
the visor of his helmet was broken, he was ready to run
mad; and, setting his hand to his sword, and lifting up his
eyes to heaven, he said : " I vow to the Creator of all things,
and to the four gospels where they are largest written, to
lead such another life as the great Marquis of Mantua did,
when he swore to revenge the death of his nephew Valdo-
vinus; which was not to eat on table-cloth nor sport with
his wife, and other things, which, although I do not now
remember, I give them here for expressed, until I take
complete revenge on him that hath done me this outrage.'

1 Pellicer, in his excellent edition of Don Quixote, observes,
that Cervantes either did not recollect or purposely altered
the vow of the Marquis, which he subjoins from an old
ballad, and which was, never to comb his hair, nor cut his
beard, nor to change his dress, nor but on new shoes, never
to enter any town or village, not to take off his armour,
unless to wash his body; never to eat upon a table-cloth,
nor sit down at a table, till he had revenged Baldovinos.'
Weber.

Bread and water would not have seemed a hard diet to
Don Quixote. He gives Sancho Panza to understand that
' it is an honour for knights-errant not to eat in a month's
space; and if by chance they should eat, to eat only of
that which is next at hand.' In the books of knight-errantry,
the heroes did never eat 'but by mere chance and adven
ture, or in some costly banquets that were made for them
and all other days they passed over with herbs and roots ; '
and though it is to be understood that they could not live
without meat, yet, since they spent the greater part of their
lives in forests and deserts, ' their most ordinary meats were
but coarse and rustical.'

249. And the greene hearbe and rocke shall be my couch.
The knights' predilection for hard couches is a recurrent
motive. Cf. Palmerin of England, Part 2, chap. 121 : ' Here
they alighted, . . . the knight having retired farther into
the wood, that he might leave them to themselves; and

ACTHI] Notes 195

throwing himself at the foot of the tree, with his helmet for
a pillow, began to think of Lionarda.'

254. There doth stand a lowly house. ' Something seems
to have dropt out here. Sympson's " anonymous friend "
proposed, —

" A mansion there doth stand, a lonely house" observ
ing that afterwards ' " tis called a mansion" ' Dyce.

255. a Caue, In which an ougly Gyant now doth won.
Giants and wild men in the romances habitually inhabit caves
or dark and forbidding castles. 'The Savage man' who
carries off the infant Palmerin in the first chapters of Pal-
merin of England dwells in a cave. One of the giants whom
Palmerin overcomes is known as ' Daliagem of the Dark Cave.'

257. Barbaroso. The play upon the word barber (from
Latin barba, a beard) is evident

Resounding and mouth-filling names were ordinarily given
to the giants. In Palmerin of England, for instance, we
read of the giants Pavoroso, Miraguardo, Dramuziando, &c.
Don Quixote imagines himself slaying the giant Caraculiam-
bro, lord of the island called Malindriana. Cf. Bk. 1, chap. 1.

263. A copper bason, on a prickant speare. A ' prickant
spear' is an 'upward pointing' spear. Cf. Glossary. The
phrase as here used is an euphemism for barber 's pole. The
copper basin was a common trade-sign, used to indicate
blood-letting, &c., in the days when the barber and surgeon
were one. ' In cities and corporate towns they still retain the
name of Barber Chirurgeons. They therefore used to hang their
basons upon poles, to make known at distance to the weary

and wounded traveller where all might recourse.' Athenian

Oracle 1. 834.

In the British Apollo, foL, Lond. 1708, Vol. 1, no. 3, there
is an explanation of the origin of the custom :

hi ancient Rome, when men lov'd fighting,
And wounds and scars took much delight in,
Man-menders then had noble pay,
Which we call surgeons to this day.
Twas ordered that a huge long pole,
With bason deck'd, should grace the hole,

196 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT m

To guide the wounded, who unlopt
Could walk, on stumps the others hopt.

268. Engine. It is perhaps needless to say that the con
text shows that the Host is referring to the barber's comb.

Dekker would have it that the gallants and it is gallants

whom Ralph is to deliver from Barbaroso considered it

ill-advised to comb the hair. He says (Gull's Horn-book,
chap. 3) : 'To maintaine therefore that sconce [i. e. head]
of thine strongly guarded, and in good reparation, never
suffer combe to fasten his teethe there: let thy haire grow
thick and bushy like a forrest, or some wildernesse; lest
those sixe-footed creatures that breede in it, and are Tenants
to that crowne-land of thine, bee hunted to death by every
barbarous Barber; and so that delicate, and tickling pleasure
of scratching, be vtterly taken from thee.'

270. Next makes him winke. For the purpose of an
ointing his eyes with perfumed water. ' Your eyes closed
must be anointed therewith also.' Stubbes, Anat. of Ab
uses 2. 50.

271. brazen peece of mighty bord. ' " I conjecture the
poets intende to say bore; so the cavity of a gun, cannon, &c.,

is commonly called." Sympson, (who, it may be mentioned

as a remakable instance of obtuseness, — -did not perceive
that the utensil here spoken of is the barber's basin, but

supposed it to be a piece of ordnance: he accordingly

printed " bore " in the text ; and was followed by the Editors
of 1778.' — Dyce.

After all, as Dyce points out, bord as here used is a cor
ruption of the archaic word bore, meaning ' the calibre or
internal diameter of a hole or perforation, whether made by

boring or not.' Cent. Diet. The term is especially applied

to the cavity of a gun or tube. Cf. Drayton, Noah's Flood
(ed. 1630), p. 103:

Beside th'Artillery
Of fourscore pieces of a mighty Boare.

The barber's basin was ' a basin or bowl formerly used in
shaving, having a broad rim with a semicircular opening to

ACT ni] Notes 197

fit the neck of the customer, who held it, while the barber
made the lather with his hand and applied it directly: still
in use in some parts of Europe as a barber's sign.' Cent. Diet.

272. bullets. In obsolete use, a bullet, as the term is here
employed, means a small ball. Cf. Glossary. Cf. Lyte,
Dodoeus 1. 8. 15, 1578 : ' Upon the branches of the burdock
there groweth small bullets or rounde dalles' Again, the
word ball, in a specific obsolete use, .means a spherical
piece of soap. Cf. Glossary. Soap seems regularly to have
been molded in this shape. In our passage, the reference is to
the barber's lather-balls. The old plays and pamphlets have
many references to soap-balls :

As a barber wasteth his Ball in the water. — Nashe,

Christ's Tears, p. 25.
A half-witted barbarian, which no barber's art, or his

balls will ever expunge or take out. Ben Jonson,

Magnetic Lady 2. 1.
A ball to scour a scouring ball a ball to be shaved.

Dutch Courtezan 3. 3.

273. Whilst with his fingers, and an instrument
With which he snaps his haire off, he doth fill
The wretches eares with a most hideous noise.

The snapping or ' knacking ' of the fingers, or the shears,
was a common trick of the barbers. It is often given liter
ary notice.

The barbers ' gallery-play ' with the shears excites the
wrath of Stubbes, Anat. of Abuses 2. 50: 'Besides that,
when they come to the cutting of the haire, what snipping
and snapping of the cysers is there, what tricking and toying,
and al to towe out mony, you may be sure.'

281. And by that vertue that braue Rosicleere, That
damned brood of ougly Gyants slew. Weber states that
Ralph is here referring to a combat between Rosicler and
the giants Bulfor and Mandroc, which is related in chap. 10,
Bk. 4, of The Mirror of Knighthood. Cf. 1. 231, and note.
Since Ralph speaks of a ' brood ' of giants, it is more prob
able that he has in mind Rosicler's adventure with the
giant Brandagedeon and his thirty knights. The story is

198 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT ni

told in chap. 36 of Bk. 1. Rosicler goes forth to avenge
a number of damsels whom Brandagedeon has molested.
In the engagement, the giant is on the point of being slain,
when his knights come to the rescue. So valorous and
mighty of arm is Rosicler that in a trice he fells to earth
ten of these assailants. He soon has slain ten more, and
holds out against the remainder until one of the damsels
has summoned two other errant knights to his rescue. Mean
while he has overcome and decapitated the giant himself.
His strength begins to wane, but, with the arrival of aid,
he revives, and the whole of Brandagedeon's company is
put to the sword.

283. And Palmerin Prannarco ouerthrew. This incident
is fully described in the passage from Palmerin de Oliva
already quoted. Cf. 1. 231, and note.

291. Saint George set on before. Nares prints the fol
lowing injunction, from an old art of war, concerning the
use of the name of St. George in onsets: 'Item, that all
souldiers entering into battaile, assault, skirmish, or other
factions of armes, shall have for their common cry and word,
St. George, forward, or, upon them St. George, whereby
the souldier is much comforted, and the enemie dismaied,
by calling to mind the ancient valour of England, which
with that name has so often been victorious, &c. Cited by
Warton in a note on Rich. III. Act. 5, sc. 3.' Cf. 3. 369,
and note.

295. I hold my cap to a farthing. A similar form of
wager is found in Lodge and Greene's Looking Glass for
London and England, p. 83 (Greene's Dram. Wks, ed. Dyce):
' / hold my cap to a noble, that the userer hath given him
some gold.'

296. the great Dutch-man. ' Dutchman was a generick
name in Decker's day, given to any one belonging to the
German continent ' (note in Nott's ed. of the Gull's Hornbook,
1812, p. 7).

'The great Dutchman "was possibly," Weber says, "the
same person who is mentioned as 'the German fencer' in
S. Rowley's Noble Spanish Soldier, as 'the high German'

ACT mj Notes 199

in Middleton and Dekker's Roaring Girl, &c." I think not.
" The great Dutchman " of our text seems to be described
in the following passage of Stow. " This yeare 1581 were
to be seene in London 2 Dutchmen of strange statures, the
one in height seven foote and seven inches, in breadth be
twixt the shoulders 3 quarters of a yard and an inch, the
compass of his breast one yard and halfe and two inches,
and about the wast one yard quarter and one inch, the
length of his arme to the hand a full yard ; a comely man
of person, but lame of his legges (for he had broken them

with lifting of a barrell of beere)." Annales, p. 694. ed.

1615. The other Dutchman was a dwarf.' Dyce.

301. and a Knight met. 'Altered to "on a night met"'
by Sympson, who hopes the correction " will be allowed by
every candid and judicious reader: night being the time
when these men-monsters remove from place to place, thereby
spoiling their market by exposing to common view what
they would have the world pay dearly for the sight of."
And so the Editors of 1778. Weber gave the reading of
the old eds., observing that " perhaps the authors alluded to
some known anecdote." Qy. have the words " and a knight "
been shuffled out of their right place in the sentence? and
ought we to read, " and yet they say there was a Scotch
man and a knight higher than he, and they two met, and
saw one another for nothing"?' Dyce.

302. of all the sights. The Wife's sensational enthusiasm
here reflects the fondness of her class for seeing rare and
abnormal creatures.

Among the attractions at the show in Ben Jonson's Bar
tholomew Fair were the bull with five legs, the great hog,
the dog that danced the morris, and the hare which played
on the tabor : 3. 1 ; 5. 4.

Jonson, in The Alchemist 5. 1, satirizes the persistent, often
indecorous, curiosity of the citizens and their wives for
unusual sights:

Lovewit. What should my knave advance

To draw this company? he hung out no banners

Of a strange calf with five legs to be seen,

2oo The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT m

Or a huge lobster with six claws? ....

Sure he has got

Some bawdy pictures to call all this ging;

The friar and the nun; or the new motion

Of the knight's courser covering the parson's mare ;

The boy of six year old with the great thing :

Or't may be, he has the fleas that run at tilt

Upon a table, or some dog to dance.

Gifford in his note on this passage of the Alchemist says :
' The " curiosities " which he enumerates are not imaginary
ones; they were actually exhibited in London, and specific
mention of them respectively, might easily be produced from
the writers of those times. There is much pleasant satire
on this head in the City Match, and the Knight of the Burning
Pestle: Cf. further The Tempest 2. 2.

Mayne's City Match, printed in 1638, is an extravagant
farce, much of the fun of which turns upon the exhibition of
a drunken vagabond, Timothy, before the public, as a talking
fish. The play is an elaborate satire on public credulity over
fantastic sights.

304. the little child, &c. Dyce maintains that this is the
boy mentioned in Jonson's A/chemist in the passage quoted
above in note to 3. 302. Fleay agrees with Dyce. Cf. Biog.
Chr. 1. 183.

305. Hermaphrodite. Morley speaks of a hermaphrodite
which was exhibited at the King's Head, a tavern on Fish
Street Hill over against the Mews' Gate, Charing Cross.
Memoirs of Bartholomew Fair, p. 324. ' The hermaphro
dite, iii, 2, was no doubt " the monstrous child " born 1609,
July 31, at Sandwich (see S. R. 1609, Aug. 26, 31), which

was probably shown in London 1609-10.' Fleay, Biog. Chr.

1. 183. Fleay is speaking of our play. There is nothing in
the Stationers' Registers to prove that the ' monstrous child '
was a hermaphrodite, or that it was shown in London.

306. Niniuy was better. Nineveh, with Jonas and the
Whale, was one of the most popular of the many puppet-
plays in vogue at the time. According to Collier, it is
mentioned by no fewer than twenty Jacobean authors. Cf.
Ben Jonson, Every Man Out of his Humour 2. 1 : ' They say

Notes 201

there's a new motion of the city of Nineveh, with Jonas and
the whale, to be seen at Fleet-bridge.'

Nineveh belonged to the order of religious puppet-shows
which developed almost coevally with the Mysteries and
Moralities. These earliest ' motions ' exhibited scriptural sub
jects from both the Old and the New Testament.

During the reign of Elizabeth, historical and other secular
legends began to be treated in a manner similar to the scrip
tural themes. Among the lower orders there was distinct
favor shown to the 'motions,' which frequently rivaled the
regular stage-performers at the theatre in popularity. The
wooden figures were clothed like the actors at the the
atre, and their dumb mimicry was made to reproduce,
as nearly as possible, the most successful dramatic enter
tainments. At a later date, more invention was displayed
in these productions, the best illustration of which is the
famous Punch and Judy, the vogue of which continues
to this day.

For illustrations of the different ways of manipulating the
figures, and presenting their supposed dialogue, either through
running commentary or through ventriloquism, cf. Benjonson,
Bartholomew Fair 5. 4, and Don Quixote, Part 2, chap. 26.
Adequate treatment of the general subject of puppet-shows
may be found in Collier's Punch and Judy, London, 1873, and
Magnin's Histoire des Marionnettes en Europe, Paris 1862.

317. til Raph haue dispatch the Giant out of the way.
Cf. variants. Till Ralph has killed the giant. The expression
is probably obsolete. N. E. D. cites Potter's Antiq. Greece,
1697, 1. 4: 'He was quickly dispatch 'd out of the way, and
no inquiry made after the murderers.'

319. bound to you. 'So the first 4to. Later eds. (the
compositor's eye having caught what immediately follows)
" bound to thank you " ; and so the modern editors.' — Dyce.
Bound, it may be remarked, here implies obligations. Cf.
Glossary.

334. feth. An old form of faith. Cf. Cupid's Revenge 5. 1 :
' Ism. What is't ? if it be no great matter whether I do or
no, perhaps I will.

202 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT ni

Ura. Yes, feth, ' tis matter.'

Again, Urania says : ' Why, feth, I do.'

336. Carduus Benedictus and Mares Milke. The use of
Carduus Benedictus as a remedy for every kind of disease
was wide-spread in the 17th century.

I have found no definite mention of the appliance of mare's
milk to 'worms.' In old folk-lore medicine, its use and the
use of horse's blood for other ailments may be gathered
from the following quotation: 'The milk is drunk by the
Tartars. It, as also the Asses, and cows is more fit for the
belly, than the sheeps which is more thick. . . . Mares milk
is most purging ; then the Asses, Cows, and lastly the Goats.
Being drunk it looseneth the belly. The milk of a mare,
helps against the poyson of a Sea Hare, . . . and helps also
the falling sicknesse. ... It purgeth ulcers. The bath thereof
helpeth the womb. It causeth conception being drunk.
The whey thereof gently purgeth the body. . . . The bloud
of a horse corrodeth the flesh by a septick strength : that
of a colt drunk in wine helps the jaundice, being let bloud
in the mouth and swallowing it, it cureth their worms. . . .
The sweat of a Horse drunk in a bath driveth away worms
and serpents.' Robert Lovell, A Compleat History of Ani
mals and Minerals, 1661, p. 28. Cf. 3. 211, and note.

339. Enter Raph, Host, Squire, and Dwarfe. A discussion
of parallels in the romances to the adventure here introduced
may be found in the Introd., pp. XL VI— LI.

342. Behold that string on which hangs many a tooth.
Cf. The Woman-Hater 3. 3 :

Knock out my teeth, have them hung at a barber's,
And enter into religion.

Tooth-drawing was once a function of the barber-surgeon's
profession. ' The barbers anciently displayed the teeth which
they had drawn on a string or chain, which they sometimes
wore upon their persons. In the romance of Otuel, that
champion having laid bare his adversary's jaw by a stroke
of his faulchion, thus gibes him, V. 1311,

"Clarel, so mote thou the,

Why sheuweston thi teth to me?

ACT m] Notes 203

I n'am no toth drawere;

Thou ne sest me no chaine here"

[p. 71 of the ed. printed for the Abbotsford Club, where in
the second line, " scheuweston thi teth."] . . . and Cleveland,
in his celebrated satire, entitled 'The Rebel Scot,' speaking
of their national disposition to be mercenary soldiers, says :

"Nature with Scots as tooth drawers hath dealt

Who use to string their teeth upon their belt." ' Weber.

Truewit, in Ben Jonson's Epicoene 3. 5, suggests that Cut-
berd, the barber, eat ear-wax, ' or draw his owne teeth, and
add them to the lute string.'

345. Susan my Lady deere. 'I say it cannot be that
there's any knight-errant without a lady ; for it is as proper
and essential to such to be enamoured as to heaven to have
stars: and I dare warrant that no history hath yet been
seen wherein is found a knight-errant without love; for, by
the very reason that he were found without them, he would
be convinced to be no legitimate knight, but a bastard ; and
that he entered into the fortress of chivalry, not by the
gate, but by leaping over the staccado like a robber and
a thief.' Don Quixote, Bk. 2, chap. 5.

346. The Coblers Maid. The humble capacity of Ralph's
mistress bears an obvious resemblance to that of Don Quixote's
Dulcinea. I do not believe, however, that the latter is Susan's
prototype. Cf. Introd., pp. LIV-LVL

346. Milke-streete. The street lies in Cheapside, in the
ward of Cripplegate. Stow (Survey, p. 110) supposes that it
was ' so called of milk sold there.'

347. 0 let the thought of thee, Carry thy Knight through
all aduenterous deeds. The characteristic invocation of an
absent lady-love upon the eve of a new adventures is illu
strated in Palmerin of England, Part 1, chap. 41. The
Knight of Fortune is about to enter upon a combat with
the giant Dramuziando, when, 'turning his thoughts to his
lady Polinarda, in this manner he began to invoke her
silently, saying, If, lady, at any time you remember me, let
it be now, if only that I may know how by your help so
great a victory was atchieved.'

204 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT m

' It is a received use and custom of errant chivalry, that
the knight adventurous who, attempting of any great feat
of arms, shall have his lady in place, do mildly and amorously
turn his eyes towards her, as it were by them demanding
that she do favour and protect him in that ambiguous trance
which he undertakes ; and, moreover, if none do hear him,
he is bound to say certain words between his teeth, by
which he shall, with all his heart, commend himself to her :
and of this we have innumerable examples in histories.'

— Don Quixote, Bk. 2, chap. 5.

355. What fond vnknowing wight is this? Some such
form of inquiry as this is frequently addressed to the bold
assaulter of giant or wicked knight, with the effect of calling
forth from the attacking hero a proud announcement of his
name, and a scathing denunciation of his opponent's perfidy.

In Amadis, Bk. 1, chap. 19, Angriote of Estravus ' looked
from a window and asked Amadis, Art thou he who hast
slain my jaylor and my servants? Art thou he, answered
Amadis, who so treacherously murderest knights and im-
prisonest dames and damsels ? thou art the most disloyal and
cruellest knight in the world ! . . . I am Amadis of Gaul,
the knight of Queen Brisena.'

357. Where no man come but leaues his fleece behind?
The barber's speech is aptly satirical of the boastful manner
of the giants' addresses to their foes. Cf. Amadis, Bk. 2,
chap. 13 :' When the giant heard him, he came towards him
with such rage that smoke came through the vizor of his
helmet, and he shook his boarspear with such force that its
ends almost met. Unhappy wretch ! cried he, who gave
thee boldness enough to dare appear before me? That
Lord, quoth Beltenbros, whom thou hast offended, who will
give me strength to-day to break thy pride. Come on ! come
on ! cried the giant, and see if his power can protect thee
from mine ! '

367. poole. The significance of the barber's pole is spec
ified by Larwood and Hotten, History of Signboards, p. 341 :
' The barber's pole . . . dates from the time when barbers
practised phlebotomy : the patient undergoing this operation

ACT in] Notes 205

had to grasp the pole in order to make the blood flow more
freely. ... As the pole was of course liable to be stained
with blood, it was painted red: when not in use barbers
were in the habit of suspending it outside the door with the
white linen swathing-bands twisted around it; this in latter
times gave rise to the pole being painted red and white, or
even with red, white, and blue lines winding round it.'
The Antiquarian Repertory, quoted by Brand, Pop. Antiq.
3. 359, says that ' the true interpretation of the party-coloured
staff was to show that the master of the shop practised
surgery, and could breathe a vein as well as mow a beard.'
The British Apollo, 1708, Vol. 1, no. 3, having spoken
of the activity of surgeons in the Roman War, goes on
to say:

But, when they ended all their wars,
And men grew out of love with scars,
Their trade decaying; to keep swimming,
They joined the other trade of trimming ;
And on their poles to publish either,
Thus twisted both their trades together.

369. Saint George for me. Cf. 3. 291, and note. The in
vocation of St. George in wars and lesser combats was common
long before his establishment as the patron of England in
the reign of Edward in. Richard the Lion-hearted was sup
posed to have been successful in the Crusades because of
the saint's response to his appeals for aid. Shakespeare
makes frequent use of the name in war-cries :

Then strike up drums: God and Saint George for us!

j Henry VI, 2. 1.

My royal father, cheer these noble lords
And hearten those that fight in your defence:
Unsheathe your sword, good father ; cry ' Saint George ! '

3 Henry VI, 2. 2.

Harry! England! and Saint George!

—Henry V, 3. 1.

370. Gargantua for me. Gargantua, Rabelais' great satir
ical romance, appeared in 1535. It achieved early popu-

206 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT m

larity in England. It is with evident satirical purpose that
this hero of a travesty is here invoked as a tutelary patron,
and set off against St. George, the conventionalized guardian
of chivalric knights. Moreover, Gargantua, being himself
a giant, is here a fitting guardian of a supposed scion of
his race.

371. hold vp the Giant. Cf. Glossary.

372. set out thy leg before. I was at first inclined to
suppose this direction to be an antiquated fencing term, but
being unable to find evidence substantiating my conjecture,
I have concluded that the Wife is simply warning Ralph to
fortify himself by placing or planting his leg firmly in front
of him. This meaning of the phrase set out, however, is
not noted in the dictionaries.

373. Palsifie a blow. An obsolete fencing term for feign
a blow ; to make a blow under cover of a feint of aiming at
one part of the adversary when another is the real object
of attack. Cf. King and No King 1.2:' You lay thus, and
Tigranes falsified a blow at your leg, which you, by doing
thus, avoided.'

375. Beare't off. In obsolete use, the phrase to bear off
means to resist and cause (a stroke) to rebound. Cf. Glossary.

' His Helmet, to beare off blowes in battell.' Milton,

Church Discipline'

377. Susan inspire me. Cf. 3. 347, and note. In similar
fashion, Amadis is able to overcome a giant, seemingly be
cause of the sustaining remembrance of his lady. Cf. Bk. 3,
chap. 2 : ' Amadis who feared him greatly, seeing how mon
strous he was, and commending himself to God, he said,
Now Oriana lady mine, it is time to be succoured by you !
.... for he would attack the giant, and fitted his lance under
his arm and ran at him in full career, and smote him so
rudely on the breast that he made him fall back upon the
crupper.' Invocations of lady-loves in the heat of combat
are part of the regular machinery of the romances.

377. now haue vp againe. This singular expression is not
noticed in the dictionaries. The context would seem to show
that Ralph is trying to stand erect. He is apparently speak-

ACT in] Notes 207

ing to himself, and the phrase seems to mean : ' Stand up !
Get up again ! '

382. get all out of him first. The Citizen means that
Ralph ought first to draw out of the giant the complete
account of his ' treacherous villanies.'

390. Auernus. Lake Avernus in Campania, Italy, nine
miles west of Naples, was anciently regarded as an entrance
to Hades, because of its wild and gloomy aspect

401. a Bason vnder his chin. Cf. 3. 263, 271, and note.

404. wilde. Ed. 1778 and Weber read Vile. Dyce has
Vild, an obsolete corruption of vile, and adduces as evidence
of its occasional employment by Beaumont and Fletcher two
or three passages from other plays. However, wild makes
sufficiently good sense, and I see no reason for rejecting it
which can outweigh the assumption that an original read
ing wherein no confusion is involved is correct.

405. heard. In 17th century English, the simple past is
sometimes used for the complete present. ' This is in accord
ance with the Greek use of the aorist, and it is as logical
as our more modern use. The difference depends upon
a difference of thought, the action being regarded simply
as past, without reference to the present or to completion!

Abbott, Shakes. Gram., p. 246. Cf. Much Ado 1.2: 'I can

tell you strange news that you yet dreamed not of.'

407. Speake what thou art, and how thou hast bene vs'd.
Cf. Don Quixote, Bk. 3, chap. 8: 'One of the guardians
a horseback answered that they were slaves condemned by
his majesty to the galleys, and there was no more to be said.
. . . . " For all that," replied Don Quixote, " I would fain learn
of every one of them in particular the cause of his disgrace."
The guards said to him: "Draw you nearer and demand it
of themselves." . . . With this license, which Don Quixote would
have taken although they had not given it him, he came to
the chain, and demanded of the first for what offence he
went in so ill a guise.'

Ralph's succeeding inquiries are also paralleled in Don
Quixote's conversation with the slaves, but the similarity is

208 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT m

nowhere very close. The interrogating of released captives
is common in the romances. Cf. Introd., pp. XL VI— LI.

409. That that I may giue condigne punishment. This
line was emended by Q2. Cf. variants.

410. I am a Knight that tooke my iourney post North
ward from London. ' In England towards the South, and
in the West parts, and from London to Barwick, Vpon the
confines of Scotland, Post-horses are established at every ten
miles or thereabouts, which they ride a false gallop after
some ten miles an hower sometimes, and that makes their
hire the greater.' Fynes Moryson. Itinerary, 1617, p. 61.

415. and cut away my beard, And my curl'd lockes wherein
were ribands ti'de. This passage ridicules the foppish fashions
in hair-dressing and beard-trimming which were in vogue
among the gallants of the time. The styles are well de
scribed in Lyly's Mydas 3. 2 : ' How will you be trimmed sir ?
Will you have your beard like a spade, or a bodkin?
A pent-house on your upper lip, or an alley on your chin?
A low curie on your heade like a ball, or dangling locks
like a spaniell? Your mustachoes sharp at the ends like
shoemakers aules, or hanging down to your mouth like
goates flakes? Your love-locks wreathed with a silken twist
or shaggie to fall on your shoulders ? ' Cf. Davenant, Love
and Honour: 'A lock on the left side, so rarely hung with
ribanding.' Stubbes, Anat. of Abuses 2. 40, has much to say
about the many 'strange fashions and monstrous manners
of cuttings, trimmings,' &c., which stir his indignation.

417. with a water washt my tender eyes. Perfumed
water and soap-balls were in especial favor with the gallants.
Cf. Dekker, Seven Deadly Sinnes ( Wks. 2. 62) : ' No, no, be
not angry with me (O you that bandie away none but
sweete washing Balles, and cast none other then Rose-water
for any mans pleasure).'

Dekker counts shaving among the seven deadly sins of
London, and his book contains a characteristically diverting
chapter on the subject. Stubbes, Anat. of Abuses 2. 50,
cries out against perfumed soaps and waters: 'And when
they come to washing, oh how gingerly they behave

ACT HI] Notes 209

themselves therein. For then shall your mouth be bossed
with lather, or fome that riseth of the balles (for they have
their sweete balles wherewith all they vse to washe); your
eyes closed must be anointed therewith also. . . . You shall
have also your orient perfumes for your nose, your fragrant
waters for your face, wherewith you shall bee all to be
besprinkled.'

420. With a dry cloath. 'Your eyes closed must be a-
nointed therewith [i. e. perfumed soaps] also. Then snap go
the fingers, nil bravely, God wot Thus this tragedy ended,

comes me wanne clothes to wipe and dry him withall.' Stubbes,

Anat. of Abuses 2. 51.

420. for this my foule disgrace. The gallants could ill
brook any shearing of their locks. Dekker reveals the in
ordinate pride they took in long, and even unkempt, hair,
' whose length before the rigorous edge of any puritanicall
paire of scizzers should shorten the breadth of a finger, let
the three huswifely spinsters of Destiny rather curtail the
thread of thy life. . . . How Vgly is a bald pate ? it lookes
like a face wanting a nose ; or, like ground eaten bare with
the arrows of Arches, whereas a head all hid in haire gives
even to a most wicked face a sweet proportion, and lookes
like a meddow newly marryed to the Spring. . . . Certain
I am, that when none but the golden age went currant vpon
earth, it was higher treason to clip haire, then to clip money :
the combe and scizers were condemned to the currying of
hackneyes: he was disfranchised ever, that did but put on
a Barbers apron' (The Gull's Hornbook, chap. 3).

425. one with a patch ore his Nose. The episode here
introduced deals with a man who is in an advanced stage
of the French pox, or syphilis, in England called simply the
pox. This disease was so prevalent throughout Europe in
the 15th century as to be epidemic, ignorant people becoming
infected in many innocent ways. The more terrible type was
practically checked during the 16th century, though as late
as 1579, one William Clowes, in a treatise addressed to bar
bers and chirurgeons, says that, owing to the enormity of
licentiousness then rife in London, at the hospital where he

210 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT ra

was an attendant 'among every twentye diseased persons
that are taken in, fifteen of them have the pocks.' For this
citation and for an account of the features and history of
the malady, cf. Creighton, History of Epidemics in Britain^
Vol. 1, chap. 8.

The part played by barbers in the cure of the pox may
be indicated by two extracts:

O Esculape! how rife is phisike made,
When ech Brasse-basen can professe the trade
Of ridding pockie wretches from their paine,
And doe the beastly cure for ten-groat gaine.

Hall, Virgidemiarum 4. 1. 162.

Truewit, in Ben Jonson's Epicoene 3. 5, asks Morose why
the latter should not lay a few curses upon the head of
a certain barber whom he hates : ' As, that he may get the
poxe with seeking to cure it, sir?'

428. scorcht. Cf. variants. 'Scotch'd i. e. cut, nearly

synonymous with "scor'd." The correction of Theobald

and Sympson. Old eds. " scorcht." ' Dyce. The old eds.

are right. In Cent. Diet. scor(t)ch is given as an obsolete
form of scotch. Cf. Babees Book (E. E. T. S.), p. 80 :

Afore thy meat, nor afterward,
With knyfe scortche not the Boorde.

433. I am a Londoner Free by my Coppy. The 2d Knight
means that he is in full citizenship, according to his copy
of the official document whereby he was admitted into the
freedom of the City.

434. my Ancestors Were French-men all. ' Alluding to the

name of the knight.' Weber. The French pox issued

from France, chiefly, during the periods when it was epi
demic. Hence its name.

