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Transcriber's Notes: Words in italics in the original are surrounded
with _underscores_. Words in a Saxon font in the original are surrounded
with +plus+ signs. Words in blackletter in the original are surrounded
with =equal= signs. Characters superscripted in the original are
surrounded by {braces}. Ellipses match the original. In footnotes and
attributions, commas and periods seem to be used interchangeably. They
remain as printed. Variations in spelling, hyphenation, and accents
remain as in the original unless noted. A complete list of corrections
follows the text.


[Illustration: SHAKSPEARE.

Engraved by W. T. Fry after a Cast made by M{r}. George Bullock from the
Monumental Bust at Stratford-upon-Avon.]




                              SHAKSPEARE

                                  AND

                              HIS TIMES:

                               INCLUDING
                      THE BIOGRAPHY OF THE POET;
 CRITICISMS ON HIS GENIUS AND WRITINGS; A NEW CHRONOLOGY OF HIS PLAYS;
             A DISQUISITION ON THE OBJECT OF HIS SONNETS;
                                  AND
                             A HISTORY OF
         _THE MANNERS, CUSTOMS, AND AMUSEMENTS, SUPERSTITIONS,
              POETRY, AND ELEGANT LITERATURE OF HIS AGE_.


                         BY NATHAN DRAKE, M.D.
 AUTHOR OF "LITERARY HOURS," AND OF "ESSAYS ON PERIODICAL LITERATURE."


    Triumph my Britain! thou hast one to show,
    To whom all scenes of Europe homage owe.—
                 ————— Soul of the age,
    The applause, delight, the wonder of our stage,
    My Shakspeare, rise!                         BEN JONSON.

    The very age and body of the time, his form and pressure.
                                                 SHAKSPEARE.


                           _IN TWO VOLUMES._

                                VOL. I.


                                LONDON:
          PRINTED FOR T. CADELL AND W. DAVIES, IN THE STRAND.
                                 1817.




                        Printed by A. Strahan,
                       Printers-Street, London.




PREFACE.


Though two centuries have now elapsed, since the death of Shakspeare,
no attempt has hitherto been made to render him the medium for a
comprehensive and connected view of the Times in which he lived.

Yet, if any man be allowed to fill a station thus conspicuous
and important, Shakspeare has undoubtedly the best claim to the
distinction; not only from his pre-eminence as a dramatic poet, but
from the intimate relation which his works bear to the manners,
customs, superstitions, and amusements of his age.

Struck with the interest which a work of this kind, if properly
executed, might possess, the author was induced, several years ago, to
commence the undertaking, with the express intention of blending with
the detail of manners, &c. such a portion of criticism, biography, and
literary history, as should render the whole still more attractive and
complete.

In attempting this, it has been his aim to place Shakspeare in the
fore-ground of the picture, and to throw around him, in groups more or
less distinct and full, the various objects of his design; giving them
prominency and light, according to their greater or smaller connection
with the principal figure.

More especially has it been his wish, to infuse throughout the whole
plan, whether considered in respect to its entire scope, or to the
parts of which it is composed, that degree of unity and integrity, of
relative proportion and just bearing, without which neither harmony,
simplicity, nor effect, can be expected, or produced.

With a view, also, to distinctness and perspicuity of elucidation,
the whole has been distributed into three parts or pictures,
entitled,—"SHAKSPEARE IN STRATFORD;"—"SHAKSPEARE IN LONDON;"—
"SHAKSPEARE IN RETIREMENT;"—which, though inseparably united, as
forming but portions of the same story, and harmonized by the same
means, have yet, both in subject and execution, a peculiar character to
support.

The _first_ represents our Poet in the days of his youth, on the
banks of his native Avon, in the midst of rural imagery, occupations,
and amusements; in the _second_, we behold him in the capital of his
country, in the centre of rivalry and competition, in the active
pursuit of reputation and glory; and in the _third_, we accompany the
venerated bard to the shades of retirement, to the bosom of domestic
peace, to the enjoyment of unsullied fame.

It has, therefore, been the business of the author, in accordancy
with his plan, to connect these delineations with their relative
accompaniments; to incorporate, for instance, with the first, what he
had to relate of the _country_, as it existed in the age of Shakspeare;
its manners, customs, and characters; its festivals, diversions, and
many of its superstitions; opening and closing the subject with the
biography of the poet, and binding the intermediate parts, not only
by a perpetual reference to his drama, but by their own constant and
direct tendency towards the developement of the one object in view.

With the _second_, which commences with Shakspeare's introduction to
the stage as an actor, is combined the poetic, dramatic, and general
literature of the times, together with an account of _metropolitan_
manners and diversions, and a full and continued criticism on the poems
and plays of our bard.

After a survey, therefore, of the Literary world, under the heads
of Bibliography, Philology, Criticism, History, Romantic, and
Miscellaneous Literature, follows a View of the Poetry of the same
period, succeeded by a critique on the juvenile productions of
Shakspeare, and including a biographical sketch of Lord Southampton,
and a new hypothesis on the origin and object of the Sonnets.

Of the immediately subsequent description of diversions, &c. the
Economy of the Stage forms a leading feature, as preparatory to a
History of Dramatic Poetry, previous to the year 1590; and this
is again introductory to a discussion concerning the Period when
Shakspeare commenced a writer for the theatre; to a new chronology
of his plays, and to a criticism on each drama; a department which
is interspersed with dissertations on the _fairy mythology_, the
_apparitions_, the _witchcraft_, and the _magic_ of Shakspeare;
portions of popular credulity which had been, in reference to this
distribution, omitted in detailing the superstitions of the country.

This second part is then terminated by a summary of Shakspeare's
dramatic character, by a brief view of dramatic poetry during his
connection with the stage, and by the biography of the poet to the
close of his residence in London.

The _third_ and last of these delineations is, unfortunately, but too
short, being altogether occupied with the few circumstances which
distinguish the last three years of the life of our bard, with a review
of his disposition and moral character, and with some notice of the
first tributes paid to his memory.

It will readily be admitted, that the materials for the greater part
of this arduous task are abundant; but it must also be granted, that
they are dispersed through a vast variety of distant and unconnected
departments of literature; and that to draw forth, arrange, and give a
luminous disposition to, these masses of scattered intelligence, is an
achievement of no slight magnitude, especially when it is considered,
that no step in the progress of such an undertaking can be made,
independent of a constant recurrence to authorities.

How far the author is qualified for the due execution of his design,
remains for the public to decide; but it may, without ostentation,
be told, that his leisure, for the last thirty years, has been, in a
great decree, devoted to a line of study immediately associated with
the subject; and that his attachment to old English literature has led
him to a familiarity with the only sources from which, on such a topic,
authentic illustration is to be derived.

He will likewise venture to observe, that, in the style of criticism
which he has pursued, it has been his object, an ambitious one it is
true, to unfold, in a manner more distinct than has hitherto been
effected, the peculiar character of the poet's drama; and, lastly, to
produce a work, which, while it may satisfy the poetical antiquary,
shall, from the variety, interest, and integrity of its component
parts, be equally gratifying to the general reader.

  _Hadleigh, Suffolk,
    April 7th, 1817._




CONTENTS

OF

_THE FIRST VOLUME_.


  PART I.

  SHAKSPEARE IN STRATFORD.


  CHAP. I.

    Birth of Shakspeare — Account of his Family — Orthography
      of his Name.                                       _Page_ 1


  CHAP. II.

    The House in which Shakspeare was born — Plague at Stratford,
      June 1564 — Shakspeare educated at the Free-school of
      Stratford — State of Education, and of Juvenile Literature
      in the Country at this period — Extent of Shakspeare's
      acquirements as a Scholar.                               21


  CHAP. III.

    Shakspeare, after leaving School, follows his Father's Trade
      — Statement of Aubrey — Probably present in his Twelfth
      Year at Kenelworth, when Elizabeth visited the Earl of
      Leicester — Tradition of Aubrey concerning him — Whether
      there is reason to suppose that, after leaving his Father,
      he was placed in an Attorney's Office, who was likewise
      Seneschal or Steward of some Manor — Anecdotes of
      Shakspeare — Allusions in his Works to Barton, Wilnecotte,
      and Barston, Villages in Warwickshire — Earthquake in
      1580 alluded to — Whether, after leaving School, he
      acquired any Knowledge of the French and Italian
      languages.                                               34


  CHAP. IV.

    Shakspeare married to Anne Hathaway — Account of the Hathaways
      — Cottage at Shottery — Birth of his eldest Child,
      Susanna — Hamnet and Judith baptized — Anecdote of
      Shakspeare — Shakspeare apparently settled in the
      Country.                                                 59


  CHAP. V.

    A View of Country-Life during the Age of Shakspeare — Its
      _Manners and Customs_ — Rural Characters; the
      Country-Gentleman — the Country-Coxcomb — the
      Country-Clergyman — the Country-Schoolmaster — the Farmer
      or Yeoman, his Mode of Living — the Huswife, her Domestic
      Economy — the Farmer's Heir — the Poor Copyholder — the
      Downright Clown, or Plain Country-Boor.                  68


  CHAP. VI.

    A View of Country-Life during the Age of Shakspeare — _Manners
      and Customs continued_ — Rural Holidays and Festivals;
      New-Year's Day — Twelfth Day — Rock-Day — Plough-Monday
      — Shrove-tide — Easter-tide — Hock-tide — May-Day —
      Whitsuntide — Ales; Leet-ale — Lamb-ale — Bride-ale —
      Clerk-ale — Church-ale — Whitsun-ale — Sheep-shearing
      Feast — Candlemas-Day — Harvest-Home — Seed-cake Feast
      — Martinmas — Christmas.                              123


  CHAP. VII.

    A View of Country-Life during the Age of Shakspeare — _Manners
      and Customs_, continued — Wakes — Fairs — Weddings —
      Christenings — Burials.                                209


  CHAP. VIII.

    View of Country-Life during the Age of Shakspeare, continued —
      _Diversions_ — The Itinerant Stage — Cotswold Games —
      Hawking — Hunting — Fowling — Fishing — Horse-racing —
      The Quintaine — The Wild-goose Chase — Hurling —
      Shovel-board — Juvenile Sports — Barley-breake —
      Parish-Top.                                             246


  CHAP. IX.

    View of Country-Life during the Age of Shakspeare, continued
      — An Account of some of its _Superstitions_; Winter-Night's
      Conversation — Peculiar Periods devoted to Superstition —
      St. Paul's Day — St. Swithen's Day — St. Mark's Day —
      Childermas — St. Valentine's Day — Midsummer-Eve —
      Michaelmas — All Hallow-Eve — St. Withold — Omens —
      Charms — Sympathies — Superstitious Cures — Miscellaneous
      Superstitions.                                          314


  CHAP. X.

    Biography of Shakspeare resumed — His Irregularities —
      Deer-stealing in Sir Thomas Lucy's Park — Account of the
      Lucy family — Daisy-hill, the Keeper's Lodge, where
      Shakspeare was confined, on the Charge of stealing Deer —
      Shakspeare's Revenge — Ballad on Lucy — Severe Prosecution
      by Sir Thomas — never forgotten by Shakspeare — this
      Cause, and probably also Debt, as his Father was now in
      reduced Circumstances, induced him to leave the Country for
      London about 1586 — Remarks on this Removal.           401


  PART II.

  SHAKSPEARE IN LONDON.


  CHAP. I.

    Shakspeare's Arrival in London about the Year 1586, when
      twenty-two Years of Age — Leaves his Family at Stratford,
      visiting them occasionally — His Introduction to the Stage
      — His Merits as an Actor.                              413


  CHAP. II.

    Shakspeare commences a Writer of Poetry, probably about the
      year 1587, by the composition of his Venus and Adonis —
      Historical Outline of Polite Literature, during the Age of
      Shakspeare — General passion for Letters — Bibliography
      — Shakspeare's Attachment to Books — Philology —
      Criticism — Shakspeare's Progress in both — History,
      general, local, and personal, Shakspeare's Acquaintance with
      — Miscellaneous Literature.                            426


  CHAP. III.

    View of Romantic Literature during the Age of Shakspeare —
      Shakspeare's Attachment to, and Use of, Romances, Tales,
      and Ballads.                                            518


  CHAP. IV.

    View of Miscellaneous Poetry during the same period.      594


[Illustration: _Five genuine Autographs of Shakspeare_

_N{o}. 1 is from Shakspeare's Mortgage 1612-13._

      _2 is from M{r}. Malone's plate II. N{o}. X._

      _3 is from the first brief of Shakspeare's Will._

      _4 is from the second brief of the Will._

      _5 is from the third brief of the Will._]




SHAKSPEARE AND HIS TIMES.




PART I.

_SHAKSPEARE IN STRATFORD._




CHAPTER I.

BIRTH OF SHAKSPEARE—HIS FAMILY—THE ORTHOGRAPHY OF HIS NAME.


William Shakspeare, the object almost of our idolatry as a dramatic
poet, was born at Stratford-upon-Avon, in Warwickshire, on the 23d of
April, 1564, and he was baptized on the 26th of the same month.

Of his family, not much that is certain can be recorded; but it would
appear, from an instrument in the College of Heralds, confirming
the grant of a coat of arms to John Shakspeare in 1599, that his
great grandfather had been rewarded by Henry the Seventh, "for his
faithefull and approved service, with lands and tenements given to
him in those parts of Warwickshire, where," proceeds this document,
"they have continued by some descents in good reputation and credit."
Notwithstanding this assertion, however, no such grant, after a minute
examination, made by Mr. Malone in the chapel of the Rolls, has been
discovered; whence we have reason to infer, that the heralds have been
mistaken in their statement, and that the bounty of the monarch was
directed through a different channel. From the language, indeed, of two
rough draughts of a prior grant of arms to John Shakspeare in 1596,
it is probable that the service alluded to was of a military cast, for
it is there expressly said, that he was rewarded "for his faithful and
_valiant_ service," a term, perhaps, implying the heroism of our poet's
ancestor in the field of Bosworth.

That the property, thus bestowed upon the family of Shakspeare,
descended to John, the father of the poet, and contributed to his
influence and respectability, there is no reason to doubt. From the
register, indeed, and public writings relating to Stratford, Mr.
Rowe has justly inferred, that the Shakspeares were of good figure
and fashion there, and were considered as gentlemen. We may presume,
however, that the patrimony of Mr. John Shakspeare, the parent of our
great dramatist, was not very considerable, as he found the profits of
business necessary to his support. He was, in fact, a wool-stapler,
and, there is reason to suppose, in a large way; for he was early
chosen a member of the corporation of his town, a situation usually
connected with respectable circumstances, and soon after, he filled the
office of high bailiff or chief magistrate of that body. The record of
these promotions has been thus given from the books of the corporation.

"Jan. 10, in the 6th year of the reign of our sovereign lady Queen
Elizabeth, John Shakspeare passed his Chamberlain's accounts."

"At the Hall holden the eleventh day of September, in the eleventh year
of the reign of our sovereign lady Elizabeth, 1569, were present Mr.
John Shakspeare, High Bailiff."[2:A]

It was during the period of his filling this important office, that
he first obtained a grant of arms; and, in a note annexed to the
subsequent patent of 1596, now in the College of Arms[2:B], it is
stated that he was likewise a justice of the peace, and possessed of
lands and tenements to the amount of 500_l._ The final confirmation
of this grant took place in 1599, in which his shield and coat are
described to be, _In a field of gould upon a bend sable, a speare of
the first, the poynt upward, hedded argent_; and for his crest or
cognisance, _A falcon with his wyngs displayed, standing on a wrethe of
his coullers, supporting a speare armed hedded, or steeled sylver_.[3:A]

Mr. John Shakspeare married, though in what year is not accurately
known, the daughter and heir of Robert Arden, of Wellingcote, in the
county of Warwick, who is termed, in the Grant of Arms of 1596, "a
gentleman of worship." The Arden, or Ardern family, appears to have
been of considerable antiquity; for, in Fuller's Worthies, Rob. Arden
de Bromwich, ar. is among the names of the gentry of this county
returned by the commissioners in the twelfth year of King Henry the
Sixth, 1433; and in the eleventh and sixteenth years of Elizabeth, A.
D. 1562 and 1568, Sim. Ardern, ar. and Edw. Ardrn, ar. are enumerated,
by the same author, among the sheriffs of Warwickshire.[3:B] It is well
known that the woodland part of this county was formerly denominated
Ardern, though, for the sake of euphony, frequently softened towards
the close of the sixteenth century, into the smoother appellation of
Arden; hence it is not improbable, that the supposition of Mr. Jacob,
who reprinted, in 1770, the Tragedy of Arden of Feversham, a play
which was originally published in 1592, may be correct; namely that
Shakspeare, the poet, was _descended by the female line_ from the
unfortunate individual whose tragical death is the subject of this
drama; for though the name of this gentleman was originally Ardern, he
seems early to have experienced the fate of the county district, and to
have had his surname harmonized by a similar omission. In consequence
of this marriage, Mr. John Shakspeare and his posterity were allowed,
by the College of Heralds, to impale their arms with the ancient arms
of the Ardrns of Wellingcote.[3:C]

Of the issue of John Shakspeare by this connection, the accounts
are contradictory and perplexed; nor is it absolutely ascertained,
whether he had only one wife, or whether he might not have had two,
or even three. Mr. Rowe, whose narrative has been usually followed,
has given him _ten_ children, among whom he considers _William_ the
poet, as the _eldest_ son.[4:A] The Register, however, of the parish
of Stratford-upon-Avon, which commences in 1558, is incompatible with
this statement; for, we there find _eleven_ children ascribed to John
Shakspeare, _ten_ baptized, and _one_, the baptism of which had taken
place before the commencement of the Register, buried.[4:B] The dates
of these baptisms, and of two or three other events, recorded in
this Register, it will be necessary, for the sake of elucidation, to
transcribe:

    "_Jone_, daughter of John Shakspere, was baptized Sept. 15,
    1558.

    "_Margaret_, daughter of John Shakspere, was buried April 30,
    1563.

    "WILLIAM, son of John Shakspere, was baptized April 26, 1564.

    "_Gilbert_, son of John Shakspere, was baptized Oct. 3, 1566.

    "_Jone_[4:C], daughter of John Shakspere, was baptized April
    15, 1569.

    "_Anne_, daughter of Mr. John Shakspere, was baptized Sept. 28,
    1571.

    "_Richard_, son of Mr. John Shakspere, was baptized March 11,
    1573-4.

    "_Edmund_, son of Mr. John Shakspere, was baptized May 3, 1580.

    "_John Shakspere_ and Margery Roberts were married Nov. 25,
    1584.

    "_Margery_, wife of John Shakspere, was buried Oct. 29, 1587.

    "_Ursula_, daughter of John Shakspere, was baptized March 11,
    1588.

    "_Humphrey_, son of John Shakspere, was baptized May 24, 1590.

    "_Philip_, son of John Shakspere, was baptized Sept. 21, 1591.

    "Mr. _John Shakspere_ was buried Sept. 8, 1601.

    "_Mary Shakspere_, widow, was buried Sept. 9, 1608."

Now it is evident, that if the ten children which were baptized,
according to this Register, between the years 1558 and 1591, are to
be ascribed to the father of our poet, he must necessarily have had
_eleven_, in consequence of the record of the decease of his daughter
Margaret. He must also have had three wives, for we find his second
wife, Margery, died in 1587, and the death of a third, Mary, a widow,
is noticed in 1608.

It was suggested to Mr. Malone[5:A], that very probably, Mr. John
Shakspeare had a son born to him, as well as a daughter, before the
commencement of the Register, and that this his eldest son, was, as is
customary, named after his father, John; a supposition which, (as no
other child was baptized by the Christian name of the old gentleman,)
carries some credibility with it, and was subsequently acquiesced in by
Mr. Malone himself.

In this case, therefore, the marriage recorded in the Register, is that
of John Shakspeare the _younger_ with Margery Roberts, and the three
children born between 1588 and 1591, Ursula, Humphrey, and Philip, the
issue of this John, not by the first, but by a second marriage; for as
Margery Shakspeare died in 1587, and Ursula was baptized in 1588-9,
these children must have been by the Mary Shakspeare, whose death is
mentioned as occurring in 1608, and as she is there denominated a
_widow_; the younger John must consequently have died before that date.

The result of _this_ arrangement will be, that the father of our poet
had only _nine_ children, and that WILLIAM was not the eldest, but the
_second_ son.

On either plan, however, the account of Mr. Rowe is equally inaccurate;
and as the introduction of an elder son involves a variety of
suppositions, and at the same time nothing improbable is attached to
the consideration of this part of the Register in the light in which it
usually appears, that is, as allusive solely to the father, it will,
we think, be the better and the safer mode, to rely upon it, according
to its more direct and literal import. This determination will be
greatly strengthened by reflecting, that old Mr. Shakspeare was, on the
authority of the last instrument granting him a coat of arms, living
in 1599; that on the testimony of the Register, taken in the common
acceptation, he was not buried until September 1601; and that in no
part of the same document is the epithet _younger_ annexed to the name
of John Shakspeare, a mark of distinction which there is every reason
to suppose would have been introduced, had the father and a son of the
same Christian name been not only living at the same time in the same
town, but the latter likewise a parent.

That the circumstances of Mr. John Shakspeare were, at the period
of his marriage, and for several years afterwards, if not affluent,
yet easy and respectable, there is every reason to suppose, from
his having filled offices of the first trust and importance in his
native town; but, from the same authority which has induced us to draw
this inference, another of a very different kind, with regard to a
subsequent portion of his life, may with equal confidence be taken. In
the books of the corporation of Stratford it is stated, that—

"At the hall holden Nov. 19th, in the 21st year of the reign of our
sovereign lady Queen Elizabeth, it is ordained, that every Alderman
shall be taxed to pay weekly 4_d._, saving _John Shakspeare_ and Robert
Bruce, who shall not be taxed to pay any thing; and every burgess to
pay 2_d._" Again,

"At the hall holden on the 6th day of September, in the 28th year of
our sovereign lady Queen Elizabeth:

"At this hall William Smith and Richard Courte are chosen to be
Aldermen in the places of John Wheler and John Shakspeare, for that Mr.
Wheler doth desire to be put out of the company, and Mr. Shakspeare
doth not come to the halls, when they be warned, nor hath not done of
long time."[6:A]

The conclusion to be drawn from these memoranda must unavoidably be,
that, in 1579, ten years after he had served the office of High
Bailiff, his situation, in a pecuniary light, was so much reduced,
that, on this account, he was excused the weekly payment of 4_d._; and
that, in 1586, the same distress still subsisting, and perhaps in an
aggravated degree, he was, on the plea of non-attendance, dismissed the
corporation.

The causes of this unhappy change in his circumstances cannot now,
with the exception of the burthen of a large and increasing family, be
ascertained; but it is probable, that to this period is to be referred,
if there be any truth in the tradition, the report of Aubrey, that
"William Shakspeare's father was a butcher." This anecdote, he affirms,
was received from the neighbours of the bard, and, on this account,
merits some consideration.[7:A]

We are indebted to Mr. Howe for the first intimation concerning the
trade of John Shakspeare; his declaration, derived also from tradition,
that he was a "considerable dealer in wool," appears confirmed by
subsequent research. From a window in a room of the premises which
originally formed part of the house at Stratford, in which Shakspeare
the poet was born, and a part of which premises has for many years been
occupied as a public-house, with the sign of the Swan and Maidenhead,
a pane of glass was taken, about five and forty years ago, by Mr.
Peyton, the then master of the adjoining Inn called The White Lion.
This pane, now in the possession of his son, is nearly six inches in
diameter, and perfect, and on it are painted the arms of the merchants
of the wool-staple—_Nebule on a chief gules, a lion passant or_. It
appears, from the style in which it is finished, to have been executed
about the time of Shakspeare, the father, and is undoubtedly a strong
corroborative proof of the authenticity of Mr. Rowe's relation.[7:B]

These traditionary anecdotes, though apparently contradictory, may
easily admit of reconcilement, if we consider, that between the
employment of a wool-dealer, and a butcher, there is no small affinity;
"few occupations," observes Mr. Malone, "can be named which are more
naturally connected with each other."[8:A] It is highly probable,
therefore, that during the period of John Shakspeare's distress, which
we know to have existed in 1579, when our poet was but fifteen years of
age, he might have had recourse to this more humble trade, as in many
circumstances connected with his customary business, and as a great
additional means of supporting a very numerous family.

That the necessity for this union, however, did not exist towards the
latter part of his life, there is much reason to imagine, both from the
increasing reputation and affluence of his son William, and from the
fact of his applying to the College of Heralds, in 1596 and 1599, for
a grant of arms; events, of which the first, considering the character
of the poet, must almost necessarily have led to, and the second
directly pre-supposes, the possession of comparative competence and
respectability.

The only remaining circumstance which time has spared us, relative to
the personal conduct of John Shakspeare, is, that there appears some
foundation to believe that, a short time previous to his death, he
made a confession of his faith, or spiritual will; a document still
in existence, the discovery and history of which, together with the
declaration itself, will not improperly find a place at the close of
this commencing chapter of our work.

About the year 1770, a master-bricklayer, of the name of Mosely, being
employed by Mr. Thomas Hart, the fifth in descent, in a direct line,
from the poet's sister, Joan Hart, to new-tile the house in which he
then lived, and which is supposed to be that under whose roof the bard
was born, found hidden between the rafters and the tiling of the house,
a manuscript, consisting of six leaves, stitched together, in the
form of a small book. This manuscript Mosely, who bore the character
of an honest and industrious man, gave (without asking or receiving
any recompense) to Mr. Peyton, an alderman of Stratford; and this
gentleman very kindly sent it to Mr. Malone, through the medium of
the Rev. Mr. Davenport, vicar of Stratford. It had, however, previous
to this transmission, unfortunately been deprived of the first leaf,
a deficiency which was afterwards supplied by the discovery, that
Mosely, who had now been dead about two years, had copied a great
portion of it, and from his transcription the introductory parts were
supplied.[9:A] The daughter of Mosely and Mr. Hart, who were both
living in the year 1790, agreed in a perfect recollection of the
circumstances attending the discovery of this curious document, which
consists of the following fourteen articles.


1.