436. my bones did ake. Disease of the bones is one of
the late developments of syphilis, a stage known as 'ter
tiary syphilis.'

438. Light. Obsolete preterite of the verb to light. Cf.
Glossary. Unwarrantably altered by ed. 1778 and Weber
to 'Lit.'

ACT in] Notes 211

440. Did cut the gristle of my Nose away. One of the
early accounts printed by Creighton speaks of victims of
syphilis 'whose very noses were eaten off.'

441. veluet plaister. The covering of wounds with pieces
of velvet is a custom ridiculed by Shakespeare, Alfs Well
That Ends Well 4. 5 : ' O madam, yonder's my lord your
son with a patch of velvet on's face : whether there be a scar
under't or no, the velvet knows ; but ' tis a goodly patch of
velvet : his left cheek is a cheek of two pile and a half, but
his right cheek is worn bare.' Women long continued the
ridiculous habit of wearing patches for ornamentation. At
the time of our play men, that is, coxcombs, also wore them.

454. in diet keepe. During the treament of the pox, the
patients were kept on a strict diet. Ben Jonson speaks of
Shift, hi Every Man Out of his Humour, as ' a thread-bare
shark,' who all the while 'was taking the diet in a bawdy
house.'

455. Caue. 'Some epithet belonging to this word seems
to have been dropt out.' Dyce.

456. in a Tub that's heated smoaking hot. Syphilis patients
were ordinarily placed in sweating-tubs as a means of cure.
Cf. Timon of Athens 4. 3 :

Be a whore still! they love thee not that use thee;
Give them diseases, . . . season the slaves
For tubs and baths; bring down rose-cheeked youth
To the tub-fast and the diet.

'The process of sweating patients so afflicted is often
mentioned in our old plays, and with a variety of jocular
allusions.' Dyce.

461. afeard. Modern eds. read afraid. Cf. variants. A-
feard is still used by uneducated people. Its retention in our
passage would, it seems to me, have been advisable, since
the word would have been in keeping with the colloquial
and dialectal tone of the Wife's speech.

467. a Witch, that had the diuels marke about her. It
was a popular superstition that witches were branded by the
devil. N. E. D. cites from Newes fr. Scotld. Life 6- D. Dr.
Fian, written 1592, this sentence : ' They suspecting that she

212 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT in

had beene marked by the Divell (as commonly witches are)
. . . found the enemies marke to be in her fore crag.1

468. God blesse vs. Cf. 2. 349, and note.

469. Lob-lie-by-the-fire. Almost nothing at all is known
of this giant sprite. Whatever oral traditions about him may
have prevailed seem never to have found a written statement.
Warton is disposed to identify the sleepy giant here men
tioned with ' the lubber fiend ' of Milton's L' Allegro, and
Weber conjectures that he is suggested by the son of the
wicked witch in Bk. 3 of the Faerie Queen, Canto 7, st. 12 :

A laesie loord, for nothing good to donne,
But stretched forth in idlenesse alwayes.

Dyce points out the insecurity of these surmises.

The term lob, like the term lubber, seems to convey some
suggestion of heaviness or dullness, but the etymology and
real significance of the word are uncertain.

Farewell thou lob of spirits [i. e. Puck] ; I'll be gone.

Mia. Sum. Nighfs Dream 2. 1.

But as the drone the honey hive doth rob,
With worthy books so deals this idle lob.

Gascoigne, A Remembrance.

Cf. Keightley, Fairy Mythology, p. 318, and Mrs. J. H. Ewing,
Lob-lie-by-the-fire, Introduction.

474. heere comes the prisoners. According to Abbott,
Shakes. Gram., p. 237, passages in old plays in which a quasi-
singular verb precedes the plural subject are very common,
especially ' when the subject is as yet future, and, as it were,
unsettled.'

Here comes the townsmen. 2 Henry IV 2. 1.

There comes no swaggerers here. 2 Henry IV 2. 4.

' This [i. e. the latter citation], it is true, comes from Mrs.
Quickly, but the following are from Posthumus and Valentine :

" How comes these staggerers on me ? " Cymb. V. 5. 233.

"Far behind his worth
Comes all the praises that I now bestow." T.G. ofV. II. 4. 72.'

483. Tume-bull-streete. The street is properly known as

ACT m] Notes 2 1 3

Turnmill. It lies between Clerkenwell Green and Cow Cross.
At the time of our play it was the haunt of prostitutes and
other low characters. Falstaif says of Shallow : ' This same
starved justice hath done nothing but prate to me of the
wildness of his youth, and the feats he hath done about

Turnbull Street.1 2 Henry IV 3. 2. Knockem, one of Ben

Jonson's characters in Bartholomew Fair, is ' a horse-courser
and a ranger in Turnbull?

484. bore her vp and downe. Possibly this is an illustration
of the old-time custom of searching out women of ill-fame
on Shrove Tuesday, and carting them about the towns,
thereby making them the butts of all sorts of buffoonery
and abuse. Cf. 5. 363, and note.

488. put vs in a Tub, Where we this two monthes sweate.
As patients suifering from syphilis. Cf. 3. 456, and note.
1 A view of such a patient in his tub, looking very wretched
and pensive, warning off some bona robas, who have come
to visit him in his affliction, is to be seen as a frontispiece
to Randolph's Cornelianum Dolium, 1638, 12 mo. In my
copy, in an antique hand, is written

Young man, take warning by my fate,
To lead a chaste and virtuous life;
All wanton peats' allurements hate,
And cleave unto thy wedded wife,
To Cicely, Susan, or to Kate.
So may you 'scape the bitter ills
Of Esculapius' searching pills.'
J. Mitford, Cursory Notes on Beaumont and Fletcher, p. 14.

491. This bread and water hath our diet bene. This
carries out the testimony of Creighton, who quotes a pre
scription which specifies a thin diet and a decoction of
guaiacum.

498. through this same slender quill. Subcutaneous in
jection of nutriment is employed in some developments of
syphilis.

503. Gentlemen I thanke you all heartily for gracing my
man Rafe. The Wife may well be grateful, for the trades
men were usually regarded with considerable contempt by

214 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT ni

the gallants. In Ben Jonson's Every Man in His Humour
2. 1, Kitely, the merchant, says of his son's dandified com
panions :

They mock me all over,
From my flat cap unto my shining shoes.

Dekker has his gallant look upon the groundlings at the
theatre as 'the opposed rascality' (The Gull's Hornbook,
chap. 6).

512. Depart then, and amend. It is a singularity worthy
of notice that Ralph does not send his victim, as do many
of the heroes of the romances, and as Don Quixote attempts
to do, to do penance at the feet of his mistress.

514. Exeunt. The old-time barber shop, metaphorically
described in the preceding passages, is literally and suc
cinctly described, though in the service of a fable, in the
extract which I subjoin. In Gay's Fables, Part. 1, no. 22,
a goat grows weary of his ' frowzy beard.'

Resolv'd to smooth his shaggy face,

He sought the barber of the place.

A flippant monkey, spruce and smart,

Hard by, profess'd the dapper art:

His pole, with pewter basins hung,

Black rotten teeth in order strung,

Rang'd cups that hi the window stood,

Lin'd with red rags, to look like blood,

Did well his threefold trade explain,

Who shav'd, drew teeth, and breath'd a vein.

540. turne me out these mangy companions. Me was
often used, in virtue of its representing the old dative, where
we should use for me, by me, &c. Cf. Abbott, Shakes. Gram.,
p. 146. Cf. Taming of the Shrew 1.2:

Pet. Villain, I say, knock me here soundly.
Gru. Knock you here, sir ! Why, sir, what am I, sir, that

I should knock you, sir?
Pet. Villain, I say, knock me at this gate,

And rap me well.

Companion was often equivalent, in old plays, to the modern
use of ' fellow ' in a contemptuous sense. Cf. 2 Henry IV
2. 4 : 'I scom you, scurvy companion. What ! you poor,

ACT ni] Notes 2 1 5

base, rascally, cheating, lacklinen mate ! Away, you mouldy
rogue, away.'

546. a. Conductor. In obsolete use, the word conductor
denoted a naval or military leader. Cf. Glossary. ' Archers

on horseback under their Captaines or conductours.' Sir

J. Smyth, Disc. Weapons, 1590. Cited by N. E. D.

547. Chester. The capital of Cheshire, England, situated
on the Dee, fifteen miles southwest of Liverpool : the Ro
man Deva and Castra, and the Celtic Caerleon.

549. Go from my window, loue goe. There is a variation
of this catch in Monsieur Thomas 3. 3 :

Come up to my window, love,

Come, come, come;
Come to my window, my dear:

The wind nor the rain

Shall trouble thee again,
But thou shalt be lodged here.

In The Woman's Prize 1.3, we read :

The wind and the rain
Has turn'd you back again,
And you cannot be lodged here.

In Otway's Soldier's Fortune 5. 5, the catch stands thus :

Go from the window, my love, my love,

Go from the window, my dear;

The wind and the rain

Have brought 'em back again,

An thou canst have no lodging here.

' On the 4th March, 1587-8, John Wolfe had a license to

print a ballad called " Goe from the windowe." ' Chappell,

Popular Music of the Olden Time 1. 140. Chappell prints
the notes accompanying the ballad.

557. lads of mettle. Lads of spirit. A common old phrase.
Cf. / Henry IV 2. 4 : ' They ... tell me flatly I am no proud
Jack, like Falstaff ; but a Corinthian, a lad of mettle! Cf.
also First Part of Jeronimo 1. 1 :

Oh, heeres a Lad of mettle, stout Don Andrea.

561. Mr. All eds. succeeding Q! read Master. Cf. variants.
The alteration is useful in causing the avoidance of con-

2i 6 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT in

fusion between the Mr. of the text and the now prevalent
Mister, which is a weakened derivative of master. The
alteration would not have been necessary at the date of
our play, since the abbreviation Mr., as found in books
the sixteenth century and for some time later, is to be read
Master. Cf. Cent. Diet.

568. Begone, begone, my luggy, my puggy. At the end
of Heywood's Rape of Lucrece, 1609, is a song beginning,
' Arise, Arise, my Juggie, my Puggie, &c.', and containing
this stanza:

Begon, begon, my Willie, my Billie,

begon, begon my deare,
The weather is warme, 'twill do thee no harme,

thou canst not be lodged here.
My Willy, my Billy, my honey, my cony,

my love, my dove, my deare,
Oh, oh, the weather is warme, 'twill do thee no harme,

oh, oh, thou canst not be lodged here.

The singer of these lines is 'Juggy, my Fuggy,' who re
fuses lodgings to the intruder. In our play, the situation is
reversed. Hence, ' luggy, my puggy ' is the outcast. There
seems to be a close connection between these verses and
the preceding fragment sung by Merrythought. Chappell,
however, in Popular Music 1. 41, treats Heywood's lines and
those in our play as belonging to distinct ballads. Chappell
prints the score of Go from my Window.

576. Ingrant. ' Is the reading of all the copies but that
of 1711, which exhibits ignorant/ of which word it may be
a vitiation, as ingrum is in Wit without Money, Act V. sc. 1.

Ingrant here seems to stand for ingrateful or ingrate? Ed.

1778. The supposition is a likely one, although N. E. D. gives
only the former of the above interpretations. Cf. Glossary.

581. You are a fine man an you had a fine dogge, it
becomes you sweetly. This allusion to the possession of
' a fine dog ' as a mark of gentility reminds one of the absurd
attachment for his dog borne by the quixotic knight Puntar-
volo in Every Man Out of His Humour. There is an old
Welsh proverb which says that a gentleman may be known
by his hawk, his horse and his greyhound.

ACT m] Notes 217

586. I cry you mercie. ' A phrase equivalent to " I beg
your pardon," at present. ..." My good lord of Westmore
land, / cry you mercy; I thought your honour had already
been at Shrewsbury." / Henry IV 4. 2.

" Are you a gentleman ? cry you mercy, sir." B. Jons.

Every Man in His Humour, 1. 2. ... Used apparently in
mere sport, as an awkward apology for some blunder or
inattention; possibly founded upon some anecdote of such
an apology being offered.' Nares, Glossary.

595. the staffe of your age. Cf. Merchant of Venice 2. 2 :
' the boy was the very staff of my age, my very prop.'

604. hartely. Cf. 1. 184, and note.

611. Laualto. ' Lavolta, or Lavolt. A kind of dance for
two persons, consisting a good deal in high and active bounds.
By its name it should be of Italian origin ; but Florio, in Volta,
calls it a French dance, and so Shakespeare seems to make it :

"They bid us to the English dauncing schools,
And teach lavoltas high, and swift corantos."

Henry V 3. 5.

"I cannot sing,

Nor heel the high lavott, nor sweeten talk,
Nor play at subtle games; fair virtues all,
To which the Grecians are most prompt and pregnant."

Tro. and Cress. 4. 4.

It is thus described by Sir John Davies, in his poem on
dancing :

"Yet there is one the most delightful kind,

A lofty jumping, or a leaping round,

Where arm in arm two dancers are entwin'd,

And whirl themselves, with strict embracements bound ;

And still their feet an anapaest do sound.

An anapaest is all their music's song,

Whose first two feet are short, and third is long."

Nares, Glossary.

619. You are no loue for me Margret, I am no loue for
you. We have here two lines from some ballad now lost.
The editors of 1778 erroneously state that they are to be
found in Fair Margaret and Sweet William, the ballad from

2i8 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT iv

which there is a quotation in the text, 2. 476. Mallet's
Margarets Ghost is founded upon the lines there found,
and upon the present quotation.

620. Come aloft. ' To come aloft means to tumble.' Mason.

' The expression is generally found applied to apes that are
taught to vault: here it is used merely as an incitement to
mirth.' Dyce. Cf. Massinger, The Bondman 3. 3 :

But if this hold, I'll teach you
To come aloft, and do tricks like an ape.

631. wher's the beere? Not only tobacco, but liquor also,
was consumed at the playhouse during the performance.
Hentzner tells us that there were attendants who sold ale,
tobacco, fruits, and nuts to the audience. Cf. A Journey into
England, Augerville Reprints, p. 27. In The Woman Hater

2. 1, Lazarillo speaks of the 'shakings and quakings' of the
poet towards 'the latter end of his new play, (when he's in
that case that he stands peeping betwixt the curtains, so
fearfully that a bottle of ale cannot be opened but he thinks
somebody hisses).'

Weber and the editors following him have the Citizen go
out to get the beer. Cf. stage -directions in the variants,

3. 610 and 3. 630. The directions hardly seem necessary,
since the liquor might easily have been obtained from the
venders of refreshments who went about among the audience.

ACT IV.

1. Act IV. Cf. variants. ' All the copies concur in making
this act begin with the Boy's dancing ; but as the dance was
certainly introduced by way of interlude, here as well as at
the end of the first act, we have made this act begin with
a part of the real play, as all the others do.' Ed. 1778.

2. the prince of Orange. The head of the House of Orange
at the time of our play was Philip William, eldest son of
William the Silent.

3. long stocking. Cf. Ben Jonson, Poetaster 3. 1 : ' Why,
I have beene a reveller, and at my cloth of silver suit, and
my long stocking, in my time, and will be againe — .'

ACT iv] Notes 219

A pair of long Spanish silk hose was presented by Sir
Thomas Gresham to Edward VI. It was in the period of
the Tudors, indeed, that the name stocking was first used,
so far as we know. 'Then it occurs as the term used for
" stocking of hose " ; that is, adding continuations to the trunk
hose or breeches of the period, which said continuations
received the name of " nether-stocks," the breeches in turn

being distinguished by that of " upper stocks ".' Planche,

Cyclopaedia of Costume 1. 484.

There is much ridicule in old plays upon the absurd
pride of the gallants in their costly stockings as a means
of showing off the shape of their legs to advantage.

' Brain. A very good leg, master Stephen ; but the woolen
stocking does not commend it so well.

Steph. Foh ! the stockings be good enough, now summer
is coming on, for the dust : I'll have a pair of silk stockings
against winter, that I go to dwell in town. I think my leg

would shew in a silk hose. . . .' Ben Jonson, Every Man

in His Humour 1. 3.

3. harnesse. 'Harness means armour. So Macbeth says,
" At least I'll die with harness on my back." ' Mason.

5. Fading is a fine ligge. ' Fading is the name of an Irish
dance, and the common burden of a song. This dance is
mentioned by Ben Jonson in the Irish Masque at Court:
"Daunsh a. fading at te vedding"; and again, "Show tee
how teye can foot te fading an te fadow.'" Ed. 1778.

Since it seems to have been the burden of a ballad as
well as a dance, Weber concludes that the word jig should
be understood in its ancient sense, viz. song or ballad.
' A jig was a ludicrous metrical composition, often in rhyme,
which was sung by the clown, who occasionally danced, and

was always accompanied by a tabor and pipe.' Halliwell,

Archaic and Provincial Diet.

A jig shall be clapped at, and every rhyme
Praised and applauded.

Fair Maid of the Inn, Prologue.

Fading is referred to in this sense of the jig in Winter's
Tale 4. 4 : 'He has the prettiest love-songs for maids ; so

220 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT iv

without bawdry, which is strange ; with such delicate burdens
of dildos and fadings.'

7. and then tumble. The diversion afforded by tumblers
between the acts of a play is condemned by Stephen Gosson
in his Playes confuted in five Actions. Cf. 1. 478, and note.

10. Nor eate fire ? Professional tricksters, who pretended
to handle fire with impunity, were looked upon as great
marvels in the 17th century, and received large remunerations
for their exhibitions. Evelyn, in his Diary, recounts a fire-
eater's performance which he saw while calling on Lady
Sutherland. He says: 'She made me stay for dinner, and
sent for Richardson, the famous fire-eater. He devoured
brimstone on glowing coals before us, chewing and swal
lowing them; he melted a beer-glass, and eat it quite up;
then taking a live coal on his tongue, he put on it a raw
oyster, the coal was blown with bellows, till it flamed and
sparkled in his mouth, and so remained till the oyster gaped
and was quite boiled. Then he melted pitch and wax together
with sulphur, which he drank down as it flamed. I saw it
flaming in his mouth a good while.' Cited by Chambers in
Book of Days 2. 278. This Richardson astonished all Europe
by his tricks with fire, and was scientifically noticed in the
Journal des Scavans for 1680.

12. points. Laces with tags at the ends. Such laces,
about eight inches long, consisting often of three differently
colored strands of yarn twisted together, and having their
ends wrapped with iron, were used in the Middle Ages to
fasten the clothes together, but gave place to buttons in the
seventeenth century. Cf. / Henry IV 2. 4 :

Falstaff. Their points being broken

Poins. Down fell their hose.

37. Arches. ' The chief and most ancient consistory court
of the Archbishop of Canterbury in London ; being held at
Bow Church, in London, called St. Mary de Arcubus, or St.

Mary le Bow, from being built on arches.' Nares, Glossary.

Nares, in citing our passage, says: 'It seems there was
a prison belonging to this court.' Cf. Scornful Lady 4. 2 :

ACT iv] Notes 221

' Let him be civil and eat in the Arches, and see what will
come of it.'

The text would indicate that there was a prison connected
with the court, but I have found nothing to bear out the
inference.

44. let the Sophy of Persia come and christen him
a childe. ' In a note by Warton on the next speech but
two of the Citizen, it is erroneously stated that " the Sophy
of Persia christening a child " is a circumstance in Heywood's
four Prentices of London; and Weber as erroneously adds
that "there is no doubt a Sophy of Persia in Heywood's
play, but his christening a child is merely a ludicrous con
fusion of the foolish Citizen." The fact is, the Citizen is not
thinking of Heywood's play, but of a drama written by Day,
W. Rowley, and Wilkins, entitled The Travailes of The three
English Brothers, Sir Thomas, Sir Anthony, Mr. Robert Shirley,
which was printed in 1607, and which (as appears from the
Boy's reply to the Citizen) had been acted at the Red Bull.
In the last scene of it, the following dialogue takes place
between the Sophy and Robert Shirley, who has married
the Sophy's niece:

" Soph. If yet vnsatisfied thy griefes remaine,

Aske yet to please thy selfe, it shall be granted.

Rob. I feare to be too bold.

Soph. Aske and obtaine.

Rob. My child may be baptis'd in Christian faith,

And know the same God that the father hath.

Soph. Baptize thy child : our self will ayd in it,
Our selfe will answer for't, a Godfather;
In our owne armes weele beare it to the place,
Where it shall receive the compleat ceremonie.

Now for the Temple, where our royall hand
Shall make thy Child first Christian in our land.

A show of the Christening." Exeunt.' Dyce.

Cf. Introd., p. XCIX.

Fleay maintains that this play was first put on at the
Curtain, 1607, it having been presented by Her Majesty's
Servants, who played at that theatre until the opening of
the Red Bull in 1609. Cf. Hist, of Stage, p. 205. Cf. next note.

222 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT iv

46. red Bull. The Red Bull Theatre stood at the upper
end of St. John Street, Clerkenwell. Its origin is obscure.
Collier is of the opinion that it was an inn-yard in the
beginning, and was converted into a regular theatre in the
reign of Queen Elizabeth. Fleay says, however, that the
earliest definite mention of it known to him is in 1609. It
was then, not an inn-yard, but a regular theatre. Dekker,
in his Ravens Almanac, entered S. R., July 7, 1608, predicts
the renewal, in the autumn of 1609, of the annual contention
between the three public theatres. According to Fleay,
these houses were the Globe, at which the King's men were
playing, the Curtain, which supported the Queen's, and the
Fortune, which supported the Prince's. As no mention is
made of the Red Bull, Fleay concludes that it must have
been opened after the appearance of Dekker's book. It is
known that the company of Queen's [Anne's] men played at
the Red Bull in 1609, having removed that year from the
Curtain. Among the dramas presented there between 1609
and 1613 was The Four Prentices of London. Queen Anne's
men acted at the Bull until her death in 1619; thereafter
the Prince's, chiefly, were in possession of the playhouse.
After the suppression of the theatres, the Red Bull seems
to have been used for clandestine representation of plays.
On Dec. 20, 1649, some players were arrested for presenting
there Fletcher's tragedy, The Bloody Brother. The theatre
was not pulled down until some time after the Restoration,
but when Davenant brought out his Playhouse to be Let,
1663, it was entirely abandoned : ' There are no tenants in
it but spiders.' For these particulars, cf. Fleay, Hist, of the
Stage, and Collier, Annals of the Stage.

Plays of inferior merit seem to have been the kind usually
presented at the Bull. Pompous productions, like The Four
Prentices of London, were the vogue.

Wither in Abuses stript and whipt, 1613, remarks of a ruf
fling lover, courting his sweetheart:

His poetry is such as he can cull

From plays he heard at Curtain or at Bull.

ACT iv] Notes 223

In Albumazar, 1615, an old play, one of the characters
speaks of compliments he has drawn from plays at the Red
Bull, ' where I learn all the words I speak and understand not.'

Thomas Carew, in his lines prefixed to Davenant's Just
Italian, 1630, says of the performers at the Red Bull :

These are the men in crowded heaps that throng
To that adulterate stage, where not a tongue
Of th' untun'd kennel can a line repeat
Of serious sense.

In Randolph's Muses' Looking Glass, the theatre meets
with marked hostility from one of the Puritans in that play :

Lastly he wish'd

The Bull might cross the Thames to the Bear-garden,
And there be soundly baited.

The satirical intent of our play's notices of the Red Bull
is made evident by these references.

48. King of Cracouia's house, covered with veluet. Cracovia
is M. L. for Cracow, which is now the second city of Galicia,
Austria-Hungary, but was from 1320 to about 1609 the capital
of Poland, and, till the 18th century, the place of coronation
of her kings. The Wife probably confuses the city with
the kingdom.

Modern eds., following ed. 1750, print black velvet. Symp-
son says: 'I have inserted the colour of the velvet, which
was here wanting, from what the Boy says, in the second
speech below, as to the impossibility of their complying with
the request of the Citizen's Wife, " But we can't present an
house covered with black velvet" The Boy's statement, by
the way, may be taken as an evidence of the Elizabethan
theatre's limited equipment in stage-scenery.'

Weber says that the text probably refers to some con
temporary romance of the Amadis school. I have found no
mention of a King of Cracovia. It is possible that the black
velvet is suggested by a circumstance in Palmerin de Oliva.
Cf. chap. 30, Part 2 : ' These three companions being entred
the great Hall, which was hanged round about with black
velvet, in sign of mourning, they marvelled what might be
the occasion thereof.' It is equally possible that the text

224 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT iv

contains a reminiscence of ' The House of Sadness ' in Pal-
merin of England, where dwelt the mournful lady Paudricia,
disappointed in love : ' In the midst of this river was an isle,
wherein was placed an ancient mansion, with many pinnacles
and battlements, covered all over with black; which declared
small pleasure to those who remained there, and great occasion
of sadness to any that should come there ' (Part 1, chap. 6).

With her usual blindness toward the fitness of things, the
Wife does not see the impropriety of developing a love-
episode in a house which is covered with black velvet, the
emblem of mourning.

49. let the Kings daughter stand in her window all in
beaten gold. Cf. Palmerin of England, Part 1, chap. 57 :
' The giant Almoural, abashed at this noble combat, the like
whereof he had never before beheld, called Miraguarda to
come and see it ; and it was not long before the cloth of silk
fringed with gold was spread along the window, whereon she
leaned, her damsels standing by her to behold this knightly
chivalry.'

Metals embroidered or ' beaten ' in elaborate designs were
formerly used for the ornamentation of cloth.

62. to haue a Grocers prentice to court a kings daughter.
The retention of to in the infinitive, in cases where modern
English would omit it, was formerly common. Cf. Love's
Labours Lost 4. 3 :

To see . . . profound Solomon to tune a jig.

Cf. Abbott, Shakes. Gram., p. 250.

65. what was sir Dagonet ? was not he prentice to a grocer
in London? 'Sir Dagonet, whom the Citizen mistakes for
a grocer's prentice, is a character in the celebrated romance,
Morte a" Arthur, where he is described as "Kynge Arthurs
foole," and we are told that "Kynge Arthur loued hym
passynge wel, and made hym knyght [with] his owne handes.
And art every turnement he beganne to make Kynge Arthur
laughe." B. x. cap. 12. vol. ii. 21, ed. Southey. On all
occasions sir Dagonet meets with very rough treatment : see,
for instance, B. ix. cap. 3. vol. i. 314, where sir La-cote-

ACT iv] Notes 22 5

male-tayle smites him over his horse's croup ; and cap. 19
of the same B. p. 339, where sir Tristram " souses " him in
a well, and afterwards takes him by the head and dashes

him to the ground.' Dyce.

The Citizen's acquaintance with Sir Dagonet was gained,
no doubt, through the latter's appearance in Arthur's Show,
an exhibition of archery held at Mile End Green by a society
of London citizens, fifty-eight in number, who assumed the
arms and names of the Knights of the Round Table. Henry
VIII gave the fraternity a charter, and patronized their per
formances. Justice Shallow boasts of his connection with

the fellowship: 'I remember at Mile End Green, when

I lay at Clement's Inn, 1 was then Sir Dagonet in Arthur's

Show.' 2 Henry IV 3. 2.

66. Read the play of the Foure Prentices of London. The
earliest extant edition of The Four Prentices bears the date of
1615. The Address to the Readers mentions as quite recent,
however, the revival of arms-practice in the Artillery Gardens.
This was in 1610. Fleay adduces this fact as, evidence that
our play first appeared in that year. Cf. Introd., p. Xffl.

67. where they tosse their pikes so. In The Four Prentices,
Eustace and Guy, before entering upon a combat with each
other, toss and catch their pikes to prove their strength of arm.

Eustace. Thinks't thou this rye-straw can o'er-rule my arm ?
Thus do I bear him when I use to march;
Thus can I fling him up, and catch him thus:

[They toss their pikes.
Then thus, to try the sinews of my arm.

Guy. I thus : 'tis easier sport than the baloon [i. e.

foot ball].

73. Enter Bafe and the Lady, Squire and dwarfe. For

a discussion of episodes in the romances parallel to the ad
venture here commenced, cf. Introd., pp. LI— LIV.

77. King of Moldauia. Moldavia, once an independent
principality, now forms the northern part of Roumania. It was
founded early in the 14th century, became tributary to Turkey
late in the 15th century, maintained a shifting relation to the

226 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT rv

Hungarian crown, and sometimes transferred its vassalage to
Lithuania and Poland. Cf. Freeman, Historical Geography*
Perhaps in this period of shifting allegiance the titles King
of Moldavia and King of Cracovia [i. e. Poland (?)] were
interchangeable, and the seeming inconsistency of our text
is thereby explained. Cf. 4. 48, and note.

Weber conjectures that Ralph's adventures at the court
of Moldavia were founded upon one of the numerous Spanish
romances in the library of Don Quixote. Cf. Ben Jonson,
Epicoene 5. 1 : ' Yes, sir, of Pomentack, when he was here,
and of the prince of Moldavia, and of his mistress, mistress
Epicoene.' Fleay, referring to our passage, has this to say :
' The Prince of Moldavia of Jonson's Epicoene V. 1 (Cf. " King
of Moldavia " 4. 2), on whom Weber wrote such nonsense,
and of whom Dyce says "nothing is known," was with the
Turkish Ambassador at the English court, 1607, Nov. (see
Nichols, ii. 157).' Biog. Chr. 1. 184.

One Rowland White, writing from the Court on Nov. 7
of 1607, says : ' The Turke and the Prince of Moldavia are

now going away.' Nichols, Progresses of King James the

First 2. 157.

79. that will stay with vs No longer but a night. It i&
characteristic of the errant knights to be so engrossed in
the quest of adventures that they are unwilling to tarry in
any lodging longer than a night.

In Palmerin de Oliva, Netrides has been banished from
his brother's kingdom, and he proceeds to take solace in
a rapid pursuit of adventures. 'Then willing one of his
Squires to saddle his Steede, he departed away as close as
he could, forbidding any of his Servants to follow him : and
such expedition he made, as not resting but one night in
any Lodging, he left his Brothers Kingdome, wandring without
any care of himselfe, or which way he went, but wente here
and there, as Fortune pleased to guide him.' Similarly, in
Palmerin of England, Part 1, chap. 31, the knight of Fortune
(and here as a mark of particular favor) agrees to spend
a night in the castle of the countess of Sorlinga : ' And be
cause the knight of Fortune had received great honours from

ACT iv] Notes 227

her on the way, he accompanied her to her dwelling, and
remained there that night. The next morning he rode forward,
rejoicing that he was arrived in that country where he had
determined to put his fortune in trial.'

91. Grocer in the strond. Q2 f. read Strand. Cf. variants.
The Strand is now one of the great business arteries of

London, reaching from Charing Cross to the site of Temple
Bar. In the 16th and 17th centuries, it was a fashionable
quarter. Tradesmen, however, were to be found on the
street. James Northcote, R. A., on his first coming to London,
lodged at ' Mrs. Lefty's, Grocer in the Strand: Cf. Wh.-C.

92. By deed Indent, of which I haue one part. ' Appren
tices . . . are usually bound for a term of yeares, by deed
indented, or indentures, to serve their masters, and be main
tained and instructed by them.' Blackstone, Commentaries,

Vol. 1, chap. 2.

Articles of agreement between apprentice and employer
were drawn up in duplicate, the two halves of the document
being severed by a toothed, zigzag, or wavy line, so that
the two parts exactly tallied. ' One copy was retained by
each party ; the genuineness of these could be subsequently
proved by the coincidence of their indented margins.' N.E.D.

100. Nipitato. According to Nares, this obsolete term means
strong liquor. It was a sort of jocular title, applied in com
mendation, chiefly to ale. It is a mock Latin word formed
from the whimsical Elizabethan adjective nippitate. Nares
cites Stubbes, Anat. of Abuses, p. 150: 'Then, when the
Nippitatum, this Huf-cap (as they call it) and this nectar of
lyfe, is set abroche, wel is he that can get the soonest to
it, and spend most at it.' To illustrate the use of the ad
jective, Nares gives a passage from The Weakest goes to
the Wall: 'Well fare England, where the poore may have
a pot of ale for a penny, fresh ale, firme ale, nappie ale,
nippitate ale.' This quotation bears out Pompiona in describing
nippitato as a peculiarly English drink.

104. of a wild-fowle he will often speake, Which pondered
beefe and mustard called is. To speake of beef and mustard
as a wild fowl is, of course, an intentional absurdity.

228 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT rv

A common old use of the verb to powder was to signify
the salting of meat in any way. Cf. / Henry IV 5. 4 : 'If
thou embowel me to-day, I'll give you leave to powder me,
and eat me too, to-morrow.'

109. To weare a Ladies fauour in your shield. Here is
a reflection of the well-known custom in mediaeval chivalry
which enjoined upon the knight to wear in some conspicuous
part of. his armor a 'favor,' or token of affection, from his
lady, i. e. a knot of ribbons, a glove, &c. Cf. Humorous
Lieutenant 2. 2 :

Hang all your lady's favours on your crest,
And let them fight their shares.

111. will not weare & fauour of a Ladies That trusts
in Antichrist. The Christian knights habitually repelled the
advances of pagan princesses. Thus Palmerin de Oliva
scorns Ardemia's amours because she is a pagan. Cf. Introd.,
p. LEI.

114. Besides, I haue a Lady of my owne. Similarly, Pal
merin de Oliva fortifies himself against the blandishments of
a designing princess by calling to mind his chosen love. Cf.
Introd., p. LEI.

133. And another. The modern eds. print, for the metre,
' And there's another.'

136. nointing. The modern eds. read ' nointing, as though
the word were an abbreviation of anointing. The original
reading is defensible: Cent. Diet, gives noint as a distinct
word, now obsolete, but formed by aphaeresis from anoint.

136. butter. 'Mason says we should read butler, "as
Seward does." But the edition of 1750, and every other,
reads as in the text, and there is no occasion to alter it.
Ralph gives an additional shilling for the butter used for his

horse's back.' Weber. Butter was formerly used as an

unguent. Cf. 2. 405, and note.

138. wasn't my boot-hose. Boot-hose were extra stockings
or leggings worn with boots, and covering the upper part
of the leg and a part of the thigh, but not the ankles and
feet.

ACT rv] Notes 229

Stubbes cries out against ' the vain excesse of boote hosen ' :
' They have also boote hosen which are to be wondered at ; for
they be of the fynest cloth that may be got, yea, fine inough to
make any band, ruffe, or shurt needful to be worn : yet this is
bad inough to were next their gresie boots. And would God
this weare all : (oh, phy for shame !) they must be wrought
all over, from the gartering place vpward, with nedle worke,
clogged with silk of all colors, with birds, foules, beasts, and
antiques purtrayed all over in comlie sorte. So that I have
knowen the very nedle work of some one payre of these
bootehose to stand, some in iij. pound, vi. pound, and some in
x. pound a peece. Besides this, they are made so wyde to draw
over all, and so longe to reach vp to the waste, that as litle, or
lesse, clothe would make one a reasonable shurte. But tush !

this is nothing in comparison of the reste.' Anat. of Abuses,

p. 61.

139. wip't my boots. 'Boots were universally worn by
fashionable men, and, in imitation of them, by others, in the
reign of Elizabeth and James the First, insomuch that Gondomar,
the Spanish ambassador, pleasantly related, when he went home
into Spain, that all the citizens of London were booted, and
ready, as he thought, to go out of town.' Nares, Glossary.

The affectation of polished foot wear, common among the
gallants and their imitators, is frequently satirized. Falstaff
ridicules Poins because he 'swears with a good grace: and
wears his boot very smooth, like unto the sign of the leg.'

2 Henry 1 V 2. 4. In Massinger's Guardian, some one

asks how the vintners shall be known. The answer is: 'If
they walk on foot, by their rat-coloured stockings, and shin
ing shoes.1

141. to buy you pins at Bumbo faire. Pins of a costly
sort seem to have been popular with women. The pedlar
in Hey wood's Four PP, Haz.-Dods., Old Eng. Plays 1. 249 ff.,
is thus rebuked by the pothecary:

I beshrew thy knaves naked heart
For making my wife's pincase so wide,
The pins fall out, they cannot abide:

230 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT iv

Great pins she must have, one or other ;
If she lose one, she will find another.
Wherein I find cause to complain;
New pins to her pleasure and my pain.

I can find no record of a ' Bumbo Fair.1 Apparently Ralph
is playing upon the word bumbo, which is the name of
a drink made of rum, water, and nutmeg. It was no doubt
popular at fairs.

It should be remembered that fairs were formerly not
merely places for exhibits and for amusements, but were
regular markets, to which the people resorted periodically
to buy supplies for the ensuing year. In Gay's Pastorals,
No. 6, some of the commodities are enumerated. Among
other things Gay tells us:

How pedlar's stalls with glitt'ring toys are laid,
The various fairings of a country maid,
Long silken laces hang upon the twine,
And rows of pins and amber bracelets shine.

153. Go get you vp. The first inference is that Venturewell
is commanding his daughter to rise from her knees, but the
context seems to show that he is bidding her go to her
chamber in the upper part of the house.

154. gossip. No fitting definition of this noun is given in
the dictionaries. In the light of the context, and of a dial,
verb gossip, with about, meaning ' to make merry, gad about '
(cf. Wright), I have ventured to define it as hoydenish 'gad
about.1 Cf. Glossary.

The word will bear this interpretation, since the merchant
is rebuking Luce for her disobedience and her clandestine
escapade with Jasper.

170. I haue beene beaten twice about the lye. With
characteristic irrelevancy, Humphrey drags in an allusion to
some dispute over a point of horibr in which he was worsted.
In Saviolo's treatise entitled Of Honour and Honorable Quarrels,
1595, there is a minute chapter on the ' Diversity of Lies,'
in which are enumerated the ' Lie certain,' the ' conditional
Lie,' the ' Lie in particular,' the ' foolish Lie,' ' the returning

ACT iv] Notes 231

back of the Lie,' &c. Touchstone admirably hits off the
absurd fashions which prevailed in the picking, adjusting,
and settling of a quarrel. Cf. his account of a quarrel ' upon
a lie seven times removed,' As You Like It 5. 4.

171. no more of complement. The language of compliment
was carried to an absurd height in the 17th cent., and was
extravagantly artificial. An anonymous writer of 1629, speak
ing of the trifling and intrusive manners of male gossips,
says : ' It is a wonder to see what multitudes there be of all
sorts that make this their only business, and in a manner
spend their whole time in compliment; as if they were born
to no other end, bred to no other purpose, had nothing else
to do, than to be a kind of living, walking ghosts, to haunt
and persecute others with unnecessary observation.' Marston,
describing the finished gallant, says:

Mark nothing but his clothes,
His new stampt complement; his common oathes,
Mark those. Scourge of Villainie (1599), Bk. 2, sat. 7.

Cf. Dekker, The Gulfs Hornbook: 'You courtiers that do
nothing but sing the gamut A-Re of complemental courtesy.'
See also Drake, Shakespeare and his Times, p. 422.

180. 'Tis some- what of the most. It is a rather long time.

181. Because I meane against the appointed day, To visite
all my friends in new array. The prep, against has a cur
rent meaning, in anticipation of, which is rather more general
than the sense of our passage will admit. Here I take it to
have an intensive force, implying the close proximity of the
wedding. This emphasis is supplied in an obsolete use of
the word equivalent to in view of the near approach of, and
carrying with it some idea of preparedness and provision
for (an event). See N. E. Z>., and Glossary. Cf. Taming of
the Shrew 2. 1 :

Give me thy hand, Kate: I will unto Venice,
To buy apparel 'gainst the wedding-day.
Provide the feast, father, and bid the guests.

209. had almost brought me downe. 'Where there can
be no doubt what is the nominative, it is sometimes omitted.

232 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT iv

. . . The omission of the nominative is most common with
" has," " is," " was," &c. . . .

" Tis his own blame : hath put himself from rest."

Lear, ii. 4. ...

" Poor jade, is wrung in the withers out of all 'cess."
/ Henry IV, 2. 1.' Abbott, Shakes. Gram., pp. 287-8.

216. Porrage. Dyce justifies the variant reading, pottage,
by referring to the employment of the latter word in 2. 390.
This is scarcely a sufficient basis for the change. Porridge
and pottage were both words in good usage in the 17th
century, and both may easily have occured in the same play.

252. Let it together ceaze me. Together can here have
no other significance than that of altogether, though such
a meaning is not recognized in the dictionaries. Cf. Glossary.

256. bring. Ed. 1750, for the metre, prints 'and bring.'

272. now dead. ' Something seems to have dropt out from
the line: qy.

" That whilst he liv'd was only yours, now dead " ? ' Dyce.

298. And fill. And we will fill. ' Where there can be no

doubt what is the nominative, it is sometimes omitted.'

Abbott, Shakes. Gram., p. 287. It will be seen that here
there is also an elision of an auxilliary verb ; the force of
the preceding will, 1. 281, however, is of course carried over.

As an example of the omission of the nominative, cf.
Winter s Tale 4. 4 :

They call him Doricles; and boasts himself
To have a worthy feeding.

304. Bind with Cipres and sad Ewe. The branches of the
cypress and the yew were formerly used as emblems at
funerals. ' Coles in his Introduction of Plants, p. 64. says :
" Cypresse Garlands are of great account at funeralls amongst
the gentler sort, but rosemary and bayes are used by the
commons both at funeralls and weddings." ... To a query
why among the ancients yew and cypress were given at
funerals, it is answered: "We suppose that, as yew and
cypress are always green, the ancients made use of them

ACT iv] Notes 233

at burials, as an emblem of the immortality of the deceased

through their virtues or good works." ' Brand, Pop. Antiq.

2. 253.
Cf. song in Twelfth Night 2. 4 :

Come away, come away, death,
And in sad cypress let me be laid ;

My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,
O, prepare it ! ...

305. candles blew. Brand says that in Henry the Eighth's
time it was the custom to set two burning candles over the
dead body, and quotes from Moresinus, an old writer, who
gives his conjecture on the use of the candle upon this
occasion: 'It was an Egyptian hieroglyphic for life, de
signed to express the ardent desire of the survivors to have
had the life of the deceased prolonged.' Pop. Antiq. 2. 236.

Blue was the color which symbolized constancy.

307. mourning. The variant reading moaning is justified,
since it supplies, as ed. 1750 makes note, the rime to groaning.

311. Let hi™ haue faire flowers enow. Cf. 2.556, and note.

351. Now must I go coniure. Professional conjurers had
a great following in the 16th and 17th century. They were
supposed among other things to materialize the spirits of the
dead ; therefore the subsequent appearance of Jasper's
ghost might easily have been ascribed by Venturewell to
the supernatural powers of these magicians. Accounts of the
tricks employed by conjurers may be found in Thornbury,
Shakespeare's England 2. 156 ff., and Brand, Pop. Antiq. 3. 55 ff.

368. Who can sing a merrier noate. 'The last piece in
Ravenscroft's Pammelia, 1609, is A Round or Catch for ten
or eleven voices:

"Sing we now merily, our purses be empty, hey ho.

Let them take care

That list to spare,

For I will not doe soe;
Who can sing so merry a note
As he that cannot change a groat?
Hey hoe, trolly, Dolly Doe, trolly lolly lo.'" Dyce.

234 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT rv

The lines occur, with slight variations, at a much earlier date
than 1609 in Heywood's Proverbs, printed 1546. Cf. Sherman's
ed. p. 82:

What man! the begger may sing before the theefe.
And who can sing so merrie a note,
As may he that cannot change a grote ?

378. I would not be a seruingman to carry the cloke-bag
still. The gallants were accompanied by their serving-men,
who carried their cloaks and loose belongings in a sort of
bag or portmanteau made for the purpose. One is reminded
of Every Man Out of his Humour 3. 1, where Puntarvalo
and Carlo enter the middle aisle of Paul's to promenade
with the other gallants, and are ' followed by two servingmen,
one leading a dog, the other bearing a bag.1

In 2 The Returne from Parnassus 4. 2, 1602, one of the
characters, Ingenioso, says to another, the Recorder : ' So ho
maister Recorder . . . you that are a plague stuffed Cloake-
bagge of all iniquitie, which the grand serving-man of Hell
will one day trusse vp behind him, and came to his smokie
Ward-robe.'

379. Nor would I be a Fawleconer the greedy Hawlkes
to fill. ' The falconer's life was not one of idleness ; he had
to study the dispositions of each one of his birds as if they
were children, to learn which he should fly early and which
late; and he had to clean them, and study their diet.
Every night, after the day's flight, he must give his birds
fitting medicine, directed by the mewting, or the appearance
of their eye or plumage. ... He was obliged to have his
pouch well supplied with medicines for his hawks, . . . mummy
powder, washed aloes, cloves, nutmegs, and saffron. . . . The
food of the hawk was a question of great importance : the
sparrow-hawk was fed with sheep's, pig's, and lamb's hearts,
the thighs of pullets and martlets, and it was held dangerous
to give them two sorts of meats at the same meal.' Thorn-
bury, Shakespere's England 1. 383 ff.

385. Philosophers stone. Sometimes identified in alchemy
with the elixir vitce, a solid soluble substance, which was

ACT iv] Notes 235

a supposed drug or essence having the property of restoring
youth and indefinitely prolonging life.

393. lillian of Berry. ' " This is, perhaps, an error for
Gillian of Brentford, a noted character of the sixteenth
century. Among the Selden collection of black-letter Ro
mances, there is one entitled 'Jyl of Brentford's Testament' "

So writes Weber, and very absurdly. Berry is, of course,
Bury. Jyl of Braintfords Testament, instead of being a ro
mance, is a facetious poem.' Dyce.

400. But kisse your Hostesse and go your way. This
seems not to have been an unusual ceremony on leaving an
inn. Dekker says to his gallant: 'At your departure forth
the house, to kiss mine Hostis over the barre, ... or to bid
any of the Vintners good night, is as commendable, as for
a Barber after trimming to lave your face with sweete water.'

The Gull's Hornbook, chap. 7, 'How a Gallant should

behave himself in a Taverne.'

406. sing this Catch. ' The modern editors give, " come,
sing this catch " : but in the first 4to. and one of the 4tos.
of 1635, the words, " sing this catch," are distinctly a stage-
direction.' Dyce. Cf. variants.

408. Ho, ho, no body at home. 'In Ravenscroft's Pam-
melia, 1609, this catch (No. 85) stands as follows:

"Ey ho no body at home,

Meate nor drinke nor money have I none,

Fill the pot Eadie. Hey ut supra." ' Dyce.

Dyce's statement is, of course, authentic, but there is no
means of referring to Pammelia. The book is not accessible.

420. Let Raph come out on a May-day in the morning.
The celebration of May-day, no longer observed except in
partial form here and there by children, was an annual event
in the England of the 16th and 17th centuries. 'In the
month of May, namely, on May-day in the morning, every
man, except impediment, would walk into the sweet meadows
and green woods, there to rejoice their spirits with the
beauty and savour of sweet flowers, and with the harmony
of birds, praising God in their kind. ... I find also that in

236 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT iv

the month of May, the citizens of London of all estates,
lightly in every parish, or sometimes two or three parishes
joining together, had their several Mayings, and did fetch in
May-poles, with divers warlike shows, with good archers,
Morris dancers, and other devices for pastime all the day
long; and toward the evening they had stage-plays, and
bonfires in the streets.' Stow, Survey, p. 38.

Stubbes has a spirited account of the festival, but, unlike
Stow, he does scant justice to its beauties. His Puritanical
sensibilities are shocked by the alleged wickedness and
debauchery committed on May-day, and he regards the whole
celebration as a tribute to Satan. 'And no marvaile, for
there is a great Lord present amongst them, as superintendent
and Lord ever their pastymes and sportes, namely, Satlian,
prince of hel.' Anat. of Abuses, p. 149.

Most of the features of the May-games vanished long ago.
The last of the London May-poles was erected soon after
the Restoration in 1661. It remained standing until 1717.
In the remoter districts of England, however, May-poles were
to be found far into the last century. There is a description
of them by Washington Irving in The Sketch Book.

Good accounts of the May-games are to be found in
Strutt's Sports and Pastimes, Brand's Pop. Antiq., and Cham
bers' Book of Days.

421. vpon a Conduit. In Old London, the conduits or
reservoirs were common gathering-places, where gossips
met and passed the news of the day. Hence the Citizen is
eminently judicious in his selection of a place for the dis
play of Ralph's finery, and for his rhetorical flourishes.

Previous to 1613 there were only two or three conduits
in the principal streets, and a few others in the northern
suburbs. The largest and the most decorative of these was
known as the Great Conduit. It stood in the center of
Cheapside, then, as now, one of the important thoroughfares.
Leaden pipes ran along Cheapside, conveying the water to
the smaller reservoirs. Only public buildings were supplied
directly. The water had to be fetched for domestic use from
the conduits. Many poor men, known as tankard-bearers,

ACT iv] Notes 237

made their living by carrying water to householders in large
tankards holding from two to three gallons. When water
was required in smaller quantities, apprentices and servant-
girls were sent to get it. Hence the conduits were not only
gossiping-places, but spots about which the rougher elements of
the population gathered. Cf. Chambers, Book of Days 2. 393.

Oliver Cob, in Ben Jonson's Every Man in his Humour,
is a water-carrier. His language and the coarse quality of
his associations may be taken as an index to the kind of life
which assembled about the conduits.

421. with all his Scarfes about him, and his f ethers and
his rings and his knacks. A valuable description of the
equipment of the Morris-dancers, which the Wife has in
mind, is given by Stubbes in an invective against them as
attendants upon the Lord of Misrule : ' Then everie one of
these men, be investeth with his liveries of green, yellow,
or some other light wanton colour; And as though they
were not (baudie) gaudie enough, I should say, they bedecke
them selves with scarfs, ribons & laces hanged all over with
golde rings, precious stones, & other jewels : this doon, they
tye about either leg XX. or XL. bels, with rich handker-
cheifs in hands, and sometimes laid a crosse over their
shouldiers & necks, borrowed for the most parte of their
pretie Mopsies & looving Besses, for bussing them in the
dark. Thus al things set in order, then have they their
Hobby-horses, dragons & other Antiquities, togither with
their baudie Pipers and thundering Drummers to strike vp
the devils daunce withall. Then, march these heathen com
pany towards the Church and Church-yard, their pipers
pipeing, their drummers thundring, their stumps dauncing,
their bels iyngling, their handkerchefs swinging about their
heds like madmen, their hobbie horses and other monsters
skirmishing amongst the route: & in this sorte they go to
the Church (I say) & into the Church, (though the Minister
be at praier or preaching), dancing & swinging their hand-
kercheifs over their heds in Church, like devils incarnate,
with such a confuse noise, that no man can hear his own
voice.' Anat. of Abuses, p. 147.

238 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT iv

427. in honor of the Citty. This or some similar expression
seems to have been commonly employed in connection with
any celebration or festive performance undertaken by the
citizens. In Women Pleased 4. 1, Soto, leader of a band of
Morris-dancers, says to them : ' Now for the honour of our
town, boys, trace sweetly.' Cf. also Ind. 29, and 5. 75. In his
dedication of The Four Prentices of London ' to the honest
and high-spirited prentices, the readers,' which was prefixed
to the ed. of 1615, Heywood speaks of renewal of 'the
commendable practice of long forgotten Armes,' which had
redounded to ' the glory of our Nation, the security of the
Kingdome, and the Honour of this Renowned Citty.''

433. shall not he dance the morrice. The Morris-dance
or Morrice-dance was a performance for a long time asso
ciated with a number of festive seasons in England, among
them Holy Thursday, the Whitsun Ales, the ceremony of
the Lord of Misrule, weddings, and the May-day. It is now
wholly discontinued. The name would indicate a Spanish
origin, and indeed the dance is regarded with more or less
certainty as a development of the Morisco-dance or Spanish
fandango. It became an essential part of village festivities
under Henry VIIL Only fragmentary descriptions of it have
been handed down to us, and accurate knowledge of its
features is not obtainable. Allusions and contemporary prints
indicate that it was a hoidenish sort of performance, in
which the participants joined hands and formed many
eccentric figures.

The collective number of dancers in the Morris varied from
time to time. According to Douce (Illustrations of Shakes
peare, p. 581), in more ancient times the chief characters
were Robin Hood, Little John, Friar Tuck, Maid Marian, the
Queen or Lady of the May, the fool, the piper, and several
Morris-dancers habited in various modes. Afterwards a hobby
horse and a dragon were added. Most of the authorities,
Douce included, do not regard the Robin Hood cortege,
with the exception of Maid Marian, as constituent figures in
the Morris. A large proportion of the allusions to the
dance in the old plays and poems connect it with the

ACT iv] Notes 239

May-games, but do not necessarily contain a mention of
the train of Robin Hood. A tabulation of the Morris-
dancers, which is generally accepted, is found in a rare old
poem entitled Cobbe's Prophecies, which is quoted by Brand,
Pop. Antiq. 1.25:

It was my hap of late, by chance,
To meet a country Morris-dance,
When, cheefest of them all, the Foole
Plaied with a ladle and a'toole ;
When every younker shakt his bels,
Till sweating feet gave fohing smels:
And fine Maide Marian with her smoile
Shew'd how a rascall plai'd the roile :
But, when the hobby-horse did wihy,
Then all the wenches gave a tihy :
But when they gave to shake their boxe,
And not a goose could catch a foxe,
The piper then put up his pipes,
And all the woodcocks look't like snipes.

In a painted window at Bentley, Straffordshire, is a famous
representation of a Morris, in which a Maypole is surrounded
by six Morris-dancers, together with a musician, a fool, a
crowned lady who is regarded as Maid Marian, and a
hobby-horse mounted by a crowned man, who is possibly
Robin Hood. In The Two Noble Kinsmen 3. 5, Gerrold, the
schoolmaster, directs a Morris danced by four countrymen,
six women, a taborer, and the Bavian or fool. Other plays
which mention or appropriate the old dance are too nume
rous to mention here. In addition to the authorities already
cited, cf. Chambers, The Mediaeval Stage, and Enc. Brit.

434. for the credit of the Strand. A Morris-dancer in
The Two Noble Kinsmen 3. 5, speaking of his performance,
says that ' the credit of our town lay on it.'

440. Let each true Subiect. Each subject of the May Lord.

443. My name is Raph, by due discent, though not
ignoble I, Yet far inferior to the Flocke of gratious Grocery.
A direct parody of the speech of the ghost in Kyd's Spanish
Tragedy 1. 1. Cf. Introd., p. C.

240 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT iv

Instead of Flocke, Dyce reads stock. Cf. variants. The
alteration perhaps strengthens the sense, but it is quite un
warranted. The word flock is legimately, though infrequently,
transferred from birds or animals to any band or company
of people. It is so employed here.

446. With guilded Staffe, and crossed Skarfe, the May-
lord here I stand. Is seems to have been the constant custom,
at the celebration of the May-games, to elect a Lord and
Lady of the May, who probably presided over the sports.
Strutt, in Sports and Pastimes, p. 353, mentions our passage
as an evidence that the Lord of the May was decorated with
scarfs, ribbons, and other fineries. He identifies this digni
tary with the personator of Robin Hood : ' At the commence
ment of the sixteenth century, or perhaps still earlier, the
ancient stories of Robin Hood and his frolicsome companions
seem to have been new-modelled, and divided into separate
ballads, which much increased their popularity; for this
reason it was customary to personify this famous outlaw,
with several of his most noted associates, and add them to
the pageantry of the May-games. He presided as Lord of
the May ; and a female, or rather, perhaps, a man habited
like a female, called the Maid Marian, his faithful mistress,
was the Lady of May. His companions were distinguished
by the title of " Robin Hood's men," and were also equipped
in appropriate dresses; their coats, hoods, and hose were
generally green.' The crossed Skarfe is referred to by
Stubbes. Cf. 4. 421, and note.

450. For now the fragrant Flowers do spring, &c. These
lines are in the manner of the typical May-day ballads, which
usually sounded the praises of spring. Chambers, in the
Book of Days 1. 547, gives the following representative
May-song :

Come listen awhile unto what we shall say,
Concerning the season, the month we call May ;
For the flowers they are springing, and the birds they do sing,
And the blaziers are sweet hi the morning of May.

When the trees are in bloom, and the meadows are green,
The sweet-smelling cowslips are plain to be seen;

ACT iv] Notes 241

The sweet ties of nature, which we plainly do see,
For the blaziers are sweet in the morning of May.

All creatures are deem'd, in their station below,

Such comforts of love on each other bestow;

Our flocks they are folded, and young lambs sweetly do play,

And the blaziers are sweet in the morning of May.

So now to conclude, with much freedom and love,
The sweetest of blessings proceeds from above ;
Let us join in our song that right happy may we be,
For we'll bless with contentment the morning of May.

456. The Morrice rings while Hobby-horse doth foote it
feateously. ' The hobby-horse, which seems latterly to have
been almost inseparable from the morris-dance, was a com
pound figure; the resemblance of the head and tail of a
horse, with a light wooden frame for the body, was attached
to the person who was to perform the double character,
covered with trappings reaching to the ground, so as to
conceal the feet of the actor, and prevent its being seen
that the supposed horse had none. Thus equipped, he was
to prance about, imitating the curvetings and motions of a
horse, as we may gather from the following speech in an
old tragedy called the Vow-breaker, or Fair Maid of Clifton,
by William Sampson, 1636. " Have I not practised my reins,
my careeres, my prankers, my ambles, my false trotts, my

smooth ambles, and Canterbury paces and shall the

mayor put me, besides, the hobby-horse ? I have borrowed
the fore-horse bells, his plumes, and braveries; nay, I have

had the mane new shorn and frizelled Am I not going

to buy ribbons and toys of sweet Ursula for the Marian, —
and shall I not play the hobby-horse? Provide thou the
dragon, and let me alone for the hobby-horse." And after
wards : " Alas, Sir ! I come only to borrow a few ribbands,
bracelets, ear-rings, wyertyers, and silk girdles, and hand-

kerchers, for a morris and a show before the Queen 1

come to furnish the hobby-horse." ' — Strutt, Sports and
Pastimes, p. 224.

Usually a ladle was suspended from the horse's mouth
for the purpose of gathering money from the spectators.

242 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT iv

There are frequent allusions in the old plays to the ex
pulsion of the hobby-horse from the May-games, which was
effected by the Puritans. Cf. Hamlet 3. 2: 'or else shall
he suffer not thinking on, with the hobby-horse, whose epi
taph is,' " For, O, for, O, the hobby-horse is forgot ! " ' Cf.
Women Pleased 4. 1, Love's Labour's Lost 3. 1, &c. Women
Pleased contains an extended exposition of the Puritans' aver
sion to the hobby-horse. ' During the reign of Elizabeth the
Puritans made considerable havoc among the May-games by
their preachings and invectives. Poor Maid Marian was assim
ilated to the whore of Babylon; friar Tuck was deemed
a remnant of Popery, and the Hobby-horse an impious and
Pagan superstition ; and they were at length most completely
put to rout as the bitterest enemies of religion.'— Douce,
Illustrations of Shakespeare, p. 595. Under James I the lady
and the hobby-horse were reinstated. They were degraded
under the Commonwealth, but again revived after the Res
toration.

457. The Lords and Ladies now abroad. Cf. Pasquil's
Palinoda, 1634:

The lords of castles, manners, townes, and towers,
Rejoic'd when they beheld the farmers flourish,

And would come down unto the summer bowers,
To see the country gallants dance the morrice.

460. Now Butter with a leafe of Sage is good to Purge
the bloud. The only account of the medicinal properties
supposed to belong to May-butter which I have found is the
following: 'If during the moneth of May before you salt
your butter you save a lumpe thereof, and put it into a
vessel, and so set it into the Sun the space of that moneth,
you shall find it exceeding soveraigne and medicinable for
wounds, strains, aches, and such like grievances.' G. Mark-
ham, English Housewife, 1637, p. 199.

461. Fly Venus and Phlebotomy. Venus, as here em
ployed, is an obsolete euphemism for venery. Phlebotomy,
or blood-letting, was formerly an extremely common feature
of medical treatment.

ACT iv] Notes 243

Cf. Philaster 2. 2 : ' Your grace must fly phlebotomy, fresh
pork, conger, and clarified whey ; they are all dullers of the
vital spirits.' Cf. also A Wife for a Month 3. 3:

Phlebotomy, and the word lie nigher,
Take heed of, friend, I thee require.

463. And sluggish snails, that erst were mute, do creep
out of their shelles. Snails were used in love divinations ;
they were sent to crawl on the hearth, and were thought to
mark in the ashes the initials of the unknown lover. Cf.
Brand, Pop. Antiq. 1. 388.

The divination regarding the snail on May-day is pre
served in Gay's Shepherd's Week, 4th Pastoral:

Last May-day fair, I search'd to find a snail,
That might my secret lover's name reveal:
Upon a gooseberry-bush a snail I found,
For always snails near sweetest fruit abound.
I seized the vermine; home I quickly sped,
And on the hearth the milk-white embers spread:
Slow crawl'd the snail, and, if I right can spell,
In the soft ashes marked a curious L:
Oh, may this wondrous omen lucky prove!
For L is found in Lubberkin and Love.

Sympson and succeeding editors read tnew'd. Sympson
says: 'I have ventured to alter mute into the old word

mew'd, i. e. shut up, confined.' Cent. Diet, gives mue as

obsolete spelling of mew. Hence, mute (?).

They keep me mew'd up here as they mew mad folks.

Humorous Lieutenant 4. 5.

468. bellowing. ' So the first 4 to. Other eds. " blowing " ;
and so the modern editors, Weber excepted. The worthy
prioress of Sopwell, describing the various cries of beasts
of chase, says,

"An harte belowyth and a bucke groynyth I fynde."

Book of Saint Albans, sig. d. ii.' Dyce.

468. the Rascal and the Pricket. Rascal is an obsolete
name for a deer too young*and lean, or of too inferior a

244 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT iv

quality, to hunt as food. Cf. As You Like It 3. 3 : ' Horns ?
Even so. Poor men alone ? No, no ; the noblest deer hath
them as huge as the rascal!

A pricket is ' a buck in his second year : probably so
called from his horns.' Cent. Diet.

473. lift aloft your veluet heads. 'A sly allusion to the

horns of the citizens.' Dyce. Cf. Philaster 4. 2, in which

a woodman says that Pharamond's steward would have a
deer's ' velvet-head into the bargain, to turf his hat withal.'
On this passage, Dyce has the following note : ' " His [the
hart's] head [i. e. horns], when it commeth first out, hath a
russet pyll vpon it, the which is called Veluet, and his head
is called then a velvet-head" The Noble Art of Venerie, &c.
by Turbervile, 1611, p. 244.'

' Cuckolds were fancifully said to wear horns on the

brow.' N. E. D. It is a very old saying, widely prevalent

throughout Europe, that a husband wears horns, or is a cornute,
when his wife proves false to him. The origin of the idea, as
well as its exact significance, has had various assignments.
Brand has a chapter on ' Cornutes,' Pop. Antiq. 2. 181.

474. With bels on legs, and napkins cleane vnto your
shoulders tide. The use of bells was the distinctive char
acteristic of the Morris, the feature which separated it from
dances of a similar nature. Cf. Chambers, Mediaeval Stage
1. 200. We learn from Stubbes (cf. note to 4. 421) that
around each leg of the Morris-dancer were tied from twenty
to forty bells. The chief of these were designated the fore-
bell, the second bell, the treble, the tenor, the base, and
the double bell. According to Douce, sometimes only the
trebles were used. 'But these refinements were of later
times. The bells were occasionally jingled by the hands,
or placed on the arms or wrists of the parties.' Illustra
tions of Shakespeare, p. 603.