"In the name of God, the Father, Sonne and Holy Ghost, the most holy
and blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of God, the holy host of archangels,
angels, patriarchs, prophets, evangelists, apostles, saints, martyrs,
and all the celestial court and company of heaven: I John Shakspear,
an unworthy member of the holy Catholic religion, being at this my
present writing in perfect health of body, and sound mind, memory,
and understanding, but calling to mind the uncertainty of life and
certainty of death, and that I may be possibly cut off in the blossome
of my sins, and called to render an account of all my transgressions
externally and internally, and that I may be unprepared for the
dreadful trial either by sacrament, pennance, fasting, or prayer, or
any other purgation whatever, do in the holy presence above specified,
of my own free and voluntary accord, make and ordaine this my last
spiritual will, testament, confession, protestation, and confession of
faith, hopinge hereby to receive pardon for all my sinnes and offences,
and thereby to be made partaker of life everlasting, through the only
merits of Jesus Christ my saviour and redeemer, who took upon himself
the likeness of man, suffered death, and was crucified upon the crosse,
for the redemption of sinners.


2.

"_Item_, I John Shakspear doe by this present protest, acknowledge,
and confess, that in my past life I have been a most abominable and
grievous sinner, and therefore unworthy to be forgiven without a true
and sincere repentance for the same. But trusting in the manifold
mercies of my blessed Saviour and Redeemer, I am encouraged by relying
on his sacred word, to hope for salvation, and be made partaker of
his heavenly kingdom, as a member of the celestial company of angels,
saints, and martyrs, there to reside for ever and ever in the court of
my God.


3.

"_Item_, I John Shakspear doe by this present protest and declare,
that as I am certain I must passe out of this transitory life into
another that will last to eternity, I do hereby most humbly implore
and intreat my good and guardian angell to instruct me in this my
solemn preparation, protestation, and confession of faith, at least
spiritually, in will adoring and most humbly beseeching my Saviour,
that he will be pleased to assist me in so dangerous a voyage, to
defend me from the snares and deceites of my infernal enemies, and to
conduct me to the secure haven of his eternal blisse.


4.

"_Item_, I John Shakspear doe protest that I will also passe out of
this life, armed with the last sacrament of extreme unction: the which
if through any let or hindrance I should not then be able to have,
I doe now also for that time demand and crave the same; beseeching
his Divine Majesty that he will be pleased to anoynt my senses both
internall and externall with the sacred oyle of his infinite mercy,
and to pardon me all my sins committed by seeing, speaking, feeling,
smelling, hearing, touching, or by any other way whatsoever.


5.

"_Item_, I John Shakspear doe by this present protest, that I will
never through any temptation whatsoever despaire of the divine
goodness, for the multitude and greatness of my sinnes; for which,
although I confesse that I have deserved hell, yet will I steadfastly
hope in God's infinite mercy, knowing that he hath heretofore pardoned
many as great sinners as myself, whereof I have good warrant sealed
with his sacred mouth, in holy writ, whereby he pronounceth that he is
not come to call the just, but sinners.


6.

"_Item_, I John Shakspear do protest, that I do not know that I have
ever done any good worke meritorious of life everlasting: and if I have
done any, I do acknowledge that I have done it with a great deale of
negligence and imperfection; neither should I have been able to have
done the least without the assistance of his divine grace. Wherefore
let the devill remain confounded: for I doe in no wise presume to merit
heaven by such good workes alone, but through the merits and bloud of
my Lord and Saviour Jesus, shed upon the cross for me most miserable
sinner.


7.

"_Item_, I John Shakspear do protest by this present writing, that I
will patiently endure and suffer all kind of infirmity, sickness, yea,
and the paine of death itself: wherein if it should happen, which God
forbid, that through violence of paine and agony, or by subtilty of the
devill, I should fall into any impatience or temptation of blasphemy,
or murmuration against God, or the Catholic faith, or give any signe
of bad example, I do henceforth, and for that present, repent me, and
am most heartily sorry for the same: and I do renounce all the evill
whatsoever, which I might have then done or said; beseeching his divine
clemency that he will not forsake me in that grievous and paignefull
agony.


8.

"_Item_, I John Shakspear, by virtue of this present testament, I do
pardon all the injuries and offences that any one hath ever done unto
me, either in my reputation, life, goods, or any other way whatsoever;
beseeching sweet Jesus to pardon them for the same; and I do desire
that they will doe the like by me whome I have offended or injured in
any sort howsoever.


9.

"_Item_, I John Shakspear do here protest, that I do render infinite
thanks to his Divine Majesty for all the benefits that I have received,
as well secret as manifest, and in particular for the benefit of my
creation, redemption, sanctification, conservation, and vocation to the
holy knowledge of him and his true Catholic faith: but above all for
his so great expectation of me to pennance, when he might most justly
have taken me out of this life, when I least thought of it, yea, even
then, when I was plunged in the durty puddle of my sinnes. Blessed be
therefore and praised, for ever and ever, his infinite patience and
charity.


10.

"_Item_, I John Shakspear do protest, that I am willing, yea, I do
infinitely desire and humbly crave, that of this my last will and
testament the glorious and ever Virgin Mary, mother of God, refuge and
advocate of sinners, (whom I honour specially above all saints,) may be
the chiefe executresse, togeather with these other saints, my patrons,
(Saint Winefride,) all whome I invoke and beseech to be present at the
hour of my death, that she and they comfort me with their desired
presence, and crave of sweet Jesus that he will receive my soul into
peace.


11.

"_Item_, In virtue of this present writing, I John Shakspear do
likewise most willingly and with all humility constitute and ordaine my
good angell for defender and protector of my soul in the dreadfull day
of judgment, when the finall sentence of eternall life or death shall
be discussed and given: beseeching him that, as my soule was appointed
to his custody and protection when I lived, even so he will vouchsafe
to defend the same at that houre, and conduct it to eternall bliss.


12.

"_Item_, I John Shakspear do in like manner pray and beseech all my
dear friends, parents, and kinsfolks, by the bowells of our Saviour
Jesus Christ, that since it is uncertain what lot will befall me, for
fear notwithstanding least by reason of my sinnes I be to pass and stay
a long while in purgatory, they will vouchsafe to assist and succour
me with their holy prayers and satisfactory workes, especially with
the holy sacrifice of the masse, as being the most effectual means to
deliver soules from their torments and paines; from the which, if I
shall by God's gracious goodnesse, and by their vertuous workes, be
delivered, I do promise that I will not be ungratefull unto them for so
great a benefitt.


13.

"_Item_, I John Shakspear doe by this my last will and testament
bequeath my soul, as soon as it shall be delivered and loosened from
the prison of this my body, to be entombed in the sweet and amorous
coffin of the side of Jesus Christ; and that in this life-giving
sepulcher it may rest and live, perpetually enclosed in that eternall
habitation of repose, there to blesse for ever and ever that direful
iron of the launce, which, like a charge in a censore, formes so sweet
and pleasant a monument within the sacred breast of my Lord and Saviour.


14.

"_Item_, Lastly I John Shakspear doe protest, that I will willingly
accept of death in what manner soever it may befall me, conforming my
will unto the will of God; accepting of the same in satisfaction for my
sinnes, and giving thanks unto his Divine Majesty for the life he hath
bestowed upon me. And if it please him to prolong or shorten the same,
blessed be he also a thousand thousand times; into whose most holy
hands I commend my soul and body, my life and death: and I beseech him
above all things, that he never permit any change to be made by me John
Shakspear of this my aforesaid will and testament. Amen.

"I John Shakspeare have made this present writing of protestation,
confession, and charter, in presence of the blessed Virgin Mary, my
angell guardian, and all the celestial court, as witnesses hereunto:
the which my meaning is, that it be of full value now presently and for
ever, with the force and vertue of testament, codicill, and donation in
course of death; confirming it anew, being in perfect health of soul
and body, and signed with mine own hand; carrying also the same about
me, and for the better declaration hereof, my will and intention is
that it be finally buried with me after my death.

    "Pater noster, Ave maria, Credo.

    "Jesu, son of David, have mercy on me.—Amen."[14:A]

If the intention of the testator, as expressed in the close of this
will, were carried into effect, then, of course, the manuscript which
Mosely found, must necessarily have been a copy of that which was
buried in the grave of John Shakspeare.

Mr. Malone, to whom, in his edition of Shakspeare, printed in 1790, we
are indebted for this singular paper, and for the history attached to
it, observes, that he is unable to ascertain, whether it was drawn up
by John Shakspeare the father, or by John his _supposed_ eldest son;
but he says, "I have taken some pains to ascertain the authenticity
of this manuscript, and, after a very careful inquiry, am perfectly
satisfied that it is genuine."[15:A] In the "Inquiry," however, which
he published in 1796, relative to the Ireland papers, he has given
us, though without assigning any reasons for his change of opinion,
a very different result: "In my conjecture," he remarks, "concerning
the writer of that paper, I certainly was mistaken; for I have since
obtained documents that clearly prove it could not have been the
composition of any one of our poet's family."[15:B]

In the "Apology" of Mr. George Chalmers "for the Believers in the
Shakspeare-Papers," which appeared in the year subsequent to Mr.
Malone's "Inquiry," a new light is thrown upon the origin of this
confession. "From the sentiment, and the language, this confession
appears to be," says this gentleman, "the effusion of a Roman Catholic
mind, and was probably drawn up by some Roman Catholic priest.[15:C]
If these premises be granted, it will follow, as a fair deduction,
that the family of Shakspeare were Roman Catholics; a circumstance
this, which is wholly consistent with what Mr. Malone is now studious
to inculcate, viz. "that this confession could not have been the
composition of any of our poet's family." The thoughts, the language,
the orthography, all demonstrate the truth of my conjecture, though Mr.
Malone did not perceive this truth, when he first published this paper
in 1790. But, it was the performance of a _clerke_, the undoubted work
of the family-priest. The conjecture, that Shakspeare's family were
Roman Catholics, is strengthened by the fact, that his father declined
to attend the corporation meetings, and was at last removed from the
corporate body."[16:A]

This conjecture of Mr. Chalmers appears to us in its leading points
very plausible; for that the father of our poet might be a Roman
Catholic is, if we consider the very unsettled state of his times with
regard to religion, not only a possible but a probable supposition: in
which case, it would undoubtedly have been the office of the spiritual
director of the family to have drawn up such a paper as that which
we have been perusing. It was the fashion also of the period, as Mr.
Chalmers has subsequently observed, to draw up confessions of religious
faith, a fashion honoured in the observance by the great names of
Lord Bacon, Lord Burghley, and Archbishop Parker[16:B]. That he
declined, however, attending the corporation-meetings of Stratford from
religious motives, and that his removal from that body was the result
of non-attendance from _such a cause_, cannot readily be admitted;
for we have clearly seen that his defection was owing to pecuniary
difficulties; nor is it, in the least degree, probable that, after
having honourably filled the highest offices in the corporation without
scruple, he should at length, and in a reign too popularly protestant,
incur expulsion from an avowed motive of this kind; especially as we
have reason to suppose, from the mode in which this profession was
concealed, that the tenets of the person whose faith it declares, were
cherished in secret.

From an accurate inspection of the hand-writing of this will, Mr.
Malone infers that it cannot be attributed to an earlier period than
the year 1600[16:C], whence it follows that, if dictated by, or drawn
up at the desire of, John Shakspeare, his death soon sealed the
confession of his faith; for, according to the register, he was buried
on September 8th, 1601.

Such are the very few circumstances which reiterated research has
hitherto gleaned relative to the father of our poet; circumstances
which, as being intimately connected with the history and character
of his son, have acquired an interest of no common nature. Scanty as
they must be pronounced, they lead to the conclusion that he was a
moral and industrious man; that when fortune favoured him, he was not
indolent, but performed the duties of a magistrate with respectability
and effect, and that in the hour of adversity he exerted every nerve to
support with decency a numerous family.

Before we close this chapter, it may be necessary to state, that the
very orthography of the name of Shakspeare has occasioned much dispute.
Of Shakspeare the father, no autograph exists; but the _poet_ has left
us several, and from these, and from the monumental inscriptions of
his family, must the question be decided; the latter, as being of the
least authority, we shall briefly mention, as exhibiting, in Dugdale,
three varieties,—_Shakespeare_; _Shakespere_, and _Shakspeare_. The
former present us with _five_ specimens which, singular as it may
appear, all vary, either in the mode of writing, or mode of spelling.
The first is annexed to a mortgage executed by the poet in 1613, and
appears thus, _W{m} Shakspe{a}_: the second is from a deed of bargain
and sale, relative to the same transaction, and of the same period, and
signed, _William Shaksper̄_: the third, fourth, and fifth are taken from
the _Will_ of Shakspeare executed in March 1616, consisting of three
_briefs_ or sheets, to each of which his name is subscribed. These
signatures, it is remarkable, differ considerably, especially in the
surnames; for in the first brief we find _William Shackspere_; in the
second, _Willm Shakspe re_, and in the third, _William Shakspeare_.
It has been supposed, however, that, according to the practice in
Shakspeare's time, the name in the first sheet was written by the
scrivener who drew the will.

In the year 1790, Mr. Malone, from an inspection of the mortgage,
pronounced the genuine orthography to be _Shakspeare_[17:A]; in 1796,
from consulting the deed of sale, he altered his opinion, and declared
that the poet's own mode of spelling his name was, beyond a possibility
of doubt, that of _Shakspere_, though for reasons which he should
assign in a subsequent publication, he should still continue to write
the name _Shakspeare_.[18:A]

To this decision, relative to the genuine orthography, Mr. Chalmers
cannot accede; and for this reason, that, "when the testator subscribed
his name, for the _last time_, he _plainly_ wrote Shakspe_a_re."[18:B]

It is obvious, therefore, that the controversy turns upon, whether
there be, or be not, an _a_ introduced in the second syllable of
the last signature of the poet. Mr. Malone, on the suggestion of an
anonymous correspondent, thinks that there is not, this gentleman
having clearly shown him, "that though there was a superfluous stroke
when the poet came to write the letter _r_ in his last signature,
probably from the tremor of his hand, there was no _a_ discoverable in
that syllable; and that this name, like both the other, was written
_Shakspere_."[18:C]

From the annexed plate of autographs, which is copied from Mr.
Chalmers's Apology, and presents us with very perfect fac-similes
of the signatures, it is at once evident, that the assertion of the
anonymous correspondent, that the last signature, "_like both the
other_, was written Shakspere," cannot be correct; for the surname in
the first brief is written Sha_c_kspere, and, in the second, Shakspe
re. Now the _hiatus_ in this second signature is unaccounted for in the
fac-simile given by Mr. Malone[18:D]; but in the plate of Mr. Chalmers
it is found to have been occasioned by the intrusion of the word _the_
of the _preceding line_, a circumstance which, very probably, might
prevent the introduction of the controverted letter. It is likewise,
we think, very evident that something more than _a superfluous stroke_
exists between the _e_ and _r_ of the last signature, and that the
variation is, indeed, too material to have originated from any
supposed tremor of the hand.

Upon the whole, it may, we imagine, be safely reposed on as a fact,
that Shakspeare was not uniform in the orthography of his own name;
that he sometimes spelt it _Shakspere_ and sometimes _Shakspeare_;
but that no other variation is extant which can claim a similar
authority.[19:A] It is, therefore, nearly a matter of indifference
which of _these two_ modes of spelling we adopt; yet, as his last
signature appears to have included the letter _a_, it may, for the sake
of consistency, be proper silently to acquiesce in its admission.


FOOTNOTES:

[2:A] Communicated to Mr. Malone by the Rev. Mr. Davenport, vicar of
Stratford-upon-Avon.

[2:B] Vincent, vol. clvii. p. 24.

[3:A] See the instrument, at full length, Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p.
146, edit. of 1803.

[3:B] The History of the Worthies of England, part iii. fol. 131, 132.

[3:C] See Shakspeare's coat of arms, Reed's Shaksp. vol. i. p. 146.

[4:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 58, 59.

[4:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 133.

[4:C] "It was common in the age of Queen Elizabeth to give the same
Christian name to two children successively. This was undoubtedly
done in the present instance. The former Jone having probably died,
(though I can find no entry of her burial in the Register, nor indeed
of many of the other children of John Shakspeare) the name of Jone, a
very favourite one in those days, was transferred to another new-born
child."—Malone from Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 134.

[5:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 136.

[6:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 58.

[7:A] MS. Aubrey, Mus. Ashmol. Oxon. Lives, p. 1. fol. 78, a. (Inter
Cod. Dugdal.) Vide Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iii. p. 213.

[7:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iii. p. 214. and Ireland's Picturesque
Views on the Upper or Warwickshire Avon, p. 190, 191. Since this
passage was written, however, the proof which it was supposed to
contain, has been completely annihilated. "If John Shakspeare's
occupation in life," observes Mr. Wheeler, "want confirmation, this
circumstance will unfortunately not answer such a purpose; for old
Thomas Hart constantly declared that his great uncle, Shakspeare Hart,
a glazier of this town, who had the new glazing of the chapel windows,
where it is known, from Dugdale, that such a shield existed, brought it
from thence, and introduced it into his own window."—Wheeler's Guide
to Stratford, pp. 13, 14.

[8:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iii. p. 214.

[9:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iii. p. 197, 198.

[14:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iii. p. 199. et seq.

[15:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iii. p. 197.

[15:B] Malone's Inquiry, p. 198, 199.

[15:C] As a specimen, let us take the beginning of this declaration
of faith, and see still stronger terms in the conclusion of this
protestation, _confession_, and charter.

[16:A] "The place too, the roof of the house where this confession was
found, proves, that it had been therein concealed, during times of
persecution, for the holy Catholick religion." Apology, p. 198, 199.

[16:B] Chalmers's Apology, p. 200.

[16:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iii. p. 198.

[17:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 149.

[18:A] Malone's Inquiry, p. 120

[18:B] Chalmers's Apology, p. 235.

[18:C] Malone's Inquiry, p. 117, 118.

[18:D] Inquiry, Plate II. No. 12.

[19:A] A want of uniformity in the spelling of names, was a species of
negligence very common in the time of Shakspeare, and may be observed,
remarks Mr. Chalmers, "with regard to the principal poets of that age;
as we may see in _England's Parnassus_, a collection of poetry which
was published in 1600: thus,

  S_y_dney        S_i_dney.
  Spen_s_er       Spen_c_er.
  Jonson          Johnson         Jhonson.
  Dekker          Dekkar.
  Markeham        Markham.
  Sylv_i_ster     Sylv_e_ster     S_i_lvester.
  Sackwill        Sackuil.
  Fitz Geffrey    Fitzjeffry      Fitz Jeffr_a_y.
  France          Fraunce.
  Mid_l_eton      Mid_d_leton.
  G_u_ilpin       G_i_lpin.
  Achelly         Achely          Achilly            Achillye.
  Dra_y_ton       Dra_i_ton.
  Danie_l_        Daniel_l_.
  Dav_i_s         Davi_e_s.
  Marlo_w_        Marlo_we_.
  M_a_rston       M_u_rston.
  Fair_e_fax      Fa_ir_fax.
  K_i_d           K_y_d.

Yet, it is remarkable, that in this collection of diversities, our
dramatist's name is uniformly spelt Shakespeare: in whatever manner
this celebrated name may have been pronounced in Warwickshire, it
certainly was spoken in London, with the _e_ soft, thus, Shak_e_speare:
in the registers of the Stationers' Company, it is written,
Shakes_pere_, and Shakes_peare_." Chalmers's Supplemental Apology, p.
129, 130.

A curious proof of the uncertain orthography of the poet's surname
among his contemporaries and immediate successors, may be drawn from
a pamphlet, entitled, "The great Assizes holden in Parnassus by
Apollo and his Assessours: at which Sessions are arraigned, Mercurius
Britannicus, &c. &c. London: Printed by Richard Cotes for Edward
Husbands, and are to be sold at his shop in the Middle Temple. 1645.
qto. 25 leaves."

In this rare tract, among the list of the jurors is found the name
of our bard, written William _Shakespeere_; and in the body of the
poem, it is given _Shakespeare_, and _Shakespear_. _Vide_ British
Bibliographer, vol. i. p. 513.




CHAPTER II.

    THE HOUSE IN WHICH SHAKSPEARE WAS BORN—PLAGUE AT STRATFORD,
    JUNE 1564—SHAKSPEARE EDUCATED AT THE FREE-SCHOOL OF
    STRATFORD—STATE OF EDUCATION, AND OF JUVENILE LITERATURE IN
    THE COUNTRY AT THIS PERIOD—EXTENT OF SHAKSPEARE'S ACQUIREMENTS
    AS A SCHOLAR.


The experience of the last half century has fully proved, that every
thing relative to the history of our immortal dramatist has been
received, and received justly too, by the public with an avidity
proportional to his increasing fame. What, if recorded of a less
celebrated character, might be deemed very uninteresting, immediately
acquires, when attached to the mighty name of Shakspeare, an importance
nearly unparalleled. No apology, therefore, can be necessary for the
introduction of any fact or circumstance, however minute, which is, in
the slightest degree, connected with his biography; tradition, indeed,
has been so sparing of her communications on this subject, that every
addition to her little store has been hitherto welcomed with the most
lively sensation of pleasure, nor will the attempt to collect and
embody these scattered fragments be unattended with its reward.

The birth-place of our poet, the spot where he drew the first breath of
life, where Fancy

    —— "fed the little prattler, and with songs
    Oft sooth'd his wond'ring ears,"

has been the object of laudable curiosity to thousands, and happily the
very roof that sheltered his infant innocence can still be pointed out.
It stands in Henley-street, and, though at present forming two separate
tenements, was originally but one house.[21:A] The premises are still
in possession of the Hart family, _now_ the _seventh_ descendants, in
a direct line, from Jone the sister of the poet. From the plate in
Reed's Shakspeare, which is a correct representation of the existing
state of this humble but interesting dwelling, it will appear, that
one portion of it is occupied by the Swan and Maidenhead public-house,
and the other by a butcher's shop, in which the son of old Mr. Thomas
Hart, mentioned in the last chapter, still carries on his father's
trade.[22:A] "The kitchen of this house," says Mr. Samuel Ireland, "has
an appearance sufficiently interesting, abstracted from its claim to
notice as relative to the Bard. It is a subject very similar to those
that so frequently employed the rare talents of Ostade, and therefore
cannot be deemed unworthy the pencil of an inferior artist. In the
corner of the chimney stood an old oak-chair, which had for a number
of years received nearly as many adorers as the celebrated shrine of
the Lady of Loretto. This relic was purchased, in July 1790, by the
Princess Czartoryska, who made a journey to this place, in order to
obtain intelligence relative to Shakspeare; and being told he had
often sat in this chair, she placed herself in it, and expressed an
ardent wish to become a purchaser; but being informed that it was not
to be sold at any price, she left a handsome gratuity to old Mrs. Hart,
and left the place with apparent regret. About four months after, the
anxiety of the Princess could no longer be withheld, and her secretary
was dispatched express, as the fit agent, to purchase this treasure at
any rate: the sum of twenty guineas was the price fixed on, and the
secretary and chair, with a proper certificate of its authenticity on
stamped paper, set off in a chaise for London."[23:A] The elder Mr.
Hart, who died about the year 1794, aged sixty-seven, informed Mr.
Samuel Ireland, that he well remembered, when a boy, having dressed
himself, with some of his playfellows, as Scaramouches (such was his
phrase), in the wearing-apparel of Shakspeare; an anecdote of which,
if we consider the lapse of time, it may be allowed us to doubt the
credibility, and to conclude that the recollection of Mr. Hart had
deceived him.

Little more than two months had passed over the head of the infant
Shakspeare, when he became exposed to danger of such an imminent kind,
that we have reason to rejoice he was not snatched from us even while
he lay in the cradle. He was born, as we have already recorded, on the
23d of April, 1564; and on the 30th of the June following, the plague
broke out at Stratford, the ravages of which dreadful disease were so
violent, that between this last date and the close of December, not
less than two hundred and thirty-eight persons perished; "of which
number," remarks Mr. Malone, "probably two hundred and sixteen died of
that malignant distemper; and one only of the whole number resided,
not in Stratford, but in the neighbouring town of Welcombe. From the
two hundred and thirty-seven inhabitants of Stratford, whose names
appear in the Register, twenty-one are to be subducted, who, it may
be presumed, would have died in six months, in the ordinary course of
nature; for in the five preceding years, reckoning, according to the
style of that time, from March 25. 1559, to March 25. 1564, two hundred
and twenty-one persons were buried at Stratford, of whom two hundred
and ten were townsmen: that is, of these latter, forty-two died each
year at an average. Supposing one in thirty-five to have died annually,
the total number of the inhabitants of Stratford at that period was one
thousand four hundred and seventy; and consequently the plague, in the
last six months of the year 1564, carried off more than a seventh part
of them. Fortunately for mankind it did not reach the house in which
the infant Shakspeare lay; for not one of that name appears in the dead
list. May we suppose, that, like Horace, he lay secure and fearless in
the midst of contagion and death, protected by the Muses, to whom his
future life was to be devoted, and covered over:—

        —————— "_sacrâ
    Lauroque, collataque myrto,
    Non sine Diis animosus infans_."[24:A]

It is now impossible to ascertain with any degree of certainty the mode
which was adopted in the education of this aspiring genius; all that
time has left us on the subject is, that he was sent, though but for
a short period, to the free-school of Stratford, a seminary founded in
the reign of Henry the Sixth, by the Rev. —— Jolepe, M. A., a native
of the town; and which, after sharing, at the general dissolution of
chantries, religious houses, &c. the usual fate, was restored and
patronised by Edward the Sixth, a short time previous to his death.
Here it was, that he acquired the _small Latin and less Greek_, which
Jonson has attributed to him, a mode of phraseology from which it must
be inferred, that he was at _least acquainted_ with _both_ languages;
and, perhaps, we may add, that he who has obtained some knowledge of
Greek, however slight, may, with little hesitation, be supposed to have
proceeded considerably beyond the limits of mere elementary instruction
in Latin.

At the period when Shakspeare was sent to school, the study of
the classical languages had made, since the era of the revival of
literature, a very rapid progress. Grammars and Dictionaries, by
various authors, had been published[25:A]; but the grammatical
institute then in general use, both in town and country, was the
Grammar of Henry the Eighth, which, by the order of Queen Elizabeth,
in her Injunctions of 1559, was admitted, to the exclusion of all
others: "Every schoolmaster," says the thirty-ninth Injunction,
"shall teach the grammar set forth by King Henrie the Eighth, of
noble memorie, and continued in the time of Edward the Sixth, and
_none other_;" and in the Booke of certain Cannons, 1571, it is again
directed, "that no other grammar shall be taught, but only that which
the Queen's Majestie hath commanded to be read in all schooles, through
the whole realm."

With the exception of Wolsey's _Rudimenta Grammatices_, printed in
1536, and taught in his school at Ipswich, and a similar work of
Collet's, established in his seminary in St. Paul's churchyard, this
was the grammar publicly and universally adopted, and without doubt the
instructor of Shakspeare in the language of Rome.

Another initiatory work, which we may almost confidently affirm him
to have studied under the tuition of the master of the free-school at
Stratford, was the production of one Ockland, and entitled ΕΙΡΗΝΑΡΧΙΑ,
_sive_ ELIZABETHA. The object of this book, which is written in Latin
verse, is to panegyrise the characters and government of Elizabeth and
her ministers, and it was, therefore, enjoined by authority to be read
as a classic in every grammar-school, and to be indelibly impressed
upon the memory of every young scholar in the kingdom; "a matchless
contrivance," remarks Bishop Hurd, "to imprint a sense of loyalty on
the minds of the people."[26:A]

To these school-books, to which, being introduced by compulsory edicts,
there is no doubt Shakspeare was indebted for some learning and much
loyalty, may be added, as another resource to which he was directed by
his master, the Dictionary of Syr Thomas Elliot, declaring Latin by
English, as greatly improved and enriched by Thomas Cooper in 1552.
This lexicon, the most copious and celebrated of its day, was received
into almost every school, and underwent numerous editions, namely,
in 1559, and in 1565, under the title of _Thesaurus Linguæ Romanæ et
Britannicæ_, and again in 1573, 1578, and 1584. Elizabeth not only
recommended the lexicon of Cooper, and professed the highest esteem
for him, in consequence of the great utility of his work toward the
promotion of classical literature, but she more substantially expressed
her opinion of his worth by promoting him to the deanery of Gloucester
in 1569, and to the bishoprics of Lincoln and Winchester in 1570 and
1584, at which latter see he died on the 29th of April, 1594.[27:A]

Thus far we may be allowed, on good grounds, to trace the very books
which were placed in the hands of Shakspeare, during his short
noviciate in classical learning; to proceed farther, would be to
indulge in mere conjecture, but we may add, and with every just reason
for the inference, that from these productions, and from the few
minor classics which he had time to study at this seminary, all that
the most precocious genius, at such a period of life, and under so
transient a direction of the mind to classic lore, could acquire, was
obtained.[27:B]

The universality of classical education about the era of 1575, when,
it is probable, Shakspeare had not long entered on the acquisitions
of the Latin elements, was such that no person of rank or property
could be deemed accomplished who had not been thoroughly imbued with
the learning and mythology of Greece and Rome. The knowledge which had
been previously confined to the clergy or professed scholars, became
now diffused among the nobility and gentry, and even influenced,
in a considerable degree, the minds and manners of the softer sex.
Elizabeth herself led the way in this career of erudition, and she was
soon followed by the ladies of her court, who were taught, as Warton
observes, not only to distil strong waters, but to construe Greek.[28:A]

The fashion of the court speedily became, to a certain extent, the
fashion of the country, and every individual possessed of a decent
competency, was solicitous that his children should acquire the
literature in vogue. Had the father of our poet continued in prosperous
circumstances, there is every reason to conclude that his son would
have had the opportunity of acquiring the customary erudition of
the times; but we have already seen, that in 1579 he was so reduced
in fortune, as to be excused a weekly payment of 4_d._, a state of
depression which had no doubt existed some time before it attracted the
notice of the corporation of Stratford.

One result therefore of these pecuniary difficulties was the removal of
young Shakspeare from the free-school, an event which has occasioned,
among his biographers and numerous commentators, much controversy and
conjecture as to the extent of his classical attainments.

From the short period which tradition allows us to suppose that our
poet continued under the instruction of a master, we have a right
to conclude that, notwithstanding his genius and industry, he must
necessarily have made a very superficial acquaintance with the learned
languages. That he was called home to assist his father, we are told
by Mr. Rowe; and consequently, as the family was numerous and under
the pressure of poverty, it is not likely that he found much time to
prosecute what he had commenced at school. The accounts, therefore,
which have descended to us, on the authority of Ben Jonson, Drayton,
Suckling, &c. that he had not much learning, that he depended almost
exclusively on his _native_ genius, (_that his Latin was small and his
Greek less_,) ought to have been, without scruple, admitted. Fuller,
who was a diligent and accurate enquirer, has given us in his Worthies,
printed in 1662, the most full and express opinion on the subject.
"He was an eminent instance," he remarks, "of the truth of that rule,
_Poeta non fit, sed nascitur_; one is not _made_ but _born_ a poet.
Indeed his learning was _very little_, so that as _Cornish diamonds_
are not polished by any lapidary, but are pointed and smoothed even as
they are taken out of the earth, so _nature_ itself was all the _art_
which was used upon him."[29:A]

Notwithstanding this uniform assertion of the contemporaries and
immediate successors of Shakspeare, relative to his very imperfect
knowledge of the languages of Greece and Rome, many of his modern
commentators have strenuously insisted upon his intimacy with both,
among whom may be enumerated, as the most zealous and decided on this
point, the names of Gildon, Sewell, Pope, Upton, Grey, and Whalley.
The dispute, however, has been nearly, if not altogether terminated,
by the _Essay_ of Dr. Farmer _on the Learning of Shakspeare_, who has,
by a mode of research equally ingenious and convincing, clearly proved
that all the passages which had been triumphantly brought forward as
instances of the classical literature of Shakspeare, were taken from
translations, or from original, and once popular, productions in his
native tongue. Yet the _conclusion_ drawn from this essay, so far as
it respects the portion of latinity which our poet had acquired and
preserved, as the result of his school-education, appears to us greatly
too restricted. "_He remembered_," says the Doctor, "_perhaps enough
of his school-boy learning to put the Hig, hag, hog, into the mouth
of Sir Hugh Evans_:" and might pick up in the writers of the time, or
the course of his conversation, a familiar phrase or two of French or
Italian: but his studies were most demonstratively confined to nature
and his own language.[30:A]

A very late writer, in combating this part of the _conclusion_ of Dr.
Farmer, has advanced an opinion in several respects so similar to our
own, that it will be necessary, in justice to him and previous to
any further expansion of the idea which we have embraced, to quote
his words. "Notwithstanding," says he, "Dr. Farmer's essay on the
deficiency of Shakspeare in learning, I must acknowledge myself to be
one who does not conceive that his proofs of that fact sufficiently
warrant his conclusions from them: 'that his _studies_ were
demonstrably confined to nature and his own language' is, as Dr. Farmer
concludes, true enough; but when it is added, 'that he only picked
up in conversation a familiar phrase or two of French, or remembered
enough of his school-boy's learning to put _hig, hag, hog_, in the
mouths of others:' he seems to me to go beyond any evidence produced
by him of so little knowledge of languages in Shakspeare. He proves
indeed sufficiently, that Shakspeare chiefly read English books, by his
copying sometimes minutely the very errors made in them, many of which
he might have corrected, if he had consulted the original Latin books
made use of by those writers: but this does not prove that he was not
able to read Latin well enough to examine those originals if he chose;
it only proves his indolence and indifference about accuracy in minute
articles of no importance to the chief object in view of supplying
himself with subjects for dramatic compositions. Do we not every day
meet with numberless instances of similar and much greater oversights
by persons well skilled in Greek as well as Latin, and professed
critics also of the writings and abilities of others? If Shakspeare
made an ignorant man pronounce the French word _bras_ like the English
_brass_, and evidently on purpose, as being a probable mistake by
such an unlearned speaker; has not one learned modern in writing
Latin made _Paginibus_ of _Paginis_, and another mentioned a person
as being born in the reign of Charles the First, and yet as dying in
1600, full twenty-five years before the accession of that king? Such
mistakes arise not from ignorance, but a heedless inattention, while
their thoughts are better occupied with more important subjects; as
those of Shakspeare were with forming his plots and his characters,
instead of examining critically a great Greek volume to see whether he
ought to write _on this side of Tiber or on that side of Tiber_; which
however very possibly he might not be able to read; but Latin was more
universally learnt in that age, and even by women, many of whom could
both write and speak it; therefore it is not likely that he should
be so very deficient in that language, as some would persuade us, by
evidence which does not amount to sufficient proofs of the fact. Nay,
even although he had a sufficiency of Latin to understand any Latin
book, if he chose to do it, yet how many in modern times, under the
same circumstances, are led by mere indolence to prefer translations of
them, in case they cannot read Latin with such perfect ease, as never
to be at a loss for the meaning of a word, so as to be forced to read
some sentences twice over before they can understand them rightly. That
Shakspeare was not an eminent Latin scholar may be very true, but that
he was so totally ignorant as to know nothing more than _hic, hæc,
hoc_, must have better proofs before I can be convinced."[31:A]

The truth seems to be, that Shakspeare, like most boys who have spent
but two or three years at a grammar-school, acquired just as much
Latin as would enable him, with the assistance of a lexicon, and no
little share of assiduity, to construe a minor classic; a degree of
acquisition which we every day see, unless forwarded by much leisure
and much private industry, immediately becomes stationary, and soon
retrograde. Our poet, when taken from the free-school of Stratford, had
not only to direct his attention to business, in order to assist in
warding off from his father's family the menacing approach of poverty;
but it is likewise probable that his leisure, as we shall notice more
at large in the next chapter, was engaged in other acquisitions; and
when at a subsequent period, and after he had become a married man,
his efforts were thrown into a channel perfectly congenial to his
taste and talents, still to procure subsistence for the day was the
immediate stimulus to exertion. Under these circumstances, and when we
likewise recollect that _popular_ favour and applause were essential
to his success, and that nearly to the last period of his life he was
a prolific caterer for the public in a species of poetry which called
for no recondite or learned resources, it is not probable, nay, it is,
indeed, scarcely possible, that he should have had time to cultivate
and increase his classical attainments, originally and necessarily
superficial. To translations, therefore, and to popular and legendary
lore, he was alike directed by policy, by inclination, and by want
of leisure; yet must we still agree, that, had a proficiency in the
learned languages been necessary to his career, the means resided
within himself, and that, on the basis merely of his school-education,
although limited as we have seen it, he might, had he early and
steadily directed his attention to the subject, have built the
reputation of a scholar.

That the powers, however, of his vast and capacious mind, especially
if we consider the shortness of his life, were not expended on such an
attempt, we have reason to rejoice; for though his attainments, as a
linguist, were truly trifling, yet his _knowledge_ was great, and his
_learning_, in the best sense of the term, that is, as distinct from
the mere acquisition of language, multifarious, and extensive beyond
that of most of his contemporaries.[32:A]

It is, therefore, to his _English_ studies that we must have recourse
for a due estimate of his reading and research; a subject which will be
treated of in a future portion of the work.


FOOTNOTES:

[21:A] It is with some apprehension of imposition that I quote the
following passage from Mr. Samuel Ireland's Picturesque Views on the
River Avon. This gentleman, the father of the youth who endeavoured
so grossly to deceive the public by the fabrication of a large mass
of MSS. which he attributed to Shakspeare, was undoubtedly, at the
time he wrote this book, the complete dupe of his son; and though,
as a man of veracity and integrity, to be depended upon with regard
to what originated from himself, it is possible, that the settlement
which he quotes may have been derived from the same ample store-house
of forgery which produced the folio volume of miscellaneous papers,
&c. This settlement, in the possession of Mr. Ireland, is brought
forward as a proof that the premises in Henley-street were certainly
in the occupation of John Shakspeare, the father of the poet; it is
dated August 14th, thirty-third of Elizabeth, 1591, and Mr. Ireland
professes to give the substance of it in the subsequent terms:—"'That
George Badger, senior, of Stratford upon Avon, conveys to John and
William Courte, yeomen, and their heirs, in trust, &c. a messuage or
tenement, with the appurtenances, in Stratford upon Avon, in a certain
streete called Henley-streete, between the house of Robert Johnson on
the one part, and the house of _John Shakspeare_ on the other; and also
two selions (_i. e._ ridges, or ground between furrows) of land lying
between the land of _Thomas Combe_, Gent. on the one hand, and Thomas
Reynolde, Gent. on the other.' It is regularly executed, and livery of
seisin on the 29th of the same month and year indorsed." _P._ 195, 196.

[22:A] "In a lower room of this public house," says Mr. Samuel Ireland,
"which is part of the premises wherein Shakspeare was born, is a
curious antient ornament over the chimney, relieved in plaister, which,
from the date, 1606, that was originally marked on it, was probably
put up at the time, and possibly by the poet himself: although a
rude attempt at historic representation, I have yet thought it worth
copying, as it has, I believe, passed unnoticed by the multitude of
visitors that have been on this spot, or at least has never been made
public: and to me it was enough that it held a conspicuous place in
the dwelling-house of one who is himself the ornament and pride of the
island he inhabited. In 1759, it was repaired and painted in a variety
of colours by the old Mr. Thomas Harte before-mentioned, who assured
me the motto then round it had been in the old black letter, and dated
1606. The motto runs thus:

    =Golith comes with sword and spear,
      And David with a sling:
    Although Golith rage and sweare,
      Down David doth him bring.="
                             Picturesque Views, p. 192, 193.

[23:A] Picturesque Views, p. 189, 190. It is probable that Mr. Ireland,
though, it appears, unconnected with the forgeries of his son, might,
during his tour, be too eager in crediting the tales which were
told him. One Jordan, a native of Alverton near Stratford, was for
many years the usual _cicerone_ to enquirers after Shakspeare, and
was esteemed not very accurate in weighing the authenticity of the
anecdotes which he related.

[24:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 84, 85.

[25:A] It is possible also that the following grammars and
dictionaries, independent of those mentioned in the text, may have
contributed to the school-education of Shakspeare:—

1. Certain brief Rules of the Regiment or Construction of the Eight
Partes of Speche, in English and Latin, 1537.

2. A short Introduction of Grammar, generallie to be used: compiled and
set forth, for the bringyng up of all those that intend to attaine the
knowledge of the Latin tongue, 1557.

3. The Scholemaster; or, Plaine and perfite Way of teaching Children to
understand, write, and speak, the Latin Tong. By Roger Ascham. 1571.

4. Abecedarium Anglico-Latinum, pro tyrunculis, Ricardo Huloeto
exscriptore, 1552.

5. The Short Dictionary, 1558.

6. A little Dictionary; compiled by J. Withals, 1559. Afterwards
reprinted in 1568, 1572, 1579, and 1599; and entitled, A Shorte
Dictionarie most profitable for young Beginners: and subsequently, A
Shorte Dictionarie in Lat. and English.

7. The brefe Dyxcyonary, 1562.

8. Huloets Dictionary; newlye corrected, amended, and enlarged, by John
Higgins, 1572.

9. Veron's Dictionary; Latin and English, 1575.

10. An Alvearie, or Quadruple Dictionarie; containing foure sundrie
Tongues: namelie, English, Latine, Greeke, and Frenche. Newlie enriched
with varietie of wordes, phrases, proverbs, and divers lightsome
observations of grammar. By John Baret, 1580.

11. Rider's Dictionary, Latine, and English, 1589.

[26:A] Moral and Political Dialogues, vol. ii. p. 28. edit. 1788.

[27:A] That school-masters and lexicographers were not usually so well
rewarded, notwithstanding the high value placed on classical literature
at this period, may be drawn from the complaint of Ascham: "It is
pitie," says he, "that commonlie more care is had, yea, and that amonge
verie wise men, to find out rather a cunnynge man for their horse, than
a cunnynge man for their children. They say nay in worde, but they do
so in deede. For, to the one they will gladlie give a stipend of 200
crownes by yeare, and loth to offer to the other 200 shillings. God,
that sitteth in heaven, laugheth their choice to skorne, and rewardeth
their liberalitie as it should; for he suffereth them to have tame, and
well ordered horse, but wilde and unfortunate children; and therefore,
in the ende, they finde more pleasure in their horse than comforte in
their children."—Ascham's Works, Bennet's edition, p. 212.

[27:B] It is more than possible that the Eclogues of Mantuanus the
Carmelite may have been one of the school-books of Shakspeare. He is
familiarly quoted and praised in the following passage from Love's
Labour's Lost:—

"Hol. _Fauste, precor gelidâ quando pecus omne sub umbrâ Ruminat_,—and
so forth. Ah, good old Mantua! I may speak of thee as the traveller
doth of Venice:

    ——— _Vinegia, Vinegia,
    Chi non te rede, ci non te pregia._

Old Mantuan! old Mantuan! who understandeth thee not, loves thee not."
Act iv. sc. 2. And his Eclogues, be it remembered, were translated
and printed, together with the Latin on the opposite page, for the
use of schools, before the commencement of our author's education;
and from a passage quoted by Mr. Malone, from Nashe's _Apologie of
Pierce Penniless_, 1593, appear to have continued in use long after
its termination. "With the first and second leafe, he plaies very
prettilie, and, in ordinarie terms of extenuating, verdits Pierce
Pennilesse for a grammar-school wit; saies, his margine is as deeply
learned as, _Fauste, precor gelidâ_." Mantuanus was translated by
George Turberville in 1567, and reprinted in 1591.—_Vide_ Reed's
Shakspeare, vol. vii. p. 95.

[28:A] Warton's History of English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 491.

[29:A] Worthies, p. iii. p. 126.

[30:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ii. p. 85.

[31:A] Censura Literaria, vol. ix. p. 285.

[32:A] "If it were asked from what sources," observes Mr. Capel Lofft,
"_Shakspeare_ drew these abundant streams of wisdom, carrying with
their current the fairest and most unfading flowers of poetry, I
should be tempted to say, he had what would be now considered a very
reasonable portion of Latin; he was not wholly ignorant of Greek;
he had a knowledge of the French, so as to read it with ease; and I
believe not less of the Italian. He was habitually conversant in the
chronicles of his country. He lived with wise and highly cultivated
men; with Jonson, Essex, and Southampton, in familiar friendship. He
had deeply imbibed the Scriptures. And his own most acute, profound,
active, and original genius (for there never was a truly great poet,
nor an aphoristic writer of excellence without these accompanying
qualities) must take the lead in the solution." Aphorisms from
Shakspeare: Introduction, pp. xii. and xiii.

Again, in speaking of his poems, he remarks—"Transcendent as his
original and singular genius was, I think it is not easy, with due
attention to _these_ poems, to doubt of his having acquired, when a
boy, no ordinary facility in the _classic_ language of Rome; though
his knowledge of it might be small, comparatively, to the knowledge
of that great and indefatigable scholar, Ben Jonson. And when Jonson
says he had 'less Greek,' had it been true that he had none, it would
have been as easy for the verse as for the sentiment to have said 'no
Greek.'"—Introduction, p. xxiv.




CHAPTER III.

    SHAKSPEARE, AFTER LEAVING SCHOOL, FOLLOWS HIS FATHER'S
    TRADE—STATEMENT OF AUBREY—PROBABLY PRESENT IN HIS TWELFTH
    YEAR, AT KENELWORTH, WHEN ELIZABETH VISITED THE EARL OF
    LEICESTER—TRADITION OF AUBREY CONCERNING HIM—WHETHER THERE
    IS REASON TO SUPPOSE THAT, AFTER LEAVING HIS FATHER, HE WAS
    PLACED IN AN ATTORNEY'S OFFICE WHO WAS LIKEWISE SENESCHAL OR
    STEWARD OF SOME MANOR—ANECDOTES OF SHAKSPEARE—ALLUSIONS
    IN HIS WORKS TO BARTON, WILNECOTTE AND BARSTON, VILLAGES IN
    WARWICKSHIRE—EARTHQUAKE IN 1580 ALLUDED TO—WHETHER, AFTER
    LEAVING SCHOOL, HE ACQUIRED ANY KNOWLEDGE OF THE FRENCH AND
    ITALIAN LANGUAGES.


That Shakspeare, when taken from the free-school of Stratford, became
an assistant to his father in the wool-trade, has been the general
opinion of his biographers from the period of Mr. Rowe, who first
published the tradition in 1709, to the present day. The anecdote was
probably collected by Mr. Betterton the player, who visited Stratford
in order to procure intelligence relative to his favourite poet, and
from whom Mr. Rowe professes to have derived the greater part of
his information.[34:A] A few incidental circumstances tend also to
strengthen the account that both father and son were engaged in this
employment, and, for a time, together: in the first place, we may
mention the discovery already noticed of the arms of the merchants
of the wool-staple on a window of the house in which the poet was
born[34:B]; secondly, the almost certain conclusion that the poverty
of John Shakspeare, which we know to have been considerable in 1579,
would naturally incline him to require the assistance of his son, in
the only way in which, at that time, he could be serviceable to him;
and thirdly, we may adduce the following passages from the works of our
Dramatist, which seem to imply a more than theoretic intimacy with his
father's business. In the Winter's Tale, the Clown exclaims,

    "Let me see:—Every 'leven wether—tods; every tod
    yields—pound and odd shilling: fifteen hundred shorn,—What
    comes the wool to?"                   _Act IV. Scene 2._

Upon this passage Dr. Farmer remarks, "that to _tod_ is used as a
verb by dealers in wool; thus, they say, 'Twenty sheep ought to _tod_
fifty pounds of wool,' &c. The meaning, therefore, of the Clown's
words is, 'Every eleven wether _tods_; i. e. _will produce a tod_, or
twenty-eight pounds of wool; every _tod_ yields a pound and some odd
shillings; what then will the wool of fifteen hundred yield?'"

"The occupation of his father," subjoins Mr. Malone, "furnished our
poet with accurate knowledge on this subject; for two pounds and a half
of wool is, I am told, a very good produce from a sheep at the time of
shearing."

"_Every 'leven wether—tods_," adds Mr. Ritson, "has been rightly
expounded to mean that the wool of _eleven sheep_ would weigh a _tod_,
or 28lb. Each fleece would, therefore, be 2lb. 8oz. 11½dr., and the
whole produce of _fifteen hundred shorn 136 tod_, 1 clove, 2lb. 6oz.
2dr. which _at pound and odd shilling per tod_, would yield 143_l._
3_s._ 0_d._ Our author was too familiar with the subject to be
suspected of inaccuracy.

"Indeed it appears from Stafford's _Breefe Conceipte of English
Pollicye_, 1581, p. 16, that the price of a tod of wool was at that
period _twenty_ or _two_ and _twenty shillings_: so that the medium
price was exactly '_pound and odd shilling_.'"[35:A]

In Hamlet, the prince justly observes,

    There's a divinity that _shapes our ends_,
    _Rough-hew_ them how we will.          _Act V. Scene 2._

Lines, of which the words in italics were considered by Dr. Farmer as
merely technical. "A woolman, butcher, and dealer in _skewers_," says
Mr. Stevens, "lately observed to him (Dr. F.), that his nephew, an idle
lad, could only _assist_ him in making them; '—he could _rough-hew_
them, but I was obliged to _shape their ends_.' To shape the ends of
_wool-skewers_, i. e. to _point_ them, requires a degree of skill;
any one can _rough-hew_ them. Whoever recollects the profession of
Shakspeare's father, will admit that his son might be no stranger to
such terms. I have frequently seen packages of wool pinned up with
_skewers_."[36:A]

We may, therefore, after duly considering all the evidence that can
now be obtained, pretty confidently acquiesce in the traditional
account that Shakspeare was, for a time, and that immediately on
his being taken from the free-school, the assistant of his father
in the wool-trade; but it will be necessary here to mention, that
Aubrey, on whose authority it has been related that John Shakspeare
was, at one period of his life, a butcher, adds, with regard to our
poet, that "when he was a boy, he exercised his father's trade;" and
that "when he killed a calfe, he would do it in a _high style_, and
make a speech."[36:B] That John Shakspeare, when under the pressure
of adversity, might combine the two employments, which are, in a
certain degree, connected with each other, we have already recorded as
probable; it is very possible, also, that the following similes may
have been suggested to the son, by what he had occasionally observed at
home:

    And as the butcher takes away the calf,
    And binds the wretch, and beats it when it strays,
    Bearing it to the bloody slaughter-house;
    Even so, remorseless, have they borne him hence.
    And as the dam runs lowing up and down,
    Looking the way her harmless young one went,
    And can do nought but wail her darling's loss;
    Even so, &c. &c.  _Henry VI. Part II. Act III. Scene 1._

but that the father of our poet, the former bailiff of Stratford,
should employ his children, instead of servants, in the slaughter of
his cattle, is a position so revolting, so unnecessarily degrading
on the part of the father, and, at the same time, must have been so
discordant with the well-known humane and gentle cast of the poet's
disposition, that we cannot, for a moment, allow ourselves to conceive
that any credibility can be attached to such a report.

At what age he began to assist his father in the wool-trade, cannot now
be positively ascertained; but as he was early taken from school, for
this purpose, we shall probably not err far, if we suppose this change
to have taken place when he was _twelve_ years old; a computation which
includes a period of scholastic education sufficiently long to have
imbued him with just such a portion of classical lore, as an impartial
enquirer into his life and works would be willing to admit.