Douce cites The Knight of the Burning Pestle and Stubbes
in the passage just alluded to as evidence that ' handker
chiefs, or napkins, as they were sometimes called, were held
in the hand, or tied to the shoulders.' Cf. Women Pleased
4. 1:

ACT iv] Notes 245

. . . Where are your bells, then ?
Your rings, your ribbands, friend ? and your clean napkins ?

Cf. Shirley, Lady of Pleasure 1.1:

How they become a morris, with whose bells

They ring all into Whitsun ales; and sweat,

Through twenty scarfs and napkins, till the hobby-horse

Tire, and the Maid Marian, dissolved to a jelly,

Be kept for spoonmeat!

476. With Scarfes & Garters. These were not necessarily
festive articles of clothing. During the sixteenth and seven
teenth centuries, scarfs were much worn, particularly by
knights and military officers, and under the name of sashes
are still distinguishing marks of rank in the army. Regard
ing garters, Stowe says : ' At this day men of meane rank
weare garters and shoe roses of more than five pounds price.'
'They were, in the time of James I, small sashes of silk,

tied in a large bow, and the ends of point lace.' Planche,

Diet, of Costume, p. 199.

476. Hey for our Town cri'd. ' A very usual exclamation at
processions similar to the present. Butler uses the same ex
pression in a passage where he probably recollected the text :

..." Followed with a world of tall lads,
That merry ditties troul'd and ballads,
Did ride with many a good-morrow,
Crying, hey for our town, through the borough." '

Weber.

480. To Hogsdon or to Newington, where Ale and Cakes
are plenty. Cf. Wither, Britain's Remembrancer, 1628:

And Hogsdon, Islington, and Totenham-court,
For cakes and cream had then no small resort.

' Hogsdon, or Hoxton, mentioned in Domesday as Hocheston,
a manor belonging to the cathedral of St. Paul, whose prop
erty it still is, a suburban district within the parish of St.
Leonard, Shoreditch, lying to the north of the Shore-ditch

end of Old Street Road and west of Kingsland Road.'

Wh.-C. 2. 245. Hogsdon Fields formed a common pleasure-

246 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT rv

ground for the Londoners on holidays. Master Stephen, the
country gull in Every Man in His Humour, lived in Hogs-
don. It is a fact which causes the following expression from
him : ' Because I live at Hogsdon, I shall keep company with
none but the archers of Finsbury, or the citizens that come
a-ducking to Islington ponds ! Slid ! a gentleman mun show

himself like a gentleman.' 1. 1. Sir Epicure Mammon has

the following dream about Hogsdon :

He would have built

The City new; and made a ditch about it
Of silver, should have run with cream from Hogsdon,
That every Sunday in Moorfields the younkers
And tits and torn-boys should have fed on gratis.

Alchemist 5. 3.

Newington, situated on the Surrey side of the Thames,
became famous as a resort of the populace for the practice
of archery, and after 1558, when by royal mandate the
butts were set up for purposes of drill, it was known as
Newington Butts.

483. thrumming of our caps. ' Thrumming of caps. Set
ting on the tufts or thrums upon a coarse cap. In the
following instance, it is applied to a man setting his beard
in order :

"Bel. Let me set my beard vp.
How has Pinac perform'd ?

Mir. He has won already.
He stands not thrumming of caps thus."

Fletcher, Wild-goose Chase 2. 3. Or it might mean playing
with his hat or cap like a person thrumming an instrument ;
which is a theatrical symptom of irresolution. But the former
explanation is confirmed by this line of Quarles :

"Are we born to thrum caps, or pick straws?" Judgm.
& Mercy.' Nares, Glossary.

487. With Drums and Guns that bounce alowd, & mery
Taber playing. These were the usual accompaniments of
the May-game. Strutt cites Strype, who speaks of ' a goodly
May-game in Fenchurch-street, with drums and guns, and
pikes.' Sports and Pastimes, p. 353. Stubbes declaims

ACT v] Notes 247

against 'their baudie pipers and thundering drummers.' Cf.
4. 421, and note. 'Tom the Piper, with Tabor and Pipe'
was often a constituent figure of the Morris.

The tabor was not unlike a tambourine (without the jingles),
and usually formed an accompaniment to the pipe. 'The
tabor was a diminutive drum, without snares, hung by a
short string to the waist or left arm, and tapped with a
small drumstick. There is a woodcut of William Kemp,
the actor, playing pipe and tabor in his Morris dance to
Norwich, and another of Tarleton, the Elizabethan jester, in
the same attitude. The writer is informed by Mr. William
Chappell that Hardman, a music-seller at York, described
the instruments to him fifty years ago as above, adding that
he had sold them, and that country people still occasionally
bought them.' Grove, Diet, of Mttsic.

ACT V.

3. weewill haue a Capon in stewed broth, with marrow,
and a good peece of beefe. A characteristic wedding-feast.
In The London Chanticleers, Dods.-Haz., OldEng. Plays 12. 341,
one of the characters foretells to his prospective bride some
of the peculiarities of their wedding-dinner : ' Then a leg of
beef shall walk round the table, like a city captain with a
target of lamb before it : a snipe, with his long bill, shall
be a sergeant, and a capon carry the drumstick. Thou
shalt be a lady-general, and pick out the choicest of every
dish for thy life guard.'

4. beefe, stucke with rose-mary. Old plays contain frequent
evidences of the custom of using rosemary as a symbol of
remembrance. It was employed both at weddings and
funerals. In The Woman's Prize 1.1, 'The parties enter
with rosemary as from a wedding.' Cf. The Pilgrim 5. 6 :

Well, well, since wedding will come after wooing,
Give me some rosemary, and lets be going.

The rosemary used at weddings was previously dipped in
scented water. Cf. The Scornful Lady 1. 12 : ' Were the

248 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT v

rosemary branches dipt ... I would not wed.' The plant,
as a bond of love, is celebrated in Robinson's Handefull of
Pleasant Deities, 1584 :

Rosemarie is for remembrance
Betweene us daie and night,

Wishing that I may always have
You present in my sight.

Cf. Hamlet 4. 5 : ' There's rosemary, that's for remembrance.'
Nares cites our play to show that rosemary was some
times made a garnish for the meats. Cf. Pericles 4.4:' Marry,
come up, my dish of chastity with rosemary and bays.' There
is an account of 'Rosemary at weddings' in Brand's Pop.
Antiq. 2. 119.
14. To farre. ' So the first 4to. Later eds, " To " ; and

so the modern editors ! ' Dyce. Dyce was the first editor

to realize that the far of the text is an obsolete verb mean
ing to remove. Cf. Glossary.

27. Inuisible to all men but thy selfe. 'In this passage
our author evidently has an eye to the ghost of Banquo in

Macbeth.' Dyce. In ed. 1778 it is regarded as a ridicule

on Macbeth.

28. And whisper such & sad tale in thine eare. Cf. 2.
173, and note.

29. Shall make. (It) shall make. 'Where there can be
no doubt what is the nominative it is sometimes omitted.'

—Abbott, Shakes. Gram., p. 287. Cf. 4. 298, and note. Cf.
Macbeth 4. 2 :

I take my leave of you :
Shall not be long but I'll be here again.

30. And stand as mute and pale as Death itself. Darley
remarks upon the passage ending with this line : ' How are
we struck by this awful picture, by its visionary character
so well harmonising with the words which sound as if heard
in a terrific dream? How are disappointed when we find
the ghost is but Jasper who has had "his face mealed,"
and the passage itself extracted from a mock-heroic play,
" The Knight of the Burning Pestle " ? ' Introduction, p.

ACT v] Notes 249

XXXII. Darley uses this illustration to point his contention
that Beaumont and Fletcher are more agreeable if read des
ultorily than consecutively.

58. Saint Faiths Church vnder Paules. 'At the west end
of this Jesus chapel, under the choir of Paules, also was a
parish church of St. Faith, commonly called St. Faith under
Paul's, which served for the stationers and others dwelling
in Paule's church-yard, Paternoster Row, and the places near
adjoining. The said chapel of Jesus being suppressed in the
reign of Edward VI, the parishioners of St. Faith's church
were removed into the same, as to a place more sufficient
for largeness and lightsomeness, in the year 1551, and so it

remaineth.' Stow, Survey, p. 123. Cited, in part, by Dyce.

Humphrey's evident intention to withdraw from places of
'lightsomeness,' and to wear out his shoe-soles in the dark,
would indicate that his place of retirement was to be the
original St. Faith's.

Our friend's gloomy state of mind is aptly indicated in
this resolve of his, since dandies of his sort were prone, not
to hide in obscure retreats like St. Faith's, but to vie with
each other in a display of their fine clothing and haughty
manners in Paul's Walk or Duke Humphrey's Walk, the cen
tral aisle of the church itself. Captain Bobadill in Ben Jon-
son's Every Man in His Humour is a ' Paul's man.' Chap. 4
of Dekker's Gulfs Hornbook is entitled ' How a gallant should
behave himself in Powles walkes.' Act 3, sc. 1, of Ben Jon-
son's Every Man Out of His Humour is laid in Duke Hum
phrey's Walk ; so also is Act 1, sc. 1, of Middleton's Michael
mas Term.

65. I would haue thee call all the youthes together in
battle-ray. Entick says that about this time the military
ardor of the Londoners was manifested, not only in the
numerous response of the adults to the king's musters, but
in the martial spirit of the rising generation. ' The children
endeavoured to imitate their parents; chose officers, formed
themselves into companies, marched often into the fields with
colours flying and beat of drums, and there, by frequent prac
tice, grew up expert in the military exercise.' Survey 2.115.

250 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT v

66. drums, and grins, and flags. Under Elizabeth, and in
the reigns preceding hers, the drum and the fife were the
musical instruments of the infantry, but thereafter the infantry
had only the drum, until fifes were restored to use in 1745.
Aside from serving as the accompaniment on the march,
the drum was used to signal the different movements in the
drills. The chief beats of the drum on these occasions were
a Call, a Troop, a Preparation, a March, a Battaile, a Retreat,
terms which are minutely defined by Grose, Milit. Antiq. 2. 47.

Guns of the period were of different sorts and denomi
nations. The first guns fired by hand were called hand-
cannons, culverines, and hand-guns. The instruments used
in the infantry, however, were the muskets, and these the
Wife undoubtedly has in mind. The muskets were de
velopments of the cruder, but lighter, harquebuses, and
were so heavy that they had to be supported on a fork,
called a rest, when presented in order to fire. They were
fired with match-locks. Besides the musket and the rest, the
soldier had to carry with him a bullet-bag, a powder-flask,
and a match-cord.

Flags, banners, pencils, and other ensigns, are of great
antiquity ; their use was to distinguish the troops of differ
ent nations or provinces within the larger armies, and, in
smaller bodies, the troops of the different leaders. They
also served to point out rallying-places for broken battalions
or squadrons, and the stations of the chief officers.

67. march to Mile end. The mimicry which the Wife here
proposes is intended to be in ridicule of the manoeuvers of
the City train bands at Mile End. Cf. Introd., p. CXI.

68. exhort your Souldiers to be merry and wise. Cf. 2.
102, and note.

68. to keepe their beards from burning. An evident al
lusion to the danger arising from the powder, matches, and
other inflammable articles which the musketeers carried.

70. cry kill, kill, kill. Cf. Lear 4. 6 :

And when I have stol'n upon these sons-in-law,
Then, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill!

Furness has the following note upon these lines in Lear:

ACT v] Notes 251

1 Malone : " This was formerly the word given in the Eng
lish army when an onset was made. So in Ven. <§• Ad. 652 :
in a peaceful hour doth cry "kill, kill."" Again, in The
Mirrourfor Magistrates 1610, p. 315 : " Our Englishmen came
boldly forth at night, Crying Saint George .Salisbury, kill, kill." '

71. lerkin. 'A short body-garment of the jacket or doublet
variety, for either of which it appears to have been used
indiscriminately during the sixteenth century ... Its exact
shape and fashion varied at different times, and the only
absolute definition of it I ever met with occurs in Meriton's
' Clavis ' 1697, the compiler stating that " a jerkin is a kind
of jacket or upper doublet with four skirts or laps." . . . The
word has become obsolete, while jacket is as much in re
quest as ever.' Planche, Diet, of Costume.

72. scarfe. ' Scarfs were worn by knights and military
officers in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and under
the name of sashes are still distinguishing marks of rank in
the army. Before the establishment of uniforms the scarf
was also a sign of company.' Planche, Diet, of Costume.

In Grose's Milit. Antiq. 1. 133, there is a picture of a
pikeman, whose scarf is flung over the right shoulder and
tied in a single knot upon the left hip. The ends are hung
with tassels. Cf. 4. 421, and note.

72. for the rest, the house shall furnish you. The tiring-
house shall furnish you. Cf. Ind. 96, and note.

In Grose's Milit. Antiq. 1. 131, is the following description
of the soldiers' outfit : ' The armes that we must carry must
be there: first of all, the corslet complete with the tasses,
i. e. skirts downe to the knee, hose of male, a codpeece of
yron, good vambraces, and gauntlets or gloves of male, and
a good head peece, with the sight almost covered. The
other harnesse for the body must be a shirt or jerkin, with
sleeves and gloves of male, and a head peece with the face
uncovered.'

76. for the honour of the Citty. Cf. 4. 427, and note.

77. let me neuer hope for freedom. That is, civic free
dom won through the medium of apprenticeship. Cf. Ind.
15, and note.

252 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT v

83. Let him looke narrowly to his sendee, I shall take
him else. Let him give careful direction to the drill ; other
wise I shall take his place myself. Take in the sense of
displace, which it manifestly means here, is not noted in the
dictionaries. Cf. The Beggars Bush 4. 6 :

Look well, look narrowly upon her beauties.

84. pike-man. The infantry in the reign of James I con
sisted of pikemen and musketeers. From the reign of
Henry VIII to that of William III, the greater part of the
English Army was formed of pikemen. Cf. Farrow, Military
Encyclopedia.

85. had my feather shot sheere away. The cut in Grose's
Milit. Antiq. 1. 163, representing a 17th century pikeman,
shows his helmet to be surmounted by an enormous ostrich
feather.

86. fringe of my pike burnt off. Presumably the injured
' fringe ' is that of the cloth ornament known as the armin,
which is thus described in a military work, called the Art
of Training, 1622 : ' You had then armins for your pikes,
which have a graceful shew, for many of them were of vel
vet, embroidered with gold, and served for fastness when
the hand sweat; now I see none, and some inconveniences
are found by them.' Cited by Grose, Milit. Antiq. 2. 278.

The pike was a species of spear or lance, solely appro
priated to the infantry. It was introduced into France under
Louis XI by the Switzers, and soon became of general use
in European armies. It was used in England from the reign
of Edward IV to that of George II. Grose cites Markham
(Soldier's Accidence, 1648), who says : ' The pikemen should
have strong, straight, yet nimble pikes of ash-wood, well
headed with steel, and armed with plates downward from
the head, at least four feet, and the full size or length of

every pike shall be fifteen feet, besides the head.' Milit.

Antiq. 2. 277. The pike is now superseded by the bayonet
on the end of the musket.

90. Ban, tan, tan, &c. The passage recalls Justice Shal
low's description : ' I remember at Mile-end Green, when I

ACT v] Notes 253

lay at Clement's Inn, 1 was then Sir Dagonet in Arthur's

show, there was a little quiver fellow, and a' would man
age you his piece thus ; and a' would about and about, and
come you in, and come you in : " rah, tah, tah," would a'
say ; " bounce " would a' say ; and away again would a' go,
and again would a' come: I shall ne'er see such a fellow.'

—2 Henry IV 3. 2.

Concerning this resemblance, Coleridge says : ' That Beau
mont and Fletcher have more than once been guilty of
sneering at their great master, cannot, I fear, be denied ; but
the passage quoted by Theobald from the " Knight of the
Burning Pestle" is in imitation. If it be chargeable with

any fault, it is with plagiarism, not with sarcasm.' Notes

on Shakespeare's Plays,

91. little Ned of Algate. The deeds of this redoubtable
boy, if he really existed, seem not to have been duly rec
ognized in history. I can find no record of them.

Algate or Aldgate is one of the twenty-six wards of Lon
don. It is located near the site of the gate in the old City
wall towards the East ; hence its name. Cf. Ind. 3, and note.

91. drum Ned. The importance of the drummer is indi
cated by a quotation made by Grose from a Military Col
lection of Elizabeth's reign: 'All captains must have dromes
and phiphes and men to use the same, who should be faith
ful, secret, yngenious, of able personage to use their instru
ments and office, of sundrie languages, for often tymes they
are sent to parlie with their enemies, to summon their forts
and towns, to redeme and conduct prisoners, and diverse
other messages, which of necessitie require languages; if
such dromes or phiphers should fortune to fall into the
hands of their enemies, no gifte or force should cause them
to disclose any secret that they know; they must often
practise their instruments, teache the company the sound
of the march, allarme, approach, assolte, battel, retreat,
skirmish, or any other calling that of necessity should be
known.'— Milit. Antiq. 2. 43.

101. company. The consistency of a company of infantry
varied slightly from time to time. Typical companies of

254 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT v

the period were those sent to the Palatinate. They were
each made up of one hundred and forty-four privates, three
gentlemen, three corporals, and two drummers. The com
missioned officers to each company were a captain, a lieuten
ant, and ensign. Cf. Grose, Milit. Aniiq. i. 182.

101. colours. ' The colours of the foote, frequently by the
old writers stiled ensigns, are square, but larger than the
banners or standards of the horse ; they are fixed on a spear ;
formerly there was a stand of colours to every company;
they were in time of action guarded by two ranks of hal-

bardiers.' Grose, Milit. Antiq. 2. 53. Grose says that the

colours of every captain 'should be blazoned with Saint
George's Armes alone, but with so many spots or several
devices as pertain to the dignity of their respective places.'
This gives us the insignia of our Captain Ralph. As to the
composures of hues, from which these flags took their name,
Grose quotes Markham, Soldiers Accidence, p. 31 : ' There
must be in military honour nine several faces, or complex
ions, that is to say, two which be called mettals, as yellow
and white, figuring gold and silver ; seven which are called
proper colours, as black, white, blew, red, green, purple,
tunnis, and ermine.' Certain mixtures of these shades were
supposed to bring disgrace to the ensign, and were dis
countenanced. Grose gives the signification of the legitimate
colors, i. e., yellow betokens honor, blue, faith, &c.

102. March faire. An old form of military command, which
is not noticed in the dictionaries. It undoubtedly means
' march without haste or violence.'

In Heywood's / Edward IV, the rebels under Falconbridge
enter ' marching as being at Mile-end.' One of the officers
says to them : ' March fair, ye rogues, all kings or cap-
knitters.' Cf. soft and faire, 5. 142, and note.

102. Lieutenant beate the reare vp. Among other duties
devolving upon the lieutenant, 'he is to order and ranke
the company fit for his captaine to march with; hee is to
divide his company into foure divisions; making two divis
ions of the pikes and two of the musquetieres ; hee is to
ranke the first division of musquets in the front, and the

ACT v] Notes 255

second division of musquets in the reare of the pikes; hee is
to march in the reare of the company into the field; and in
marching out of the field, the captaine is to march in the
rear, and the lieutenant in the front.' Ward, Animad
versions of Warre, 1639, quoted by Grose, Milit. Antiq. 2. 353.

To beat vp, in military parlance, is to summon or call to
gether as by beat of drum; well-known in the phrase to
beat up recruits. The specific name of the drumbeat at
which, as in the present instance, the troops are to fall in,
and the roll to be called, is the Assembly or Troop. Cf.
Grose, Milit. Antiq. 2. 48.

103. Ancient, let your colours flye. The obsolete word
ancient is used to denote either the standard or the standard-
bearer. N. E. D. gives it as a corruption of ensign.

There were marked regulations as to the occasions for
letting the colors fly, and violation brought disgraces upon
the bearer : ' as in carrying his colours furl'd (or folded) up,
when they should be flying: or to let his colours fly when
they should be folded up; or to display (or nourish them)
when they should be carried without any hand motions ; or
to carry them without motion when they should be displayed ;
or to vaile them when they should be advanced, or to advance

them when they should be vailed.' Grose, Milit. Antiq. 2.

141. Pertinent to our passage was the rule that upon a regi
ment's march through a city or town the ensign-bearer should
unfurl or open his colors, and let them fly at full length.

105. the Butchers hookes at white-Chappel. Whitechapel
is a parish lying east of Aldgate, and stretching away to
Mile End. It is a commercial district, but, in respect to
most of its inhabitants, poor. The chief thoroughfare in
Whitechapel, together with Aldgate High Street adjoining
it, was formerly an important butchers' market. ' The great
street in Whitechapel is one of the broadest and most public
streets in London; and the side where the butchers lived
more like a green field than a paved street ; toward White
chapel church the street was not all paved, but the part

that was paved was full of grass.' The City Remembrancer

1. 357.

256 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT v

105. the death of many a faire Ancient. It is obvious
that here may be meant the destruction of the standard.
Cf. 5. 103, and note. It is quite possible, however, that the
standard-bearer may be meant, and that the play is satiriz
ing the excessive punishments meted out to the ensign-
carriers for injuries sustained by the colours. Cf. Grose,
Milit. Antiq. 2. 142.

106. Open your files. ' Both ranks and files had three dif
ferent distances at which they stood ; they were distinguished
by the terms : 1st open order ; 2d order ; and 3d close order :
the first was six feet ; the second three feet ; and the third
only one foot and a half. For open order, a distance of
six feet was taken by each file, standing so far from their
right and left hand men, that their arms being mutually
extended, their finger ends would just meet.' — -Grose, Milit.
Antiq. 1. 350.

106. that I may take a view both of your persons and
munition. Ward says of captain that ' he ought to see his
souldiers furnished with all things needful : as armes, munition
and their weekly pay duely at the appoynted times. ... I
he be in garrison . . . hee is precisely to go the first round
himselfe, being ayded with Serjeant and divers gentlemen,
where he may view the strength and sufficiency of every
guard, &c.' Quoted in Milit. Antiq. 2. 249.

107. Sergeant call a muster. The sergeant here plays the
part of clerk. Grose cites Ralph Smith, an Elizabethan
authorithy, who describes the method of calling the roll at
a muster : 'At every mustering or assemblinge, the captaines
bill shalbe called by the clarke, every man answeringe to
his own name, marching foorthe as he is called, that noe
man unto twoe names make answere; yf any souldier bee
sicke or hurte, being not serviceable, paye him his wages,
give him his pasporte, send him home, furnish his roome
with an hable souldier; yf any helthfull souldier absente
himself at such tymes, let him be punished as in the statutes
is mentioned, to the example of the rest.' Milit. Antiq. 1. 185.

'A serjeant ought to be a man of good experience, and
sufficiently instructed in all martial exercises. He ought to

ACT v] Notes 257

be learned both in writing and arithmetic ; he is always to
have a squadron-row le about him, wherein hee should dis
tinguish every man by the armes he beares.' Ward, quoted

in Milit. Antiq. 2. 258.

110. A Corselet and a Spanish pike. 'The corselet was
a suit of armour chiefly worn by pikemen, who were thence
often denominated corselets. Strictly speaking, the word
corselet meant only that part which covered the body, but
was generally used to express the whole suit, under the
terms of a corselet furnished or complete. This included
the head-piece and gorgett, the back and breast, with skirts

of iron called tasses or tassets covering the thighs.' Grose,

Milit. Antiq. 2. 251.

Grose quotes a sixteenth century author who says that the
Spanish pike was an especially faithful imitation of the pike
made by the Switzers. I have found no other mention of a
Spanish pike except in Shirley's Young Admiral 3. 1. Grose
says that there was a Morris or Moorish pike greatly in fashion
under Elizabeth, though he is unable to state its peculiar
characteristics. It is possible that Moorish and Spanish pikes
were the same.

The cause of Ralph's interest in his soldiers' equipment is
the fact that the object of a muster was not only to ascer
tain the number of men, but likewise to examine their
armor and weapons. This practice went back at least to
Henry V, who, in his ordinances of war, made provision
that each captain should make inspections of his company
at the musters when required, and report the results to his
superiors. Cf. Grose 1. 183.

118. peece. Any sort of fire-arm might be called a piece.
Green-goose, however, being an infantry-man, is probably
possessed of a musket.

120. And. 'An't Here the old eds. have "and": but see
fourth speech after this.' — -Dyce.

128. feather. Sometimes the fork, or rest, upon which
the musket was supported in action, was ' armed with a con
trivance known as a swine's feather, which was a sort of
sword blade, or tuck, that issued from the staff of the rest,

258 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT v

at the head; this being placed before the musqueteers
when loading, served, like the stakes placed before the
archers, to keep off the cavalry: these preceded the use of
the bayonets ; the invention of which originated in the sol
diers sticking the handles of their daggers into the muzzles
of their pieces, when they had discharged all their ammu
nition.' Grose, Milit. Antiq. 2. 293.

128. sweet oyle, and paper. ' In time of marching and
travelling by the way, let him [i. e., the musketeer] keepe
a paper in his paune and tutch-hole. ... It is moreover
requisite, that a souldier keepe his cocke with oyle free in
falling, andhispeece bright without rusting.' — -Treatise, 1619,
cited by Grose, Milit. Antiq. 2. 122.

129. Where's your powder ? ' Hee [i. e. the captain] is to
see the bandyliers filled with powder, with sufficient match
and bullets.' Ward, quoted in Milit. Antiq. 2. 250.

133. it craues a Martiall Court. Grose says that it is not
easy to ascertain at what time courts martial, according to
their present form, were first held. They are mentioned,
however, with the distinction of general and regimental, in the
Ordinances of James II, 1686. During the reign of James I,
controversies between officers and soldiers were settled,
seemingly, in a mixed form of martial court, composed both
of civil and military members. Cf. Milit. Antiq. 2. 61.

134. Where's your home? 'The balls were carried in
a bag or purse, the powder in a horn or flask, and the prim
ing, which was a finer sort of mealed powder, in a touch-
box.' Grose, Milit. Antiq. 2. 292.

141. flaske. Cf. 5. 134, and note.

145. stone of this peece. The old fashioned gun-flint is
here in mind. The lighter pieces of ordnance were set off
by a wheel-lock, a contrivance for producing sparks of fire by
the friction of a notched wheel of steel, which grated against
a flint. These wheels were wound up with an instrument
called a spanner. Cf. Grose, Milit. Antiq. 2. 291.

'About seaven of the clocke marched forward the eight

peeces of ordinance, with stone and powder.' Holinshed,

Chronicles 3. 947.

ACT v] Notes 259

Evidently the 2d soldier does not bear a musket, since
that weapon was lighted with a match-lock and was very
heavy. He must be carrying some smaller hand-gun, such
as the harquebus.

150. I meane to stoppe it in the pay. I mean to keep
back, withhold, the cost of the damages from the wages.
Cf. 2 Henry IV. 5. 1 : 'do you mean to stop any of William's
wages, about the sack he lost the other day at Hinckley
Fair ? ' Cf. also Pope, Imitations of Horace 2. 2. 63 :

Nor stops, for one bad cork, his butler's pay.

Grose says that, in a 17th century estimate of army ex
penses, flasks are charged at 1 Ib. 8 s. each. The daily
wage of the common soldier was usually 8d. Cf. Milit.
Antiq. 1. 271.

150. Remoue and march, &c. In connection with the
passage beginning here, we may again quote Ward: 'At
all convenient times he [i. e. the captain] is to drill his soul-
diers very accurately, shewing them all the postures of the
pike and musquet, then how to march, counter march, to
double their files and rankes, the middle men to double to
the front, to advance forwards, and to retreat backwards at
the sound of the drumme, to wheele about, his musquetiers,
to make redy, present and give fire, to give fire in the
front, in the reare and upon either flanke, to fall off by
files and give fire.' Quoted in Milit. Antiq. 2. 251.

151. soft and faire. This, or the reverse expression, 'fair
and softly,' is an obsolete phrase frequently met with in
old writers. It indicates ease of movement, absence of
haste, &c., and, as here, may be used as an admonition, i. e.
' Gently ! quietly ! Take your time ! ' N. E. D. cites Top-
sell, Four-f. Beasts, 1607 : ' The proverb is old and true,
Fair and softly goeth far." '

152. double your files, as you were, faces about. In the
time of James I, as now, to double the files meant simply
to put two files in one, and so make the ranks smaller. Of
the second phrase in the text, Markham, Souldiers Accidence,
1625, p. 21, says: 'To reduce any of these words of direction

260 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT v

to the same order or station in which the Souldier stood

before . . . you shall say As you were.1 ' Faces about is

the military word of command equivolent to wheel. In the
Souldier's Accidence the officers are directed to give the
word of command in these terms:

Faces to the right

Faces to the left

Faces about, or ) , . , . ,, ,

Faces to the reare j which 1S a11 one'

Cf. Gifford's note on Jonson's Every Man in his Humour 3. 1.

Or when my muster-master
Talks of his tacticks, and his ranks and files,
His bringers-up, his leaders-on; and cries,
Faces about, to the right hand, the left,
Now, as you were.

Ben Jonson, Staple of News 4. 4.

154. match. The muskets were fired with a match. A
spring let down a burning match upon the priming in the
pan. The contrivance was known as a match-lock.

155. make a crescent now, aduance your pikes. When
the companies were drawn up for exercise or a review, the
ordinary formations were squares and rectangles, but the
manoeuvers of the time included a variety of whimsical
figures, of which Grose mentions wings, wedges, rhombs,
triangles, the shears, and the saw. These absurd conceits
were ridiculed as puerile exercises. The line of the cres
cent, however, was not an unusual formation.

The Christian crew came on in forme of battayle pight,
And like a cressent cast themselves preparing for the fight.

Gascoigne, Flowers, 1572.

Advancing the pike was a regular part of the military
drill. The posture consisted of three motions by which the
lower end of the pike was lifted from the ground to the
right hip of the soldier. The movements are illustrated in
Milit. Antiq. 1. 256.

155. stand and giue ear. : The audience were to suppose
that Ralph and his soldiers had now arrived at Mile-End.'
Dyce.

ACT v] Notes 261

159. to measure out . . . Honour by the ell ; and prowesse
by the pound. It is perhaps a supererogation to call atten
tion to the expressive satire in these lines upon the per
sistent materialism in the conceptions of the old dramatists'
average audience.

The idea is perhaps suggested by a speech of Captain
Spicing in Heywood's / Edward IV, p. 10, ed. Dyce :

Peace, ye rogues; what, are you quarrelling?

And now list to Captaine Spicing.

You know Cheapside: there are mercer's shops,

Where we will measure velvet by the pikes,

And silkes and satins by the street's whole breadth.

162. beare your selues in this faire action, like men, &c.
' He [i. e. the captain] must be familiar and eloquent in per
suading and diswading his souldiers, and to stirre up their

valors to undergoe pain and peril.' Ward, quoted in

Milit. Antiq. 2. 251.

166. Carre. Altered by Weber to cart. Formerly car
was more frequently used than at present to denote any
common cart or wagon; now it is usually found in this
general sense with dignified or poetic associations. For the
more antiquated use, cf. Beawes, Lex Mercat., 1752, p. 399 :
' Merchants, and others that use Carrs or Carts.'

171—73. for you shall see . . . children. May not these
lines have been suggested by Richmond's speech in Richard III
5. 3 ? Richmond says :

If you do fight in safeguard of your wives,
Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors;
If you do free your children from the sword,
You children's children quit it in your age.