A short time previous to this, when our poet was in his twelfth
year, and in the summer of 1575, an event occurred which must have
made a great impression on his mind; the visit of Queen Elizabeth to
the magnificent Earl of Leicester, at Kenelworth Castle. That young
Shakspeare was a spectator of the festivities on this occasion, was
first suggested by Bishop Percy[37:A], who, in his Essay on the Origin
of the English Stage, speaking of the old Coventry play of Hock
Tuesday, which was performed before Her Majesty during her residence
at the castle, observes,—"Whatever this old play, or 'storial show,'
was at the time it was exhibited to Queen Elizabeth, it had probably
our young Shakspeare for a spectator, who was then in his twelfth year,
and doubtless attended with all the inhabitants of the surrounding
country at these 'Princely Pleasures of Kenelworth,'[37:B] _whence
Stratford is only a few miles distant_. And as the Queen was much
diverted with the Coventry play, 'whereat Her Majestie laught well,'
and rewarded the performers with two bucks, and five marks in money:
who, 'what rejoicing upon their ample reward, and what triumphing upon
the good acceptance, vaunted their play was never so dignified, nor
ever any players before so beatified:' but especially if our young
Bard afterwards gained admittance into the castle to see a play, which
the same evening, after supper, was there 'presented of a very good
theme, but so set forth by the actors' well-handling, that pleasure
and mirth made it seem very short,' though it lasted two good hours and
more, we may imagine what an impression was made on his infant mind.
Indeed the dramatic cast of many parts of that superb entertainment,
which continued nineteen days, and was the most splendid of the kind
ever attempted in this kingdom, must have had a very great effect on a
young imagination, whose dramatic powers were hereafter to astonish the
world."[38:A]

Of the gorgeous splendour, and elaborate pageantry which were displayed
during this princely fete at Kenelworth, some idea may be formed from
the following summary. The Earl met the Queen on Saturday the 9th of
July 1575, at Long Ichington, a town seven miles from Kenelworth, where
His Lordship had erected a tent, for the purpose of banqueting Her
Majesty, upon such a magnificent scale, "that justly for dignity," says
Laneham, "may be comparable with a beautiful palace; and for greatness
and quantity, with a proper town, or rather a citadel;" and to give
his readers an adequate conception of its vast magnitude, he adds that
"it had seven cart load of pins pertaining to it."[38:B] At the first
entrance of the Queen into His Lordship's castle a floating island was
discerned upon the pool, glittering with torches, on which sat the
Lady of the Lake, attended by two nymphs, who addressed Her Majesty in
verse, with an historical account of the antiquity and owners of the
castle; and the speech was closed with the sound of cornets, and other
instruments of loud music. Within the base-court was erected a stately
bridge, twenty feet wide, and seventy feet long, over which the Queen
was to pass; and on each side stood columns, with presents upon them
to Her Majesty from the gods. Silvanus offered a cage of wild-fowl,
and Pomona various sorts of fruits; Ceres gave corn, and Bacchus wine;
Neptune presented sea-fish; Mars the habiliments of war; and Phœbus all
kinds of musical instruments. During the rest of her stay, varieties of
sports and shows were daily exhibited. In the chase was a savage-man
clad in ivy accompanied by satyrs; there were bear-baitings and
fire-works, Italian tumblers, and a country brideale, running at the
Quintain, and Morrice-dancing. And, that no sort of diversion might be
omitted, hither came the Coventry-men and acted the old play already
mentioned, called Hock Tuesday, a kind of tilting match, representing,
in dumb show, the defeat of the Danes by the English, in the reign
of King Ethelred. There were besides on the pool, a Triton riding on
a Mermaid eighteen feet long, and Arion upon a Dolphin. To grace the
entertainment, the Queen here knighted Sir Thomas Cecil, eldest son
to the lord treasurer; Sir Henry Cobham, brother to the Lord Cobham;
Sir Francis Stanhope, and Sir Thomas Tresham. An estimate may be
formed of the expense from the quantity of ordinary beer, that was
drank upon this occasion, which amounted to three hundred and twenty
hogsheads.[39:A]

To the ardent and opening mind of our youthful Bard what exquisite
delight must this grand festival have imparted, the splendour of which,
as Bishop Hurd remarks, "claims a remembrance even in the annals of
our country."[39:B] A considerable portion of the very mythology which
he had just been studying at school, was here brought before his eyes,
of which the costume and language were under the direction of the
first poets of the age; and the dramatic cast of the whole pageantry,
whether classical or Gothic, was such, as probably to impress his
glowing imagination with that bias for theatrical amusements, which
afterwards proved the basis of his own glory, and of his country's
poetic fame.

Here, could he revisit the glimpses of the day, how justly might he
deplore, in his own inimitable language, the havoc of time, and the
mutability of human grandeur; of this princely castle, once the seat
of feudal hospitality, of revelry and song, and of which Laneham, in
his quaint style and orthography, has observed,—"Who that considerz
untoo the stately seat of _Kenelworth Castl_, the rare beauty of
bilding that His Honor hath avaunced; all of the hard quarry-stone:
every room so spacious, so well belighted, and so hy roofed within;
so seemly too sight by du proportion without; a day tyme, on every
side so glittering by glasse; a night, by continuall brightnesse of
candel, fyre, and torch-light, transparent thro the lyghtsome wyndow,
as it wear the _Egiptian Pharos_ relucent untoo all the _Alexandrian_
coast: or els (too talke merily with my mery freend) thus radiant, as
thoogh _Phœbus_ for hiz eaz woold rest him in the _Castl_, and not
every night so to travel doown untoo the _Antipodes_; heertoo so fully
furnisht of rich apparell and utensilez apted in all points to the
best;"[40:A] of this vast pile the very ruins are now so reduced, that
the grand gateway, and the banquetting hall, eighty-six feet in length,
and forty-five in width, are the only important remains.[40:B]

If Shakspeare were taken as early from school as we have supposed, and
his slender attainments in latinity strongly warrant the supposition,
it is more than probable, building on the traditional hint in Rowe, of
his aid being _wanted at home_[42:A], that he continued to assist his
father in the wool-trade for some years; that is, in all likelihood,
until his sixteenth or eighteenth year. Mr. Malone, however, not
adverting to this tradition, has, in a note to Rowe's Life, declared
his belief, "that, _on leaving school_, Shakspeare was placed in
the office of some country attorney, or the seneschal of some manor
court[43:A]:" a position which we think improbable only in _point
of time_; and, in justice to Mr. Malone, it must be added, that in
other places he has given a much wider latitude to the period of this
engagement.

The circumstances on which this conjecture has been founded, are
these:—that, in the first place, throughout the dramas of Shakspeare,
there is interspersed such a vast variety of legal phrases and
allusions, expressed with such _technical_ accuracy, as to force upon
the mind a conviction, that the person who had used them must have been
intimately acquainted with the profession of the law; and, secondly,
that at the close of Aubrey's manuscript anecdotes of Shakspeare,
which are said to have been collected, at an early period, from the
information of the neighbours of the poet, it is positively asserted,
that our bard "understood Latin pretty well, for he had been in his
younger years a schoolmaster in the country."[43:B]

On the first of these data, it has been observed by Mr. Malone, in
his "Attempt to ascertain the Order in which the Plays of Shakspeare
were written," that the poet's "knowledge of legal terms is not merely
such as might be acquired by the casual observation of even his
all-comprehending mind; it has the appearance of _technical_ skill; and
he is so fond of displaying it on all occasions, that I suspect he was
early initiated in at least the forms of law, and was employed, _while
he yet remained at Stratford_, in the office of some country-attorney,
who was at the same time a petty conveyancer, and perhaps also the
seneschal of some manor-court."[43:C] In confirmation of this opinion,
various instances are given of his legal phraseology, which we have
copied in the note below[43:D]; and here we must remark that the
expression, _while he yet remained at Stratford_, leaves the period of
his first application to the law, from the time at which he left school
to the era of his visiting London, unfixed; a portion of time which we
may fairly estimate as including the lapse of _ten_ years.

With regard to the affirmation of Aubrey, that Shakspeare had been in
his younger years a schoolmaster in the country, the same ingenious
critic very justly remarks, that "many traditional anecdotes, though
not perfectly accurate, contain an adumbration of the truth;" and then
adds, "I am strongly inclined to think that the assertion contains,
though not the truth, yet something like it: I mean that Shakspeare
had been employed for some time in his younger years as a _teacher_
in the country; though Dr. Farmer has incontestably proved, that he
could not have been a teacher of _Latin_. I have already suggested my
opinion, that before his coming to London he had acquired some share
of legal knowledge in the office of a petty country-conveyancer,
or in that of the steward of some manorial court. _If he began to
apply to this study at the age of eighteen_, two years afterwards
he might have been sufficiently conversant with conveyances to have
_taught others_ the form of such legal assurances as are usually
prepared by country-attorneys; and perhaps spent two or three years
in this employment before he removed from Stratford to London. Some
uncertain rumour of this kind might have continued to the middle
of the last century, and by the time it reached Mr. Aubrey, our
poet's original occupation was changed from a scrivener to that of a
schoolmaster."[46:A]

In this quotation it will be immediately perceived that the period of
our author's application to the study of the law, is now supposed to
have occurred _at the age of eighteen_, when he must have been long
removed from school, and that he is also conceived to have been a
_teacher_ of what he had acquired in the profession.

These conjectures of Mr. Malone, which, in their latter and modified
state, appear to me singularly happy, have met with a warm advocate in
Mr. Whiter: "The anecdotes," he remarks, "which have been delivered
down to us respecting our poet, appear to me neither improbable nor,
when duly examined, inconsistent with each other: even those which seem
least allied to probability, contain in my opinion the _adumbrata_,
if not _expressa signa veritatis_. Mr. Malone has admirably sifted
the accounts of _Aubrey_; and there is no truth, that is obtained by
a train of reasoning not reducible to demonstration, of which I am
more convinced than the conjecture of Mr. Malone, who supposes that
Shakspeare, before he quitted Stratford, was employed in such matters
of business as belonged to the office of a country-attorney, or the
steward of a manor-court. I have stated his conjecture in general
terms, that the _fact_, as it relates to our poet's _legal allusions_,
might be separated from any accidental circumstances of _historical
truth_. I am astonished, however, that Mr. Malone has confirmed his
conjecture by so few examples. I can supply him with a very large
accession."[46:B]

Mr. Chalmers, however, refuses his aid in the structure of this
conjectural fabric, and asserts that Shakspeare might have derived
all his technical knowledge of the law from a very few books. "From
Totell's Presidents, 1572; from Pulton's Statutes, 1578; and from the
Lawier's Logike, 1588."[47:A]

That these books were read by Shakspeare, there can, we think, be
little doubt; but this concession by no means militates against the
idea of his having been employed for a short period in some profitable
branch of the law. After weighing all the evidence which can _now_
be adduced, either for or against the hypothesis, we shall probably
make the nearest approximation to the truth in concluding, that the
object of our research, having assisted his father for some years in
the wool-trade, for which express purpose he had been early taken
from school, might deem it necessary, on the prospect of approaching
marriage, to acquire some additional means of supporting a domestic
establishment, and, accordingly, annexed to his former occupation, or
superseded it, by a knowledge of an useful branch of the law, which,
by being taught to others, might prove to himself a source of revenue.
Thus combining the record of Rowe with the tradition of Aubrey, and
with the evidence derived from our author's own works, an inference has
been drawn which, though not amounting to certainty, approaches the
confine of it with no small pretensions.

Of the events and circumstances which must have occurred to Shakspeare
in the interval between his leaving the free-school of Stratford,
and his marriage, scarcely any thing has transpired; the following
anecdote, however, which is still preserved at Stratford and the
neighbouring village of Bidford, may be ascribed with greater
propriety to this than to any subsequent period of his life. We
shall give it in the words of the author of the "Picturesque Views
on the Avon," who professes to have received it on the spot, as one
of the traditional treasures of the place. Speaking of Bidford,
which is still equally notorious for the excellence of its ale, and
the thirsty clay of its inhabitants, he adds, "there were antiently
two societies of village-yeomanry in this place, who frequently met
under the appellation of Bidford Topers. It was a custom with these
heroes to challenge any of their neighbours, famed for the love of
good ale, to a drunken combat: among others the people of Stratford
were called out to a trial of strength, and in the number of their
champions, as the traditional story runs, our Shakspeare, who forswore
all thin potations, and addicted himself to ale as lustily as Falstaff
to his sack, is said to have entered the lists. In confirmation of
this tradition we find an epigram written by Sir Asten Cockayn, and
published in his poems in 1658, p. 124: it runs thus—


TO MR. CLEMENT FISHER, OF WINCOT.

    _SHAKSPEARE_, your _Wincot_ ale hath much renown'd,
    That fox'd a beggar so (by chance was found
    Sleeping) that there needed not many a word
    To make him to believe he was a lord:
    But you affirm (and in it seems most eager)
    'Twill make a lord as drunk as any beggar.
    Bid _Norton_ brew such ale as Shakspeare fancies
    Did put Kit Sly into such lordly trances:
    And let us meet there (for a fit of gladness)
    And drink ourselves merry in sober sadness.

"When the Stratford lads went over to Bidford, they found the topers
were gone to Evesham fair; but were told, if they wished to try their
strength with the sippers, they were ready for the contest. This being
acceded to, our bard and his companions were staggered at the first
outset, when they thought it adviseable to sound a retreat, while the
means of retreat were practicable; and then had scarce marched half a
mile, before they were all forced to lay down more than their arms,
and encamp in a very disorderly and unmilitary form, under no better
covering than a large crab-tree; and there they rested till morning:

"This tree is yet standing by the side of the road. If, as it has
been observed by the late Mr. T. Warton, the meanest hovel to which
Shakspeare has an allusion interests curiosity, and acquires an
importance, surely the tree that has spread its shade over him, and
sheltered him from the dews of the night, has a claim to our attention.

"In the morning, when the company awakened our bard, the story says
they intreated him to return to Bidford, and renew the charge; but this
he declined, and looking round upon the adjoining villages, exclaimed,
'No! I have had enough; I have drank with

    Piping Pebworth, Dancing Marston,
    Haunted Hillbro', Hungry Grafton,
    Dudging Exhall, Papist Wicksford,
    Beggarly Broom, and Drunken Bidford.'

"Of the truth of this story I have very little doubt: it is certain
that the crab-tree is known all round the country by the name of
Shakspeare's crab; and that the villages to which the allusion is made,
all bear the epithets here given them: the people of Pebworth are still
famed for their skill on the pipe and tabor: Hillborough is now called
Haunted Hillborough; and Grafton is notorious for the poverty of its
soil."[50:A]

To the immediate neighbourhood indeed of Stratford, and to the adjacent
country, with which, at this early period of his life, our poet seems
to have been familiarised by frequent excursions either of pleasure
or business, are to be found some allusions in his dramatic works. In
the _Taming of the Shrew_, Christopher Sly, being treated with great
ceremony and state, on waking in the bed-chamber of the nobleman,
exclaims—"What, would you make me mad? Am not I Christopher Sly,
old Sly's son of _Burton-Heath_; by birth a pedlar, by education a
card-maker, by transmutation a bear-herd, and now by present profession
a tinker? Ask Marian Hacket, the fat ale-wife of _Wincot_, if she know
me not: if she say I am not fourteen pence on the score for sheer ale,
score me up for the lyingest knave in Christendom. What, I am not
bestraught!"[50:B]

There are two villages in Warwickshire called _Burton Dorset_ and
_Burton Hastings_; but that which was the residence of old Sly, is, in
all probability, _Burton on the Heath_, on the south side of the Avon,
opposite to Bidford, and about eighteen miles from Stratford. The first
scene of the play is described as _Before an Alehouse on a Heath_, and
it is remarkable that on Burton-heath there still remains a tenement,
which was formerly a public-house, under the name of Woncott or
Onecott: yet there is much reason to conclude, from the mode in which
Wincot is spoken of, both in this place, and in the following passage,
that Burton-heath and Wincot were considerably distant: in the Second
Part of King Henry IV. Davy says to Justice Shallow, "I beseech you,
Sir, to countenance William Visor _of Wincot_ against Clemont Perkes of
the hill[50:C]," a phraseology which seems to imply, not an insulated
house, but a village, an inference which is strongly supported by
the fact that _near_ Stratford there is actually a village with the
closely resembling name of _Wilnecotte_, which, in the pronunciation
and orthography of the common people, would almost necessarily become
_Wincot_. It should likewise be mentioned that Mr. Warton is of opinion
that this is the place to which Shakspeare alludes, and he adds, "the
house kept by our genial hostess still remains, but is at present a
mill."[51:A]

We are indebted also to the Second Part of King Henry IV. for another
local allusion of a similar kind: Silence, addressing Pistol, nicknames
him "goodman Puff of _Barson_[51:B]," a village which, under this
appellation, and that of _Barston_, is situated between Coventry
and Solyhall. It may indeed excite some surprise that we have not
more allusions of this nature to commemorate; that the scenery which
occurred to him early in life, and especially at this period, when
the imagery drawn from nature must have been impressed on his mind in
a manner peculiarly vivid and defined, when he was free from care,
unshackled by a family, and at liberty to roam where fancy led him, has
not been delineated in some portion of his works, with such accuracy as
immediately to designate its origin. For, if we consider the excursive
powers of his imagination, and the desultory and unsettled habits
which tradition has ascribed to him during his youthful residence at
Stratford, we may assert, without fear of contradiction, and as an
undoubted truth, that his rambles into the country, and for a poet's
purpose, were both frequent and extensive, and that not a stream, a
wood, or hamlet, within many miles of his native town, was unvisited by
him at various times and under various circumstances.

Yet, if we can seldom point out in his works any distinct reference to
the actual scenery of Stratford and its neighbourhood, we may observe,
that few of the remarkable events of his own time appear to have
escaped his notice; and among these may be found one which occurred at
this juvenile period of his life, and to which we have an allusion in
Romeo and Juliet; for though the personages of the drama exist and
act in a foreign clime, yet in this, and in many similar instances, he
hesitates not to describe the events of his native country as occurring
wherever he has chosen to lay the scene. Thus the nurse, describing to
Lady Capulet the age at which Juliet was weaned, says

    "'Tis since the _earthquake_ now eleven years,"—

a line, which, as Mr. Tyrwhitt and Mr. Malone have observed[52:A],
manifestly alludes to a phenomenon of this kind that had been felt
throughout England in the year 1580, and of which Holinshed, the
favourite historian of our bard, has given the following striking
account:—"On the sixt of April (1580), being Wednesdaie in Easter
weeke, about six of the clocke toward evening, a sudden earthquake
happening in London, and almost generallie throughout all England,
caused such an amazednesse among the people as was wonderfull for the
time, and caused them to make their earnest praiers to Almighty God!
The great clocke bell in the palace at Westminster strake of it selfe
against the hammer with the shaking of the earth, as diverse other
clocks and bels in the steeples of the cities of London and els-where
did the like. The gentlemen of the Temple being then at supper, ran
from the tables, and out of their hall with their knives in their
hands. The people assembled at the plaie-houses in the fields, as at
the Whoreater (the Theater I would saie) were so amazed, that doubting
the ruine of the galleries, they made hast to be gone. A péece of the
Temple church fell downe, some stones fell from Saint Paule's church
in London: and at Christ's church neere to Newgate-market, in the
sermon while, a stone fell from the top of the same church, which
stone killed out of hand one Thomas Greie an apprentice, and another
stone fell on his fellow-servant named Mabell Eueret, and so brused
hir that she lived but four daies after. Diverse other at that time in
that place were sore hurt, with running out of the church one over an
other for feare. The tops of diverse chimnies in the citie fell downe,
the houses were so shaken: a part of the castell at Bishops Stratford
in Essex fell downe. This earthquake indured in or about London not
passing one minute of an houre, and was no more felt. But afterward in
Kent, and on the sea coast it was felt three times; and at Sandwich at
six of the clocke the land not onelie quaked, but the sea also fomed,
so that the ships tottered. At Dover also the same houre was the like,
so that a péece of the cliffe fell into the sea, with also a péece of
the castell wall there: a piece of Saltwood castell in Kent fell downe:
and in the church of Hide the bels were heard to sound. A peece of
Sutton church in Kent fell downe, the earthquake being there not onlie
felt, but also heard. And in all these places and others in east Kent,
the same earthquake was felt three times to move, to wit, at six, at
nine, and at eleven of the clocke."[53:A] In this passage, to which we
shall again have occasion to revert, the violence and universality of
the event described, are such as would almost necessarily form an era
for reference in the poet's mind; and the date, indeed, of the _prima
stamina_ of the play in which the line above-mentioned is found, may be
nearly ascertained by this allusion.

If, as some of his commentators have supposed, Shakspeare possessed any
grammatical knowledge of the French and Italian languages, it is highly
probable that the acquisition must have been obtained in the interval
which took place between his quitting the grammar-school of Stratford
and his marriage, a period, if our arrangement be admitted, of about
six years; and consequently, any consideration of the subject will
almost necessarily claim a place at the close of this chapter.

That the dramas of our great poet exhibit numerous instances in which
both these languages are introduced, and especially the former,
of which we have an entire scene in Henry V., will not be denied
by any reader of his works; nor will any person, acquainted with
the literature of his times, venture to affirm, that he might not
have acquired by his own industry, and through the medium of the
introductory books then in circulation, a sufficient knowledge of
French and Italian for all the purposes which he had in view. We cannot
therefore agree with Dr. Farmer, when he asserts, that Shakspeare's
acquaintance with these languages consisted only of _a familiar phrase
or two_ picked up _in the writers of the time, or the course of his
conversation_.[54:A]

The corrupted state of the French and Italian passages, as found in
the early editions of our poet's plays, can be no argument that he was
totally ignorant of these languages; as it would apply with nearly
equal force to prove that he was similarly situated with regard to
his vernacular tongue, which in almost every scene of these very
editions has undergone various and gross corruptions. Nor will greater
conviction result, when it is affirmed that this foreign phraseology
might be the interpolation of the players; for it remains to be
ascertained, that they possessed a larger portion of exotic literature
than Shakspeare himself.

The author of an essay on Shakspeare's learning in the _Censura
Literaria_, from which we have already quoted a passage in favour of
his having made some progress in latinity, is likewise of opinion that
his knowledge of the French was greater than Dr. Farmer is willing to
allow.

"I have been confirmed in this opinion," he observes, "by a casual
discovery of Shakspeare having imitated a whole French line and
description in a long French epic poem, written by Garnier, called the
_Henriade_, like Voltaire's, and on the same subject, first published
in 1594.

"In _As You Like It_, Shakspeare gives an affecting description of the
different manners of men in the different ages of life, which closes
with these lines:

    "What ends this strange eventful history
     Is second childishness and mere oblivion,
     Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing."

"Now—why have recourse for an insipid preposition to a language of
which he is said to have been totally ignorant? I always supposed
therefore that there must have been some peculiar circumstance well
known in those times, which must have induced him to give this motley
garb to his language:—but what that circumstance was I could not
discover until I accidentally in a foreign literary journal, met
with a review of a republication of that poem of Garnier at Paris,
in which were inserted, as a specimen of the poem, a description of
the appearance of the ghost of Admiral Coligny on the night after his
murder at the massacre of St. Bartholomew, and in the following lines:

    "_Sans pieds, sans mains, sans nez, sans oreilles, sans yeux,
     Meurtri de toutes parts; la barbe et les cheveux
     Poudreux, ensanglantez, chose presque incredible!
     Tant cette vision etoit triste et horrible!_"

"Here it immediately appeared to what author Shakspeare had gone for
the archetype of his own description of the last stage of old age,
which, by a parody on the above lines, he meant to represent like to
that mutilated ghost; and this seems to indicate that he had read that
poem in the original; for we even find the _meurtri de toutes parts_
imitated by _sans every thing_. A friend of mine formerly mentioned
this to Mr. Steevens, and he has briefly noticed this parody, if I
recollect rightly, in his joint edition along with Johnson[55:A], but
he did not copy the original lines of Garnier; nor so far as I know
any editor since; which however are too remarkable to be altogether
consigned to oblivion; and it is not very likely, that any Englishman
will ever read through that long dull poem; neither should I myself
have known of those lines, if they had not been quoted as a specimen.
Steevens's note is so very brief as to be quite obscure in regard to
what consequence he thought deducible from the imitation: he seems
to suggest as if there might have been some English translation of
the poem published, though now unknown; this is the constant refuge
for Shakspeare's knowledge of any thing written originally in another
language. But even if the fact were true, yet no translator would have
preserved the repetition of that word _sans_; for this he must have
gone to the French poem itself, therefore must at least have been
able to read that line in French, if not also the whole description
of the ghost; and if that, why not able also to read other French
books? It may indeed, be _supposed_, that some friend may have shown
him the above description, and explained to him the meaning of the
French lines, but this is only to make a second supposition in order to
support a former one made without sufficient foundation: we may just
as well make a single supposition at once, that he was himself able
to read and understand it, since he has evidently derived from it his
own description of the decrepitude of old age. Upon the whole, if his
copy of a single word from Holinshed, viz. 'on _this_ side Tiber,' is
a proof of his having read that historian, why also is not his copy of
the repetition of _sans_, and his parody of Coligny's ghost, an equally
good proof of his having read the poem of Garnier in the original
French language? To reason otherwise is to say, that when he gives us
bad French, this proves him not to understand it; and that when he
gives us good French, applied with propriety and even with ingenuity,
yet this again equally proves that he neither understood what he wrote,
nor was so much as able to read the French lines, which he has thus so
wittily imitated."[56:A]

Dr. Farmer has himself granted that Shakspeare _began_ to learn Latin:
why then not allow, from premises still more copious and convincing,
that he began likewise to learn French and Italian? That he wanted not
inclination for the attempt, the frequent use of these languages in his
works will sufficiently evince; that he had some leisure at the period
which we have appropriated to these acquisitions, namely, between the
years 1576 and 1582, few will be disposed to deny; and that he had
books which might enable him to make some progress in these studies,
the following list will ascertain:—

1. A Treatyse English and French right necessarye and profitable for
all young Children. 1560.

2. Principal Rules of the Italian Grammar, &c. Newly corrected and
imprinted by Wykes: 1560, reprinted 1567.

3. The Italian Grammar and Dictionary: By W. Thomas. 1561.

4. Lentulo's Italian Grammar, put into English: By Henry Grenthem. 1578.

5. Ploiche, Peter, Introduction to the French Tongue. 1578.

6. An Alvearie, or Quadruple Dictionarie, containing foure sundrie
tongues: namelie, English, Latine, Greeke, and French: By I. Baret.
1580.[57:A]

In short, with regard to the literature of Shakspeare, the nearest
approximation to the truth will be found to arise from taking a medium
course between the conclusions of Dr. Farmer, and of those who have
gone into a contrary extreme. That he had made some and that the
usual progress in the Latin language during the short period of his
school-education, it is, we think, in vain to deny; but that he ever
attained the power of reading a Roman classic with facility, cannot
with any probability be affirmed: it will be likewise, we are disposed
to believe, equally rational and correct, if we conclude, from the
evidence which his genius and his works afford, that his acquaintance
with the French and Italian languages was not merely confined to the
picking up _a familiar phrase or two_ from the conversation or writings
of others, but that he had actually commenced, and at an early period
too, the study of these languages, though, from his situation, and the
circumstances of his life, he had neither the means nor the opportunity
of cultivating them to any considerable extent.[58:A]


FOOTNOTES:

[34:A] "Mr. Betterton," observes Mr. Malone, "was born in 1635, and had
many opportunities of collecting information relative to Shakspeare,
but unfortunately the age in which he lived was not an age of
curiosity. Had either he or Dryden or Sir William d'Avenant taken the
trouble to visit our poet's youngest daughter, who lived till 1662, or
his grand-daughter, who did not die till 1670, many particulars might
have been preserved which are now irrecoverably lost. Shakspeare's
sister, Joan Hart, who was only five years younger than him, died
at Stratford in Nov. 1646, at the age of seventy-six; and from her
undoubtedly his two daughters, and his grand-daughter Lady Bernard, had
learned several circumstances of his early history antecedent to the
year 1600." Reed's Shakspeare, p. 119, 120.

[34:B] It has already been observed, in a note written some years after
the composition of the text, that this supposed corroboration is no
longer to be depended upon.

[35:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 322, 323.

[36:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xviii. p. 346, 347.

[36:B] Aubrey MS.—Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iii. p. 213.

[37:A] Mr. Malone is also of opinion that Shakspeare was present at
this magnificent reception of Elizabeth. Vide "Inquiry," p. 150. note
82.

[37:B] So denominated from a tract, written by _George Gascoigne_ Esq.,
entitled "The Princely Pleasures of Kenelworth Castle." It is inserted
in Nichols's Progresses of Queen Elizabeth, vol. i.

[38:A] Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, vol. i. p. 143. 4th edition.

[38:B] Nichols's Progresses and Public Processions of Queen Elizabeth,
vol. i. Laneham's Account of the Queen's Entertainment at Killingworth
Castle, 1575, p. 50. or 78. of the original pamphlet.

[39:A] Life of Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester, 1727. 8vo. p. 92.

[39:B] Hurd's Moral and Political Dialogues, vol. i. p. 148. Edit. of
1788.

[40:A] Laneham's Account, p. 65. of the Original.

[40:B] The following extract from Laneham's Letter, which immediately
follows the passage given in the text, and in which I have dropped the
author's singular orthography, will afford the reader a curious and
very entertaining description of the costly and magnificent gardens
of Kenelworth Castle, gardens in which it is probable the youthful
Shakpeare had more than once wandered with delight:—

"Unto this, His Honour's exquisite appointment of a beautiful garden,
an acre or more of quantity, that lieth on the north there: wherein
hard all along the castle-wall is reared a pleasant terrace of a ten
foot high, and a twelve broad: even under foot, and fresh of fine
grass; as is also the side thereof toward the garden, in which, by
sundry equal distances, with obelisks, spheres, and white bears, all of
stone, upon their curious bases, by goodly shew were set: to these two
fine arbours redolent by sweet trees and flowers, at each end one, the
garden plot under that, with fair allies green by grass, even voided
from the borders a both sides, and some (for change) with sand, not
light or too soft or soily by dust, but smooth and firm, pleasant to
walk on, as a sea-shore when the water is availd: then, much gracified
by due proportion of four even quarters: in the midst of each, upon a
base a two foot square, and high, seemly bordered of itself, a square
pilaster rising pyramidally of a fifteen foot high: simmetrically
pierced through from a foot beneath, until a two foot of the top:
whereupon for a capital, an orb of a ten inches thick: every of these
(with his base) from the ground to the top, of one whole piece; hewn
out of hard porphery, and with great art and heed (thinks me) thither
conveyed and there erected. Where, further also, by great cast and
cost, the sweetness of savour on all sides, made so repirant from the
redolent plants and fragrant herbs and flowers, in form, colour, and
quantity so deliriously variant; and fruit-trees bedecked with apples,
pears, and ripe cherries.

"And unto these, in the midst against the terrace, a square cage,
sumptuous and beautiful, joined hard to the north wall (that a that
side gards the garden as the garden the castle), of a rare form and
excellency, was raised: in height a twenty foot, thirty long, and a
fourteen broad. From the ground strong and close, reared breast high,
whereat a soil of a fair moulding was couched all about: from that
upward, four great windows a front, and two at each end, every one a
five foot wide, as many more even above them, divided on all parts by
a transome and architrave, so likewise ranging about the cage. Each
window arched in the top, and parted from other in even distance by
flat fair bolted columns, all in form and beauty like, that supported
a comely cornish couched all along upon the bole square; which with a
wire net, finely knit, of mashes six square, an inch wide (as it were
for a flat roof) and likewise the space of every window with great
cunning and comeliness, even and tight was all over-strained. Under the
cornish again, every part beautified with great diamonds, emeralds,
rubies, and sapphires; pointed, tabled, rok and round; garnished with
their gold, by skilful head and hand, and by toil and pencil so lively
expressed, as it mought be great marvel and pleasure to consider how
near excellency of art could approach unto perfection of nature.

"Holes were there also and caverns in orderly distance and fashion,
voided into the wall, as well for heat, for coolness, for roost a
nights and refuge in weather, as also for breeding when time is. More,
fair even and fresh holly-trees for pearching and proining, set within,
toward each end one.

"Hereto, their diversity of meats, their fine several vessels for their
water and sundry grains; and a man skilful and diligent to look to them
and tend them.

"But (shall I tell you) the silver sounded lute, without the sweet
touch of hand; the glorious golden cup, without the fresh fragrant
wine; or the rich ring with gem, without the fair featured finger;
is nothing indeed in his proper grace and use: even so His Honour
accounted of this mansion, till he had placed their tenants according.
Had it therefore replenished with lively birds, _English_, _French_,
_Spanish_, _Canarian_, and (I am deceived if I saw not some) _African_.
Whereby, whether it became more delightsome in change of tunes, and
harmony to the ear; or else in difference of colours, kinds, and
properties to the eye, I'll tell you if I can, when I have better
bethought me.

"In the centre (as it were) of this goodly garden, was there placed a
very fair fountain, cast into an eight-square, reared a four foot high;
from the midst whereof a column up set in shape of two Athlants joined
together a back half; the one looking east, tother west, with their
hands upholding a fair formed bowl of a three foot over; from whence
sundry fine pipes did lively distill continual streams into the receipt
of the fountain, maintained still two foot deep by the same fresh
falling water: wherein pleasantly playing to and fro, and round about,
carp, tench, bream, and for variety, perch, and eel, fish fair-liking
all, and large: In the top, the _ragged staff_; which with the bowl,
the pillar, and eight sides beneath, were all hewn out of rich and hard
white marble. A one side _Neptune_ with his tridental fuskin triumphing
in his throne, trailed into the deep by his marine horses. On another,
_Thetis_ in her chariot drawn by her dolphins. Then _Triton_ by his
fishes. Here _Proteus_ herding his sea-bulls. There _Doris_ and her
daughters solacing a sea and sands. The waves scourging with froth
and foam, intermingled in place, with whales, whirlpools, sturgeons,
tunnies, conchs, and wealks, all engraven by exquisite device and
skill, so as I may think this not much inferior unto _Phœbus_ gates,
which (Ovid says) and peradventure a pattern to this, that _Vulcan_
himself did cut: whereof such was the excellency of art, that the work
in value surmounted the stuff, and yet were the gates all of clean
massy silver.

"Here were things, ye see, mought inflame any mind to long after
looking: but whoso was found so hot in desire, with the wreast of a cok
was sure of a cooler: water spurting upward with such vehemency, as
they should by and by be moistened from top to toe; the he's to some
laughing, but the she's to more sport. This some time was occupied to
very good pastime.

"A garden then so appointed, as wherein aloft upon sweet shawdowed
walk of terrace, in heat of summer, to feel the pleasant whisking
wind above, or delectable coolness of the fountain spring beneath: to
taste of delicious strawberries, cherries and other fruits, even from
their stalks: to smell such fragrancy of sweet odours, breathing from
the plants, herbs, and flowers: to hear such natural melodious musick
and tunes of birds: to have in eye, for mirth, some time these under
springing streams; then, the woods, the waters (for both pool and
chase were hard at hand in sight,) the deer, the people (that out of
the east arbour in the base court also at hand in view,) the fruits
trees, the plants, the herbs, the flowers, the change in colours, the
birds flittering, the fountain streaming, the fish swimming, all in
such delectable variety, order, dignity; whereby, at one moment, in one
place, at hand, without travel, to have so full fruition of so many
God's blessings, by entire delight unto all senses (if all can take)
at once: for _etymon_ of the word worthy to be called _Paradise_: and
though not so goodly as _Paradise_ for want of the fair rivers, yet
better a great deal by the lack of so unhappy a tree." Pages 66-72.

[42:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 59.

[43:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 60. note 7.

[43:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iii. p. 214.

[43:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ii. p. 276.

[43:D]

    "'——— For what in me was _purchased_,
      Falls upon thee in a much fairer sort.'
                                        _K. Hen. IV. P. II._

"_Purchase_ is here used in its strict legal sense, in
contradistinction to an acquisition by _descent_.

    'Unless the devil have him in _fee-simple, with fine and recovery_.'
                                   _Merry Wives of Windsor._

    'He is 'rested _on the case_.'       _Comedy of Errors._

    '——— with _bills_ on their necks, Be it known unto all men by
    these presents,' &c.                   _As you like it._

    '——— who writes himself armigero, in any _bill, warrant,
    quittance, or obligation_.'    _Merry Wives of Windsor._

    'Go with me to a notary, seal me there
     Your _single bond_.'              _Merchant of Venice._

    'Say, for non-payment that the debt should double.'
                                         _Venus and Adonis._

"On a conditional bond's becoming forfeited for non-payment of money
borrowed, the whole penalty, which is usually the double of the
principal sum lent by the obligee, was formerly recoverable at law. To
this our poet here alludes.

    'But the defendant doth that plea deny;
     To 'cide his title, is impanell'd
     A quest of thoughts.'                      _Sonnet 46._

"In _Much Ado about Nothing_, Dogberry charges the watch to keep their
_fellow's counsel and their own_. This Shakspeare transferred from the
oath of a grand juryman.

    'And let my officers of such a nature
     Make an _extent_ upon his house and lands.'
                                           _As you like it._

    'He was taken _with the manner_.'
                                     _Love's Labour's lost._

    '_Enfeof'd_ himself to popularity.'
                                         _K. Hen. IV. P. I._

    'He will seal the fee-simple of his salvation, and cut the
    entail from all remainders, and a perpetual succession for it
    perpetually.'               _All's Well that ends Well._

    'Why, let her _accept before excepted_.'
                                            _Twelfth Night._

    '——— which is four terms or two actions;—and he shall laugh
    without _intervallums_.'            _K. Hen. IV. P. II._

    '——— keeps leets and _law-days_.'    _K. Richard II._

    '_Pray in aid_ for kindness.'   _Anthony and Cleopatra._

"No writer but one who had been conversant with the technical language
of leases and other conveyances, would have used _determination_ as
synonymous to _end_. Shakspeare frequently uses the word in that
sense. See vol. xii. (Reed's Shakspeare,) p. 202. n. 2.; vol. xiii. p.
127. n. 4.; and (Mr. Malone's edit.) vol. x. p. 202. n. 8. 'From and
after the _determination_ of such a term,' is the regular language of
conveyancers.

    'Humbly complaining to Your Highness.'
                                           _K. Richard III._

'Humbly complaining to Your Lordship, your orator,' &c. are the first
words of every bill in chancery.

    'A kiss in fee farm! In witness whereof these parties
    interchangeably have set their hands and seals.'
                                     _Troilus and Cressida._

    'Art thou a _feodary_ for this act?'        _Cymbeline._

"See the note on that passage, vol. xviii. p. 507, 508. n. 3. Reed's
edit.

    'Are those _precepts_ served?' says Shallow to Davy, in _K.
    Henry IV._

"_Precept_ in this sense is a word only known in the office of a
justice of peace.

    'Tell me what state, what dignity, what honour,
     Can'st thou _demise_ to any child of mine?'
                                           _K. Richard III._

'——— hath _demised_, granted, and to farm let,' is the constant
language of leases. What _poet_ but Shakspeare has used the word
_demised_ in this sense?

"Perhaps it may be said, that our author in the same manner may be
proved to have been equally conversant with the terms of divinity or
physic. Whenever as large a number of instances of his ecclesiastical
or medicinal knowledge shall be produced, what has now been stated will
certainly not be entitled to any weight." Malone, Reed's Shakspeare,
vol. ii. p. 276. n. 9.

[46:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iii. p. 222, 223.

[46:B] Whiter's Specimen of a Commentary, p. 95. note. As
Mr. Whiter has not chosen to append these additional examples, I have
thought it would be satisfactory to give the few which more immediately
occur to my memory.

    "Immediately provided in that case."
                                  _Midsummer Night's Dream._

    "Royally attornied."                    _Winter's Tale._

    "That doth _utter_ all men's ware-a."
                                            _Winter's Tale._

    "Thy title is _affeer'd_." (This is a law-term for confirmed.)

    "Keep leets, and law-days, and in sessions sit."
                                                  _Othello._

    "Why should calamity be full of words?
     Windy _attorneys_ to their _client_ woes."
                                              _Richard III._

    "But when the heart's _attorney_ once is mute,
     The _client_ breaks, as desperate in his suit."
                                         _Venus and Adonis._

    "So now I have confessed that he is thine,
     And I myself am _mortgaged to thy Will_."
                                               _Sonnet 134._

    "He learn'd but, _surety-like_, to write for me,
     _Under that bond that him as fast doth bind_.
     The _statute_ of thy beauty, &c."
                                               _Sonnet 134._

[47:A] Chalmers's Apology, p. 554. The "Lawiers Logike" was written by
Abraham Fraunce.

[50:A] Ireland's Picturesque Views, p. 229-233.

[50:B] Act i. sc. 2.

[50:C] Act v. sc. 1.

[51:A] Mr. Edwards and Mr. Steevens have conjectured that _Barton_
and _Woodmancot_, vulgarly pronounced _Woncot_, in Gloucestershire,
might be the places meant by Shakspeare; and Mr. Tollet remarks, that
_Woncot_, may be put for _Wolphmancote_, vulgarly _Ovencote_, in
Warwickshire. Vide Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 30., and vol. xii. p.
240.

[51:B] Act v. sc. 3.

[52:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xx. p. 38. n. 2.

[53:A] Holinshed's Chronicles, vol. iv. p. 126. edit. of 1808.

[54:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ii. p. 85. Mr. Capel Lofft's opinion
of the Italian literature of Shakspeare is somewhat more extended
than my own. "My impression," says he, "is, that Shakspeare was not
unacquainted with the most popular authors in _Italian prose_: and that
his ear had listened to the enchanting tones of _Petrarca_ and some
others of their great poets." Preface to his Laura, p. cxcii.

[55:A] This notice does not appear in the Variorum edition of 1803.

[56:A] Censura Literaria, vol. ix. p. 287. et seq.

[57:A] Vide Chalmers's Apology, p. 549. and Bibliotheca Reediana, p. 9.

[58:A] Since these observations were written, a work has fallen into my
hands under the title of "A Tour in Quest of Genealogy, through several
parts of Wales, Somersetshire, and Wiltshire, in a Series of Letters
to a Friend in Dublin; interspersed with a description of Stourhead
and Stonehenge; together with various Anecdotes and curious Fragments
from a Manuscript Collection ascribed to Shakespeare. By a Barrister."
London, 1811.

These manuscripts ascribed to Shakspeare, which, from the language and
sentiment of almost every line, are manifestly a mere fiction, are
said to have been purchased at an auction at Carmarthen, consisting of
verses and letters that passed between Shakspeare and his mistress Anne
Hatheway, together with letters to and from him and others, a journal
of Shakspeare, an account of many of his plays, memoirs of his life by
himself, &c. I have mentioned the publication in this place, as it is
worthy of remark, that the fabricator of these MSS., whoever he is,
appears to have entertained an idea similar to my own, with regard
to the period when our poet attempted the acquisition of the modern
languages; for of the supposed memoirs said to be written by Shakspeare
himself, the following, among others, is given as a specimen:—

"Having an ernest desier to lerne forraine tonges, it was mie good happ
to have in mie fathere's howse an Italian, one Girolama Albergi, tho
he went bye the name of Francesco Manzini, a dier of woole; but he was
not what he wished to passe for; he had the breedinge of a gentilman,
and was a righte sounde scholer. It was he taught me the littel
Italian I know, and rubbed up my Latten; we redd Bandello's Novells
together, from the which I gatherid some delliceous flowres to stick
in mie dramattick poseys. He was nevew to Battisto Tibaldi, who made
a translacion of the Greek poete, Homar, into Italian; he showed me a
coppy of it given him by hys kinsman, Ercole Tibaldi." P. 202.

I must do the author of this literary forgery, however, the justice to
say, that in taste and genius he is immeasurably beyond his youthful
predecessor, and that some of the verses ascribed to _Anna_ Hatheway,
as he terms her, possess no inconsiderable beauties. It is most
extraordinary, however, that any individual should venture to bring
forward the following lines, which are exquisitely modern in their
structure, as the production of a cottage girl of the sixteenth century.


TO THE BELOVYD OF THE MUSES AND MEE.

    SWEETE swanne of Avon, thou whoose art
    Can mould at will the human hart,
    Can drawe from all who reade or heare,
    The unresisted smile and teare:

    By thee a vyllege maiden found,
    No care had I for measured sounde;
    To dresse the fleese that Willie wrought
    Was all I knewe, was all I sought.

    At thie softe lure too quicke I flewe,
    Enamored of thie songe I grew;
    The distaffe soone was layd aside,
    And all mie woork thie straynes supply'd.

    Thou gavest at first th' inchanting quill,
    And everie kiss convay'd thie skill;
    Unfelt, ye maides, ye cannot tell
    The wondrous force of suche a spell.

    Nor marvell if thie breath transfuse
    A charme repleate with everie muse;
    They cluster rounde thie lippes, and thyne
    Distill theire sweetes improv'd on myne.
                                              ANNA HATHEWAY.




CHAPTER IV.

    SHAKSPEARE MARRIED TO ANNE HATHAWAY—ACCOUNT OF THE
    HATHAWAYS—COTTAGE AT SHOTTERY—BIRTH OF HIS ELDEST
    CHILD, SUSANNA—HAMNET AND JUDITH BAPTIZED—ANECDOTE OF
    SHAKSPEARE—APPARENTLY SETTLED IN THE COUNTRY.


Shakspeare married and became the father of a family at a very early
period; at a period, indeed, when most young men, even in his own
days, had only completed their school-education. He had probably been
attached also to the object of his affections, who resided very near to
him, for a year or two previous to the nuptial connection, which took
place in 1582; and Mr. Malone is inclined to believe that the ceremony
was performed either at Hampton-Lacy, or at Billesley, in the August of
that year[59:A], when consequently the poet had not attained the age of
eighteen and a half!

The maiden name of the lady who had induced her lover to enter thus
early on the world, with little more than his passion to console,
and his genius to support them, was _Anne Hathaway_, the daughter
of Richard Hathaway, a substantial yeoman, residing at Shottery, a
village about a mile distant from Stratford. It appears also from the
tomb-stone of his mistress[60:A] in the church of Stratford, that she
must have been born in 1556, and was therefore eight years older than
himself.

Of the family of the Hathaways little now, except the record of a
few deaths and baptisms, can be ascertained with precision: in the
register-books of the parish of Stratford, the following entry, in all
probability, refers to the father of the poet's wife:—

"Johanna, daughter of _Richard Hathaway_, otherwise Gardiner, of
Shottery, was baptized May 9, 1566."[60:B]

As the register does not commence before 1558, the baptism of _Anne_
could not of course be included; but it appears that the family of
this Richard was pretty numerous, for Thomas his son was baptized
at Stratford, April 12. 1569; John, another son, Feb. 3. 1574; and
William, another son, Nov. 30. 1578.[60:C] Thomas died at Stratford in
1654-5, at the advanced age of eighty-five.[60:D] That the Hathaways
have continued resident at Shottery and the neighbourhood, down to the
present age, will be evident from the note below, which records their
deaths to the year 1785, as inscribed on the floor, in the nave and
aisle of Stratford church.[60:E]

The cottage at Shottery, in which Anne and her parents dwelt, is said
to be yet standing, and is still pointed out to strangers as a subject
of curiosity. It is now impossible to substantiate the truth of the
tradition; but Mr. Ireland, who has given a sketch of this cottage in
his Picturesque Views on the Avon, observes, "it is still occupied
by the descendants of her family, who are poor and numerous. To this
same humble cottage I was referred when pursuing the same inquiry, by
the late Mr. Harte, of Stratford, before-mentioned. He told me there
was an old oak chair, that had always in his remembrance been called
Shakspeare's courting chair, with a purse that had been likewise his,
and handed down from him to his grand-daughter Lady Bernard, and from
her through the Hathaway family to those of the present day. From the
best information I was able to collect at the time, I was induced to
consider this account as authentic, and from a wish to obtain the
smallest trifle appertaining to our Shakspeare, I became a purchaser of
these relics. Of the chair I have here given a sketch: it is of a date
sufficiently ancient to justify the credibility of its history; and
as to farther proof, it must rest on the traditional opinion and the
character of this poor family. The purse is about four inches square,
and is curiously wrought with small black and white bugles and beads;
the tassels are of the same materials. The bed and other furniture
in the room where the chair stood, have the appearance of so high
antiquity, as to leave no doubt but that they might all have been the
furniture of this house long before the time of Shakspeare.

"The proprietor of this furniture, an old woman upwards of seventy, had
slept in the bed from her childhood, and was always told it had been
there since the house was built. Her absolute refusal to part with this
bed at any price was one of the circumstances which led to a persuasion
that I had not listened with too easy credulity to the tale she told
me respecting the articles I had purchased. By the same person I was
informed, that at the time of the Jubilee, the late George Garrick
obtained from her a small inkstand, and a pair of fringed gloves, said
to have been worn by Shakspeare."[61:A]

Of the personal charms of the poet's mistress nothing has been
transmitted to us by which we can form the smallest estimate, nor can
we positively ascertain whether convenience, or the attraction of a
beautiful form, was the chief promoter of this early connection. Mr.
Rowe merely observes, that, "in order to settle in the world after a
family-manner, he thought fit to marry while he was yet very[62:A]
young;" language which seems to imply that _prudence_ was the prime
motive with the youthful bard. Theobald proceeds still further, and
declares "it is _probable_, a view of _interest_ might partly sway his
conduct in this point: for he married the daughter of a _substantial_
yeoman in his neighbourhood, _and she had the start of him in age no
less than eight years_."[62:B] Capell, on the contrary, thinks that
the marriage was contracted against the wishes of his father, whose
displeasure was the consequence of their union.[62:C]

A moment's consideration of the character of Shakspeare will induce
us to conclude that _interest_ could not be his _leading_ object in
forming the matrimonial tie. In no stage of his subsequent life does a
motive of this kind appear strongly to have influenced him; and it is
well known, from facts which we shall have occasion shortly to record,
that his juvenility at Stratford was marked, rather by carelessness
and dissipation, than by the cool calculations of pecuniary wisdom.
In short, to adopt, with slight variation, a line of his own, we may
confidently assert that at this period,

    "Love and Liberty crept in the mind and marrow of his youth."
                                          _Timon of Athens._

Neither can we agree with Mr. Capell in supposing that the father of
our bard was averse to the connection; a supposition which he has built
on the idea of old Mr. Shakspeare being "a man of no little substance,"
and that by this marriage of his son he was disappointed in a design
which he had formed of sending him to an [62:D]University! Now it
has been proved that John Shakspeare was, at this period, if not in
distressed yet in embarrassed circumstances, and that neither the
school-education of his son, nor his subsequent employment at home,
could be such as was calculated in any degree to prepare him for an
academical life.

We conclude, therefore, and certainly, with every probability on our
side, that the young poet's attachment to Anne Hathaway was, not only
perfectly disinterested, but had met likewise with the approbation of
his parents. This will appear with more verisimilitude if we consider,
in the first place, that though his bride were eight years older than
himself, still she could be but in her twenty-sixth year, an age
compatible with youth, and with the most alluring beauty; secondly, it
does not appear that the finances of young Shakspeare were in the least
improved by the connection; and thirdly, we know that he remained some
years at Stratford after his marriage, which it is not likely that he
would have done, had he been at variance with his father.

It is to be regretted, and it is indeed somewhat extraordinary, that
not a fragment of the bard's poetry, addressed to his Warwickshire
beauty, has been rescued from oblivion; for that the muse of Shakspeare
did not lie dormant on an occasion so propitious to her inspiration
we must believe, both from the costume of the times, and from his own
amatory disposition. He has himself told us that

    "Never durst poet touch a pen to write,
     Until his ink were temper'd with love's sighs."—
                      _Love's Labour's Lost_, act iv. sc. 3.

and we have seen that an opportunity for qualification was very early
placed within his power. That he availed himself of it, there can be no
doubt; and had his effusions, on this occasion, descended to posterity,
we should, in all probability, have been made acquainted with several
interesting particulars relative to his early life and character, and
to the person and disposition of his mistress.[63:A]

Our ignorance on this subject, however, would have been compensated,
had any authentic documents been preserved relative to his
establishment at Stratford, in consequence of his marriage; but of his
domestic arrangements, of his business or professional employment, no
information, or tradition to be depended upon, has reached us. We can
only infer, from the evidence produced in the preceding chapter, and
from the necessity, which must now have occurred, of providing for a
family-establishment, that if, as we have reason to conclude, he had
entered on the exercise of a branch of the manorial law, previous to
his marriage, and with a view towards that event, he would, of course,
be compelled, from prudential motives, to continue that occupation,
after he had become a householder, and most probably to combine with it
the business of a woolstapler, either on his own separate interest, or
in concert with his father.