173. whose care doth beare you company in baskets.

Nothing could more pungently denote the contrast between
the train bands' pompous displays and their actual triviality
than this satirical thrust : the notion of the domestic larder
seriously figuring as commisariat for ' the noble defenders of
the realm ' is assuredly unique and absurd.

175. sort. Company, band. 'The Editors of 1778
gave the whole of this speech in verse. Weber very prop-

262 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT v

erly threw it back into prose, with the exception of the
present passage beginning ' To a resolved mind,' which seems
to be a recollection of Shakespeare :

Remember whom you are to cope withal,

A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and runaways, &c.

Richard 111, 5. 3.' Dyce.

The editors of 1778, indeed, gave not only this speech,
but the whole of the military episode in verse an arbi
trary, as well as awkward, arrangement.

177. Stand to your tacklings. This resembles the cau
tionary command, ' Stand to your arms,' when soldiers are
put upon the alert.

179. as shake an apron. Cf. 1. 277, and note.

181. a cold capon a field, and a bottle of March-beere.
Poins, in / Henry IV 1. 2, says: 'Jack, how agrees the
devil and thee about thy soul, that thou soldest him on
Good-friday last for a cup of Madeira and a cold capons leg ?'

' The beer that is used at noblemen's tables in their fixed
and standing houses is commonly a year old, or peradven-
ture of two years' standing or more ; but this is not general.
It is also brewed in March, and therefore is called March
beer; but for the household, it is usually not under a month's

age.' Harrison, A Description of England, Bk. 3, chap. 1,

1577.

184. I did not thinke it had beene in him. ' Sometimes
the sequence of tenses is not observed in dependent sen
tences.' Abbott, Shakes. Gram., p. 269.

186. Il'e haue him Captaine of the Gally-foist. Captains
of galley-foists did not always meet with the esteem which
the Citizen evidently pays them. Cf. The Scornful Lady
1.2:' He makes no mention of such company as you would

draw unto you, captains of galley-foists, such as in a clear

day have seen Calais ; fellows that have no more of God
than their oaths come to.' Other contemptuous references
may be found in Middleton and Dekker's The Roaring Girl,
in The Parsons Wedding (Dods.-Haz., Old Eng. Plays, Vol. 2),
and elsewhere.

ACT v] Notes 263

' The gally-foist was a long barge, with many oars ; com
posed of galley and foist. The latter being made fromfuste,
which Cotgrave thus explains : " Fuste, f. a foist; a light
gaily that hath about 16 or 18 oares on a side, and two
rowers to an oare." ' Nares, Glossary.

The Lord Mayor's and Company's Barges were sometimes
called The City Galley-foists. The companies had their in
dividual barges for the water processions, which were a
prominent feature of The Lord Mayor's Shows, given upon
the day of that dignitary's installation. The accounts of the
Grocers' Company for the year 1436 contain items of ex
penditure for " hiring of barges." ' The City companies con
tinued to hire barges for state occasions two centuries after
this period. The Grocers hired the last in 1636, when it
was thought to be beneath the dignity of the company to
appear in a barge which was not their own, and accordingly
the Wardens were empowered to construct " a fair and large
barge for the use of this Company." ' — Knight. London 6. 146.

190. Care liue with Cats. Merrythought has in mind the
familiar adage ' care will kill a cat,' and is adjuring care to
live with its proper victim; his invincible merriment defies
its encroachments.

201. Sing wee, and chaunt it. 'The commencement of
the fourth song in Morley's Firste Booke of Ballets, &c.,
1600.' — -Dyce. Again Dyce's word must be depended upon,
since the Firste Booke of Ballets is not for the present pur
pose obtainable.

224. terlery-whiskin. This is a bit of colloquial jargon
which was common at the time. ' In The Lady's Trial by
Ford, we have terlery-pufkins. Whiskin occurs twice with
no very determinate meaning in the same author's Fancies,
Chaste and Noble" Weber.

224. the world it runnes on wheeles. Before its publi
cation in 1605, Chapman's play All Fools was called The
World runs on Wheels. The expression is proverbial. Cf.
John Heywood, Proverbs, 1546, ed. J. Sherman, p. 134.

234. And some they whistled, and some they sung.
' This stanza is taken from the ballad of Little Musgrave

264 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT v

and Lady Barnard, printed in Percy's Reliques of Ancient
Poetry, Vol. 3, Bk. 1, where it runs thus :

Then some they whistled, and some they sang,

And some did loudlye saye,
Whenever lord Barnardes home it blewe,

Awaye, Musgrave, away.' Weber.

In the story, the lady proves false to her lord, Barnard,
who takes vengeance in murdering her and his rival, Little
Musgrav e.

Chappell prints the tune of Little Musgrave aud Lady
Barnard in Popular Music of the Olden Time 1. 170.

240. let your owne loue remember she is yours, and so
forgiue her. ' " This may mean, Let your self-love tell you
that she is a part of yourself, and so forgive her. Yet I
think it probable that we ought to read ' Let your old love '

— that is, your former affection." Mason. The meaning

seems to be, besides the consideration that she is my

mother, let your own love as a husband, &c.' Dyce.

251. a Ladies daughter of Paris properly. No. 31 in
Vol. 1 of Evans' Old Ballads, p. 135, ed. 1810, has this heading :
'A rare example of a virtuous maid in Paris, who was by
her own mother procured to be put in prison, thinking
thereby to compel her to Popery : but she continued to the

end, and finished her life in the fire. Tune is O man in

desperation.' The first stanza runs thus:

It was a lady's daughter,

Of Paris properly,
Her mother her commanded

To mass that she should hie:
O pardon me, dear mother,

Her daughter dear did say,
Unto that filthy idol

I never can obey.

271. Fortune, my Foe, &c. 'A black-letter copy of "A
sweet sonnet, wherein the lover exclaimeth against Fortune
for the loss of his lady's favour, almost past hope to get it
again, and in the end receives a comfortable answer, and
attains his desire, as may here appear : to the tune of For-

ACT v] Notes 265

tune my foe," is in the Bagford Collection of Ballads (643 m.,
British Museum). It begins as follows :

Fortune my foe, why dost thou frown on me?
And will thy favours never better be?
Wilt thou, I say, forever breed my pain?
And wilt thou not restore my joys again?

There are twenty-two stanzas, of four lines each, in the
above.' Chappell, Popular Music of the Olden Time 1. 162.

With respect to the words of the title, The tune is, For
tune my foe, Chappell observed to Dyce that ' nothing is
more common in reprints of ballads than to put the name
of the tune the same as the ballad itself; as The Carman's
Whistle, to the tune of the Carman's Whistle, &c.'

Chappell gives a considerable number of instances from
old books and plays of the mention of Fortune my foe,
Prominent among them are The Custom of the Country 1.1,
and Ben Jonson's The Case is Altered 4. 4.

Chappell prints the tune of Fortune my foe.

292. hartely. Cf. 1. 184, and note.

308. make on him. Modern eds. read make an end on
him. 'The two words which we have added seem abso
lutely necessary to the completion of the sense.' Ed. 1778.

The alteration is amply justified. Dyce calls attention to
the preceding speech of the Citizen as a support for the
new reading.

318. Enter Raph, with a forked arrow through his head.
Apparently, this is in ridicule of a stage-direction in The
True Tragedy of Richard, Duke of York, 1595: 'Enter
Clifford wounded, with an arrow in his necke? As Dyce
notes, Shakespeare, when he re-wrote The True Trag
edy, omitted ' with an arrow in his necke.' Cf. } Henry VI
2. 6.

We now speak of a barbed, instead of a- forked, arrow.
Cf. Dryden, Assignation 3. 1 : '1 am wounded with a forked
arrow, which will not easily be got out.'

319. When I was mortall, this my costiue corps. Many
verses of the speech beginning here are a direct parody on
the speech of Andrea's ghost, with which Kyd's Spanish Trag-

266 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACT v

edy opens. Cf. Introd., p. CI. The next three verses of the
speech are elsewhere parodied in our play (cf. 4. 443).

321. Where sitting I espi'd a louely Dame. Another par
ody on The Spanish Tragedy. Cf. Introd., p. CI.

322. wrought with Lingell and with All. Lingel is now
dialectal (cf. N. E. D). It applies to the thread or hemp
rubbed with rosin, which is used by shoemakers and cob
blers. Cf. Women Pleased 4. 1 :

Every man shall have a care of his own sole,
And in his pocket carry his two confessors,
His lingel and his nawl [i. e. awl],

333. the blacke thum'd maide. It should be remembered
that Susan is a cobbler's maid ; evidently she is not espe
cially skilled in her master's craft.

340. With skarfes and Eings, and Poesie in my hand. We
have already had mention of the scarfs and rings worn at
the May -games. Cf. 4. 421, and note.

Eds. 1750 and 1770 read posie, Dy., posy. Weber says:
'There is no occasion to vary the orthographic. Poesy is
continually used in the same sense as posy in old plays;
but in the present case, it refers to the rhymes which Ralph
reads at the conclusion of the fourth act, standing as May-
lord on the conduit.' ' A very doubtful explanation.' Dyce.

Because of its conjunction here with Rings, Poesie, it seems
to me, most probably refers to the mottoes or sentimental
conceits, known as poesies or posies, which were engraved
upon rings or other trinkets.

' Nay, and I have poesies for rings too, and riddles that
they dream not of.' Ben Jonson, Cynthia's Revels 2. 1.

A hoope of Gold, a paltry Ring
That she did give me, whose Poesie was
For all the world like Cutlers Poetry
Upon a knife; Love me and leave me not.

—Merchant of Venice, 5 (Folio 1623).

342. Citty Captaine at Mile-end. That is, Captain of the
City train bands. Cf. Cowper, John Gilpin:

John Gilpin was a citizen
Of credit and renown,

ACT v] Notes 267

A train- band captain eke was he
Of famous London town.

343. leading staffe. Cent. Diet, quotes our passage to illus
trate the rare employment of this term to indicate the baton or
staff borne by a field-marshal or other commanding officer.

Cf. Ford, Per kin Warbeck 3. 1, stage- direction : 'Enter
King Henrie, his Gorget on, his sword, plume of feathers,
and leading staffe.''

349. death came vnto my Stall To cheapen Aqua-vitae.
Grocers dealt in drugs and spirits as well as the regular
commodities. To cheapen here means to ask the price of,
Cf. Glossary. Death is an interested inquirer about the cost
of 'the water of life.'

352. Death caught a pound of Pepper in his hand. This
unique medium of Ralph's decease is peculiarly laughable
because of the importance of pepper among the commodities
of old-time grocers. Cf. 1. 328, and note.

356. Then tooke I vp my Bow and Shaft in hand. The
practice of archery was encouraged at this time almost as
much as the artillery drills. Under the immediate prede
cessors of the Tudors, archery had rather fallen into decay.
It was revived, however, by Henry VIII, under whom a
number of acts were made for promoting the practice of
shooting both with the longbow and the shortbow. Ralph
has a longbow, for the shaft was a sort of arrow which
was used only with that implement. Henry VTII established
masters and rulers of the " science," who formed a perpetual
corporation called the Fraternity of St.George. ' The members
of this society were also permitted, for pastime sake, to
practise shooting at all sorts of marks and butts, and at the
game of the popinjay, and all other games, as at fowls and
the like, in the city and suburbs of London, as well as in any

other convenient places.' Strutt, Sports and Pastimes, p. 57.

The popular enthusiasm for archery thus created was very
active under the monarchs succeeding Henry VIII. James I
opened up a number of locations adjoining London for the
practice of archery, and granted a commission in which were
re-established the statutes, ordinances, proclamations, &c.

268 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [ACTV

that had been previously made at different times in favor
of archery. One of the chief resorts for the archers was
Finsbury Fields, which Moorfields adjoined. Master Stephen
speaks contemptuously of the archers of Finsbury, Every
Man in His Humour 1. 1.

357. walkt into Moore-fields. ' Moor-fields, a moor or fen
without the walls of the City to the north, first drained in
1527; laid out into walks for the first time in 1606, and
first built upon late in the reign of Charles II. The name
has been swallowed up in Finsbury (or Fensbury) Square,
Finsbury Circus, the City Road, and the adjoining localities.
. . . This low-lying district became famous for its musters
and pleasant walks.' Wh.-C. There is a black-letter chap-
book entitled The Pleasant Walkes of Moore-fields, written
by Richard Johnson soon after the improvements made in
1606. Moorfields lay between the City and Hogsdon, the
pleasure garden mentioned at 4. 480, and near Finsbury
Fields, which, together with Mile-End, were used as a prac
tising ground for archers and the artillery.

361. My fellowes euery one of forked heads. A punning
allusion to the horned heads of the citizens. Cf. 4. 473, and
note. Conjugal infidelity is thus referred to in Othello 3. 3 :
O curse of marriage !

'Tis destiny, unshunnable like death.

Even then, this forked plague is fated to us,

When we do quicken.

363. Shroue-tuesday. Shrovetide, as the word signifies,
was originally a time for confessing sins, but it became, also,
a period of unusual sport and feasting, notably the custom
of eating pancakes. Shrove Tuesday was esteemed the ap
prentices' especial holiday, and of the many licenses which
they took, the chief was that of assailing houses of ill-fame,
and carting the inmates about the streets. In the ballad
entitled Poor Robin, 1707, are these lines:

February welcome, though still cold and bitter,
Thou bringest Valentine, Pan cake, and Fritter;
But formerly most dreadful were the knocks
Of Prentices 'gainst Whore-houses and Cocks.

ACT v] Notes 269

Sir Thomas Overbury, in his Characters, speaking of ' a
Maquerela, in plaine English, a bawde,' says, ' Nothing daunts
her so much as the approach of Shrove Tuesday? We read
in the Masque of the Inner Temple :

Stand forth Shrove Tuesday, one of the silencest Bricklayers,
' Tis in your charge to pull down bawdy-houses.

Cf. Brand, Pop. Antiq. 1. 89, and Dekker, 2 Honest Whore.
368. Set vp a stake. Ralph probably refers to the stake
to which cocks were tied as targets to be thrown at in the
contests on Shrove Tuesday. Brand cites the following sa
tirical doggerel from an obscure poem written in 1679 :

Cocke a doodle doe, 'tis the bravest game,
Take a cock from his dame,
And bind him to a stake.

Oh the beares and the bulls

Are but corpulent gulls

To the valiant Shrove-tide martyr. Pop. Antiq. 1.7 8.

369. Grocers Hall. A likely haven for the soul of a grocer's
apprentice, for it was the grand place of assemblage in all
the deliberations or the festivities of the grocers' guild. ' The
first Hall of the Grocers of which we have an account was
built in 1427, before which they had met at the house of
the Abbot of Bury in St. Mary Ave . . . and other places.
In 1411 they bought the chapel of St. Edmund of Lord
Fitz-Walter, and a few years after his adjacent house and
gardens, and commenced building their hall. The second
hall was built some years after the great Fire; and their
third, the present edifice (Thomas Leverton, architect), was

commenced in 1798, and opened July 21, 1802.' Wh.-C.

2. 158. The location of the building is Grocers' Hall Court,
Poultry and Princes Street.

374. depart. ' i. e. part (as in our old marriage-service, —
<' till death us depart "). So the first 4 to. Other eds. " part " ;

and so the modern editors, Weber excepted.' Dyce. This

meaning of the verb is now obsolete. Of its intransitive
use, N. E. D. gives the following examples : ' Adeu nou ; be

270 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [TIT.

treu nou, Sen that we must depairt! Montgomerie, Poems,

1605. ' So loth wee were to depart asunder.' Hinde,

/. Bruen, 1641, p. 133.

392. then so. A phrase meaning than that, formerly in
common use. Nares gives the following examples : ' Faith
I thought as much, but such a one taught me more wit
then so seaven yeares agoe.' Copley's Wits, Fits and Fan
cies, 1614.

Hear. Foh, foh! she hath let fly.

Potl. Doe y' think 1 have no more manners than so ? —
Cartwright's Ordinary, 1651.

393. I thanke you all Gentlemen. Again the Wife is
aware of the gallants' unusual courtesy in countenancing a
grocer's prentice boy. Cf. 3. 503, and note.

396. I would haue a pottle of wine and a pipe of To
bacco for you. Ralph's favorable reception has assuredly
caused a change of front in the Wife's attitude toward the
smoking of tobacco, for cf. 1. 224-28.

400. and whilst. And was formerly used emphatically
for ' even,' ' and that too.' ' We still use " and that " to give
emphasis and call attention to an additional circumstance,
e. g. " He was condemned, and that unheard." . . . The " that "
is logically unnecessary, and is omitted sometimes by Shake
speare. . . .

" And shall the figure of God's majesty

Be judged by subject and inferior breath,

Andhe himself not present ? " Richard II, IV. 1.129.'—

Abbott, Shakes. Gram, p. 70. The ellipsis in the last verse
of this extract might be thus supplied : ' And whilst he him
self is not present.'

TITLE-PAGE OF Q2.

(Francis Beaumont, I
and \ Gent.

lohri Fletcher. J

This ascription of the play to a double authorship seems
contradicted by the statement regarding the author in the

TIT.] Notes 271

Address to the Readers, and to be made of doubtful reli
ability by the equivocal word authors in the Prologue. A
consideration of the authorship may be found in the Introd.,
pp. XXI-XXXI.

As it is now acted. There is no evidence that our
play, after its first presentation in 1610, was revived before
this year, 1635. Cf. Introd., p. XVI.

her Majesties Servants. The organization from which
this company of actors descended was formed under Alex
ander Foster in 1611, when it entered into a bond with
Henslow, probably to act at the Swan. In March, 1613,
Henslow's company and Rossiter's (the 2 Revels) amalga
mated, and were then called the Lady Elizabeth's Men. They
bore this title until the accession of Charles I, 1625, when
they passed over to Queen Henrietta and became known
as Her Majesty's Servants. Nathan Field, who was also a
member of the Queen's Revels, acted with this company.
In Jan. and Feb., 1612-13, Beaumont and Fletcher's The
Coxcomb was presented by it ; in March, 1613, The
Honest Mans Fortune; in succeeding years The Night-
walker, Wit without Money and Nice Valour. In Malone's
Shakespeare (in Boswell 3. 238), is printed this entry from
Sir Henry Herbert's MSS., 1636 : ' The 28 Feb. The Knight
of the Burning Pestle played by the Q. men at St. James.'
For details regarding Her Majesty's Servants, cf. Fleay,
Hist, of the Stage, pp. 186, 204, 263, 312, 321, &c.

the Private house in Drury lane. This playhouse should
not be confused with the famous Drury Lane Theatre of
our own time. The latter was opened in Catherine Street,
1663. The 'Private house in Drury lane ' stood in the parish
of St. Giles-in-the-Fields, and was generally known as The
Cockpit, from the building which had originally occupied
this site, and had served as a place for the exhibition of
cock-fighting. The exact date of its erection is not ascer-
tainable. ' The Cockpit Theatre was certainly not converted
into a playhouse until after James I had been some time on
the throne. . . . Camden, in his Annals of James I, speaking
of the attack upon it in March, 1616-17, says that the Cock-

272 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [TIT.

pit Theatre was then nuper erectum, by which we are to
understand, perhaps, that it had been lately converted into
a playhouse. Howes, in his continuation of Stowe, adverting
to the same event, calls it " a new playhouse," as if it had

then been recently built from the foundation.' Collier,

Annals of the Stage 3. 328. The attack to the which Collier
alludes was made by a mob of apprentices on Shrove Tues
day, March 4, 1616-17.

The Cockpit was occupied continuously by Lady Elizabeth's
Men from 1616—17 until the end of James ' reign. After
June 24, 1625, Her Majesty's Servants acted there under
the management of Christopher Beeston. In 1637 these
players were transferred to Salisbury Court to make place
at The Cockpit for a new company known as Beeston 's Boys.
Cf. Fleay, Hist, of the Stage, pp. 299, 321, 359.

' On Saturday, March 24, 1640, the house was pulled down
by a company of soldiers, " set on by the sectaries of those

sad times." ' Wh.-C.

Quod si, &c. Cf. these lines on title-page of the text,
and the note regarding them.

ADDRESS TO THE READERS, Q2.

the French Kickshoes. The modern spelling is kickshaws.
Ed. 1778 reads quelque chose. Cf. variants. 'The original
Fr. spelling was frequent in the 17th century, but the com
monest forms follow the pronunciation que'que chose, formerly
regarded as elegant, and still current in colloquial French.
The word was sometimes correctly taken as sing., with
plural choses, &c. ; more commonly it was treated as a pi.,

and a sing, kickshaw afterwards formed from it.' N. E. D.

The term French kickshoes as employed here had a con
temptuous force. Cf. Glossary. Cf. Addison, Tatler, No. 148 :
'That substantial English Dish banished is so ignominious
a Manner, to make Way for French Kickshaws'

the Author. An evidence of single authorship.

PBOL.] Notes 273

PROLOGUE OF Q2.

THE PROLOGVE. This Prologue is almost an exact
transcript of ' The Prologue at the Black fryers ' prefixed
to Lyly's Sapho and Phao. There are a few trivial alter
ations of the text, the addition of a few words, (viz. : or
mistaking the Authors intention, who never aymed at any
one particular in this Play, and the concluding sentence,
And thus I leave it, and thee to thine owne censure, to like, or
dislike.), and the omission of Lyly's last sentence, which
is as follows: 'The Gryffon never spreadeth her wings in
the sunne, when she hath any sick feathers: yet have we
ventured to present our exercises before your iudgements,
when we know them full of weak matter, yielding rather
our selves to the curtesie, which we have ever found, then
to the preciseness, which wee ought to feare.' Sapho and
Phao was first printed in 1584. It was republished in 1591 ;
and in 1632 it was included, in a third edition, with five of
Lyly's other plays, in a collection called the Sixe Court Com
edies. Dyce corrects Weber's erroneous statement that the
play had been presented at court in 1633.

where the Beare cannot finde Origanum to heale his
griefe, hee blasteth all other leaves with his breath. Cf.
Pliny, Natural History, Bk. 9, chap. 115 (Bostock and Riley's
trans.) : ' The breath of the lion is fetid, and that of the
bear quite pestilential ; indeed, no beast will touch anything
with which its breath has come in contact, and substances
which it has breathed upon will become putrid sooner than
others.'

R. W. Bond, ed. The Complete Works of John Lyly, 1902,
notes that the passage is a reminiscence of Euphues 1. 208,
11. 20-6 : ' The filthy sow when she is sicke, eateth the Sea
Crabbe and is immediately recured : the Torteyse having
tasted the Viper, sucketh Origanum and is quickly revived :
the Beare readye to pine, lycketh vpp the Ants and is re
covered,' &c. Lyly adopted these ideas directly from Pliny,
Bk. 8, chap. 41. ' Cuvier remarks upon this and the follow
ing Chapter, that they are entirely fabulous. The diseases,

274 The Knight of the Burning Pestle [PEOL.

remedies, and instructions given by the animals are equally
imaginary, although the author has taken the whole from
authors of credit.' Bostock and Riley.

to breed (if it might be) soft smiling, not loud laugh
ing. ' Noticeable as an acknowledgement, made to a popular
audience, of a purpose sufficiently apparent in the plays
themselves, of weaning popular taste from coarse farce and
rough-and-tumble clownage to appreciate a more refined
style of Comedy. We may compare the effort at tragic
dignity announced by Marlowe in the Prologue to Tambur-
laine.'1 Bond.

They were banished the Theatre of Athens, &c. ' Prob
ably amplified from Horace's brief account of the suppres
sion of the license of 'vetus comoedia' at Athens (Ars
Poetica, 281 sqq.), and the preceding uncomplimentary ref
erence to the wit of Plautus, 1. 270.' Bond. The lines

in Horace are thus translated by Howes (Art of Poetry, ed.
Cook, p. 20):

Our forefathers, good-natured, easy folks,
Extolled the numbers and enjoyed the jokes
Of Plautus, prompt both these and those to hear,
With tolerant not to say with tasteless ear.

The account of the ' vetus comoedia ' is rendered as follows :

The Antique Comedy was next begun,
Nor light applause her frolic freedom won;
But, into slanderous outrage waxing fast,
Called for the curb of law ; that law was passed ;
And thus, its right of wronging quickly o'er,
Her Chorus sank abashed, to rise no more.

the Authors intention. This throws no light on the
question of joint composition, since Authors may be either
the plural or the possessive of the singular. Cf. variants.

THE SPEAKERS' NAMES.

The Speakers Names. Dyce's additions to this list, to
gether with his corrections of inaccuracies, should be noted.
Cf. variants.

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MIDDLETON, THOMAS. Works, ed. A. H. Bullen. 8 vols.
Boston, 1885.

MITFORD, J. Cursory Notes on Beaumont and Fletcher. Lon
don, 1856.

MORAES, FRANCISCO DE. Palmerin of England, tr. Robert
Southey. 4 vols. London, 1807.

MORLEY, HENRY, ed. Burlesque Plays and Poems. New York,
1885.

Bibliography 279

MORLEY, HENRY, ed. Character Writing in the Seventeenth
Century. London, 1891.

MORTE D ARTHUR, ed. Sir E. Strachey. London, 1868.

NARES, ROBERT. A Glossary. New Edition by Halliwell and
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NASHE, THOMAS. Works, ed. A. B. Grosart. 6 vols. Huth
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N. E. D. New English Dictionary.

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NORTON, GEORGE. Commentaries on the History, Constitution,
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NOTES and QUERIES.

OLIPHANT, E. F. The Works of Beaumont and Fletcher.
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PURSER, W. E. Palmerin of England. Dublin and London, 1904.

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GLOSSARY

This Glossary is designed to include all words which are
obsolete, archaic or dialectal ; all current words used in senses
which are obsolete, archaic, dialectal or rare ; so far as prac
ticable, all phrases which are obsolete, archaic, or otherwise
peculiar ; all obsolete or archaic forms which are not merely
old spellings ; and words which, though current in the senses
defined, are obscure from a difficult context or from their
occurrence in the play in different senses. Every definition
is accompanied by at least one citation. In all cases of pos
sible confusion, the citations are complete.

The New English Dictionary and the Century Dictionary
have been my principal authorities. The Standard Dictionary,
Nares' Glossary, Halliwell's Dictionary of Archaic and Pro
vincial Words, and Wright's Dictionary of Obsolete and Pro
vincial English have often been useful.

A dagger before a word or definition indicates that the
word or the particular meaning involved is obsolete. An
interrogation point after a word or definition indicates un
certainty with regard to it. Other abbreviations are in com
mon use in dictionaries. The citations are by act and line of
the text of this edition.

A, prep. -fi. In, denoting capacity : I

in any one's name. Phr., a God's

name. \. 71 ; 2. III.

f 2. Worn down from of. I. 228 ;

2. 101, 269, 559; 3. 144. Phr.,

a clocke = o'clock. I. 403 ; 4.

376.

f3. On. i. 404, 485 ; 2. 40, 267,

514; 3. 146; 4. 7.
fA, pron. He. I. 222 ; 2. 41, 268,

280 ; 3. 141, 144, 622 ; 4. 6, 266,

412, 415.

Able, a. •j'l. Strong, capable of
endurance. 3. 22.

About, prep. Because of; on ac
count of. I. 274; 4. 170.

Abuse, n. "{"False representation.
Ind. 1 8.

Abuse, -v . f To misrepresent. Ind.
21.

Aby, v. To pay the penalty for
(an offence). Arch. 3. 365.

Accept of, phr. To receive with
favor or approval. Ind. 83.

282

The Knight of the Burning Pestle

Add, -v. fTo put into the posses
sion of; to give or grant addition
ally, as to a person, i. 6.

Admirable, a. fWonderful, mar
velous. Ind. 38.

Afeard, ppl. a. (From obs. v. of ear.)
Afraid. Now colloq. or -vulgar.
3- 401.

Affoord, v. f i. To manage to sell
(at such a price). I. 177.
2. To supply or yield. 3. 240.

Againe, adv. In response ; in re
ply ; in return. Obs. or arch.
Ind. 78; I. 119, 179; 4. 207.

Against, prep, f Shortly before ;
in view of the near approach of.
4. 181.

Am, pron. Obs. form of 'em =
them. i. 66 ; 4. 390.

Amend, v. f Absol. To make
amends for (an offence). 3. 512.

An, conj. (Weakened from and =
if} fi. As if? 2. 179. Cf. note.
2. If. Arch, or dial. 3. 581.

An, conj. (= And if). An inten
sive of if. Arch, or dial. 2. 524.

Allan, adv. Obs. form of anon.
fStraightway, at once, instantly.
2. 576.

Ancient, n. Arch. I. A standard-
bearer. 5. 103.
2. A standard ? 5. 105.

And, conj. i. If. Arch, or dial. I. 72,
490 ; 2.44, 147, 149, 219, 267, 309.
f 2. Even ; and that too. 5. 400.

Anew, adv. -[-Freshly ; as a nov
elty ; with some implication of
fickleness ? 3. 48. Cf. note.

Anon, interj. fA response by a
servant, &c., called : ' Immediately !
presently 1 coming ! ' ; whence ex
tended to an expression of atten
tion, ' At your service 1 awaiting
your orders ! ' N. E. D. I. 298.

Answerable, a. Correspondent ;
commensurate. Arch. 3. 299.

An't, phr. Contraction of an it = if
it. Arch, or dial. 2. 429 ; 5. 120
(and), 135.

Apparell, n. I . Clothing generally,
raiment, dress. Arch. To the
Readers.

f2. concr. Clothing provided for

a specific purpose. Ind. 96.
Aqua-vitae, n. Ardent spirits in

any form. 5. 350.
Arming, vbl. n. -fconcr. Heraldic

arms ; hence, ' arming-pestle.' I.

334-
As, adv. f Demons, adv. with that

in the relative clause : to such a

degree ; so. Ind. 77.
As, conj. As if, as though. Arch.

2. 269.
As you were, phr. f milit. Return

to your former positions I 5. 152.

Cf. note.
Assured, ppl. a. Covenanted ;

pledged. Obs. or arch. Ded.
Ater-loue, n. (Misprint of after-
love) Subsequent love. 3. 72-
Away, adv. Straightway, at once,

' right away.' Chiefly colloq. in

imperative sentences. 4. 432.

Badge, n. -j-A distinctive device
or emblem used to identify a
knight or distinguish his followers.
3- 246.

Bang, v. To beat violently, or
knock about ; to thrash or drub.
2. 265 ; 3. 366.

Barbarian, a. fOf or belonging
to Barbary. I. 209.

Barbor, n. Obs. form for barber.

3- 237, 353-

Bargaine, n. A transaction that
entails consequences, especially un
pleasant ones ; a bad or unfortu
nate ' business.' Arch, or obs.
A bargaine, ellip. for phr., with
a bargaine. 4. 362.

Bason, n. Obs. form of basin. 3.
263, et passim. Cf. note.

Baste, v. To beat soundly, thrash,
cudgel. 2. 454.

Bate, v. -j-To lower in amount,
deduct. 3. 176.

f Battle-ray, n. Now battle-array.
Order of troops arranged for battle.
5. 66.

Baudy, a. Obs. form of bawdy.
Lewd, obscene. 4. 34.

Be, v. 3'd pers. pi. pres. indie, of

Glossary

283

the verb to be = are. Arch, and
dial. 2. Il8 ; 3. 12 1.

Be bold, phr. To be (so) bold :
to venture so far as, take the
liberty, (to do something). Ind.
126 ; 2. 428.

fBeare off, phr. To resist and
cause (a stroke) to rebound ; to
repel, to ward off. 3.375. Cf. note.

Beaten, ppl. a. Hammered into
thin foil or leaf of embroidered
design. 4. 50, 60.

Beate up, phr. milit. To summon
or call together as by a beat of
the drum. 5. 102. Cf. note.

Bed-fellow, n. f A wife. 3. 576.