If any further incitement were wanting to his industry, it was soon
imparted; for, to the claims upon him as a husband, were added, during
the following year, those which attach to the name of a parent; his
eldest child, Susanna, being born in May 1583, and baptized on the 26th
of the same month. Thus, scarcely had our poet completed his nineteenth
year, when the most serious duties of life were imperiously forced
upon his attention, under circumstances perhaps of narrow fortune not
altogether calculated to render their performance easy and pleasant;
a situation which, on a superficial view, would not appear adapted to
afford that leisure, that free and unincumbered state of intellect,
so necessary to mental exertion; but with Shakspeare the pressure of
these and of pecuniary difficulties served only to awaken that energy
and elasticity of mind, which, ultimately directing his talents into
their proper channel, called forth the brightest and most successful
emanations of a genius nearly universal.

The family of the youthful bard gathered round him with rapidity; for,
in 1584-5, it was increased by the birth of twins, a son and daughter,
named Hamnet and Judith, who were baptized on February the 2d, of the
same year.

The boy was christened by the name of Hamnet in compliment to his
god-father Mr. Hamnet Sadler, and the girl was called Judith, from a
similar deference to his wife, Mrs. Judith Sadler, who acted as her
sponsor. Mr. Hamnet or Hamlet Sadler, for they were considered as
synonymous names, and therefore used indiscriminately[65:A], appears
to have been some relation of the Shakspeare family; he is one of
the witnesses to Shakspeare's will, and is remembered in it in the
following manner:—"_Item_, I give and bequeath to Hamlet Sadler
twenty-six shillings eight-pence, to buy him a ring." Mr. Sadler died
at Stratford in October 1624, and is supposed to have been born about
the year 1550. His wife was buried there March 23. 1613-14, and Mr.
Malone conjectures that our poet was probably god-father to their son
_William_, who was baptized at Stratford, February 5. 1597-8.[65:B] In
the Stratford Register are to be found entries of the baptism of six of
Mr. Sadler's children, four sons and two daughters, William being the
last but one.

An anecdote of Shakspeare, unappropriated to any particular period of
his life, and which may with as much, if not more, probability, be
ascribed to this stage of his biography, as to any subsequent era, has
been preserved as a tradition at Stratford. A drunken blacksmith, with
a carbuncled face, reeling up to Shakspeare, as he was leaning over a
mercer's door, exclaimed, with much vociferation,

    "Now, Mr. SHAKSPEARE, tell me, if you can,
     The difference between a youth and a young man:"

a question which immediately drew from our poet the following reply:

    "Thou son of fire, with _thy face like a maple_,
     The same difference as between a scalded and a coddled apple."

A part of the wit of this anecdote, which, says Mr. Malone, "was
related near fifty years ago to a gentleman at Stratford, by a
person then above eighty years of age, whose father might have been
contemporary with Shakspeare," turns upon the comparison between the
blacksmith's face and a species of maple, the bark of which, according
to Evelyn, is uncommonly rough, and the grain undulated and crisped
into a variety of curls.

It would appear, indeed, from a book published in 1611, under the
title of _Tarleton's Jeasts_, that this fancied resemblance was a
frequent source of sarcastic wit; for it is there recorded of this once
celebrated comedian, that, "as he was performing some part 'at the Bull
in Bishopsgate-street, where the Queen's players oftentimes played,'
while he was 'kneeling down to aske his father's blessing,' a fellow
in the gallery threw an apple at him, which hit him on the cheek.
He immediately took up the apple, and, advancing to the audience,
addressed them in these lines:

    'Gentlemen, this fellow, with _his face of mapple_,
     Instead of a pippin hath throwne me an apple;
     But as for an apple he hath cast a crab,
     So instead of an honest woman God hath sent him a drab.'

'The people,' says the relator, 'laughed heartily; for the fellow had a
quean to his wife.'"[66:A]

Shakspeare was now, to all appearance, settled in the country; he
was carrying on his own and his father's business; he was married
and had a family around him; a situation in which the comforts of
domestic privacy might be predicted within his reach, but which augured
little of that splendid destiny, that universal fame and unparalleled
celebrity, which awaited his future career.

In adherence, therefore, to the plan, which we have announced, of
connecting the circumstances of the times with our author's life,
we have chosen this period of it, as admirably adapted for the
introduction of a survey of country life and manners, its customs,
diversions and superstitions, as they existed in the age of Shakspeare.
These, therefore, will be the subject of the immediately following
chapters, in which it shall be our particular aim, among the numerous
authorities to which we shall be obliged to have recourse, to draw
from the poet himself those passages which throw light upon the topics
as they rise to view; an arrangement which, when it shall have been
carried, in all its various branches, through the work, will clearly
show, that from Shakspeare, more than from any other poet, is to be
collected the history of the times in which he lived, so far as that
history relates to popular usage and amusement.


FOOTNOTES:

[59:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 139. note 4.

[60:A] "Heere Lyeth Interrid The Bodye of Anne, Wife of Mr. William
Shakespeare, Who Depted. This Life The 6th Day of Avgvst, 1623, Being
of The Age of 67 Yeares."—Wheler's Stratford, p. 76.

[60:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 133.

[60:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 134. Note by Malone.

[60:D] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 128.

[60:E] "Richard Hathaway, of Shottery, died 15th April, 1692. Robert
Hathaway died 4th March, 1728, aged 64. Edmund Hathaway died 14th
June, 1729, aged 57. Jane his wife died 12th Dec. 1729, aged 64. John
Hathaway died 11th Oct. 1731, aged 39. Abigail, wife of John Hathaway,
jun. of Luddington, died 5th of May, 1735, aged 29. Mary her daughter
died 13th July, 1735, aged 10 weeks. Robert Hathaway, son of Robert
and Sarah Hathaway, died the 1st of March, 1723, aged 21. Ursula, wife
of John Hathaway, died the 23d of Janry. 1731, aged 50. John Hathaway,
sen. died the 5th of Sept. 1753, aged 73. John Hathaway, of Haddington,
died the 23d of June, 1775, aged 67. S. H. 1756. S. H. 1785."—Wheler's
History and Antiquities of Stratford-upon-Avon, p. 55.

[61:A] Ireland's Views, p. 206-209.

[62:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 60.

[62:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 193.

[62:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 355. note 1.

[62:D] Ibid.

[63:A] Building on the high credibility of Shakspeare having employed
his poetical talents, at this period, on the subject nearest to his
heart, two ingenious gentlemen have been so obliging as not only to
furnish him with words on this occasion, but to offer these to the
world as the genuine product of his genius. It is scarcely necessary to
add, that I allude to the Shakspeare Papers of young Ireland; and to a
Tour in Quest of Genealogy, by a Barrister.

[65:A] Thus in the will of Shakspeare we read, "I give and bequeath to
_Hamlet_ Sadler;" when at the close, Mr. Sadler as a witness writes
his Christian name _Hamnet_. See Malone's note on this subject, Reed's
Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 135.

[65:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 158, note 1.

[66:A] Malone's Historical Account of the English Stage, Reed's
Shakspeare, vol. iii. p. 140. note 4.




CHAPTER V.

    A VIEW OF COUNTRY LIFE DURING THE AGE OF SHAKSPEARE;—ITS
    MANNERS AND CUSTOMS.—RURAL CHARACTERS.


It may be necessary, in the commencement of this chapter, to remark,
that rural life, in the strict acceptation of the term, will be at
present the exclusive object of attention; a survey of the manners and
customs of the metropolis, and of the superior orders of society, being
deferred to a subsequent portion of the work.

No higher character will, therefore, be introduced in this sketch
than the _country squire_, constituting according to Harrison, who
wrote about the year 1580, one of the second order of gentlemen; for
these, he remarks, "be divided into two sorts, as the baronie or
estate of lords (which conteineth barons and all above that degree),
and also those that be no lords, as knights, esquires, and simple
gentlemen."[68:A] He has also furnished us, in another place, with a
more precise definition of the character under consideration. "Esquire
(which we call commonlie squire) is a French word, and so much in
Latine as Scutiger vel Armiger, and such are all those which beare
armes, or armoires, testimonies of their race from whence they be
descended. They were at the first costerels or bearers of the armes of
barons, or knights, and thereby being instructed in martiall knowledge,
had that name for a dignitie given to distinguish them from common
souldiers called Gregarii Milities when they were together in the
field."[68:B]

It is curious to mark the minute distinctions of gentlemen as detailed
at this period, in the various books of _Armorie_ or _Heraldrie_. The
science, indeed, was cultivated, in the days of Shakspeare, with an
enthusiasm which has never since been equalled, and the treatises on
the subject were consequently multitudinous.

    "—— If no gentleman, why then no arms,"[69:A]

exclaims our poet; the aspirants, therefore, to this distinction
were numerous, and in the _Gentleman's Academie_; or, _The Booke of
St. Albans_, published by Gervase Markham in 1595, which he says in
the dedication was _then_ absolutely "necessarie and behovefull to
the accomplishment of the gentlemen of this flourishing ile—in the
heroicall and excellent study of Armory," we find "nine sortes" and
"foure maner" of gentlemen expressly distinguished.


    "Of nine sortes of gentlemen:

"First, there is a gentleman of ancestry and blood.

"A gentleman of blood.

"A gentleman of coat-armour, and those are three, one of the kings
badge, another of lordship, and the third of killing a pagan.

"A gentleman untriall: a gentleman Ipocrafet: a gentleman spirituall
and temporall: there is also a gentleman spirituall and temporall.—


    "The divers manner of gentlemen:

"There are foure maner of gentlemen, to wit, one of auncestrie, which
must needes bee of blood, and three of coate-armour, and not of blood:
as one a gentleman of coate-armour of the kings badge, which is of
armes given him by an herauld: another is, to whome the king giveth a
lordeshippe, to a yeoman by his letters pattents, and to his heires for
ever, whereby hee may beare the coate-armour of the same lordeshippe:
the thirde is, if a yeoman kill a gentleman, Pagan or Sarazen, whereby
he may of right weare his coate-armour: and some holde opinion, that
if one Christian doe kill an other, and if it be lawfull battell, they
may weare each others coate-armour, yet it is not so good as where the
Christian killes the Pagan."

We have also the virtues and vices proper or contrary to the character
of the gentleman, the former of which are divided into five amorous and
four sovereign: "the five amorous are these,—lordly of countenance,
sweet in speech, wise in answere, perfitte in government and cherefull
to faithfulnes: the foure soveraigne are these fewe,—oathes are no
swearing, patient in affliction, knowledge of his owne birth, and to
feare to offend his soveraigne."[70:A] The vices which are likewise
enumerated as _nine_, are all modifications of cowardice, lechery, and
drunkenness.

That the character of the gentleman was still estimated, in the
reign of Elizabeth, according to this definition of the Prioress of
Sopewell, we have consequently the authority of Markham to assert, who
tells us, that the study of his modernised edition of the Booke of St.
Albans was still "behovefull to the accomplishment of the gentleman" of
1595.

The mansion-houses of the country-gentlemen were, in the days of
Shakspeare, rapidly improving both in their external appearance, and
in their interior comforts. During the reign of Henry the Eighth, and
even of Mary, they were, if we except their size, little better than
cottages, being thatched buildings, covered on the outside with the
coarsest clay, and lighted only by lattices; when Harrison wrote,
in the age of Elizabeth, though the greater number of manor-houses
still remained framed of timber, yet he observes, "such as be latelie
builded, are cōmonlie either of bricke or hard stone, or both; their
roomes large and comelie, and houses of office further distant
from their lodgings."[72:A] The old timber mansions, too, were now
covered with the finest plaster, which, says the historian, "beside
the delectable whitenesse of the stuffe itselfe, is laied on so
even and smoothlie, as nothing in my judgment can be done with more
exactnesse[73:A]:" and at the same time, the windows, interior
decorations, and furniture were becoming greatly more useful and
elegant. "Of old time our countrie houses," continues Harrison,
"instead of glasse did use much lattise, and that made either of
wicker or fine rifts of oke in chekerwise. I read also that some
of the better sort, in and before the time of the Saxons, did make
panels of horne insteed of glasse, and fix them in woodden calmes.
But as horne in windows is now quite laid downe in everie place, so
our lattises are also growne into lesse use, because glasse is come
to be so plentifull, and within a verie little so good cheape if not
better then the other.—The wals of our houses on the inner sides in
like sort be either hanged with tapisterie, arras worke, or painted
cloths, wherein either diverse histories, or hearbes, beasts, knots,
and such like are stained, or else they are seeled with oke of our
owne, or wainescot brought hither out of the east countries, whereby
the roomes are not a little commanded, made warme, and much more close
than otherwise they would be. As for stooves we have not hitherto used
them greatlie, yet doo they now begin to be made in diverse houses
of the gentrie.—Likewise in the houses of knights, gentlemen, &c.
it is not geson to behold generallie their great provision of Turkie
worke, pewter, brasse, fine linen, and thereto costlie cupbords of
plate, worth five or six hundred or a thousand pounds, to be deemed by
estimation."[73:B]

The house of every country-gentleman of property included a neat chapel
and a spacious hall; and where the estate and establishment were
considerable, the mansion was divided into two parts or sides, one for
the state or banqueting-rooms, and the other for the household; but
in general, the latter, except in baronial residences, was the only
part to be met with, and when complete had the addition of parlours;
thus Bacon, in his Essay on Building, describing the houshold side of
a mansion, says, "I wish it divided at the first into a hall, and a
chappell, with a partition betweene; both of good state and bignesse:
and those not to goe all the length, but to have, at the further end,
a winter, and a summer parler, both faire: and under these roomes a
faire and large cellar, sunke under ground: and likewise, some privie
kitchins, with butteries and pantries, and the like."[74:A] It was the
custom also to have windows opening from the parlours and passages
into the chapel, hall, and kitchen, with the view of overlooking or
controlling what might be going on; a trait of vigilant caution,
which may still be discovered in some of our ancient colleges and
manor-houses, and to which Shakspeare alludes in King Henry the Eighth,
where he describes His Majesty and Butts the physician entering at a
window above, which overlooks the council-chamber.[74:B] We may add,
in illustration of this system of architectural espionage, that Andrew
Borde, when giving instructions for building a house in his _Dietarie
of Health_, directs "many of the chambers to have a view into the
chapel:" and that Parker, Archbishop of Canterbury, in a letter, dated
1573, says, "if it please Her Majestie, she may come in through my
gallerie, and see the disposition of the hall in dynner-time, at _a
window opening thereunto_."[74:C]

The hall of the country-squire was the usual scene of eating and
hospitality, at the upper end of which was placed the orsille or high
table, a little elevated above the floor, and here the master of the
mansion presided, with an authority, if not a state, which almost
equalled that of the potent baron. The table was divided into upper and
lower messes, by a huge saltcellar, and the rank and consequence of the
visitors were marked by the situation of their seats above, and below,
the saltcellar; a custom which not only distinguished the relative
dignity of the guests, but extended likewise to the nature of the
provision, the wine frequently circulating only above the saltcellar,
and the dishes below it, being of a coarser kind than those near the
head of the table. So prevalent was this uncourteous distinction, that
Shakspeare, in his Winter's Tale, written about the year 1604, or
1610, designates the inferior orders of society by the term "_lower
messes_."

        ————————— "Lower messes,
    Perchance, are to this business purblind."[75:A]

Dekkar, likewise, in his play called _The Honest Whore_, 1604, mentions
in strong terms the degradation of sitting beneath the salt: "Plague
him, set him beneath the salt; and let him not touch a bit, till every
one has had his full cut."[75:B] Hall too, in the sixth satire of his
second book, published in 1597, when depicting the humiliated state of
the squire's chaplain, says, that he must not

    "ever presume to sit _above the salt_:"

and Jonson, in his Cynthia's Revells, speaking of a coxcomb, says,
"his fashion is, not to take knowledge of him that is beneath him in
clothes. He never drinkes _below the salt_." See act i. sc. 2.

This invidious regulation appears to have extended far into the
seventeenth century; for Massinger in his _City Madam_, acted in 1632,
thus notices it:

        ——————— "My proud lady
    Admits him to her table, marry, ever
    _Beneath the salt_, and there he sits the subject
    Of her contempt and scorn:"[75:C]

and Cartright still later:

         ——— "Where you are best esteem'd,
    You only pass under the favourable name
    Of humble cousins that sit _beneath the salt_."
                                           _Love's Convert._

The luxury of eating and of good cooking were well understood in the
days of Elizabeth, and the table of the country-squire frequently
groaned beneath the burden of its dishes; at Christmas and at
Easter especially, the hall became the scene of great festivity; "in
gentlemen's houses, at Christmas," says Aubrey, "the first dish that
was brought to table was a boar's head, with a lemon in his mouth. At
Queen's Coll. Oxon. they still retain this custom, the bearer of it
bringing it into the hall, singing to an old tune an old Latin rhyme,
_Apri caput defero, &c._ The first dish that was brought up to table
on Easter-day was a red-herring riding away on horseback; _i. e._ a
herring ordered by the cook something after the likeness of a man on
horseback, set in a corn sallad. The custom of eating a gammon of bacon
at Easter (which is still kept up in many parts of England) was founded
on this, _viz._ to shew their abhorrence of Judaism at that solemn
commemoration of our Lord's resurrection."[76:A]

Games and diversions of various kinds, such as mumming, masqueing,
dancing, loaf-stealing, &c. &c. were allowed in the hall on these days;
and the servants, or heralds, wore the coats of arms of their masters,
and cried '_Largesse_' thrice. The hall was usually hung round with
the insignia of the squire's amusements, such as hunting, shooting,
fishing, &c.; but in case he were a justice of the peace, it assumed
a more terrific aspect. "The halls of the justice of peace," observes
honest Aubrey, "were dreadful to behold. The skreen was garnished with
corslets and helmets, gaping with open mouths, with coats of mail,
launces, pikes, halberts, brown bills, bucklers."[76:B]

The following admirable description of an old English hall, which still
remains as it existed in the days of Elizabeth, is taken from the notes
to Mr. Scott's recent poem of Rokeby, and was communicated to the bard
by a friend; the story which it introduces, I have also added, as it
likewise occurred in the same reign, and affords a curious though not
a pleasing trait of the manners of the times; as, while it gives a
dreadful instance of ferocity, it shows with what ease justice, even in
the case of the most enormous crimes, might be set aside.

Littlecote-House stands in a low and lonely situation. On three sides
it is surrounded by a park that spreads over the adjoining hill; on
the fourth, by meadows which are watered by the river Kennet. Close on
one side of the house is a thick grove of lofty trees, along the verge
of which runs one of the principal avenues to it through the park. It
is an irregular building of great antiquity, and was probably erected
about the time of the termination of feudal warfare, when defence came
no longer to be an object in a country-mansion. Many circumstances in
the interior of the house, however, seem appropriate to feudal times.
The hall is very spacious, floored with stones, and lighted by large
transom windows, that are clothed with casements. Its walls are hung
with old military accoutrements, that have long been left a prey to
rust. At one end of the hall is a range of coats of mail and helmets,
and there is on every side abundance of old-fashioned pistols and guns,
many of them with matchlocks. Immediately below the cornice hangs a
row of leathern jerkins, made in the form of a shirt, supposed to
have been worn as armour by the vassals. A large oak-table, reaching
nearly from one end of the room to the other, might have feasted the
whole neighbourhood, and an appendage to one end of it made it answer
at other times for the old game of shuffle-board. The rest of the
furniture is in a suitable style, particularly an arm-chair of cumbrous
workmanship, constructed of wood, curiously turned, with a high back
and triangular seat, said to have been used by Judge Popham in the
reign of Elizabeth. The entrance into the hall is at one end by a low
door, communicating with a passage that leads from the outer door,
in the front of the house, to a quadrangle within; at the other it
opens upon a gloomy staircase, by which you ascend to the first floor,
and, passing the doors of some bed-chambers, enter a narrow gallery,
which extends along the back front of the house from one end to the
other of it, and looks upon an old garden. This gallery is hung with
portraits, chiefly in the Spanish dresses of the sixteenth century. In
one of the bed-chambers, which you pass in going towards the gallery,
is a bedstead with blue furniture, which time has now made dingy and
threadbare, and in the bottom of one of the bed-curtains you are shewn
a place where a small piece has been cut out and sown in again; a
circumstance which serves to identify the scene of the following story:

"It was a dark rainy night in the month of November, that an old
midwife sate musing by her cottage fire-side, when on a sudden she
was startled by a loud knocking at the door. On opening it she found
a horseman, who told her that her assistance was required immediately
by a person of rank, and that she should be handsomely rewarded, but
that there were reasons for keeping the affair a strict secret, and,
therefore, she must submit to be blind-folded, and to be conducted in
that condition to the bed-chamber of the lady. After proceeding in
silence for many miles through rough and dirty lanes, they stopped, and
the midwife was led into a house, which, from the length of her walk
through the apartment, as well as the sounds about her, she discovered
to be the seat of wealth and power. When the bandage was removed from
her eyes, she found herself in a bed-chamber, in which were the lady
on whose account she had been sent for, and a man of a haughty and
ferocious aspect. The lady was delivered of a fine boy. Immediately the
man commanded the midwife to give him the child, and, catching it from
her, he hurried across the room, and threw it on the back of the fire,
that was blazing in the chimney. The child, however, was strong, and by
its struggles rolled itself off upon the hearth, when the ruffian again
seized it with fury, and, in spite of the intercession of the midwife,
and the more piteous entreaties of the mother, thrust it under the
grate, and raking the live coals upon it, soon put an end to its life.
The midwife, after spending some time in affording all the relief in
her power to the wretched mother, was told that she must be gone. Her
former conductor appeared, who again bound her eyes, and conveyed her
behind him to her own home; he then paid her handsomely, and departed.
The midwife was strongly agitated by the horrors of the preceding
night; and she immediately made a deposition of the fact before a
magistrate. Two circumstances afforded hopes of detecting the house
in which the crime had been committed; one was, that the midwife, as
she sate by the bed-side, had, with a view to discover the place, cut
out a piece of the bed-curtain, and sown it in again; the other was,
that as she had descended the staircase, she had counted the steps.
Some suspicions fell upon one Darrell, at that time the proprietor of
Littlecote-House and the domain around it. The house was examined, and
identified by the midwife, and Darrell was tried at Salisbury for the
murder. By corrupting his judge, he escaped the sentence of the law;
but broke his neck by a fall from his horse in hunting, in a few months
after. The place where this happened is still known by the name of
Darrell's Hill: a spot to be dreaded by the peasant whom the shades of
evening have overtaken on his way.

"Littlecote-House is two miles from Hungerford, in Berkshire, through
which the Bath road passes. The fact occurred in the reign of
Elizabeth. All the important circumstances I have given exactly as they
are told in the country." Rokeby, 4to. edit. notes, p. 102-106.

The usual fare of country-gentlemen, relates Harrison, was "foure,
five, or six dishes, when they have but _small resort_;" and
accordingly, we find that Justice Shallow, when he invites Falstaffe
to dinner, issues the following orders: "Some pigeons, Davy; a
couple of short-legged hens; a joint of mutton; and any pretty
little tiny kickshaws, tell William Cook."[79:A] But on feast-days,
and particularly on the festivals above-mentioned, the profusion
and cost of the table were astonishing. Harrison observes that the
country-gentlemen and merchants contemned butchers meat on such
occasions, and vied with the nobility in the production of rare and
delicate viands, of which he gives a long list[79:B]; and Massinger
says,

    "Men may talk of _country-christmasses_—
     Their thirty-pound butter'd eggs, their pies of carps tongues,
     Their pheasants drench'd with ambergris, the carcases
     Of three fat wethers bruised for gravy, to
     Make sauce for a single peacock; yet their feasts
     Were fasts, compared with the city's."[80:A]

It was the custom in the houses of the country-gentlemen to retire
after dinner, which generally took place about eleven in the morning,
to the garden-bower or an arbour in the orchard, in order to partake
of the banquet or dessert; thus Shallow, addressing Falstaffe after
dinner, exclaims, "Nay, you shall see mine orchard: where, in an
_arbour_, we will eat a last year's pippin of my own graffing, with a
dish of carraways, and so forth."[80:B] From the banquet it was usual
to retire to evening prayer, and thence to supper, between five and
six o'clock; for in Shakspeare's time, there were seldom more than two
meals, dinner and supper; "heretofore," remarks Harrison, "there hath
beene much more time spent in eating and drinking than commonlie is in
these daies, for whereas of old we had breakfasts in the forenoone,
beverages, or nuntions after dinner, and thereto reare suppers
generallie when it was time to go to rest. Now these od repasts,
thanked be God, are verie well left, and ech one in manner (except
here and there some yoong hungrie stomach that cannot fast till dinner
time) contenteth himselfe with dinner and supper onelie. The nobilitie,
_gentlemen_, and merchantmen, especiallie at great meetings, doo sit
commonlie till two or three of the clocke at afternoone, so that with
manie is an hard matter to rise from the table to go to evening praier,
and returne from thence to come time enough to supper."[81:A]

The supper which, on days of festivity, was often protracted to a
late hour, and often too as substantial as the dinner, was succeeded,
especially at Christmas, by gambols of various sorts, and sometimes
the squire and his family would mingle in the amusements, or retiring
to the tapestried parlour, would leave the hall to the more boisterous
mirth of their household; then would the BLIND HARPER, who sold his
_FIT of mirth for a groat_, be introduced, either to provoke the
dance, or to rouse their wonder by his minstrelsy; his "matter being
for the most part stories of old time, as the tale of Sir Topas, the
reportes of Bevis of Southampton, Guy of Warwicke, Adam Bell, and
Clymme of the Clough, and such other old romances or historical rimes,
made purposely for recreation of the common people at Christmasse
dinners and brideales."[81:B] Nor was the evening passed by the parlour
fire-side dissimilar in its pleasures; the harp of history or romance
was frequently made vocal by one of the party. "We ourselves," says
Puttenham, who wrote in 1589, "have written for pleasure a little brief
romance, or historical ditty, in the English tong of the Isle of Great
Britaine, in short and long meetres, and by breaches or divisions, to
be more commodiously sung to the harpe in places of assembly, where the
company shal be desirous to heare of old adventures, and valiaunces
of noble knights in times past, as are those of King Authur and his
Knights of the Round Table, Sir Bevys of Southampton, Guy of Warwicke,
and others like."[81:C]

The _posset_ at bed-time, closed the joyous day, a custom to which
Shakspeare has occasionally alluded; thus Lady Macbeth says of the
"surfeited grooms," "I have drugg'd their possets[82:A];" Mrs. Quickly
tells Rugby, "Go; and we'll have a posset for't soon at night, in
faith, at the latter end of a sea-coal fire[82:B];" and Page, cheering
Falstaffe, exclaims, "Thou shall eat a posset to-night at my[82:C]
house." Thomas Heywood also, a contemporary of Shakspeare, has
particularly noticed this refection as occurring just before bed-time:
"Thou shall be welcome to beef and bacon, and perhaps a bag-pudding;
and my daughter Nell shall pop a _posset_ upon thee when thou goest to
bed."[82:D]

In short, hospitality, a love of festivity, and an ardent attachment
to the sports of the field, were prominent traits in the character
of the country-gentleman in Shakspeare's days. The floor of his hall
was commonly occupied by his greyhounds, and on his hand was usually
to be found his favorite hawk. His conversation was very generally on
the subject of his diversions; for as Master Stephen says, "Why you
know, an'a man have not skill in the hawking and hunting languages
now-a-dayes, I'll not give a rush for him. They are more studied than
the _Greeke_, or the _Latine_."[82:E] Classical acquirements were,
nevertheless, becoming daily more fashionable and familiar with the
character which we are describing; but still an intimacy with heraldry,
romance, and the chroniclers, constituted the chief literary wealth of
the country-gentleman. In his dress he was plain, though occasionally
costly; yet Harrison complains in 1580, that the gaudy trappings of the
French were creeping even into the rural and mercantile world: "Neither
was it merrier," says he, "with England, than when an Englishman was
knowne abroad by his owne cloth, and contented himselfe at home with
his fine carsie hosen, and a meane slop: his coat, gowne, and cloak of
browne, blue, or puke, with some pretie furniture of velvet or furre,
and a doublet of sad tawnie, or blacke velvet, or other comelie silke,
without such cuts and gawrish colours as are worne in these daies,
and never brought in but by the consent of the French, who thinke
themselves the gaiest men, when they have most diversities of jagges
and change of colours about them."[83:A]

Of the female part of the family of the country-gentleman, we must
be indulged in giving one description from Drayton, which not only
particularizes the employments and dress of the younger part of the
sex, but is written with the most exquisite simplicity and beauty; he
is delineating the well-educated daughter of a country-knight:

    "He had, as antique stories tell,
     A daughter cleaped Dawsabel,
       A maiden fair and free:
     And for she was her father's heir,
     Full well she was ycond the leir
       Of mickle courtesy.

     The silk well couth she twist and twine,
     And make the fine march-pine,
       And with the needle work:
     And she couth help the priest to say
     His mattins on a holy day,
       And sing a psalm in kirk.

     She wore a frock of frolic green,
     Might well become a maiden queen,
       Which seemly was to see;
     A hood to that so neat and fine,
     In colour like the columbine,
       Ywrought full featously.

     Her features all as fresh above,
     As is the grass that grows by Dove,
       And lythe as lass of Kent.
     Her skin as soft as Lemster wool,
     As white as snow on Peakish Hull,
       Or swan that swims in Trent.

     This maiden in a moon betime,
     Went forth when May was in the prime,
       To get sweet setywall,
     The honey-suckle, the harlock,
     The lily, and the lady-smock,
       To deck her summer-hall."[84:A]

Some heightening to the picture of the country-gentleman which we have
just given, may be drawn from the character of the upstart squire or
country-knight, as it has been pourtrayed by Bishop Earle, towards the
commencement of the seventeenth century; for the absurd imitation of
the one is but an overcharged or caricature exhibition of the costume
of the other. The upstart country-gentleman, remarks the Bishop, "is
a holiday clown, and differs only in the stuff of his clothes, not
the stuff of himself, for he bare the kings sword before he had arms
to wield it; yet being once laid o'er the shoulder with a knighthood,
he finds the herald his friend. His father was a man of good stock,
though but a tanner or usurer; he purchased the land, and his son the
title. He has doffed off the name of a country-fellow, but the look
not so easy, and his face still bears a relish of churne-milk. He is
guarded with more gold lace than all the gentlemen of the country, yet
his body makes his clothes still out of fashion. His house-keeping is
seen much in the distinct families of dogs, and serving-men attendant
on their kennels, and the deepness of their throats is the depth of
his discourse. A hawk he esteems the true burden of nobility, and is
exceeding ambitious to seem delighted in the sport, and have his fist
gloved with his [84:B]jesses. A justice of peace he is to domineer
in his parish, and do his neighbour wrong with more right. He will
be drunk with his hunters for company, and stain his gentility with
droppings of ale. He is fearful of being sheriff of the shire by
instinct, and dreads the assize-week as much as the prisoner. In sum,
he's but a clod of his own earth, or his land is the dunghill and he
the cock that crows over it: and commonly his race is quickly run, and
his children's children, though they scape hanging, return to the place
from whence they came."[85:A]

Notwithstanding the hospitality which generally prevailed among the
country-gentlemen towards the close of the sixteenth century, the
injurious custom of deserting their hereditary halls for the luxury
and dissipation of the metropolis, began to appear; and, accordingly,
Bishop Hall has described in a most finished and picturesque manner the
deserted mansion of his days;

    "Beat the broad gates, a goodly hollow sound
     With double echoes doth againe rebound;
     But not a dog doth bark to welcome thee,
     Nor churlish porter canst thou chafing see:
     All dumb and silent, like the dead of night,
     Or dwelling of some sleepy Sybarite!
     The marble pavement hid with desert weed,
     With house-leek, thistle, dock, and hemlock-seed.—
     Look to the towered chimnies, which should be
     The wind-pipes of good hospitalitie:——
     Lo, there th'unthankful swallow takes her rest,
     And fills the tunnel with her circled nest."[85:B]

That it was no very uncommon thing for country-gentlemen to spend
their Christmas in London at this period, is evident from a letter
preserved by Mr. Lodge, in his Illustrations of British History;
it is written by William Fleetwood, afterwards Queen's Serjeant,
to the Earl of Derby; is dated New Yere's Daye, 1589, and contains
the following passage:—"The gentlemen of Norff. and Suffolk were
commanded to dep{r}te from London before Xtemmas, and to repaire
to their countries, and there to kepe hospitalitie amongest their
neighbours.[86:A]" The fashion, however, of annually visiting
the capital did not become general, nor did the character of the
country-squire, such as it was in the days of Shakspeare, alter
materially during the following century.[86:B]

The _country-clergyman_, the next character we shall attempt to
notice, was distinguished, in the time of Shakspeare, by the
appellation of _Sir_: a title which the poet has uniformly bestowed
on the inferior orders of this profession, as _Sir_ Hugh in the Merry
Wives of Windsor, _Sir_ Topas in the Twelfth Night, _Sir_ Oliver in As
You like It, and _Sir_ Nathaniel in Love's Labour's lost. This custom,
which was not entirely discontinued until the close of the reign of
Charles II., owes its origin to the language of our universities, which
confers the designation of _Dominus_ on those who have taken their
first degree or bachelor of arts, and not, as has been supposed, to
any claim which the clergy had upon the order of knighthood. The word
_Dominus_ was naturally translated _Sir_; and as almost every clergyman
had taken his first degree, it became customary to apply the term to
the lower class of the hierarchy. "_Sir_ seems to have been a title,"
remarks Dr. Percy, "formerly appropriated to such of the inferior
clergy as were only _readers_ of the service, and not admitted to be
preachers, and therefore were held in the lowest estimation, as appears
from a remarkable passage in Machell's MS. _Collections for the History
of Westmoreland and Cumberland_, in six volumes, folio, preserved in
the Dean and Chapter's library at Carlisle. The Rev. Thomas Machell,
author of the Collections, lived temp. Car. II. Speaking of the little
chapel of Martindale in the mountains of Westmoreland and Cumberland,
the writer says, 'There is little remarkable in or about it, but a
neat chapel yard, which, by the peculiar care of the old reader, _Sir
Richard_[89:A], is kept clean, and as neat as a bowling-green.'

"Within the limits of myne own memory all _readers_ in chapels were
called _Sirs_[89:B], and of old have been writ so; whence, I suppose,
such of the laity as received the noble order of knighthood being
called _Sirs_ too, for distinction sake had _Knight_ writ after them;
which had been superfluous, if the title _Sir_ had been peculiar to
them."[90:A]

Shakspeare has himself indeed sufficiently marked the distinction
between priesthood and knighthood, when he makes Viola say, "I am one
that had rather go with _Sir Priest_ than _Sir Knight_."[90:B]

Were we to estimate the diameter of the country-clergy, during the age
of Elizabeth, from the sketches which Shakspeare has given us of them,
I am afraid we should be induced to appreciate their utility and moral
virtue on too low a scale. It will be a fairer plan to exhibit the
picture from the delineation of one of their own order, a competent
judge, and who was likewise a contemporary. "The apparell of our
clergiemen," records Harrison, "is comlie, and, in truth, more decent
than ever it was in the popish church: before the universities bound
their graduats unto a stable attire, afterward usurped also even by
the blind Sir Johns. For if you peruse well my chronolojie, you shall
find, that they went either in diverse colors, like plaiers, or in
garments of light hew, as yellow, red, greene, &c.: with their shoes
piked, their haire crisped, their girdles armed with silver; their
shoes, spurres, bridles, &c. buckled with like metall: their apparell
(for the most part) of silke, and richlie furred; their cappes laced
and butned with gold: so that to meet a priest in those daies, was to
behold a peacocke that spreadeth his taile when he danseth before the
henne: which now (I saie) is well reformed. Touching hospitalitie,
there was never any greater used in England, sith by reason that
marriage is permitted to him that will choose that kind of life, their
meat and drinke is more orderly and frugallie dressed; their furniture
of houshold more convenient, and better looked unto; and the poore
oftener fed generallie than heretofore they have beene." Then, alluding
to those who reproach the country-clergy for not being so prodigal of
good cheer as in former days, he adds, "To such as doo consider of the
curtailing of their livings, or excessive prices wherevnto things are
growen, and how their course is limited by law, and estate looked into
on every side, the cause of their so dooing is well inough perceived.
This also offendeth manie, that they should after their deaths leave
their substances to their wives and children: whereas they consider
not, that in old time such as had no lemans nor bastards (verie few
were there God wot of this sort) did leave their goods and possessions
to their brethren and kinsfolk, whereby (as I can shew by good record)
manie houses of gentilitie have growen and beene erected. If in anie
age some one of them did found a college, almes-house, or schoole,
if you looke unto these our times, you shall see no fewer deeds of
charitie doone, nor better grounded upon the right stub of pietie
than before. If you saie that their wives be fond, after the decease
of their husbands, and bestow themselves not so advisedlie as their
calling requireth, which God knoweth these curious surveiors make
small accompt of in truth, further than thereby to gather matter of
reprehension: I beseech you then to look into all states of the laitie,
and tell me whether some duchesses, countesses, barons, or knights'
wives, doo not fullie so often offend in the like as they: for Eve will
be Eve, though Adam would saie naie. Not a few also find fault with
our thread-bare gowns, as if not our patrons but our wives were causes
of our wo: but if it were knowne to all, that I know to have beene
performed of late in Essex, where a minister taking a benefice (of
lesse than twentie pounds in the Quéen's bookes so farre as I remember)
was inforced to paie to his patrone, twentie quarters of otes, ten
quarters of wheat, and sixtéene yéerlie of barleie, which he called
hawkes-meat; and another left the like in farme to his patrone forten
pounds by the yéere, which is well worth fortie at the least, the cause
of our thread-bare gowns would easilie appeere, for such patrones doo
scrape the wooll from our clokes."[91:A]

This delineation is, upon the whole, a favourable one; but the
author in the very next page admits that the country-clergy
had notwithstanding fallen into "general contempt" and "small
consideration;" that the cause of this was not merely owing to the
poverty of the ministry, but was for the most part attributable either
to the iniquity of the patron or the immorality of the priest, will
but too clearly appear from the relation of Harrison himself, and from
other contemporary evidence. The historian declares that it was the
custom of some patrons to "bestow advowsons of benefices upon their
bakers, butlers, cookes, good archers, falconers, and horsekéepers,
insted of other recompence for their long and faithfull service[92:A];"
and the following letter from the Talbot papers presents us with a
frightful view of the manners of the country-clergy at the commencement
of the reign of James I.


    "Ad. Slack to the Lady Bowes.

    "Right wor{ll}.

    "I understand that one Raphe Cleaton ys curate of the chappell
    at Buxton; his wages are, out of his neighbour's benevolence,
    about v{li} yearely: S{r} Charles Cavendishe had the tythes
    there this last yeare, ether of his owne right or my Lords, as
    th' inhabitants saye. The minister aforenamed differeth litle
    from those of the worste sorte, and hath dipt his finger both
    in manslaughter and p'jurie, &c. The placinge or displacing
    of the curate there resteth in Mr. Walker, commissarie of
    Bakewell, of which churche Buxton is a chappell of ease.

    "I humbly thanke yo{r} Wor{pp} for yo{re} l{re} to the justices
    at the cessions; for S{r} Peter Fretchvell, togither w{th} Mr.
    Bainbrigg, were verie earnest against the badd vicar of Hope;
    and lykewyse S{r} Jermane Poole, and all the benche, savinge
    Justice Bentley, who use some vaine —— on his behalfe, and
    affirmed that my La. Bowes had been disprooved before My Lord
    of Shrowesburie in reports touching the vicar of Hope; but
    such answere was made therto as his mouthe was stopped: yet
    the latter daie, when all the justic's but himselffe and one
    other were rysen, he wold have had the said vicar lycensed to
    sell ale in his vicaredge, althoe the whole benche had comanded
    the contrarye; whereof S{r} Jermane Poole being adv'tised,
    retyrned to the benche (contradicting his speeche) whoe, w{th}
    Mr. Bainbrigge, made their warrant to bringe before them, him,
    or anie other person that shall, for him, or in his vicaridge,
    brue, or sell ale, &c. He ys not to bee punished by the
    Justices for the multytude of his women, untyll the basterds
    whereof he is the reputed father bee brought in. I am the more
    boulde to wryte so longe of this sorrie matter, in respect you
    maye take so much better knowledge of S{r} Jo. Bentley, and his
    p'tialytie in so vile a cause; and esteeme and judge of him
    accordinge to y{r} wisdome and good discretion. Thus, humbly
    cravinge p'don, I com̄itt y{r} good Wors. to the everlasting
    Lorde, who ever keepe you. This 12th of Octob. 1609.

    "Yo{r} La' humble poore tenant, at comandm{t}.

                                                "AD. SLACK.[93:A]

    "To the right wor{ll} my good Ladie, the
      La. Bowes of Walton, geive theise."

That men who could thus debase themselves should be held in little
esteem, and their services ill requited, cannot excite our wonder; and
we consequently read without surprise, that in the days of Elizabeth,
the minstrel and the cook were often better paid than the priest;—thus
on the books of the Stationers' Company for the year 1560, may be found
the following entry:

                                _s._  _d._
  "Item, payd to the preacher    vi    2
   Item, payd to the minstrell  xij    0
   Item, payd to the coke        xv    0"[93:B]

Let us not conclude, however, that the age of Shakspeare was without
instances of a far different kind, and that religion and virtue were
altogether excluded from what ought to have been their most favoured
abode; it will be sufficient to mention the name of _Bernard Gilpin_,
the most exemplary of parish-priests, whose humility, benevolence,
and exalted piety were never exceeded, and whose ministerial labours
were such as to form a noble contrast to the shameful neglect of the
pastoral care which existed around him. Indeed we are inclined to
infer, notwithstanding the numerous individual instances of profligacy
and dissipation which may be brought forward, that the country clergy
then, as now, if considered in the aggregate, possessed more real
virtue and utility than any other equally numerous body of men; but
that aberrations from the stricter decency of their order were, as is
still very properly the case in the present day, marked with avidity,
and censured with abhorrence. To the younger clergy in the country,
also, was frequently committed the task of education, a labour of
unspeakable importance, but in the period of which we are writing,
attended too often with the most undeserved contumely and contempt.
In the Scholemaster of Ascham may be found the most bitter complaints
of the barbarous and disgraceful treatment of the able instructor of
youth; and the following sketches of the clerical tutor from Peacham
and Hall, will still further heighten and authenticate the picture.
The former of these writers observes, "Such is the most base and
ridiculous parsimony of many of our Gentlemen, (if I may so terme
them) that if they can procure some poore Batchelor of Art from the
Universitie to teach their children to say grace, and serve the cure of
an impropriation, who wanting meanes and friends, will be content upon
the promise of ten pounds a yeere at his first comming, to be pleased
with five; the rest to be set off in hope of the next advouson, (which
perhaps was sold before the young man was borne): Or if it chance to
fall in his time, his lady or master tels him; 'Indeed Sir we are
beholden unto you for your paines, such a living is lately falne, but I
had before made a promise of it to my butler or bailiffe, for his true
and extraordinary service.'

"Is it not commonly seene, that the most Gentlemen will give better
wages, and deale more bountifully with a fellow who can but a dogge,
or reclaime a hawke, than upon an honest, learned, and well qualified
man to bring up their children? It may be, hence it is, that dogges
are able to make syllogismes in the fields, when their young masters
can conclude nothing at home, if occasion of argument or discourse be
offered at the table."[95:A]

The domestic chaplain of Bishop Hall is touched with a glowing pencil,
and while it faithfully exhibits the servile and depressed state of the
poor tutor, is, at the same time, wrought up with much point and humour.

    "A gentle squire would gladly entertaine
     Into his house some trencher-chapelaine;
     Some willing man, that might instruct his sons.
     And that would stand to good conditions.
     First, that he lie upon the truckle-bed,
     While his young maister lieth o'er his head:
     Second, that he do, upon no default,
     Never presume to sit above the salt:
     Third, that he never change his trencher twise;
     Fourth, that he use all common courtesies;
     Sit bare at meales, and one half rise and wait:
     Last, that he never his young maister beat;
     But he must aske his mother to define
     How manie jerks she would his breech should line.
     All these observ'd, he could contented be,
     To give five markes, and winter liverie."[95:B]

From the description of the character of the country clerical tutor, it
is an easy transition to that of the _rural pedagogue or schoolmaster_,
a personage of not less consequence in the days of Elizabeth, than in
the present period. He frequently combined, indeed, in the sixteenth
century, the reputation of a conjuror with that of a schoolmaster,
and accordingly in the _Comedy of Errors_, _Pinch_, in the dramatis
personæ, is described as "a schoolmaster, and a conjuror," and the
following not very amiable portrait of his person is given towards the
conclusion of the play:—

    "They brought one Pinch; a hungry lean-faced villain,
     A meer anatomy, a mountebank,
     A thread-bare juggler, and a fortune-teller;
     A needy, hollow-eye'd, sharp-looking wretch,
     A living dead man: this pernicious slave,
     Forsooth, took him on as conjuror."[96:A]

Ben Jonson also alludes to this union of occupations when he says,
"I would have ne'er a cunning _schoolemaster_ in England, I mean a
Cunningman as a schoolemaster; that is, a Conjurour."[96:B]

A less formidable figure of a schoolmaster has been given us by
Shakspeare, under the character of Holofernes, in _Love's Labour's
Lost_, where he has drawn a full-length caricature of the too frequent
pedantry of this profession. Yet Holofernes, though he speak _a
leash of languages at once_, is not deficient either in ability or
discrimination; he ridicules with much good sense and humour the
literary fops of his day, the "rackers of orthography;" and his
conversation is described by his friend, Sir Nathaniel, the Curate,
as possessing all the requisites to perfection. "Sir: your reasons at
dinner have been sharp and sententious; pleasant without scurrility,
witty without affection, audacious without impudency, learned without
opinion, and strange without heresy."[96:C] "It is very difficult,"
remarks Dr. Johnson, "to add any thing to this character of the
schoolmaster's table-talk, and perhaps all the precepts of Castiglione
will scarcely be found to comprehend a rule for conversation so justly
delineated, so widely dilated, and so nicely limited."[96:D]

The country-schoolmasters in the reigns of Elizabeth and James, were,
however, if we trust to the accounts of Ascham and Peacham, in general
many degrees below the pedagogue of Shakspeare in ability; tyranny and
ignorance appear to have been their chief characteristics; to such an
extent, indeed, were they deficient in point of necessary knowledge,
that Peacham, speaking of bad masters, declares, "it is a generall
plague and complaint of the whole land; for, for one discreet and able
teacher, you shall finde twenty ignorant and carelesse; who (among so
many fertile and delicate wits as _England_ affordeth) whereas they
make one scholler, they marre ten."[97:A]

Ascham had endeavoured, by every argument and mode of persuasion in
his power, to check the severe and indiscriminate discipline which
prevailed among the teachers in his time; it would seem in vain; for
Peacham, about the year 1620, found it necessary to recommend lenity
in equally strenuous terms, and has given a minute and we have no
doubt a faithful picture of the various cruelties to which scholars
were then subjected; a summary of the result of this conduct may be
drawn, indeed, from his own words, where he says, "Masters for the
most part so behave themselves, that their very name is hatefull to
the scholler, who trembleth at their comming in, rejoyceth at their
absence, and looketh his master (returned) in the the face, as his
deadly enemy."[97:B]

To the charges of undue severity and defective literature, we must
add, I am afraid, the infinitely more weighty accusation of frequent
immorality and buffoonery. Ludovicus Vives, who wrote just before
the age of Shakspeare, asserts, that "some schoolmasters taught
Ovid's books of love to their scholars, and some made expositions,
and expounded the vices[97:C];" and Peacham, at the close of the era
we are considering, censures in the strongest terms their too common
levity and misconduct: "the diseases whereunto some of them are very
subject, are _humour_ and _folly_ (that I may say nothing of the grosse
ignorance and insufficiency of many) whereby they become ridiculous and
contemptible both in the schoole and abroad. Hence it comes to passe,
that in many places, especially in Italy, of all professions that of
_pedanteria_ is held in basest repute: the schoole-master almost in
every comedy being brought upon the stage, to paralell the _Zani_
or _Pantaloun_. He made us good sport in that excellent comedy of
_Pedantius_, acted in our Trinity Colledge in _Cambridge_, and if I be
not deceived, in _Priscianus Vapulans_, and many of our English plays.

"I knew one, who in winter would ordinarily in a cold morning, whip his
boyes over for no other purpose than to get himselfe a heat: another
beat them for swearing, and all the while he sweares himself with
horrible oathes, he would forgive any fault saving that.

"I had I remember myselfe (neere _S. Albanes_ in _Hertfordshire_, where
I was borne) a master, who by no entreaty would teach any scholler he
had, farther than his father had learned before him; as, if he had
onely learned but to reade English, the sonne, though he went with
him seven yeeres, should goe no further: his reason was, they would
then proove saucy rogues, and controule their fathers; yet these are
they that oftentimes have our hopefull gentry under their charge and
tuition, to bring them in science and civility."[98:A]

We must, I apprehend, from these representations, be induced to
conclude, that ignorance, despotism, and self-sufficiency were leading
features in the composition of the country-schoolmaster, during this
period of our annals; it would not be just, however, to infer from
these premises that the larger schools were equally unfortunate in
their conductors; on the contrary, most of the public seminaries of
the capital, and many in the large provincial towns, were under the
regulation of masters highly respectable for their erudition, men,
indeed, to whom neither Erasmus nor Joseph Scaliger would have refused
the title of ripe and good scholars.

We shall now pass forward, in the series of our rural characters, to
the delineation of one of great importance in a national point of view,
that of the substantial Farmer or Yeoman, of whom Harrison has left
us the following interesting definition:—"This sort of people have
a certaine preheminence, and more estimation than labourers and the
common sort of artificers, and these commonlie live wealthilie, kéepe
good houses, and travell to get riches. They are also for the most part
farmers to gentlemen, or at the leastwise artificers, and with grazing,
frequenting of markets, and kéeping of servants (not idle servants, as
the gentlemen doo, but such as get both their owne and part of their
masters living) do come to great welth, in somuch that manie of them
are able and doo buie the lands of unthriftie gentlemen, and often
setting their sonnes to the schooles, to the universities, and to the
Ins of the court; or otherwise leaving them sufficient lands whereupon
they may live without labour, doo make them by those meanes to become
gentlemen: these were they that in times past made all France afraid.
And albeit they be not called master, as gentlemen are, or sir as to
knights apperteineth, but onelie John and Thomas, &c.: yet have they
beene found to have doone verie good service: and the kings of England
in foughten battels, were woont to remaine among them (who were their
footmen) as the French kings did amongst their horssemen: the prince
thereby shewing where his chiefe strength did consist."[99:A]

After this description of the rank which the farmer held in society,
we shall proceed to state the mode in which he commonly lived in the
age of Elizabeth; and in doing this we have chosen, as usual, to adopt
at considerable length the language of our old writers; a practice to
which we shall in future adhere, while detailing the manners, customs,
&c. of our ancestors, a practice which has indeed peculiar advantages;
for the authenticity of the source is at once apparent, the diction
possesses a peculiar charm from its antique cast, and the expression
has a raciness and force of colouring, which owes its origin to actual
inspection, and which, consequently, it is in vain to expect, on such
subjects, from modern composition.