Before hand, adv. Phr., to have
(something) before hand : to have
more than sufficient for present
demands. Arch. 2. 480.

Begot, pp. Obs. pp. of beget. Ded.

Beholding, ppl. a. fUnder obli
gation, obliged, indebted. 3. 194 ;
4. 126, 218.

Ben, v. Obs. form of been, from the
verb to be. i. 116.

Beray, v. Obs. or arch. To befoul
with ordure. 2. 245 ; refl. 5. 345.

Beshrew me, phr. Arch. Used
with the force of such imprecatory
expressions as ' Evil befall me,'
1 Mischief take me," &c. Ind. 66,
et passim.

Beside, prep. -{-Away from, off.

1. 491.

Besides, prep. fOff. i. 242, 244.
Bespeake, v. To arrange for ; to

' order.1 I. 333.
f Bezell, v. To plunder, spoil ; to

make way with. I. 353.
Bi', prep. Obs. form of by. 2. 94.
Bird, n. A term of endearment.

2. 149-

Birdingpeece, n. A gun for shoot
ing birds, a fowling piece. 2. 84.

Bite, v. fTo deceive, overreach.
Now only colloq., and in the pas
sive. 4. 343.

Blame, v. fTo rebuke, to visit with
reproof. Prol.

Blaze, v. To shine resplendently.
3- 247-

Blazing, ppl. a. f(Heraldry) Des
cribing heraldically ; blazoning.

3. 246 ; biasing (obs. form) 3. 453.
Blesse, v. fTo protect, save (from).

2. 274; 3. 468, 548; 5*9.
Bloud, n. Obs. form of blood. 1.22.
Body, n. Applied symbolically to

the bread in the sacrament of the

Lord's supper. fUsed in the oath

by God's body. 2. 250.
Bold, a. Ind. 126 ; 2. 428. Cf.

Be bold.

Boldness, n. Presumption. 4. 329.
Bonny, a. A general epithet of

eulogy or appreciation ; ' fine.'

Dial. 5. 211.
f Boot-hose, n. pi. Over-stockings

worn with the boots, and reaching

from the thigh to the ankle. 4.

138. Cf. note.

Bord, n. Corruption of bore, mean
ing the interior measurement or

diameter of a circular cavity. 3.

271. Cf. note.
Bounce, v. ^intr. To make a noise

of explosion, to go ' bang.' 4.487.
Bounce, interj. Imitating the sound

of a gun. 5. 94.
Bound, ppl. a. i. Having entered

into a contract binding to service.

1. 18.

2. Under obligations (of gratitude,
&c.). 3. 319.

Boy, n. f i. As a term of contempt :
knave, varlet, &c. Ind. 6, 12 ; I.
489; 2. 288, 295 ; 5. 315.
f 2. Attendant or page at the theatre.
Ind. 6 1 ; 2. 283, ff. ; 3. 321, ff. ;

4. 41, 417, ff. ; 5. 306, ff.

f 3. Child-actor. Ind. 63 ; 5. 303.
4. Used in familiar, affectionate,
or playful address. 2. 18 ; 3. 375,
380, 381, 536, 624.
f5. Servant or page. 4. 13, ff.,
219, ff., 387, 402.

Braue, a. Used loosely as a gener
al epithet of admiration and praise :
1 fine,' ' capital,' &c. Arch. 4.
433 ; 5. 60, 198.

Brauely, adv. Worthily, well.
Dial. ? In a showy manner ;
splendidly, finely? 5. 73, 81.

284

The Knight of the Burning Pestle

•j-Braue sprighted, a. Brave-
spirited ; brave-minded. 3. 286.

Breech, n. The buttocks. 3. 601.

Breed, v. To produce ; to be the
source of. 5. 139.

Bright, a. Of persons : ' resplen
dent with charms ' ; beautiful, fair.
Arch. 2. 327, 565.

Bring about, phr. To turn around.

2. 152.

Bring off, phr. To deliver, rescue,
acquit. Arch. 5. 344.

Broker, n. -f-A go-between in love-
affairs ; a pander. 2.318. Cf. note.

Bullet, n. fA small round ball of
soap. 3. 272. Cf. note.

Burchin Tree, n. Birch tree. 4.

454-

Business, n. i. A particular mat
ter demanding attention. I. 215 ;

3- 3I5'

2. Errand. 4. 17.
Busse, v. Arch, and dial. To kiss.

2. 18.
But, conj. Than. Formerly common

in negative sentences containing a

comparative ; now rare. 4. 80.
By and by, phr. f At once ;

straightway. I. 340.

Caitife, a. Obs. form of caitiff. Vile,
wicked. 2. 311.

Caitiffe, n. A base, mean, despi
cable ' wretch,' a villain. 3. 358.

Can, v. -{-To know. Not given in
absolute use in N. E. D. \. 468.

Cannot tell, phr. f Know not
what to say or think of it.' Halli-
well. 2. 98. Cf. note.

Cap, TJ. f To arrest. 3. 191, 196, 198.

Capon, n. A cock-chicken castrat
ed for the purpose of improving
the flesh for table. 5. 3, 182.

Carduus Benedictus, n. The
blessed thistle. 3. 336.

Care. n. i. Oversight with a view
to protection or guidance. I. 36.
2. Regard, solicitous attention.

5- 173-

fCarke and care, phr. To be
troubled and full of anxious
thoughts. I. 386. Cf. note.

Carre, n. A cart or wagon ; now
rare in this sense. 5- IQ6.

Carry, V. I. To escort, 'take' (a
person). Arch, and dial. Ind. 59.
f2. To endure, bear. 5. 280.

Cast, "v. i. To form, fashion. 1.5.
•j"2. To spawn. Phr., cast their
bellies. 4. 462.

•{•3. Phr., cast their caps at: to
salute as a superior ; yield prece
dence to. 2. 216. Cf. note.

Cath, n. Form of catch. (Cf. va
riants.) A short musical compo
sition, originally for three of more
voices. 2. 487. (cf. note) ; catch,
4. 406.

Censure, n. Judgment, opinion,
criticism. Arch. Prol.

Challenge, v. fi. To accuse, ar
raign, impeach. Ded.
f2. Phr., challenge the wall: to
claim seniority over. Ded. Cf.
note.

Chamberlain, n. A chamber at
tendant on a lord or king, one
who waits on him in his bedcham
ber. Arch. 4. 132.

Chamber-lino, n. Humorous alter
ation of chamberlain. •j'An at
tendant at an inn, in charge of
the bedchambers. 2. 403.

Charge, n. I. Phr., to be at the
charge of: to bear the expense
of. Ind. 115.

2. Commission ; injunction. I. n.

3. Expense ; outlay. Arch. I.

139; 5- 144-

4. The people under (one's)
management ; here — troops. 3.
548.

Chast, a. Obs. form of chaste.

flnnocent, morally pure. 3. 56.
Cheapen, v. To ask the price of;

chaffer or bargain for. Arch, or

dial. 5. 350.
Childer, n. Obs. or dial. pi. of

child. I. 107.
Chiue, TJ. Obs. or dial. To befall,

betide, fPhr., foule chiue him:

' i. e. may it turn out ill with him,

ill luck to him. Fr. chever.' Dyce.

I. 334. Cf. note.

Glossary

285

Choose, -v. To do as one likes.

Obs. or dial. 4. 390.
Chop logic, phr. To exchange,

bandy, arguments. I. 368.
Churl, n. A base, low-bred fellow.

3- °21-

Cipres, n. Obs. form of cypress.
The branches of the tree ; used at
funerals, or as symbols of mourn
ing. 4. 304.

Clap in, phr. To press close, strike
in, lay siege to. Now rare. 1. 1 14.

Cleere, adv. Obs. form of clear.
Entirely, completely. 5. 344.

fCloke-bag, n. A bag in which
to carry a cloak or other clothing.

4- 378.

Cloth, n. f Canvas or other cheap
material, painted with figures and
mottoes in imitation of tapestry.
Common in the expression paint
ed cloth. I. 581. Cf. note.

Colours, pi. n. A flag, ensign, or
standard, such as is borne in a
military body. 5. IOI, 103.

fCome aloft, phr. To vault or
play the tricks of a tumbler. 3.
620.

Come away, phr. ' Come along,
come on.' Obs. or dial. 5- 3°8|

3H. 3I°-

Come off, phr. To retire or ex
tricate oneself from a combat ; usu
ally with reference to the manner.

3- 242.

•{•Come your waies, phr. Com
forting, reassuring, encouraging.
Obs. or arch. 2. 380, 386.

Comfrie, n. A tall plant, common
on margins of streams and ditches,
with rough leaves, and drooping
clusters of yellowish-white or red
dish-purple bell-shaped flowers ;
formerly esteemed as a vulnary.
2. 258.

Commend, v. i. To express ap
probation of. Ded.
•{•2. To recommend or advise (a
person) to do a thing. 4. 147.

Commendation, n. Respects ;
message of love and greeting :
common in the pi. Arch. I. 76.

Common-councell, n. f A general
assembly called together for any
purpose ; now applied only spec.,

1. e. the administrative body of a
town. 4. 445.

Commons, pi. n. The burghers,
or free citizens, of a town. Ind. 30.

Companion, n. f As a term of
contempt. 3. 541.

Condigne, a. f Appropriate ; mer
ited ; adequate. 3. 409.

Conditions, n. fin the pi. : per
sonal qualities ; manners, morals,
ways ; behaviour, temper. 3-593-

Conduct, v. fTo carry, transport.
4. 246.

Conductor, n. f A military com
mander ; one who leads an army.
3- 546.

Conduit, n. f A structure from
which water is distributed or made
to issue: a reservoir. 4. 421.
Cf. note.

f Conduit head, n. Same as con
duit. 4. 441.

Confound, v. To overthrow, de
feat utterly. Obs. or Arch. 3.
293 ; 4. 96.

Coniure, -v. To practise the arts
of a conjurer. 4. 351.

Conscience, n. f I. Private or in
ward thoughts ; inmost mind. 2. 9.

2. Phr., a (on) my conscience :
on my word, truly ; used in assev
erations. 2. 267.

Consent, v. To aid, or at least
voluntarily refrain from opposing,
when one has the right and power
to oppose. 2. 537.

Consume, -v . i . To waste, squander.
I. 23; i. 417.

f 2. To destroy by a wasting dis
ease. 2. 508.

Content, v. fTo please, gratify ;
to delight. 2. 37.

Content, a. Phr., be content:
f ' be pleased,' ' be so good as.'
4. 440.

Contented, ppl. a. fWilling (to
do something). 4. 108.

Contrarie, adv. In a very different
direction. 2. 290.

286

The Knight of the Burning Pestle

Conuert, v. fi. To bring into !
another state of mind and con- i
duct. 3. 463, 465, 466.

2. To cause to adopt another re
ligion, i. e. Christianity. 4. 113.

Conuey, -v. fi. To carry off clan- I
destinely. 4. 336.
•)"2. To lead, conduct, guide, by
going with, or otherwise. 3. 424 ;

3. 445 ; 3. 501.

^3. refl. To steal or slip into,

&c. 4-341-

•{•4. To take away, remove. 4.

345-

5. phr., conuey away : to take

away, remove. 4. 349.
Coppy, n. Charter of citizenship.

3. 434. Cf. note.
Corps, n. fThe living body. 5.

319.

Cost and charges, phr. -fFhto
(one's} cost and charges : to (one's)
loss, detriment, expense. I. 139.

Countenance, n. i. Moral endorse
ment and support. 4. 413.
f 2. Demeanor or manner towards
others as expressing good-will.
(Countenane) 5. 394.

fCouraging, ppl. a. From obs.
verb cotirage : to animate ; en
courage ; cheer. Ind. 76.

Courteous, a. i. Having such
manners as befit the court of a
prince ; graciously polite and re
spectful of the position and feel
ings of others ; kind and complai
sant in conduct to others. I. 267,

331 i 2. 377 ; 3- 4".

2. As a formula of address ; orig.
to superiors = gracious, gentle,
benign. I. 301 ff. ; 2. 181, 418 ;

3- 157-

•(•3. Of inferiors : politely respect
ful or deferential. 2. 211.

Courtesie, n. ^Generous treatment.
3- i8S ; 4- 86.

Courtly, a. f Courtierly ; court-like.

3. 269.

Craue, v. f i. To demand, to ask
with authority, or by right. 2. 32 1 .
2. Phr. crave for or from : to re
quest, ask earnestly for (something),

esp. as a gift or favor. 3. 396,
588 ; 4. 274.

3. Fig. Of things. To call for,
demand (something necessary or
desirable). 4. 343 ; 5. 133.
Credit, n. In pregnant sense : good
name, honor, glorification. 1.286;

4- 434; 5- 77-

Cry, v. To give public oral notice
of (things lost). 3. 205.

f Cry you mercy, phr. Virtually
equivalent to beg your pardon.
3- 586.

fCuckoldly, a. Having the char
acter or qualities of a cuckold ;
often, as here, a mere term of re
viling. 3. 629.

fCunny, n. A term of endearment,
Ind. 45, 50 ; conny, I. 109 (cf.
note), 2. 275 ; coney, 2. 570.

Darn, n. I. Mother (human) ; usu
ally with contempt. 2. 242.
•{•2. Phr., Dztiels Dam. 2. 265.
Cf. note.

Day, n. Day of battle ; hence,
battle. 5. 85.

Death, n. Phr., to do to death:
to put to death. Arch. 3. 173.

Decke, v. -{-To cover. 4. 276,
294.

Dee, phr. Obs. form of d'ye =
do ye. 3. 587.

Defye, i>. To challenge to a con
test, or trial of skill. Arch. 2.

324, 325-
Delaying, ppl. a. Lingering. 4.

254-
Delight, n. The quality (in things)

which causes delight. Now only

poet. To the readers.
Deliuer, v. -j-To make known ;

impart, as information. 3. 477.
Deniall, n. Hindrance, impediment.

Dial. 2. 66.
Denie, v. i. To refuse to grant

(a thing to a person). 2. 207,

323-

2. To say ' no ' to, to refuse (a

person who makes a request) 2.

15 ; 5- 243-

Denier, n. A French coin, .the

Glossary

287

twelfth of the sou ; from the 1 6 th
c. a small copper coin. Hence-
(esp. in negative phrases) used as
the type of a very small sum.
4- 370.

Depart, v. -{-To part or separate
from each other. 5. 374.

fDesart, n. Obs. form of desert.
fAny wild, uninhabited region, in
cluding forest-land. I. 263, 305.

Deseruing, vbl. n. Merit or worth.

1. 27.

Desire, n. Object of desire, i. 61.
Desperate, a. -j-i. Involving serious
risk and danger.

2. Extreme ; dreadful, ' awful." 3.

383-

Deuice, n. Inventive faculty ; in
vention, ingenuity. Arch, and rare.

4- 54-

Deuoire, n. -(-Service due or ren
dered. Phr. service or devoir is
frequently met with. 2. 185.

Di'de, -v. Obs. form of died. 4.
277.

Diet, n. A course of food pre
scribed in medical treatment. I.
188 ; 2. 256 ; 3. 454, 491.

Diet-bread, n. Special bread pre
pared for invalids or persons under
dietic regimen ; -fspec., a preparation
for sufferers of the French Pox.

3. 472. Cf. note.

Ping, v. Arch, or dial. To hit,

kock, strike. 3. 622.
Discent, n. Obs. form of descent.

4- 443-
Discharge, v. ^refl. To acquit

oneself, fulfil, perform (a trust, a

part, &c.). Ind. 139.
Discretion, n. f Judgment ; deci
sion. 5. 399.
Dismal, a. I. Causing dismay ;

terrible, dreadful, dire. 3. 279.

-j-2. Boding or bringing disaster ;

unlucky, fatal. 3. 362.
Dispatch, v. i. To dispose of by

killing. Phr. to dispatch out of

the way. 3. 317.

2. To execute speedily. 5. 247.
Disport, n. Pastime, sport. Arch.

4- 457-

Disquiet, n. fDisquieting feeling
or circumstance. I. 187.

Dissemble, v. f To feign, pretend,
simulate. 3. 49.

Distempered, ppl. a. Denoting
mental disorder or distraction. Of
persons (pbs. or arch.) ; their minds,
looks, actions, &c. 3. 82.

Diuell, n. Obs. form of devil. 2.
164, et passim.

Doome, v. To destine or consign
to some adverse fate. 4. 330.

Down, n. fA hill. 2. 115.

Doze, n. Form of dozen. 2. 15.

DragO, n. Form of dragon. 2.
269.

fDragon's-water, n. A medicinal
preparation popular in the I7th c.

1. 278.

Draw, v. fTo move, proceed. 3.

596.
Drum, n. milit. One who plays

the drum; a drummer. 4. 91.
Ducke, n. A term of endearment.

2. 381.

Duckling, n. f A term of endear
ment. 2. 223.

Due, a. fi. Direct? (The dic
tionaries do not recognize this
meaning), f 2. Genuine ? 4. 443.

Dutch-man, n. f A German ; a
man of Teutonic race. Obs. exc.
locally in the U. S. 3. 298.

Ease, v. To give ease or relief of

mind to. I. 192.
Ease, n. -[-Pleasure, entertainment.

2. 57-
Eie, n. f Phr. bi'th eie (by the eye) :

in unlimited quantity ? 2. 94.
Eke, adv. Arch. Also. 3. 429 ;

4- 449-

Ell, n. fA measuring rod. 5. 160.

'Em, pron. Unstressed form oithem.
Colloq. i. 69.

Embecill, v. Obs. form of embezzle.
fTo waste or dissipate in extra
vagance. 2. 170.

Emperall, n. Obs. form ofimperial.
An imperial personage. Ini6— I7th
c. used as = emperor. 2. 179.
Cf. note.

288

The Knight of the Burning Pestle

Engine, n. An implement, a
mechanical contrivance. Arch, in
the general sense. Spec., a comb.

3. 268.

Enormity, n. A transgression,
crime. 3. 259.

Enow, n. Arch, and dial. The
plural of enough. 4. 311.

fEntertain, n. Reception of a
guest ; entertainment. 2. 399, 425.

Entertains, v. fTo maintain re
lations with (a person). 3. 74.

Entertainment, n. Hospitable
provision for the wants of a guest ;
esp. provision for the table. Arch.

5- 273-
Entreate, v. i. To ask earnestly

for. 4. 198.

2. To beseech, implore. With

obj. clause om., rare. 5. 242.
Er'e, adv. Obs. form of ever. I.

346.
Errant, a. i. Traveling, roaming

(in quest of adventure, or like a

knight-errant). Poet, or arch. i.

289; 2. 139.

2. Said of knights who traveled

about in search of adventures.

2. 1 88, et passim.
Errant, n. Obs. form of errand.

In an elevated or dignified sense :

here, an expedition of rescue. Arch.

or poet. 2. 441.
Erst, adv. fjust a little while since.

4. 463.

Estate, n. Worldly possession, prop
erty, fortune. Arch. i. 394.

Esteeme, v. fPhr., esteeme of: to
hold opinion of. I. 374.

Estimation, n. f Repute ; worth
in the opinion of others. 5. 138.

fEttin, n. f A giant or goblin.
Nares says that the word, because
of its etymology (from A. S. etan,
to eat), implies cannibalism. I.

257-
Euen, a<ft>. Exactly, precisely, ' just.'

Arch. Ded. I. 12, 219 (e'ne).
Ewe, n. Obs. form of yew. Twigs

of the tree used at funerals. 4.

304-
Example, n. A precedent to which

appeal is made to justify or author
ize any course of action. Obs. or
arch. 5. 139.

Extant, a. Standing forth to view :
in early use with phr. extant to be
seen : prominent, conspicuous, man
ifest. Arch. 2. 306.

Extraordinary, -\adv. Extraordi
narily, i. 408.

Factor, n. An agent to buy and

sell goods, i. 1 6.
f Fading, n. The name of an Irish

dance. 4. 5. Cf. note.
Faine, a. f Apt, wont, prone, r.

386.
Faint, v. To lose heart or courage,

be afraid. 5. 162.
Faire, a. I. Promising, favorable.

1. 10 ; 5. 163.

2. Just. I. 41.

•{•3. Of language, diction : elegant.
Comb, with spoken, i. e. fair-
spoken i. 267 ; 2. 43.
f 4. Used in courteous or respect
ful address. I. 270, 317 ; 2. 315,
420; 3. 189, 295 ; 4. 410.
f5. Desirable, reputable. 2. 35.
6. In conventional application to
women. I. 304 ; 2. 44, 54.
f7. Reputable. 5. 105.
Faire, adv. fi. Fully, completely.
Obs. or dial. Phr., faire growne.

3- 304.

f2. Without haste or violence.

5. 102, 151.
Faire, n. One of the fair sex ;

esp. a beloved woman. Arch, or

poet. 4. 318.

Fairelie, adv. fCourteously, re
spectfully. 2. 212.
Faith, n. Phrases f I. By the faith

a my body. Quasi-oath. 2. 215 ;

3- 143-

2. By (my) faith (and troth). Quasi-
oath. i. 218, 264.

3. I faith, I'faith, i'faith. (Reduced
from in faith, and used interjec-
tionally). In truth. Arch. Ind.
141, et passim.

4. Vpon (my) faith. Quasi-oath.

Glossary

289

'Faith., interj. Shortened from in
(good) faith. In truth. Arch.
exc. dial. I. 221.

Faith, interj. In or on one's faith.
Obs. or arch. i. 255, et passim.

Fall, n. -(-Condition, lot. I. 4 ; 4.
206.

Falsifie, v. ^Fencing term : to
make (a blow) under cover of a
feint. 3. 373.

fFarre, v. intr. for refl. To re
move. Obs. exc . dial. 5. 14.
Cf. note.

Fashion, n. f Pretence ; assumed
behaviour. 4. 156.

Fathame, n. Obs. form of fathom.
Ind. 88.

Fault, n. •}•!. An unsound or dam
aged place ; a flaw. 5. 122.
f2. A deficiency, lack, want. 5.
146.

Fauour, n. I. Phr., by your
fauour : by your leave, permission,
pardon. Obs. or arch. Ind. 17.

2. Attractiveness, charm ; something
which conciliates good-will. Obs.
exc. arch. 2. 140.

3. In medisevel chilvalry, something
given by a lady to her knight, as
a sleeve, glove, or knot of ribbons,
to be worn as a token of affection.
Arch. 4. 109, in.

Feard, ppl, a. Frightened. Obs.
exc. dial. Ind. 77-

Feare, v. fi. To frighten. Ind. 78.
•[•2. To have fear for ; have anx
iety about. 4. 344.

f Feateously, adv. Cleverly ; dex
terously ; nimbly ; properly. 4. 456.

Fegary, n. (A corruption of va
gary). Dial, and colloq. A whim ;
a wild freak ; a prank. 2. 273.

Fellow, n. i. Contemptuously: a
person of no esteem or worth
(felow = obs. form). I. 33 ; 3. 542.

2. Compeer ; equal in ability or
qualities ; a ' match.' 2. 44.

3. Companion, comrade. Now
rare exc. in pi., or with const, in.

4. 445.

fFellow-feeler, n. A sympathizer.
3- 563-

fFellow like, a. Like a companion ;

companionable. 3. 542.
Fetch, v. I. Phr., fetch up: to

produce ; cause to come forth,

bring to light. Ind. 76.

f 2. To ' have at,' reach, strike

(a person!. 3. 380.

3. To cause to come, as by a sum
mons or constraining force. Now
rare. Ind. 120; 2. 174.

4. Bring. I. 462 ; 2. 558 ; 4. 43,
426.

Feth, interj. Obs. form of faith.
In or on one's faith. Obs. or arch.

3- 334-

Field, n. fin pi. used in collective
sense to denote the country as
opposed to the town (spec, the
country environs of London, i. e.
Mile-end, &c., set apart for military
drills)? Battle-fields? 5-159.

Fiery, a. Fire-bearing ; esp. of an
arrow, shaft, &c. Lit. and fig,
3- 48i.

Filching, vbl. n. Stealing, esp. in
a small, sly way. Originally
slang, and, as such, first recorded
in the i6th c. 2. 493.

Fild,//. Obs. form of filled. 5.25.

Fill, v. With the introduced con
tents as object : to put (wine, &c.)
into a vessel with the view of
filling it ; hence, pour out. Obs.
exc. arch. 3. 612, 636 ; 5. 351.

Fine, adv. Well. Obs. exc. dial.

2. 248.

Fine spoken, a. Using fine phrases ;

polite in language. I. 362.
Fire-drake, n. Fiery dragon. 2.

.350.
Fit, v. f To supply with that which

is fit or suitable. Obs. when the

object is a person. 4. 362.
fFlappet, n. A flap or edge, as

of a counter. I. 277.
Flea, v. Obs. form of flay. i. 371.
•{•Flirt Gill, n. A woman of light

or loose behaviour. 4. 33.
Flocke, n. A band or company

(of persons). 4. 444.
Fond, n. i. Unwise ; mad. Obs.

exc. dial. 3. 355, 366 ; 5. 6, 10.

290

The Knight of the Burning Pestle

2. Infatuated, foolish, silly. Obs.
exc. dial. Ded ; 5. 36.

3. Of sentiments, &c. : cherished
or entertained with strong or un
reasoning affection. 5- 42-

Foote, -v. To move the foot, step,
or tread to measure or music ; to
dance. Esp. in phr. to foot it.

4. 456.

•{•For and, conj. phr. And more
over. 2. 184.
Forked,«. -j-i. Of an arrow : barbed.

5- 3i8, 359-

•j-2. ' Horned,' cuckolded. 5. 361.

Cf. note.
Forsooth, adv. -}-In truth, truly.

I. 360. et passim.
Fort, phr. Obs. contraction of for

it. 2. 13.

Forward, a. Ready, eager. 2 252.
Foule, n. Something evil ; ill-luck.

•{•Phr., foule chiue him. : may evil

success attend him. I. 434.
Free-man, n. One who possesses

the freedom of a city, borough,

company, &c. Ind. 15.
Friend, n. -{-A lover, i. 44 ; 2.

246; 3. 7, 27, 81 ; 4. 281, 333.
Fright, V. To scare, terrify. Now

rare exc. poet, and Sc. 3. 8l,

149.
Frighted, ppl. a. Affected with

fright. 3. 5.
Frolocke, a. Obs. form of frolic.

•f- Joyous, merry, mirthful. 3.612.
Froward, a. Now only lit. Dis
posed to go counter to what is

demanded ; perverse, refractory.

I. 123 ; 3. 46.
Frowningst, ppl. a. Superlative

of frowning. That frowns ; stern ;

threatening. 2. 516.

Gad, n. Rare exc. arch. (Minced
pronunciation of God.} Substitu
ted for God, esp. in phr. by Gad.
Ind. 70.

Gaine, n. •{•Source of gain (i. e.
goods), i. 21.

Gallowes, n. One deserving the
gallows ; a gallows-bird. Arch.
I. 421.

fGally-foist, n. A barge of state.
5. 187. Cf. note.

Game, n. -{-Diversion, pastime ;
hence, spec., amorous sport or
play ? Scheme, intrigue, under
taking, followed up like a game ?
i. 140.

-j-Gaskins. n. A kind of loose
breech or hose. Chiefly pi. 2.
104.

Gastly, a. Obs. form of ghastly.
•{•Causing terror, terrible. 3. 452 ;
5. 22.

•{•Gent, a. Of women and children :
graceful, elegant, pretty. Phr.
Ladies gent is of frequent occur
rence. 3. 262, 360.

Gentle, a. i. Of birth, blood, &c. :
distinguished by birth or position ;
of the class of ' gentlemen.' I.
90; 3- 235, 507. 593.
•{•2. Of actions, &c. : courteous,
considerate. I. 117.
3. Having the character and man
ners appropriate to good birth and
station. Freq. in the phr. a gentle
knight. 2. 120, 125, 202, 408 ;
3. 161, 190, 264, 500.

Get, -v. fTo win. 3. 131.

Get (oneself) up, vbl. phr. reft.
To betake oneself up from a place.
Common in the imperative. Arch.

4- 153-

Gird, n. A gibe, taunt. In com
mon use, c. 1580 — 1700; now
somewhat arch. Ind. 10.

Giue, v. -{-Of (one's) mind, &c. :
to suggest unfavorably ; misgive.
Ind. 113.

Giue ear, phr. To give heed ; pay
attention. 5- I54>

Giue (one's) hand, phr. -{-To
pledge (oneself). 3. 331.

Go hard, phr. With but introdu
cing a statement of what will
happen unless prevented by over
powering circumstances. 5. 395.
| Gold, n. -{-The metal as used for
the ornamentation of fabrics. 4.
51, 60.

Go (one's) waies, phr. i. Take
your way ; go about your busi-

Glossary

201

ness ; or used as a mere expletive.
Obs. or arch. 2. 42, 295 ; 4. 29 ;

5- 371.

2. Common when bidding a per
son to be gone ; used in a kindly
manner. Dial. i. 220, 335.

Good, n. -{-A good quality, virtue.
Rare. 3. 76.

Good-man, «. -fUsed as a title
of address, orig. to yeomen or
farmers ; here used derisively. Ind.
6 ; 2. 295.

Gossip, n. -|-A hoydenish ' gad
about ' ? 4. 1 54. Cf. note.

Gouerne, v. -{-To administer, man
age. I. 440.

Grace, n. I. Phr., grace of God :
an Expression signifying the re
generative and sanctifying influence
of God. I. 360.

2. A courtesy-title given to a
monarch, and serving as a com
plimentary periphrasis. Phr., the
great Turkes grace. Obs. exc.
arch. I. 483.

3. Sense of duty or propriety.
Phr., have the (any) grace (to
do or be something). 2. 222.

Grace, v. •{•To show favor or be

gracious to. 3. 5°4-
Grant, n. -{-Consent, permission.

1. 194.

Grant, v. -{-To sanction, permit.
5. 202.

Gratious, a. Obs. form of gracious.
Condescendingly beneficent. Often,
as here, used in sarcastic or play
ful application. 4. 444.

Greene, n. A grassy spot. Rare.

2. 304.

Grief e, n. -j-i. Physical illness or
pain. Prol.

-{•2. Feeling of offence ; displeasure,
anger. 2. 33.

Grimely, a. Obs. or arch. Grim-
looking. 2. 478.

Groat, n. A silver coin in circu
lation after the I3th c., but va
rying in intrinsic value in different
countries and periods. The Eng
lish groat coined in 1351—2 was
made equal to four pence. The

groat ceased to be issued for cir
culation in 1662, and was not
afterwards coined under that name.
4. 138, 369.

Grocery, n. -{-Grocers. Ind. 97.
Cf. note.

Ground, n. The solid bottom un
derlying the sea. Nautical. Ind. 88.

fGrout-nole, n. A blockhead,
thickhead, dunce. 2. 413.

Grow, v. i. To advance, progress.
Phr., to grow toward. Rare. 3.

5I3-

2. To come by degrees (const, to
with inf.) Rare. 4. 261.

Growth, n. Advancement. I. 5.

Gut, n. Guts, intestines. (Employ
ment of the sing, in the general
sense is rare.) I. 96.

Ha, v. A worn-down form of have.
Colloq. or dial. 2. 146, et passim.

•{•Ha, pron. He. 3. 546 ; 4. 193.

Habits, n. Dress ; costume. Arch.
Prol.

fHalter-sacke, n. A gallows-bird :
a term of obloquy. I. 372.

Hamper, v. i. To impede ; en
cumber with difficulties. I. 380.
•f-2. To restrain by confinement.

3. 106.

Hard, adv. -{-With an uneasy or
uncomfortable pace. 3. 435.

Harnesse, n. Armour. Hist, or
arch. 4. 3.

fHartely, adv. With the heart ;
earnestly, sincerely. I. 184; 3.
604 ; 5. 292.

Has. Form of h'as, an obs. con
traction of he has. I. 1 1 6.

•{•Haue vp, phr. Stand up ! get
up! brace yourself ! 3. 377. Cf.
note.

Hawlk, n. Obs. form of hawk.

4- 379-

Head-peece, n. A piece of armour
for the head, a helmet. 2. 330.

Heart, n. Phrases. -{-I. My heart.':
an ejaculation of surprise, &c. 3.
103.

2. Deere heart : a term of endear
ment. 3. 150.

The Knight of the Burning Pestle

Heate, n. New life, animation,
courage, spirit. Fig. 1.4. Cf. note.

fHedge binding, n. Something
used to bind together the bushes
composing a hedge. 2. 454.

Helme, n. Helmet. Poet, or arch.

2. 112, Iig.

Sere, v. Obs. form of hear. 2.

179, et passim.
Hether, adv. Obs. form of hither.

2. 26l.

Hight, pp. Called, named. Arch.
2. 408, et passim.

Him, pron. fit. Ded.

His, pron. fits. Ded.

History, n. f A relation of inci
dents (in early use, either true or
imaginary ; later, only of those
professedly true) ; a narrative, tale,
story. 3. Title ; i. 281 ; 4. 64.

Hobby-horse, n. fin the Morris-
dance, a dancer, about whose waist
was fastened the figure of a horse
made of wicker work or other
light material. 4. 456. Cf. note.

fHoit, v. To indulge in riotous
and noisy mirth. I. 386 ; height,

4- 194-

Hold, v. I. Phr., hold (one's)
peace : to cease or refrain from
speaking. Arch. Ind. 6, 43.

2. Phr., hold vp (one's) head: to
maintain one's dignity, pride,
courage. Ind. 80 ; 2. 108.

3. refl. To persist in an opinion.

1. 413. Cf. note.

f4. To wager, bet. 2. 295 ; 3.

295-

5. Phr., hold vp : to resist. Dial.

3- 371-

6. (For reft.). In imperative as
an exclamation = Stop I Arch.

5-45-

Holesome, a. Obs. form of -whole
some. 4. 98.

Honest, a. Well-intentioned, well-
disposed. Ind. 136.

Honour, n. I. Phr., in or for the
honour of: for the sake of honor
ing ; in celebration of. Ind. 29 ;

4. 427 ; 5. 77.

2. Phr., to the honour of: for the

sake of honoring ; in celebration
of. Obs. 4. 416.
Hony, n. Obs. form of honey.

1. 166.

Horse, v. To carry on a man's
back or shoulders. 3. 128.

Hote, a. Obs. form of hot. 4. 237.

House, n. fPhr., to fling the house
oiit at the window : to put every
thing into confusion. 3. 528.

How do you, phr. Obs. or dial.
How fare you ; how are you. 2.
103 ; how dost thou, 2. 364.

Hower, n. Obs. form of hour.

4- 338.
Huffing, ppl.a. Blustering, ranting ;

swaggering. Ind. 82.
Hurle, -v. f To ' throw ' in wrestling.

3- 297-

I, -\i?iterj. Aye ; yes. Ind. 50, 94,
125 ; I. 264, 309, 413, 429, 433 ;

2. 96, 140, 288, 573 ; 3. 207, 231,
503, 518; 4. 151; 5- 8.

I, prep. ' I,' i, weakened from In
before a consonant, as in i'faith.
Now dial, or arch. Ind. 141, et
passim.

I faith, phr. Ind. 141. Cf. faith.

Ill, adv. Wrongfully ; malevolently.
3.66.

HI, n. Wrong-doing. Arch. 3. 506.

Ill-fauouredly, adv. Unpleasingly ;
in an ill-favoured manner. 4. 62.

Imbrace, v. or n. Obs. form of
embrace. 2. 120, 546.

Imployment, n. Obs. form of
employment. 4. 2O.

In, prep. fAt. 2. 115.

Inchanted, ppl. a. Obs. form of
enchanted. 2. 1 1 6, et passim.

Inchantment, n. Obs. form of
enchantment. 2. 359.

flndeed-law, interj.phr. Chiefly
asseverative. 2. 99, et passim.

Indent, ppl. a. (Reduced form in
dented) fFormerly applied to the
severing of the two halves of a
document, drawn up in duplicate,
by a toothed, zigzag or wavy line,
so that the two parts exactly tal
lied with each other. 4. 92.

Glossary

293

Infidel, n. f One who is unfaithful
to his duty. i. 66.

Inforce, v. Obs. form of enforce.
To compel , constrain, oblige. Const.
to with inf. Arch. 4. 84.

flngrant, a. A perverted form of
ignorant. IV. E. D. ? A corrup
tion of tngrate. Ungrateful. Arch.?
3. 576. Cf. note.

Inough, adv. Obs. form of enough.

3- SOS-
I'now, a. Obs. form of enow. 2.

556. Cf. Enow.
Intent, n. Aim ; purpose ; object

of an action. Rare or obs. I. 313.
Intreat, v. Obs. or arch, form of

entreat. fTo prevail upon by

entreaty or solicitation. 4. 153*
Invective, a. Characterized by

denunciatory or railing language ;

vituperative, abusive. Now rare.

To the Readers.
Inueigle, v. To gain over and

take captive by deceptive allure
ment. 2. 220.

Issue, n. Progeny. Fig. 5. 161.
It, pron. fi. Used for he. i. 330,

410; 2. 12, 108, 383, 514; 3.

335; 337-

f2. Used for she. 3. 150.

I'th', prep. A contraction of i'the
= in the. Dial, or arch. I. 186,
412.

I-wisse, adv. Indeed, truly, assur
edly. Obs. or arch. I. 392 ; 2.
273-

lack, n. •}• A low-bred or ill-man
nered fellow, a ' knave.' Phr.,
play the lacks : to play the knave,
to do mean trick. Ind. 20.

lerkin, n. In the i6th and 1 7th
centuries, a close-fitting jacket,
jersey, or short coat, often made
of leather ; worn by men. Arch.

5- 7i.

loy, v. To enjoy. Arch. i. 204.

-j-Iuggy, n. A familiar substitute
for the feminine name Joan, ap
plied as a term of endearment to
a sweetheart or mistress, or as a
term of endearment. 3. 568.

Kickshoes, n. Obs. form of "kick
shaws. A fancy dish in cookery.
(Chiefly with contemptuous force :
a ' something ' French, not one of
the known ' substantial English '
dishes). To the Readers.

fKill one's heart, phr. To de
press or discourage one completely.
4. 146.

Kind, a. \. Affectionate, loving,
fond. Rare exc. dial. I. 145 ;
3. 44, 6l ; 4. 287.
•j-2. Well-breed, of good birth,
gentle. I. 217, 219; 3. 278.

Kinde, n. The manner, way or
fashion, which is proper or befit
ting to the character. Freq. in
phr., in (their, his) kind. Com
mon in 1 7th c. ; now arch. Ind.
98 ; 3. 629.
-}-2. Race; stock; breed. I. 209.

Kindly, adv. i. Phr., to take
kindly : to accept good-naturedly,
or as a kindness. I. 168.
f2. Thoroughly. 5. 373.

Knack, n. A trinket, knick-knack.
Obs. ? 2. 91 ; 4. 422.

Knaue, n. Jocularly, or without
seriously implying bad qualities.
Now rare. 5. 289.

Knauery, n. Trickery, fraud. 1.68.

f Knight Aduenturer, n. Knight-
errant. 3. 276.

f Knight aduenturous, n. Knight-
errant. 3. 388.

Knock up, phr. To make up
(hastily or off-hand), to arrange
summarily. Frequently used with
reference to a match or marriage.

2. 17.

Knot-grasse, n. A common plant
in wet ground, with numerous in
tricately branched creeping stems,
and small pink flowers ; an in
fusion of it was formerly sup
posed to stunt the growth. 2. 104.

Ladle, «. I. In the days of chiv
alry, a woman chosen by a knight
as the object of his devotion, or
of some special service. I. 263,
304; 2. 120, 123, 136, &c.

294

The Knight of the Burning Pestle

- 2. The Virgin Mary. Interj. phr., '
by (by'r) Ladie : contraction of
by our Lady used as an oath or
expletive. Obs. exc. dial. 1.413.

3. Vocatively. In the sing. Now
only poet, or rhet. 2. 191, 20 1.

4. The feminine corresponding to
lord. 4. 457.

Lam, n. Obs. form of lamb. 3. 309.
Lame, a. Defective ; weak. Fig.

I- 33-

Lap, -v. To take up with the tongue.
Rarely applied to human beings,
or used in connection with solid
food. 5. 319.

•j-Laualto, n. 'A lively dance for
two persons, consisting a good
deal in high and active bounds.'
Nares. 3. 611. Cf. note.

Launce, n. Obs. form of lance.

1. 236, et passim.

Lay, -v. i. To wager, bet. 2.461,
463, 470, 472.

2. To deal blows, attack. Rare
in absol. use. 5- 95-

Lay on, phr. intr. To deal blows
with vigor 5- 9°- y Formerly
often with dative pron. denoting
object of attack. 2. 365.

Leading staffe, n. f A staff borne
by a commanding officer ; a trun
cheon. 5- 34°-

Leasure, n. Obs. form of leisure.
yOpportunity to do something spec
ified or implied. 2. 317.

Lesson, n. yPhr., do (one's) lesson :
to teach (one). 2. 270.

Let, n. Hindrance, obstruction.
Arch. I. 82.

Let me alone, phr. I may be
trusted. Colloq. 4. 36, 341.

Liberal!, a. Of an entertainment,
&c. : abundant, ample. 3. 185.

Liberally, adv. -j-Chiefly with ref
erence to speech : without reserve
or restraint; freely. I. 17.

Licoras, n. Obs. form of liquorice.

1. 77.

Lie, ~v . Phrases. I . To lie in : to j
be in childbed. 3. 450.

2. To lie open : to be exposed .
to attack. 3. 374.

Light, pp. Obs. past participle of
light. 3. 225.

Light, v. Obs. preterite of light.
.3- 438.

Like, a. Predicatively const, to
with inf. : likely to. Rare in liter
ary use, but still common colloq.
Prol. ; Ind. 117; 4. 431.

Like, adv. In like degree, equally.
Arch, or poet. Ind. 134.

Like, v. Phr. impersonal, it likes
(one) : (one) is pleased. Arch.
andrfza/. 4.197; 5-I2O, 135, 136.

Lim, n. Obs. spelling of limb. I.
216.

Lingell, n. Arch. A shoemaker's
waxed thread. 5. 322.

List, n. Inclination, desire. Arch. I.
392 ; 3- 532 ; 5- 204.

Long of, phr. For 'long of =
along of. Arch, and dial. At
tributable to ; on account of. 4.
107 ; 5. 306.

Longs, n. Obs. form of lungs.

2. 508.

Loose, -v. Obs. form of lose. 2.

423 ; 3- 10.

Louing,///. a. ' Means here posses
sing her I love.' Mason. 3. 140.

yLungeis, n. A long, slim, awk
ward fellow : a lout. 2. 365.

Lusty, a. yi. Of pleasant appear
ance, beautiful. I. 192.
2. Strong. Now somewhat arch.
in literary use ; common in dia
lects. 4. 15.

Maine, a. i. As an epithet of

force, strength, &c. ; exerted to the

full, sheer. 3. 290.

2. Very great or considerable.

Obs. exc. dial. 5. 124.
Maister, n. Obs. form of master.

1. Applied to an employer, i. 12,
&c.

2. A title of address now changed
to mister. Arch. Ded. ; I. 80,
&c.

Maistership, n. Obs. form of
-mastership. jWith posses, pron.,
i. e. your maistership. 2. 198.

Make, v. To do. Arch, in questions

Glossary

295

introduced by an objective what.
Common in 1 6 — ryth c. 3. 82.

Make bold, phr. To make (so)
bold : to venture, presume so far
as, take the liberty (to do some
thing). 3. 575.

Make it to be, phr. Cause it to
be. With obj. and inf. ; arch.
when dependent verb is in the
passive (i. e. make it to be hist).

3- 325.

Mangy, a. fUsed as a general term
of contempt : beggarly, mean,
' lousy.' Very common in the
I7th c. 3. 541.

Marchant, n. An obs. form of
merchant. The Speakers Names,
et passim.

fMarch-beere, n. A strong ale or
beer brewed in March. 5. 182.

f Marie come vp, phr. Expressive
of contempt, or satirical encourage
ment. 3. 579.

Marry, interj. Obs. or arch. (Orig.
Mary, Marie, the name of the Vir
gin Mary invoked in oaths) Indeed 1
forsooth ! a term used to express
surprise, asseveration, &c. Ind.
40 ; marrie, 2. 140 ; marie, 3. 143,
575, 6°3 I 5- 222.

f Martiall Court, n. Court-martial.

5- 133-

Maruell, n. fPhr., to have marvel :
to be astonished, struck with won
der. 2. 221.

Maunger, n. Obs. form of manger.

2. 4IO.

Maw, n. f Stomach ; appetite ; hence,

inclination. I. 150.
Mealed, ppl. a. Sprinkled with

meal. Rare. 5- 5-
Me ate. n. fi. Dinner. I. 256.

2. Solid food of any kind ; com
mon in phr., meat and drink.
I- 397, 447 ; 2. 480.

3. Food in general. Obs. or arch.

4- 375-
Meeke, a. Humble ; unpretentious.

i. 297.
Member, n. Inhabitant ; citizen.

Obs. ? Ind. 13.
Merry, adv. Merrily. Ind. 126.

fMerry and wise, phr. A pro
verbial expression. 2. 102 (cf.
note) ; 5. 68.

Merry men, n. f Retainers, fol
lowers ? 2. 483.

Me thinkes, phr. It seems to me.
Arch, and lit. Ind. 85, 103 ; 4.

2 ; 5- 372.

fMethridatum, n. In old phar
macy, a medicine made of many
ingredients, supposed to be an
antidote or preservative against
poison, i. 278. Cf. note.

Mettle, n. i. Obs. form of metal.
2. 165.

2. Spirit ; courage ; ardor. Phr.,
lads of mettle. 3. 557.

fMickle, adv. Much, greatly. 2.
240.

Minion, n. -{-A bold, forward girl
or woman ; a minx. 3. 127.

Miscarry, v. fi. To bring to
misfortune. 2. 351.

2. To come to naught ; fail in
purpose. 4. 431.

f Mislike, n. Misliking ; aversion.

Prol.
Misprision, n. -{-Misunderstanding.

Ded.
Mittimus, n. Warrant for arrest.

3. 101.

Moneth, n. Obs. form of month.

Ind. 36, et passim.
Morrice, n. An old country dance.

4. 434 (cf. note), 456.

Moue, v. -{-To address one's self
to ; speak to about an affair.
2. 13.

Mouse, n. A familiar term of en
dearment. I. TOO, et passim.

Mute, v. 4. 463. Cf. note.

Napkin, n. -{-A handkerchief. 4.

474-

Narrowly, adv. Carefully, atten
tively. 5. 83.

Naturall. a. -{-Lawful, legitimate.
3- 540.

Naughty, a. -{-Bad ; worthless ;
good for nothing. 2. 8 1 ; 4. 31.

Necessaries, n. pi. -{-Things pro
vided for the performance of a

296

The Knight of the Burning Pestle

specific purpose. Ind. 70. Cf.

apparel.
Need, n. -{-Necessary service. 2.

213.
Neighbor, n. i. A familiar term

of address. Dial, and colloq. 5.

118, 128.

2. One who stands near another.

5- 137.
Nere, adv. A form of ne'er = never.

Ind. 55.
Ner'e, adv. Form of ne'er, i. 342,

344-
Neuer, adv. i. Not, emphatically.

Ind. 63.

2. Not a whit. Obs. ? 4. 409.
New, adv. -{-Anew, i. 5.
Nice, a. i. Fastidious ; difficult to

please or satisfy. To the Readers.

•{•2. Foolish, unwise. 3. 24.
Nimph. n. Obs. form of nymph.

Maiden ; damsel. Poet. i. 207.
fNiniuy, n. A kind of " motion "

or puppet-show, representing the

story of Jonah and the whale. 3.

306. Cf. note.
fNipitatO, n. Strong ale. A

mock Latin word. 4. 100. Cf.

note.

No, adv. Not. 5. 400.
fNoble Science, n. Fencing ;

' science of defence.' 2. 54. Cf.

note.
fNoddie. n. A simpleton ; a fool.

2. 249.
•{•Noint, v. To anoint. 2. 260 ;

4- I36-
No more, phr. -j-Enough 1 Silence I

2. 297.

Nor, con/. Correlative to another

nor. Obs. or poet, i. 54.
Nor SO, phr. Not at all ; no, no ! ?

Obs. ? i. 171. Cf. note.
Notable, a. •{• I . Notorious. 1 . 42 1 .

2. Noteworthy; memorable. 4.416.
Notably, adv. Excellently; cleverly.

Ind. 29.
Number, v. To measure, reckon,

gauge. 3. n.
•j-Nump, n. Usually numps. A

dolt ; a blockhead. 2. 263. Cf.

note.

Obeysance, n. Obs. form of obei
sance. Phr., to do obeysance : to
make a respectful bow or curtsy.
Now chiefly lit. and arch. 5.
370.

Of, prep. Obs. form of off. 2. 341 ;

3- 375 5 4- 473 ; 5- 344-
Of, prep. I. On. Obs., colloq., or

vulgar. 2. 492 ; 3. 330.

•{•2. Because of. Mostly obs. 4.

226.

Off, prep. Obs. form of of. 2. 337.
Offence, n. -{-Wrong, injury. 5.

23-

Offend, v. -{-To attack, assault, as
sail. 3. 83.

Offer, n. -jr. Something held out
as a bribe or means of persuasion ?

1. 54. Cf. note.

2. Proposal, i. 1 1 8.

Offer, v. To attempt to inflict. 5.

275-

-{-Offer to carry (one's) books af
ter, phr. To attempt to equal.
2. 141.

Office, n. Service or function to be
performed. 2. 31.

Officer, n. -{-A menial or domestic
in a great household. 4. 129; 5.
336-

Of-spring, n. Obs. form of off
spring. Ded.

On, prep, f Of. I. 323 ; 2. 547.

Onely, adv. Obs. form of only.

1. 373, ft passim.

On't, phr. For on it=of it.

Common in literary use to c. 1750.

Now dial, or vulgar. I. 323, et

passim.
Or ere, con/, phr. For or e'er =

or ever. Intensive of the conj.

or = before. I. 455.
Or ... or, correl. conj. Either . . .

or. Now only poet. 2. 527.
Oth, prep. For o'th, a worn down

form of of the. I. 295.
Ougly, a. Obs. form of ugly. 3.

256, 282.

Out alas, interj. phr. An expres
sion of lamentation. Arch, or dial.

2. 196.

Glossary

297

Owne, a. Absolute use (mostly
with preceding possessive) : that
which is (one's) own 5 property,
possessions. Somewhat arch. I.
347, 470.

Paramoure, n. The lady-love of
a knight. Poet. 5. 295.

Part, i). To take one's leave or
departure. Arch. 4. 146.

Particular, n. -{-A single thing or
person among a number, consid
ered alone. Prol.

Passid, n. i. A passage in a play
marked by strong emotion ; a pas
sionate speech or outburst. Obs.
or arch. 3. 317.
2. A mood marked by abandon
ment of emotion. 5- 5^"

Patience, n. -{-Sufferance ; indul
gence. 5. 393.

•fPay home. phr. i. To give(one
his) deserts; punish. 3. 387.

Peace, n. Phrases, i. To hold
(one's) peace : to keep silent, re
frain from speaking. Arch. Ind.
6, et passim.

-}-2. To take the peace on : to con
ciliate, appease ? 2. 282.

•{•Peart vp, phr. To raise briskly ;
perk. Rare. I. 103.

Peccaui. -v. ' I have sinned ' ;
hence an acknowledgment of
guilt. 4. 38.

Pencion, n. Obs. form of pension.
•{•A contribution ; a remittance.

1. 22.

•j-Pepper-nel, n. A lump or swel
ling. Rare. 2. 280.

Perfect, a. Thoroughly informed,
trained, conversant. Arch. 4. 16.

Periwig, n. A wig. Obs. exc.
hist. I. 491.

Perrilous, «. fGreatly to be dread
ed or avoided ; terrible, awful.

2. US-

Phlebotomy, n. Blood-letting. 4.

461.
Pined, ppl. a. -{-Afflicted ; tortured.

3- 475-
Pipe, n. Windpipe. Colloq. I.

79-

f Pitch-field, n. A pitched battle.

2. 80.
Plainely, a. i. Honestly; sincerely.

3- 332-

2. Openly, without obstruction.

4- 441-

Play. -v. i. To enact the part of.
Ind. 63.

•{•2. Phr., to play a lesson : to
teach a lesson. 3. 531.

•{•Plucke a rose, phr. an euphe
mism = alvum exonerare. 2.232.
Cf. note.

Poesie, n. -{-A motto or sentimen
tal conceit engraved on a ring.

5- 340.

Point, n. -{-A lace with tags at
the ends used in fastening clothes
together. 4. 12. Cf. note.

PortigO, n. Portugal. I. 252.

Post, adv. (An elliptical use of
post, n.) With post-horses ; by
post. Arch. 3. 410.

Pottle, n. -}-A liquid measure of
two quarts ; a pot. 5. 396.

Poudred beef, phr. Salted beef.
4. 105.

Prentice, n. By aphaeresis from
apprentice. 1.2, et passim.

Presence, n. Personality. I. 33.

Present, i> . -{-To represent ; per
sonate ; act. Ind. 29 ; 4. 438.

Present, a. -{-Quick ; immediate,
i. 481.

Presently, adv. Straightway, im
mediately. Obs. or dial. 4. 345.

Prest, a. -{-Ready. 2. 187.

Pretb.ee. v. A corruption of pray
thee = I pray thee. Arch. I. 59,
et passim.

Pretty, a. -}-i. Clever; shrewd.

1. 100 ; 2. 412 ; 4. 223.

2. Foppish ; finical ? •{•Strong and
bold ; valiant ; here, ironical ? 2.
263.

3. An epithet of endearment. 3. 15.

4. Pleasing to the eye. 3. 305.

5. Interesting ; entertaining. 3.

467 ; 5- 355-

Prick, v. i . To ride rapidly ; spur
on ; speed. Arch. I. 313.
2. To spur ; incite ; impel. 5. 323.

The Knight of the Burning Pestle

f Prickant, a. i. Pricking: errant,
traveling. 2. 302.
2. Pricking : pointing upward. 3.
263.

Pricket, n. A buck in his second
year. 4. 469.

Princely, a. Of the rank of a
prince; regal. 4. 131.

Priuate, a. i. Particular ; individ
ual ; special : opposed to general.
Ind. 133.

2. -{-Privy ; informed of what is
not generally known. I. 30.

Procure, v. To contrive and effect ;
cause, i. 280.

Promise, v. To assure. Colloq.
i. 418.

Proper, a. Good-looking. Now
only provincial. 4. 148.

Prosper, -v. To bring prosperity
to. 3. 385.

Proue, v. -j-To experience by per
sonal trial ; to enjoy or suffer.

1. 41 ; 3. 41.

2. To demonstrate. 2. 266.
•{•Puggy, n. A term of familiarity

or endearment. 3. 569.
Portray, v. Obs. form of portray.
i. 294.

Quandary, n. -f-A ticklish plight.

1. 189.

Quarrel, n. Cause of grievance or

complaint. Now rare. Ded.
Quell, v. f To kill. Obs. or rare.

3- 251.
Quest, n. i. Search or pursuit,

made in order to find or obtain

something. I. 254.

2. An expedition with some ex
ploit as its object, as in mediae
val romance. Obs. exc. poet. 2.
136.

Rabbet, n. Obs. form of rabbit.

i. 137-
Raison, n. Obs. form of raisin.

5- 320.
Raph (or) Rafe, n. Obs. or dial.

form of Ralph. To the Readers,

et passim.

Rare, a. \. Splendid, fine. In
colloq. use applied to comparative
ly trivial objects. Ind. 62.
2. Unusual. 4. 21.

Rascal, n. -}-A young, lean, or inferi
or deer, as distinguished from the
full-grown antlered buck. 4. 468.

Reasonable, f adv. Fairly ; to a
reasonable degree. 4. 436.

Reave, v. To take away. Obs.
or arch. I. 476.

Rebeck, n. Now only hist, or poet.
A mediaeval instrument of music,
having three strings and played
with a bow. I. 482.

Recant, v. -|-To renounce, abjure
(a course of life or conduct) as
wrong or mistaken. 3. 506.

Reckoning, n. A bill of charges,
esp. at an inn or tavern. 3. 156.

Refraine, -v. fi. To restrain, curb.

1. 29.

•{•2. To withhold, defer. 3. 317.
Relieue, v. i. To rescue out of
some trouble, difficulty or danger,
Now somewhat rare. Ded. I.
320, 331 ; 2. 121, 139.

2. To free, release. Now rare.
3- 442.

Remembred. pp. -{-Brought to

mind. Ind. 68.
•{-Reparrell, n. Clothing, apparel.

Ind. 70. 73.
Repose, n. -{-Peace of mind. Rare.

2. 231.

Repute, -v. -f-To esteem, hold in

repute. 2. 315.
Resolued, ppl. a. -{-Made ready in

mind ; prepared. 5. 169.
Reuel, v. To indulge in boisterous

festivities ; carouse. 4. 195.
Riband, n. An obs. or arch, form

of ribbon. 3. 416 ; 4. 305.
Riffe Raffe, n. Rubbish ; twaddle.

/- 492.
Right, adv. Very ; in a great degree.

Arch, or colloq. I. 271, 301, 317,

326; 2. 2, 418 ; 3. 157.
Right, a. Genuine ; true. Obs. or

arch. i. 345.
Rinkle. n. Obs. form of wrinkle.

5- 189-

Glossary

299

Rude, a. Rough ; harsh-sounding ?

Obs. ? 5. 165.

Rudeness, n. -{-Coarseness. Prol.
Ruggedly, a. Roughly. 3. 255.

Sad, a. -f-i. Weighty; important;

momentous. 3. 233 ; 4. 81.

2. Disastrous. 3. 359.

•{•3. Dark ; somber ; applied to

color. 3. 390, 478; 4. 314.

4. Distressing ; grievous ; fearful.

5-28.
Sate, v. An obs. or arch, preterite

of sit. i. 144.

Satisfie, v. -j-i. To make repara
tions or amends for : atone for ;

expiate. 3. 98.

y2. To make amends to. Obs.

4. 296; 5. 32, 35.
Satten, a. Obs. form of satin.

5- 367.

Sauce-box, n. A saucy, impudent
person. Colloq, 3. 579.

Sauing your presence, phr. Dial.
An expression of apology : ' with
all due respect to you.' 2. 199.

•{•Scape, v. To escape. 4. 339.

Scorch., v. Obs. form of scotch.
To score or mark with slight in
cisions ; cut, hack. 3. 428. Cf.
note.

Score, v. To cut, slash. 3. 428.

Scorne, n. Mockery; derision. 2.553.

Secure, v. To sweep clear ; rid ;
cleanse thoroughly. 5. 174.

fScouring-sticke. n. A rod used
for cleaning the barrel of a gun ;
sometimes the ramrod, sometimes
a different implement. 5. 85.

Sculler, n. One who propels a
boat with a scull-oar. 2. 385.

Scuruily, adv. -}-i. Vulgarly. 2.

545-

-|-2. Meanly ; shabbily. 3. 577.

Scuruy, a. -}-i. Offensive, obnox
ious. I. 274.

•{•2. Worthless ; contemptible ;
shabby. 2. 573.

Second, n. -fAid, help. 4. 346.

Serue, v. 4/To act as servant. 4.
372.

Seruice, n. The performance of

military duties ; here, spec., the
drill. 5. 81.
tSeruingman, n. A male servant.

4- 378.

fSet on before, phr. To begin,
or head off, a march. 3. 291.

Set out, phr. i. To display, pre
sent. Ind. 97.

2. To place or plant firmly. 3.
372.

Shannot, v. For sha' not, an obs.
contraction of shall not. 4. 415.

•j-Shawme. n. A musical instru
ment of the oboe class, having a
double reed inclosed in a globu
lar mouthpiece. Ind. in.

•j-Shawne, n. Form of shawme.
Ind. 112, 115.

Shew, v. An arch, form of show.
i. 192.

Shiled, n. form of shield. 1.294.

Shrinke vp, phr. To cause to
contract. 3. 13.

Shrodly, adv. Obs. form of shrewdly.
•{-Severely. 2. 365.

Shutting, n. The close ; the shut
ting-time. Arch. ? 2. 1 6.

Sing another song, phr. To
modify one's tone or manner, espe
cially with humility or submissive-
ness. Colloq. 2. 32.

Sirrah, n. Obs. or arch. A word
of address generally equivalent to
" fellow," or " sir," and applied
with an angry, a contemptuous,
a hasty, or a playful force. i.
i ; 2. 286; 3. 123 ; 4. 157.

Situate, ppl. a. Arch. Situated,
located. 2. 29.

Slicke, v. Form of sleek. To
make smooth and glossy ; to ' rub
down.' 2. 409.

-{-Smell to, phr. To inhale a smell
or odor as a gratification, or as
a test of kind or quality. 3.
216.

Smoake. v. -{-To suffer. I. 223.

Snioth. a. Obs. form of smooth.

5- 383-

-{•Snicke-vp, v. -{-Phr., go snicke-
up : go hang (oneself), go and
be hanged. 2. 87 ; 3. 195.

300

The Knight of the Burning Pestle

Sodden, ppl. a. Bloated ; soaked
or saturated, as with drink ; hence
heavy, stupid. 5. 153.

fSoft and fair, phr. Without
haste or violence. 5. 151.

Soop, v. Form of swoop : cf. va
riants. To take with a sweep.
The verb soop, meaning to sweep,
is still current in Scotland. 3.
290.

Sophy, n. Shah of Persia. 4. 44.

Sort, n. I. Manner; fashion; way.
2- 3o; 4- 451-
•j-2. A company, set, troop. 5.

175-
Sound, v. To cause something

(i. e. a basin) to sound. 3. 344.
Soueraigne. a. Efficacious in the

highest degree : said especially of

medicinal remedies. 3. 217.
Sower, a. Obs. form of sour.

•{•Disagreeable to the feelings.

Prol.
Spaniels, «. Humourous mistake

for Spaniards. 2. 8l. Cf. note.
Sparke, n. A sprightly and showy

man. 5. 80.
Speede, n. Successful issue ; good

fortune. I. 47.
Sport, n. -{-Dramatic entertainment.

Prol.

Sprigge. n. I. A shoot, young
ster ; implying disparagement. 4.

29.

2. Without deprecatory sense. 5-

324-

Spring, v. -j-To breed, generate,
bring forth. I. 209.

-fSpringald, n. A young man.
2. 35°.

Squire, n. i. An attendant on a
knight or lady. I. 262, et passim.
•{•2. Phr., squire of damsels : transf.
from the Faerie Queen, and ap
plied to any man who is very at
tentive to women. 2. 184. Cf.
note.

Staffe. n. The long handle of a
spear or similar weapon. -{-Phr.,
to break a staffe : to enter the
lists with an opponent ; make a
trial of skill. Ded.

Stand, n. Phr., a stand! : a halt I
Milit. command. 5. 108.

Stand, v. In the imperative : halt !
Milit. 5. 138, 153.

Staple, n. A general market or
exchange; now chiefly attrib., as
in staple article. \. 7.

•{•Starting, vbl. n. A sudden in
voluntary movement, as from a
shock of fear, &c. 3. 54.

State, n. -{-Estate ; income ; pos
sessions, i. 391.

Stay, v. -j-To await. 3. 122.

Still, adv. -{-Always, continually,
habitually. Ind. 10 ; 4. 378.

Stocke. n. i. Funds; hoardings,
i. 23, 366.
•{•2. Share; portion. I. 417.

Stone, n. -}-A gun-flint ; a piece
of shaped flint fixed in the lock
of a musket, before percussion
caps were used, to fire the charge.

5- 145-
Stoope, n. A deep and narrow

drinking vessel. Obs. or dial. 5.190.
Stop. v. i . To suppress ; extinguish.

1. 28.

•{•2. To keep back; withhold. S-'S0-
Store, n. i . Abundance ; numbers.

Arch. 4. 271 ; 5. I.
Streight, a. Obs. form of straight.

•{•Stretched ; tight. 2. 104.
Strike stroke, phr. To have a

hand, have a say. Fig. 4. 414.
Stringer, n. -{-A fornicator ; a

wencher. I. 116.

Stroake. -v. Obs. form of the pret
erite of strike. I. 242.
Strond. n. Obs. form of Strand.

4. 91.

Strong, \adv. Strongly. 3. 77.
Study for, phr. To plan, devise.

Ind. 20.
Sufficient, a. Capable ? jReli-

able ? 2. 176.

Sute, v. Obs. form of shoot. 1 . 1 64.
Swaddle, v. fTo beat ; cudgel.

2. 458.

Sweare, v. An obs. or arch, pret
erite of swear. 2. 50, 55.

-{•Sweeting, n. A term of endear
ment, i. 456.

Glossary

301

Swing, v. Obs. form of swinge.

To thrash, beat. 2. 285.
Sworne, «. Phr. , be sworn ; bound

by oath. Colloq. Ind. 73) gt

passim.

Taber, n. Obs. form of tabor.
•j*A small drum or tambourine
(without jingles). 4. 487.

Take, v. To take the place of;
displace? Obs. ? 5.84. Cf.note.

Take it, phr. ' To give way, ac
quiesce.' Moorman. 3. 25.

Take thy course, phr. Go on
thy way. 3. 201.

f Take (me) with (you), phr. Hear
me out, understand me fully. I.
200.

Tane. v. Obs. form of ta'en for
taken, pp. of take. 3. 158.

Tartarian, n. -}-A cant term for
'thief.' 3. 586.

Tax, n. -{-Charge ; censure. Ind.

133-
Tearme, n. Obs. form of term.

2. 332.

Tee, pron. Cf. variants. Ind. 44 ;

4- 70, 75-

Tell, v. -{-I. Phr., tell (one) trzie ;
to tell (one) the truth. Ind. 73 ;

3- 312.

2. To count ; reckon one after
another. '•Arch. exc. in phrases
such as " to tell beads." ' Mai-
lory. 3. 12.

Temper, n. i. Mixture or combi
nation of ingredients. 2. 337.
-{•2. Temperament. 3. 71.

Tender, -v. -j-i. To treat with so
licitude and care. 3. 169.

Tender, a. -{-Fine; hence, gravelly.
4. 462.

Terror, n. A cause of terror ;
often used in humorous exagger
ation. 5. in.

Then, conj. Obs. form of than.
Ind. 116, et passim.

-}-Then SO, phr. Than something
indicated or signified ; than that.

5- 392.

Thether, adv. Obs. form of thither.

4- 396.

Thiefe. n. -{-A general term of re
proach : a lawless person. Ind.

"3-

f Thrumming of our caps, phr.
Setting tufts or thrums on a cap.

4. 483. Cf. note.

Ti'de, v. Obs. preterite of tie. i. 8.
Tiller, n. -j-A crossbow, i. 144.
Timber for timber, phr. Limb

for limb ; man for man. Fig.

2. 219.
To. prep, f i. Of; for. i. 27 ;

Ded. (i. e. to good wits).

•{•2. Toward. 2. 33.

•j-3- With. 2. 236.

f4- For. 3. 468, 594 ; 4. 375.

5. Against. 3. 295.
f6. Before. 4. 438.

Together, adv. i . All at once ;

simultaneously. 3. 64. Cf. note.

f2. Altogether. 4. 252. Cf.

note.
To her, phr. Speak to her ; make

your addresses to her. i. 123.
To him, phr. Fall upon him ;

'go for him.' 3. 371.
Tooke, v. Obs. or vulgar pp. of

take. 3. 58.

Train, v. To entice ; draw by de
ceptive means. Arch. 3. 412.
TrauelL n. 4/i. Labor, i. 43.

2. Labor in childbirth. Arch.

2. 487.

Tree, n. f Stick, staff, i. 211.
Tricke, n. A crafty or fraudulent
device; a stratagem. I. 70; 4.

3.6.
Tride, v. Obs. form of tried. 3.

242.
Troth, n. Phr., by my troth: upon

my honor, veracity. Now chiefly

lit. i. 284, et passim.
Troule, v. Obs. form of troll.

To pass or send round a vessel

of liquor. 2. 485.
True, a. i. Sure, unerring. I.

211.

2. Honest. Arch. I. 335 ; 2.
271.

3. Faithful. 2. 41 ; 5. n.
Tru-love, n. A sweetheart. 2.

522.

The Knight of the Burning Pestle

Truely, adv. In accordance with
assumed obligations ; faithfully.
4. 361.

Trusty, a. i. Strong ; firm. i. 211.
2. Faithful, i. 291, 332 ; 2. 112,

127 ; 3- 424-

Try, i>. To put to the test or proof.

3- 79-
Tune, n. \. Mood, frame of mind.

4. 360.
Tweluemoneth, n. A year. Arch.

Ind. 58.
'Twixt, prep. Abbrev. of betwixt

= between. Arch. 4. 106.

TJncivill, a. -}-Of apparel : lacking
in taste ; gaudy ; immodest. Prol.

•fVncurteous , a. Discourteous,
uncivil. 2. 121, 332.

Vnderstanding, ppl. a. Informed ;
intelligent. Ind. 27.

Vndo, v. To bring ruin or distress
upon. 4. 193 ; 5. 44.

Vnfurnished, ppl. a. -{-Unprovid
ed, i. 290.

Vnhappy, a. fi. Full of tricks ;
mischievous ; tricksy. 2. 288.
2. Associated with ill fortune. 3.
486.

Vnkind, a. Lacking in affection.
Rare. exc. dial. 4. 288.

Vnknowing, ppl. a. Ignorant.

3- 355-

Vnpeopled,///. a. Without inhab
itants. 3. 6.

Vnthrift, n. -j-A spendthrift; a
prodigal. 4. 155.

Vnthrifty, a. Wasteful ; prodigal.
2. 169.

Vrge, -v. To press upon the at
tention. 2. 448.

Vsage, n. Treatment. 3.431,478.

Vsher, n. Escort, conductor. 4.
247.

Vale, interj. Farewell ; adieu.
fForm for the ending of a letter
or other written address. Prol.

Valiant, a. i . Courageous ; intrep
id in danger, i. 153.
•j-2. Strong ; powerful. 5. 168.

Vamp, v. To furnish with a new

vamp or upper leather, as a shoe
or boot. Arch, and dial. 5. 323.

Varlet, n. A low fellow ; a scoun
drel : a term of contempt or re
proach. 3. 103.

Venter, v. Obs. form of venture.
I. 216, et passim.

Venture, n. -{-Adventure. 2. 316.

Venus, n. -fSexual intercourse ;
venery. 4. 435.

Vertue, n. i. Potency; efficacy.

1. 47.

2. Phr., by the -virtue of : by or
through the authority of. 3. 1 88.

Vicious, a. Virulent ; malignant ;
spiteful. Colloq. Ind. 134.

Villainy, n. i. Atrocious evil or
wickedness. 3. 87.
2. A villainous act ; a crime. 3.
264, 286.

Visited, ppl. a. Afflicted ; said es
pecially of diseases. I. 279.

Wag, n. -{-A practical joker ; one
who indulges in buffoonery or mis
chief. 2. 19; 5. 288.

Wait, n. fOne of a body of mu
sicians, who played about the
streets at night, especially in the
seventeenth century, in England.
Ind. 119.

•fWanion, n. A word found only
in the phrases with a wanton,
and wantons on you ; generally
interpreted to denote some kind
of imprecation. Phr., with a wan-
ion : with a vengeance ; energet
ically ; hence in short order. 2.
174.

Want, -v. To fail in. 5. 185.

Ward, n. -{-A regiment or other
division of an army. 5- 91-

Warren, n. A piece of ground
appropriated to the breeding and
preservation of rabbits and other
game. I. 134.

tWast(e)-thrift, n. A spendthrift,
i. 350.

Watch, n. -{-I. The annual vigil
of St. John's, i. 155. Cf. note.
•{•2. A watchman, or body of watch
men, stationed in old London, to

Glossary

3°3

guard public property and the
peace. 3. 100.
3. A vigil. 3. 23.

Watching, vbl. n. Keeping vigil.
3. 84.

Wee, prep. Obs. form of wi' =
•with. Cf. variants. 2. 538.

Welfauourdlie, adv. In a grati
fying or pleasing way ; ' handsome
ly.' 2. 285.

Well, a. Well off. 4. 436.

Well spoken, a. Given to using
decorous speech. Dial. i. 267.

Wench, n. A young woman. Arch.
or lit. The word as current now
has a deprecatory sense. I. 303,
et passim.

Were, v. Obs. form of wear. 3.

19-
When al's done, phr. After all.

Dial. 5. 249.
Whether, adv. An obs. form of

whither. I. 315; 3. 390.
Whether, pron. Arch. Which.

i. 138.

Whilome, adv. Arch. Once. 1.137.
Whipt, ppl. a. Overlaid ; wound

round and round, as with thread.

i. 163.
Whistle, n. Phr., to wet (one's)

•whistle : to take a drink of liquor

with reference to wetting the

throat and vocal organs in order

to improve the tone of the voice.

Colloq. and jocose. 5- r92-
White boy, n. f An old term of

endearment applied to a favorite

son, or the like ; a darling. 2.

85.

f Whoreson, a. Bastard-like; low:
used in contempt or coarse famil

iarity, i. >i6; 2. 574; 3. 323 :
whoresome, I. 322 ; whoor sonne

i- 371-

~Wich,pron. Form of which. 5.23.

Wight, n. Mortal ; a human being.
Obs. or arch. 3. 355, 476.

Willing, a. fHarmonious ; like-
minded. 4. 478.

Wise, n. Manner ; mode ; guise.
Obs. or arch. exc. in phrases like
in any wise, &c. 3. 411 ; 5. 324.

Withall, adv. Besides ; likewise.
Bed. ; I. 77, 118 ; 4. 238.

•f Withall, prep. An emphatic form
of with, used after the object (usu
ally a relative) at the end of a
sentence or clause. 4. 12.

Woexnan, n. Obs. form of woman.
2. 486, et passim.

fWon, v. To dwell. 3. 256.

Wood, v. Obs. form of preterite
of will. 2. 586.

Wrastle, v. Obs. or dial, form of
wrestle. 3. 296.

Wrought, ppl. a. Embroidered.
Arch. ? 2. 422.

Ycleped, pp. Form of past par
ticiple of the obs. or arch, verb
clepe : to call by the name of.

3- 257-

Yea, adv. -j^Vea, being mainly a
word of assent, was formerly used
chiefly in answer to questions
framed affirmatively. Ind. 16.

Yeeld, v. Obs. form of yield.
fTo repay, i. 119; 4. 164.

Yer, pron. Dial, form of your.

2. 539-

Yong, a. Obs. form of young:
I. 217, et passim.

INDEX

Adam Bell, Ixix, Ixxiv, Ixxvi.

Amadis of Gaul, relations to the
burlesque in K. of B. P., xxxvii,
xlixff., Ivi, Ixviii, Ixix, Ixxii, Ixxiii ;
origin of, 162 ; cited, 145, 163,
166, 171, 172, 191, 204, 206.

Apparel, actors', 122 ; soldiers', 251.

Apron, blue, of tradesmen, 146.

Archery, practice of, 267.

Arches, court of, 220.

Arthur's show, ex, 225, 253.

Artillery Gardens, practice of arms
revived in, xiii, cxii, 225.

As ye came from the Holy Land,
a ballad, 1 8 1.

Authorship of the play, xxi ff.

Baloo, a ballad, 184.

Barbaroso, 195.

Barber's basin, xlv, 195, 196.

Barber's pole, 195, 204.

Barber shop, description of the old-
time, 214.

Bear, pestilential effect of the breath
of the, 273.

Beaten gold, 224.

Beaumont and Fletcher, their indebt
edness to Spanish literature, xxxiii ;
their literary qualities, xxii ff. ; for
citations, cf. individual works,
Coxcomb, &c.

Beer at the theatre, 2 1 8.

Beeston's Boys, xviii.

Begone, begone, myjuggy, mypuggy,
a song, 2 1 6.

Bell Inn, xl ff., 174.

Bells in the Morris-dance, 244.

Bevis of Hampton, Ixix, Ixx, Ixxvi,
Ixxx, 188.

Blackfriars Theatre, xiv, 122.

Blanket-tossing, 135.

Bold Beauchamps, Ixxxi, Ixxxii, I2O.

Boot-hose, 228.

Boots, affectation of wearing polished,
229.

Boy, as attendant at theatre, 121 ;
as a regular actor, 121 ; as a
dancer between the acts, 155.

Boy-actors, kidnapping of, 166.

Brionella, 163.

Brome, Richard, his mention of Kn.
of B. P. in Sparagus Garden,
xvii ; his ridicule of the fashion
of romance-reading, Ixxiii, Ixxix ;
his satirical treatment of the man
ners of theatrical spectators, in
Tne Antipodes, cvii.

Bullets, a term for barber's soap-
balls, 197.

Bumbo Fair, 230.

Burre, Walter, xiv, xxiv, 106, 107.

Butter, as an unguent, 228 ; as a
medicinal remedy, 242.

Candles, blue, at funerals, 233.
Captain, City, 266.
Captain, duties of a, 256, 259, 261.
Carduus Benedictus as a medicinal

remedy, ex, 202.
Casket, adventures of the, xxxix,

171.

Catch, nature of a, 180.
Caves as habitations of giants, xlix ff.,

195-

Chamberlain at an inn, 175.

Chapman, George, his satire on the
fashion of romance-reading in East
ward Ho, xciii.

Children of the Queen's RevelSj xiv,
no, 122.

Chivalric plays, lists of, Ixxviii, Ixxxi ;
quality and popularity of, Ixxviii ff. ;

Index

305

protests of Puritans and social
satirists against, Ixxxviiff. ; attacks
of the dramatists upon, Ixxxixff.

Citizens, their interruptions of plays,
cviff., no; libelous stage repre
sentations of, civ, 112.

City walls, 109.

Civic drama, nature and representative
specimens of, xcv ff.

Cloak-bag, 234.

Cockpit Theatre, xvi, 271.

Colors of the infantry, 254 ; regu
lations concerning the use of, 255.

Commons of the City, 117.

Companies of London, the Twelve,
114, 166.

Company, consistency of a military,

253-

Compliment, language of, 231.
Conduit, 236.
Conjurers, 233.
Corselet, 257.
Coxcomb, cited, 161, 178.
Cracovia, King of, 233.
Crane, sign of the, 106.
Crier, town, 173.
Cupid's Revenge, cited, 201.
Curtain, lack of, on old stage, l84f.
Curtain Theatre, xi.
Cypress branches at funerals, 232.

Dagonet, Sir, 224, 253.

Dam, the devil's, 169.

Day, Rowley, and Wilkins, Tra-vailes
of the Three English Brothers,
its bearing on the date of Kn. of
B. P., xi ; its relationship to
the burlesque in Kn. of B. P.,
xcix f.

Deed indent, 227.

Defiance, mode of, in romances of
chivalry, 171.

Dekker, Thos., his attacks on the
romances, xciv.

Devil's mark on witches, 211.

Diet as a medicinal remedy, 136,
168, 211, 213.

Dog, possession of, a mark of a
gentleman, 216.

Don Quixote, its bearing on the date

of Kn. of B. P., xv ; the attri
bution of, as a source of Kn. of
B. P., xxxiiff. ; cited, 105, 107,
144, 148, 149, 150, 151, 162,
171, 189, 190, 191, 194, 195,
203, 204, 207.

Douglas Tragedy, a ballad, 182,

Dragon-water, 147.

Drake, the life and death of fat, 117.

Drummer, 253.

Drums, 246, 249.

Dryden, John, his comment on the
popularity of Beaumont and Flet
cher, xix.

Dulcinea del Toboso, the attributed
prototype of Susan, livff., 203.

Dutchman, the great. 198.

Dwarf as an attendant upon knights,
xxxvii, 148 ; as bearer of the
knights' armor, 192.

Elenor, Queen, the story of, xcix, 1 1 6.
Entertainment at inns, 177.

Fading, 219.

Fair Margaret and Sweet William,
a ballad, 178.

Faithful Friends, its satire on the
fashion of romance-reading, xciv.

Faithful Shepherdess, its unpopu
larity, cix.

Falconer, 234.

Favor, lady's, 228.

Feathers, 237, 257.

Fencing-school, ex. 172.

Fingers, barber's ' knacking ' of, 197.

Fire-eaters, 220.

Flags, 249.

Footman, 176.

Forked heads, 268.

Fortune, my Foe, a song, 264.

Four Plays in One, xxiii ; cited, 152.

Four Prentices of London. Cf. Hey-
wood.

Franarco, Palmerin de Oliva's con
flict with, I4off.

Freeman, qualifications of a, 114.

306

The Knight of the Burning Pestle

Gallants seated on the stage, ciii,
1 08 ; their aversion to the combing
of the hair, 196 ; their fashion of
trimming the beard and dressing
the hair, 208 ; their aversion to
shorn locks, 209 ; their scorn of
the tradesmen, 213, 270.

Galley-foist, captain of the, 262.

Gargantua, 205.

Garters, 245.

Gaskins, 161.

Giants, conventional employment of,
in romances of chivalry, xlix, 161 ;
Palmerin de Oliva's conflict with,
I4off., 198 ; Rosicler's conflict
with, 197 ; boastful manner of,
204.

Gloves given as presents at betrothals
and weddings, 134; decorations
of, 134 ; costs of, 135.

Go from my window, a catch, 215.

God of sleep, 187.

Gresham, Life and Death of Sir
Thomas, xcv, xcvii, 115.

Grocers, civic importance of, H4f. ;
guild livery of, 127 ; shop dress
of, 139 ; hall of, 269.

Gun-flint, 258.

Guns, 246, 249.

Guy of Warwick, Ixix, Ixxii, Ixxiii,
Ixxvi, Ixxxi.

Heads, velvet, 244.

Helmet, 172.

Her Majesty's Servants, xvii, xviii,
271.

Hermaphrodite, xiii, 200.

Heywood, Thos., The Four Prentices
of London, as an evidence of the
date of Kn. of B. P., xiii ; as an
object of the burlesque, lixff., 117,
149 ; as a type of the chivalric
drama, Ixxxii ; analysis of its plot,
Ixxxii ff. ; as typical of the taste of
tradesmen, xcvi ; cited, 117, 149,
163, 225 ; If you know not me,
xcv, xcvii, 115; Edward IV, xcv,
xcviii, 1 20.

Ho, ho, no body at home, a catch, 235.

Hobby-horse, 241.

Hogsdon, 245.

Honest Man's fortune, cited, 271.

Honour of a London Apprentice, a

ballad, a possible object of the

burslesque, Ixi, 118.
Horace, 105, 274.
Host, proverbial merriment of mine,

190.
Hostess, kissing of, on leaving an inn,

235-

Hotspur, lines from speech of, 123.
Hiimorous Lieutenant , cited, 228, 243.

I
lam three merry men, a catch, 178.

Jane Shore, xcv, xcviii, 120.

Jerkin, 251.

Jeronimo, 125.

Jillian of Berry, 235.

John Dory, a ballad, 168.

Jonson, Ben, Alchemist, as an evi
dence of the date of Kn. of B. P. ;
his satirical treatment of the Ro
mances of chivalry and the ro
mantic drama, xci ff. ; his satir
ical treatment of Jacobean audi
ences, cviii.

Keysar, Robert, xiv, xv, 106.

King and No King, its burlesque
elements, xii, xxx ; cited, 152, 206.

Knight and Shepherd's Daughter,
a ballad, 182.

Knights-errant, names of, 149 ; order
of, 151 ; vows and oaths of, 162 ;
duties of, 165 ; numerous frater
nities and religious character of,
175 ; fastings of, 194 ; hard
couches of, 194.

Knight of the Burning Pestle, edi
tions, ii ff. ; date and stage-history,
xiff. ; authorship, xxi ff., 106,
107, 270, 272, 274 ; originality of
the conception, xxv ; relationships
with the Romances of Chivalry and
Don Quixote, xxxii ff. ; relation
ships with contemporary plays and

Index

307

ballads, lix ff. ; objects of the bur
lesque and satire, Ixv ff. ; attrib
uted origins of the title, 105 ;
functional significance of the title,
149.

Knighthood, mode of receiving the
order of, 190.

Knighthoods, purchased, 145.

Knotgrass, 161.

Kyd, Thos., Spanish Tragedy as an
object of the burlesque, c ff., 239,
265.

Lachrimae, a tune, 184.

Ladies, relief of, in the romances,

xxxix, 1 45 ; flight of, from ' uncur-

teous knights,' &c., 162.
Lady Anne Bothiuell's Lamentation,

a ballad, 184.
Lady-loves of knights-errant, 203 ;

invocation of, liii, 203, 206.
Lancelot of the Lake, Ixix, Ixxii.
Laneham's Letter, Ixx.
Lavolta, 217.

Legend of Sir Guy, a ballad, 183.
Leonhardt, ijber Beaumont und Flet
cher's Knight of the Burning

Pestle, xxxv ff.
Lies, 230.

Lieutenant, duties of a, 254.
Little French Lawyer, cited, 183.
Little Musgra-ve and Lady Barnard,

a ballad, 263.
Lob-lie-by- the-fire, 212.
London Bridge, 180.
London Merchant, 112.

Maid's Tragedy, its burlesque ele
ments, xii, xxx ; its long-lived
popularity, xx.

Manners of Jacobean audiences,
cii ff. ; Gayton's description of,
cvi ; the dramatists' satirical treat
ment of, cviiff.

March beer, 262.

Mare's milk as a medicinal remedy,
ex, 202.

Marston, John, Antonio and Mellida,
as a possible source of the casket

episode in Kn. of B. P. Ixiii ; his
attacks on the romances, xciv.
Martial Court, 258.
May-game, cxi, 235.
May-lord, 240.
May-song, typical, 240.
Meals, hours for, 153.
Medicine, domestic, 191.
Merry heart lives long-a, a song,

152.

Middleton, Thomas, Mayor of Queen-
borough, its satirical treatment
of the manners of theatrical spec
tators, cvii.

Midsummer Watch, 133.
Mile-end, 158; military drills at,

cxi, 250.
Military commands, peculiar, 254,

259, 260.
Mirror of Knighthood, Ixviii, Ixix,

143, 144, 161, 197.
Mithridatum, 147.
Moldavia, kingdom of, 225 ; Prince

of, xii, 225.

Monkester, Richard, 132.
Monsieur Thomas, cited, 158, 165,

215.

Moorfields, 268.
Morris-dance, 238.
Morris-dancers, dress of, 237.
Morte d' Arthur, Ixvii, Ixix.
Mouse's skin as a medicinal remedy,

ex, 192.

Mucedorus, xcix, 124.
Munday, Anthony, his translations of
the Romances of Chivalry, Ixviii,
140, 146, 162.
Music at the theatre, 128, 155.

Napkins in the Morris-dance, 244.

Nash, Thos., his ridicule of the ro
mances in The Anatomie of Ab-
surditie, Ixxxviii ; his use of the
spectator motive in Summer's
Last Will and Testament, cvii.

Nell Gwyn, xix.

Newington, 245.

Nice Valour, cited, 271.

Night-caps, 1 68.

Nineveh, a ' motion,' 200.

3o8

The Knight of the Burning Pestle

Nipitato, 227.
Nor so, 135.

Nose, nose, jolly red nose, a ballad,
153-

Oaths, fashion of swearing diminutive,

I67.

' Open your files,' 256.
Orange, Prince of, 218.
Ostler, tricks of the, 176.

Pagans, knights' aversion to, Hii,
228.

Painted cloth, 184.

Palfrey, 150, 176.

Pallidino of England, Ixviii.

Palmendos, Ixviii.

Palmerin de Oliva, relations to the
burlesque in Kn. of B. /*., xxxvii,
xxxix, Hi ff., Ivi, Ixviii, Ixix, Ixxiv ;
origin of 140; cited, 140, 150,
163, 189, 193, 198, 223, 226,
228,

Palmerin of England, relations to
the burlesque in Kn. of B. P.,
xlvii, xlix, Ivi, Ixviii, Ixix ; origin
of, 146 ; cited, 145, 151, 161, 170,
193, 194, 195, 203, 224, 226.

Passage, keeping the, in the roman
ces, 170.

Pauls Walk, 249.

Pepper as the chief commodity of
the grocers, 151.

Periwigs, 156.

Philaster, its burlesque elements, xii.

Philosopher's stone, 234.

Pike, 252.

Pikeman, 252.

Pilgrim, cited, 247.

Pins, 229.

Plague, the, 148.

Plasters, velvet, 211.

Poesies on rings, 266.

.Points, 220.

Post, traveling by, 218.

Powder, horn, 258.

Pox, French, 209.

Pricket, 244.

Primaleon of Greece, Ixviii.

Prologue, entrance of, 107 ; represent
ative character of, no; conciliatory
function of, 130.

Prologue of Q2, 273.

Puckeridge, 178.

Puddle wharf, 173.

Puritans' dislike of the romances and
the chivalric drama, Ixxxvii.

Questioning of released prisoners in
the romances, xlvi ff., 207.

Rafe, 117.

Ralph Roister Doister, its analogies
to Kn. of B.P., Ixiiiff. ; cited, Ixxii.

Randolph, Thos., his use of the
spectator motive in The Muse's
Looking Glass, cvii.

Rascal, 244.

Rebecks, 155.

Reckonings at inns, 189.

Red Bull Theatre, xi, xii, 222.

Red Roaring Lion, a tavern, 156.

Rings for the discovery of enchant
ments, 172 ; worn in the Morris-
dance and May-games, 237, 266.

Romances of Chivalry as sources of
Kn. of B. P., and objects of the
burlesque, xxxii ff. ; extent of their
popularity in England, Ixvi ; Mil
ton's approval of, Ixvii ; Ascham's
condemnation of, Ixvii ; court so
ciety's rejection of, Ixviii ; Munday's
translations of, Ixviii ; bourgeois so
ciety's fondness for, Ixix ff. ; menials'
fondness for, Ixxiv ; mendicant
minstrels' appropriation of, Ixxvi f. ;
influence of, upon the drama,
Ixxvii ff. ; reactions against, Ixxxviiff.

Romeo and Juliet, a possible object
of the burlesque, 158.

Rosemary at wedding, 247.

Rosicler, 144, 197.

Royal Exchange, 116.

Saint Faith's Church, 249.
Saint George, 198, 205.
Scarfs, 237, 245, 251, 266.
Scenery, absence of, on old stage, 109.

Index

3°9

Scornful Lady, cited, 133, 139, 22O>
247.

Sergeant, duties of a, 256.

Serving-man, 234.

Science, the noble (of defence), 157.

Shakespeare, analogies to Kn. ofB. P.
in his plays, Ixiiiff. ; his attacks on
the romances, xciv ; regarded as
an object of the burlesque, 123, 158.

Shirley, James, his ridicule of the
fashion of romance-reading, Ixxv f.,
xcv.

Shrove Tuesday, apprentices' diver
sions on, 213, 268, 269.

Sights, the citizens' love of unusual,

ex, 199-

Sing -we, and chant it, a song, 263.
' Smelling to the toes ' as a medicinal

remedy, ex, 192.

Snails used in love-divinations, 243.
Southwark, 129.
Spanish pike, 257.
Spanish Tragedy. Cf. Kyd.
Squire as an attendant upon knights,

xxxvif., 148 ; as bearer of the

knights' armor, 192.
Squire of Damsels, 164.
Staff, leading, 267.
' Stay his coming,' 189.
Stocking, long, 218.
Stools on stage, 121.
Strand, 227.

Suburbs of London, 157.
Susan, her attributed relationship with

Dulcinea del Toboso, livff., 203.
Sweet oil, 258.
Sweating-tubs, 211, 213.

Tabor, 247.

Tapster, 177.

Tartarian, 186.

Tavern-signs, 156, 174.

Teeth, the barber's strings of, 202

Thersytes, its ridicule of the roman
ces, xcff.

Tiring-house, 126, 151, 251.

Title-board, 1 1 2.

Tobacco, new fashion of smoking
ex, 138.

Train bands, City, as an object o
the burlesque, cxiff., 250.

Tra-vailes of the Three English Bro
thers. Cf. Day, Rowley, and
Wilkins.

Triumph of Honour, its burlesque
elements, xxix.

Trowl the bowl, a catch, 179.

Tumblers at the theatre, 220.

Turnbull Street, 212.

Two Noble Kinsmen, cited, 239.

Valentinian, cited, 147.
Velvet, black, as a covering for a

house, 223.
Vetus Comcedia, 374.
Vows, swearing of, in the romances,

162, 163, 165, 173, 193-

Waits, 128.

Waltham, xliii, 157, 174-
Waltham down, 161.
Waltham Forest, xxxviii, xliii, 136.
Walsingham, 181.

Wardens of guilds, presentation of
plays before, 125 ; function of, 125.
Watch at Ludgate, 188.
Water, perfumed, used by barbers,

208.

Wedding-dinner, 247.
Wheel of Fortune, 163.
Whitechapel, 255.

Whitefriars Theatre, xiv, iioff., 121.
Whittington, the legend of, xcv,

xcvii, 115.
Who can sing a merrier note, a

catch, 233.

Wife for a Month, cited, 158, 243.
Wild Goose Chase, cited, 246.
Wit Without Money, cited, 216, 271.
Woman Hater, its bearing on the
date of Kn. of B. P., xi ; its
burlesque elements, xii, xxix ; cited,
108. 153, 202.
Woman's Prize, 215, 247.
Women at the theatre, 1 1 8, 119.
Women Pleased, cited, 238, 242, 245,
266.

Yew tree branches at funerals, 232.
You are no love for me Margret,
a lost ballad, 217.

ERRATA

Page xlix, 1. 3 from bottom for be read he.

„ Ixxiii, 1. 13 from bottom for bot read both.

„ Ixxiv, 1. 17 from bottom for ascurbes read ascribes.

„ Ixv, 1. 10 from bottom for droll read droil.

,, Ixv, 1. 7 from bottom for the read thee.

„ Ixxxviii, 1. 21 from bottom for proceeeds read proceeds.

.,, 10, 1. 25 (variants) for woolsaaks read woolsacks.

„ 1 8, 1. 136 (variants) for face read face,.

„ 20, 1. 213 for Trough read Through.

22,
30,
82,

90,

93,

.250 for army read an army.

. 20 for forgiue, you read forgiue you.

. 361 for it it truely read it truely.

. 129 for Were's read Where's.

. 210 (variants) for brought read thee.

94, 1. 247 for bot read but.
140, 1. I for exspected read expected.
142, 1. 2 from bottom for his fall read in his fall.
165, 1. 26 from bottom for Faere read Faerie.
I93i !• 3° frorn bottom for kown read know.
194, 1. 22 from bottom for but read put.
275> !• 3° from bottom for Ascham, Robert read Ascham, Roger.

276, 1. 36 from bottom for Grossart read Grosart.

277, 1. 12 from bottom for Cunnigham read Cunningham.

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