The houses or cottages of the farmer were built, in places abounding
in wood, in a very strong and substantial manner, with not more than
four, six, or nine inches between stud and stud; but in the open and
champaine country, they were compelled to use more flimsy materials,
with here and there a girding to which they fastened their splints, and
then covered the whole with thick clay to keep out the wind. "Certes
this rude kind of building," says Harrison, "made the Spaniards in
quéene Maries daies to wonder, but chéeflie when they saw what large
diet was used in manie of these so homelie cottages, in so much that
one of no small reputation amongst them said after this manner: 'These
English (quoth he) have their houses made of sticks and durt, but
they fare commonlie so well as the king.' Whereby it appeareth that
he liked better of our good fare in such coarse cabins, than of their
owne thin diet in their prince-like habitations and palaces."[100:A]
The cottages of the peasantry usually consisted of but two rooms on
the ground-floor, the outer for the servants, the inner for the master
and his family, and they were thatched with straw or sedge; while the
dwelling of the substantial farmer was distributed into several rooms
above and beneath, was coated with white lime or cement, and was very
neatly roofed with reed; hence Tusser, speaking of the farm-house,
gives the following directions for repairing and preserving its thatch
in the month of May:

    "Where houses be reeded (as houses have need)
     Now pare of the mosse, and go beat in the reed:
     The juster ye drive it, the smoother and plaine,
     More handsome ye make it, to shut off the raine."[100:B]

A few years before the era of which we are treating, the venerable
Hugh Latimer, describing in one of his impressive sermons the economy
of a farmer in his time, tells us that his father, who was a yeoman,
had no land of his own, but only "a farm of three or four pounds by
the year at the utmost; and hereupon he tilled so much as kept half a
dozen men. He had a walk for an hundred sheep; and my mother milked
thirty kine. He kept his son at school till he went to the university,
and maintained him there; he married his daughters with five pounds or
twenty nobles a piece; he kept hospitality with his neighbours, and
some alms he gave to the poor; and all this he did out of the said
farm."[101:A]

Land let, at this period, it should be remembered, at about a shilling
per acre; but in the reign of Elizabeth its value rapidly increased,
together with a proportional augmentation of the comfort of the farmer,
who even began to exhibit the elegancies and luxuries of life. Of the
change which took place in rural economy towards the close of the
sixteenth century, the following faithful and interesting picture has
been drawn by the pencil of Harrison, who, noticing the additional
splendour of gentlemen's houses, remarks,—"In times past the costlie
furniture staied _there_, whereas now it is descended yet lower, even
unto manie farmers, who by vertue of their old and not of their new
leases, have for the most part learned also to garnish their cupbords
with plate, their ioined beds with tapistrie and silke hangings, and
their tables with carpets and fine naperie, whereby the wealth of our
countrie (God be praised therefore, and give us grace to imploie it
well) dooth infinitlie appeare. Neither doo I speake this in reproch
of anie man, God is my judge, but to shew that I do rejoise rather, to
see how God hath blessed us with his good gifts; and whilest I behold
how that in a time wherein all things are growen to most excessive
prices, and what commoditie so ever is to be had, is daily plucked from
the commonaltie by such as looke in to everie trade, we doo yet find
the means to obtein and atchive such furniture as here to fore hath
beene unpossible. There are old men yet dwelling in the village where
I remaine, which have noted three things to be marvellouslie altered in
England within their sound remembrance; and other three things too too
much encreased. _One_ is, the multitude of chimnies latelie erected,
wheras in their yoong daies there were not above two or three, if so
manie in most uplandish townes of the realme, (the religious houses,
and manor places of their lords alwaies excepted, and peradventure some
great personages) but ech one made his fire against a rere dosse in the
hall, where he dined and dressed his meat.

"The _second_ is the great (although not generall) amendment of
lodging, for (said they) our fathers (yea and wee ourselves also)
have lien full oft upon straw pallets, on rough mats covered onlie
with a shéet, under coverlets made of dagswain or hop harlots (I use
their owne termes) and a good round log under their heads instead of
a bolster or pillow. If it were so that our fathers or the good man
of the house, had within seven yeares after his mariage purchased
a matteres or flockebed, and thereto a sacke of chaffe to rest his
head upon, he thought himselfe to be as well lodged as the lord of
the towne, that peradventure laie seldome in a bed of downe or whole
fethers; so well were they contented, and with such base kind of
furniture: which also is not verie much amended as yet in some parts
of Bedfordshire, and elsewhere further off from our southerne parts.
Pillowes (said they) were thought méet onelie for women in child
bed. As for servants, if they had anie shéet above them it was well,
for seldome had they anie under their bodies, to kéepe them from the
pricking straws that ran oft through the canvas of the pallet, and
rased their hardened hides.

"The _third_ thing they tell of, is the exchange of vessell, as of
treene platters into pewter, and wodden spoones into silver or tin. For
so common was all sorts of tréene stuff in old time, that a man should
hardlie find four péeces of pewter (of which one was peradventure a
salt) in a good farmer's house, and yet for all this frugalitie (if it
may so be justly called) they were scarce able to live and paie their
rents at their daies without selling of a cow, or an horsse, or more,
although they paid but foure pounds at the uttermost by the yeare. Such
also was their povertie, that if some one od farmer or husbandman had
béene at the alehouse, a thing greatlie used in those daies, amongst
six or seven of his neighbours, and there in a braverie to shew what
store he had, did cast downe his purse, and therein a noble or six
shillings in silver unto them (for few such men then cared for gold
because it was not so readie paiment, and they were oft inforced to
give a penie for the exchange of an angell) it was verie likelie that
all the rest could not laie downe so much against it: whereas in my
time, although peradventure foure poundes of old rent be improved to
fortie, fiftie, or an hundred pounds, yet will the farmer as another
palme or date trée thinke his gaines verie small toward the end of
his terme, if he have not six or seven yeares rent lieing by him,
therewith to purchase a new lease, beside a faire garnish of pewter on
his cupbord, with so much in od vessell going about the house, thrée
or foure feather beds, so manie coverlids and carpets of tapistrie, a
silver salt, a bowle for wine (if not an whole neast) and a dozzen of
spoones to furnish up the sute."[103:A]

To this curious delineation of the furniture and household
accommodation of the farmer, it will be necessary, in order to complete
the sketch, to add a few things relative to his diet and hospitality.
Contrary to what has taken place in modern times, the hours for meals
were later with the artificer and the husbandman than with the higher
order of society; the farmer and his servants usually sitting down to
dinner at one o'clock, and to supper at seven, while the nobleman and
gentleman took the first at eleven in the morning, and the second at
five in the afternoon.

It would appear that, from the cottage to the palace, good eating was
as much cultivated in the days of Elizabeth as it has been in any
subsequent period; and the rites of hospitality, more especially in the
country, were observed with a frequency and cordiality which a further
progress in civilisation has rather tended to check, than to increase.

Of the larder of the cotter and the shepherd, and of the hospitality
of the former, a pretty accurate idea may be acquired from the simple
yet beautiful strains of an old pastoral bard of Elizabeth's days, who,
describing a nobleman fatigued by the chase, the heat of the weather,
and long fasting, adds that he—

    "Did house him in a peakish graunge,
       Within a forrest great:

     Wheare, knowne, and welcom'd, as the place
       And persons might afforde,
     Browne bread, whig, bacon, curds, and milke,
       Were set him on the borde:

     A cushion made of lists, a stoole
       Half backed with a houpe,
     Were brought him, and he sitteth down
       Besides a sorry coupe.

     The poor old couple wish't their bread
       Were wheat, their whig were perry,
     Their bacon beefe, their milke and curds
       Weare creame, to make him mery."[104:A]

The picture of the shepherd youth is so exquisitely drawn that, though
only a portion of it is illustrative of our subject, we cannot avoid
giving so much of the text as will render the figure complete.

    "Sweet growte, or whig, his bottle had
       As much as it might hold:

     A sheeve of bread as browne as nut,
       And cheese as white as snowe,
     And wildings, or the season's fruite,
       He did in scrip bestow:

     And whil'st his py-bald curre did sleepe,
       And sheep-hooke lay him by,
     On hollow quilles of oten strawe
       He piped melody:—

     — — — — — — — With the sun
       He doth his flocke unfold,
     And all the day on hill or plaine
       He merrie chat can hold:

     And with the sun doth folde againe;
       Then jogging home betime,
     _He turnes a crab_, or tunes a round,
       Or sings some merrie ryme:

     _Nor lackes he gleeful tales to tell,
       Whil'st round the bole doth trot_;
     And sitteth singing care away,
       Till he to bed hath got.

     Theare sleeps he soundly all the night,
       Forgetting morrow cares,
     Nor feares he blasting of his corne
       Nor uttering of his wares,

     Or stormes by seas, or stirres on land,
       Or cracke of credite lost,
     Not spending franklier than his flocke
       Shall still defray the cost.

     Wel wot I, sooth they say that say:
       More quiet nightes and daies
     The shepheard sleepes and wakes than he
       Whose cattel he doth graize."[105:A]

The lines in Italics allude to the favourite beverage of the peasantry,
and the mode in which they recreated themselves over the spicy bowl.
To _turne a crab_ is to roast a wilding or wild apple in the fire for
the purpose of being thrown hissing hot into a bowl of nut-brown ale,
into which had been previously put a toast with some spice and sugar.
To this delicious compound Shakspeare has frequently referred; thus in
_Love's Labour's Lost_ one of his designations of winter is,

    "When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl:"[105:B]

and Puck, describing his own wanton tricks in _Midsummer Night's
Dream_, says—

    "And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl,
     In very likeness of a roasted crab,
     And when she drinks, against her lips I bob."[106:A]

The very expression to _turn a crab_ will be found in the following
passages from two old plays, in the first of which the good man says he
will

    "Sit down in _his_ chaire by _his_ wife faire Alison,
     And _turne a crabbe_ in the fire;"[106:B]

and in the second, Christmas is personified

    —— "sitting in a corner _turning crabs_,
    Or coughing o'er a warmed pot of ale."[106:C]

Nor can we omit, in closing this series of quotations, the following
stanza of a fine old song in the curious comedy of _Gammer Gurton's
Needle_, first printed in 1575:

    "I love no rost, but a nut brown toste,
       and _a crab layde in the fyre_;
     A lytle bread shall do me stead,
       much bread I not desyre.

     No froste nor snow, no winde, I trow,
       can hurte me if I wolde,
     I am so wrapt, and throwly lapt
       of joly good ale, and olde.

     Back and syde go bare, go bare,
       booth foote and hande go colde;
     But belly, God sende thee good ale ynoughe,
       whether it be newe or olde."[106:D]

To tell gleeful tales, "whilst round the bole doth trot," was an
amusement much more common among our ancestors, during the age of
Elizabeth, and the subsequent century, than it has been in any later
period. The _Winter's Tale_ of Shakspeare owes its title to this
custom, of which an example is placed before us in the first scene of
the second act.

      _Her._             Come Sir—
      —— Pray you, sit by us,
    And tell 's a _tale_.

      _Mam._ Merry, or sad, shal't be?

      _Her._ As merry as you will.[107:A]

And Burton, the first edition of whose Anatomy of Melancholy was
published in 1617, enumerates, among the ordinary recreations of
Winter, "merry tales of errant knights, queens, lovers, lords, ladies,
giants, dwarfs, thieves, cheaters, witches, fayries, goblins, friars,
&c.—which some delight to hear, some to tell; all are well pleased
with;" and he remarks shortly afterwards, "when three or four good
companions meet, they tell old stories by the fire-side, or in the sun,
as old folks usually do, remembering afresh and with pleasure antient
matters, and such like accidents, which happened in their younger
years."[107:B] Milton also, in his _L'Allegro_, first printed in 1645,
gives a conspicuous station

    —— "to the spicy nut-brown ale,
      With stories told of many a feat:"

and adds,

    "Thus done the tales, to bed they creep,
     By whispering winds soon lull'd to sleep."[107:C]

The farmer's daily diet may be drawn with sufficient accuracy from
the curious old Georgic of Tusser, a poem which, more than any other
that we possess, throws light upon the agricultural manners and customs
of the age. In Lent, says this entertaining bard, the farmer must in
the first place consume his red herring, and afterwards his salt fish,
which should be kept in store, indeed, and considered as good even when
Lent is past, and with these leeks and peas should be procured for
pottage, with the view of saving milk, oatmeal, and bread: at Easter
veale and bacon are to be the chief articles; at Martilmas salted beef,
"when country folk do dainties lack:" at Midsummer, when mackrel are
out of season, grasse (that is sallads, &c.) fresh beef and pease: at
Michaelmas fresh herring and fatted [108:A]crones: at All Saints pork
and souse, sprats and spurlings: at Christmas he enjoins the farmer
to "plaie and make good cheere," and he concludes by advising him, as
was the custom in Elizabeth's time, to observe Fridays, Saturdays, and
Wednesdays as fish-days; to "keep embrings well and fasting dayes,"
and of fish and fruit be scarce, to supply their want with butter and
cheese.[108:B] To these recommendations he adds, in another place, that

    "Good ploughmen look weekly of custom and right,
     For rostmeat on sundaies, and thursday at night:"

and he subsequently gives directions for writing what he terms
"husbandlie posies," that is, economical proverbs in rhyme, to be hung
up in the Hall, the parlour, the Ghest's chamber, and the good man's
own bed chamber.[108:C]

If the farmer have a visitor, our worthy bard is not illiberal in
his allowance, but advises him to place three dishes on his table at
dinner, well dressed, which, says he, will be sufficient to pleese
your friend, and will _become_ your Hall.[109:A]

On days of feasting and rejoicing, however, it appears to have been
a common custom for the guests to bring their victuals with them,
forming as it were a pic-nic meal; thus, Harrison, describing the
occasional mirth and hospitality of the farmer, says,—"In feasting
the husbandmen doo exceed after their maner: especiallie at bridales,
purifications of women, and such od meetings, where it is incredible
to tell what meat is consumed and spent, ech one bringing such a dish,
or so manie with him as his wife and he doo consult upon, but alwaies
with this consideration, that the léefer fréend shall have the better
provision. This also is commonlie séene at these bankets, that the good
man of the house is not charged with any thing saving bread, drink,
sauce, houseroome, and fire. (He then gives us the following naïve
and pleasing picture of their festivity and content.) The husbandmen
are sufficientlie liberall, and verie fréendlie at their tables, and
when they méet, they are so merie without malice, and plaine without
inward Italian or French craft and subtiltie, that it would doo a
man good to be in companie among them. Herein only are the inferiour
sort somewhat to be blamed, that being thus assembled, their talke is
now and then such as savoureth of scurrilitie and ribaldrie, a thing
naturallie incident to carters and clowns, who thinke themselves not to
be merie and welcome, if their foolish veines in this behalfe be never
so little restreined. This is moreover to be added in these meetings,
that if they happen to stumble upon a péece of venison, and a cup of
wine or verie strong beere or ale (which latter they commonlie provide
against their appointed daies) they thinke their chéere so great, and
themselves to have fared so well, as the lord Maior of London, with
whome when their bellies be full they will not often sticke to make
comparison, (saying, _I have dined so well as my lord maior_) because
that of a subject there is no publike officer of anie citie in Europe,
that may compare in port and countenance with him during the time of
his office."[109:B]

The dress of the farmer during the middle of the sixteenth century
was plain and durable; consisting, for common purposes, of coarse gray
cloth or fustian, in the form of trunk-hose, frock, or doublet.

To this account of the farmer's mode of living, it will be proper to
add a brief description of his coadjutor in domestic economy, the
English housewife, a personage of no small importance; for, as honest
Tusser has justly observed,

    "House keping and husbandry, if it be good,
     must love one another, as cousinnes in blood.
     The wife to, must husband as well as the man,
     or farewel thy husbandry, doe what thou can."[110:A]

Of the qualifications necessary to constitute this useful character,
Gervase Markham has given us a very curious detail, in his work
entitled "The English Housewife;" which, though not published until the
close of the Shakspearian era, appears, from the dedication to Frances,
Countess Dowager of Exeter, to have been written long anterior to its
transmission to the press; for it is there said, "That much of it was
a manuscript which many years ago belonged to an honourable Countess,
one of the greatest glories of our[110:B] kingdom." It is a delineation
which, as supposed of easy practical application, does honour to the
sex and to the age. After expatiating on the necessity of a religious
example to her household, on the part of the good housewife, he thus
proceeds:

"Next unto her sanctity and holiness of life, it is meet that our
_English_ Housewife be a woman of great modesty and temperance, as
well inwardly as outwardly; inwardly, as in her behaviour and carriage
towards her husband, wherein she shall shun all violence of rage,
passion and humour, coveting less to direct than to be directed,
appearing ever unto him pleasant, amiable and delightful; and, tho'
occasion of mishaps, or the mis-government of his will may induce her
to contrary thoughts, yet vertuously to suppress them, and with a
mild sufferance rather to call him home from his error, than with the
strength of anger to abate the least spark of his evil, calling into
her mind, that evil and uncomely language is deformed, though uttered
even to servants; but most monstrous and ugly, when it appears before
the presence of a husband: outwardly, as in her apparel, and dyet, both
which she shall proportion according to the competency of her husband's
estate and calling, making her circle rather strait than large: for it
is a rule, if we extend to the uttermost, we take away increase; if we
go a hairs bredth beyond, we enter into consumption: but if we preserve
any part, we build strong forts against the adversaries of fortune,
provided that such preservation be honest and conscionable: for as
lavish prodigality is brutish, so miserable covetousness is hellish.
Let therefore the Housewife's garments be comely and strong, made as
well to preserve the health, as to adorn the person, altogether without
toyish garnishes, or the gloss of light colours, and as far from the
vanity of new and fantastick fashions, as near to the comely imitation
of modest matrons. Let her dyet be wholesome and cleanly, prepared at
due hours, and cook'd with care and diligence, let it be rather to
satisfie nature, than her affections, and _apter_ to kill _hunger_ than
revive _new_ appetites; let it proceed _more_ from the provision of
her own yard, than the furniture of the markets; and let it be rather
esteemed for the familiar acquaintance she hath without it, than for
the strangeness and rarity it bringeth from other countries.

"To conclude, _our English_ Housewife must be of chast thoughts,
stout courage, patient, untired, watchful, diligent, witty, pleasant,
constant in friendship, full of good neighbour-hood, wise in discourse,
but not frequent therein, sharp and quick of speech, but not bitter
or talkative, secret in her affairs, comfortable in her counsels, and
generally skilful in the worthy knowledges which do belong to her
vocation."[111:A]

These knowledges, he then states, should consist in an intimacy with
domestic physic, with cookery, with the distillation of waters,
with the making and preserving of wines, with the making and dying
of cloth, with the conduct of dairies, and with malting, brewing,
and baking; for all which he gives very ample directions. Markham,
indeed, seems to have taken the greater part of this picture from his
predecessor Tusser, in whose poems on husbandry may be found, among
many others, the following excellent precepts for the conduct of the
good house-wife:—

    "In Marche and in Aprill from morning to night:
     in sowing and setting good huswives delight.
     To have in their garden or some other plot:
     to trim up their house and to furnish their pot.

     Have millons at Mihelmas, parsneps in lent:
     in June, buttred beanes, saveth fish to be spent.
     With those and good pottage inough having than:
     thou winnest the heart of thy laboring man.

     From Aprill begin til saint Andrew be past:
     so long with good huswives their dairies doe last.
     Good milche bease and pasture, good husbandes provide:
     good huswives know best all the rest how to guide.

     But huswives, that learne not to make their owne cheese:
     with trusting of others, have thes for their feese.
     Their milke slapt in corners their creame al to sost:
     their milk pannes so flotte, that their cheeses be lost.

     Where some of a kowe maketh yerely a pounde:
     these huswives crye creake for their voice will not sounde.
     The servauntes suspecting their dame, lye in waighte:
     with one thing or other they trudge away straight.

     Then neighbour (for god's sake) if any such be:
     if you know a good servant, waine her to me.
     Such maister, suche man, and such mistres such mayde:
     such husbandes and huswives, suche houses araide.

     For flax and for hemp, for to have of her owne:
     the wife must in May take good hede it be sowne.
     And trimme it and kepe it to serve at a nede:
     the femble to spin and the karle for her fede.

     Good husbandes abrode seketh al wel to have:
     good huswives at home seketh al wel to save.
     Thus having and saving in place where they meete:
     make profit with pleasure suche couples to greete.[113:A]"

But it is in "The points of _Huswifry_ united to the comfort of
_Husbandry_," of the good old poet, that we recognise the most perfect
picture of the domestic economy of agricultural life in the days of
Elizabeth. This material addition to the husbandry of our author
appeared in 1570, and embraces a complete view of the province of the
_Huswife_, with all her daily labours and duties, which are divided
into—1st, _Morning Works_; 2dly, _Breakfast Doings_; 3dly, _Dinner
Matters_; 4thly, _Afternoon Works_; 5thly, _Evening Works_; 6thly,
_Supper-Matters_; and 7thly, _After-Supper Matters_.

From the details of this arrangement we learn, that the servants in
summer rose at four, and in winter at five o'clock; that in the latter
season they were called to breakfast on the appearance of the day-star,
and that the huswife herself was the carver and distributer of the
meat and pottage. We find, likewise, and it is the only objectionable
article in the admonitions of the poet, that he recommends his dame
not to scold, but to thrash heartily her maids when refractory; and he
adds a circumstance rather extraordinary, but at the same time strongly
recommendatory of the effects of music, that

    "Such servants are oftenest painfull and good,
     That sing in their labour, as birds in the wood."

Dinner, he enjoins, should be taken at noon; should be quickly
dispatched; and should exhibit plenty, but no dainties.

The bare table, he observes, will do as well, as if covered with a
cloth, which is liable to be cut; and that wooden and pewter dishes and
tin vessels for liquor are the best, as most secure; and then, with his
accustomed piety, he advises the regular use of grace—

    "At dinner, at supper, at morning, at night,
     Give thanks unto God."

As soon as dinner is over, the servants are again set to work, and he
very humanely adds,

    "To servant in seikness, see nothing ye grutch,
     A thing of a trifle shall comfort him much."

Many precepts, strictly economical, then follow, in which the huswife
is directed to save her parings, drippings, and skimmings for the sake
of her poultry, and for "medicine for cattle, for cart, and for shoe;"
to employ the afternoon, like a good sempstress, in making and mending;
to keep her maids cleanly in their persons, to call them quarterly to
account, to mark and number accurately her linen, to save her feathers,
to use little spice, and to make her own candle.

The business of the evening commences with preparations for supper,
as soon as the hens go to roost; the hogs are then to be served, the
cows milked, and as night comes on, the servants return, but none
empty-handed, some bringing in wood, some logs, &c. The cattle, both
without and within doors, are next to be attended to, all clothes
brought into the house, and no door left unbolted, and the duties of
the evening close with this injunction:

    "Thou woman, whom pity becometh the best,
     Grant all that hath laboured time to take rest."

Supper now is spread, and the scene opens with an excellent persuasive
to cheerfulness and hospitality:

    "Provide for thy husband, to make him good cheer,
     Make merry together, while time ye be here.
     A-bed and at board, howsoever befall,
     Whatever God sendeth, be merry withall.
     No taunts before servants, for hindering of fame,
     No jarring too loud, for avoiding of shame."

The servants are then ordered to be courteous, and attentive to each
other, especially at their meals, and directions are given for the next
morning's work.

The last section, entitled "After-supper matters," is introduced and
terminated in a very moral and impressive manner. The first couplet
tells us to

    "Remember those children, whose parents be poor,
     Which hunger, yet dare not to crave at thy door;"

the bandog is then ordered to have the bones and the scraps; the
huswife looks carefully to the fire, the candle, and the keys; the
whole family retire to rest, at nine in winter, and at ten in summer,
and the farmer's day closes with four lines which ought to be written
in letters of gold, and which, if duly observed, would ensure a great
portion of the happiness obtainable by man:

    "Be lowly, not sullen, if aught go amiss,
     What wresting may lose thee, that win with a kiss.
     Both bear and forbear, now and then as ye may,
     Then wench, God a mercy! thy husband will say."[115:A]

Frugality and domestic economy were not, however, the constant
attributes of the farmer's wife in the age of which we are treating;
the luxury of dress, both in England and Scotland, had already
corrupted the simplicity of country-habits. Stephen Perlet, who
visited Scotland in 1553, and Fines Moryson, who made a similar tour
in 1598[118:A], agree in describing the dress of the common people
of both countries as nearly if not altogether the same; the picture,
therefore, which Dunbar has given us of the dress of a rich farmer's
wife, in Scotland, during the middle of the sixteenth century, will
apply, with little fear of exaggeration, to the still wealthier dames
of England. He has drawn her in a robe of fine scarlet with a white
hood; a gay purse and gingling keys pendant at her side from a silken
belt of silver tissue; on each finger she wore two rings, and round her
waste was bound a sash of grass-green silk, richly embroidered with
silver.[118:B] To this rural extravagancy in dress, Warner will bear an
equal testimony; for, describing two old gossips cowering over their
cottage-fire, and chatting how the world was changed in their time,

    "When we were maids (quoth one of them)
     Was no such new found pride:
     Then wore they shooes of ease, now of
       An inch-broad, corked hye:
     Black karsie stockings, worsted now,
       Yea silke of youthful'st dye:

     Garters of lystes, but now of silke,
       Some edged deep with gold:
     With costlier toyes, for courser turns,
       Than us'd, perhaps of old.

     Fring'd and ymbroidered petticoats
       Now begge. But heard you nam'd,
     Till now of late, busks, perrewigs,
       Maskes, plumes of feathers fram'd,

     Supporters, posters, fardingales
       Above the loynes to waire,
     That be she near so bombe-thin, yet
       She crosse-like seems foure-squaire?

     Some wives, grayheaded, shame not locks
       Of youthfull borrowed haire:
     Some, tyring arte, attyer their heads
       With only tresses bare:

     Some, (grosser pride than which, think I,
       No passed age might shame)
     By arte, abusing nature, heads
       Of antick't hayre doe frame.

     Once starching lack't the tearme, because
       Was lacking once the toy,
     And lack't we all these toyes and tearmes,
       It were no griefe but joy.—

     Now dwels ech drossell in her glas:
       When I was yong, I wot,
     On holly-dayes (for sildome els
       Such ydell times we got)
     A tubb or paile of water cleere
       Stood us in steede of glas."[119:A]

Luxury and extravagance soon spread beyond the female circle, and the
_Farmer's Heir_ of forty pounds a year, is described by Hall, in 1598,
as dissipating his property on the follies and fopperies of the day.

    "Vilius, the wealthy farmer, left his heire
     Twice twenty sterling pounds to spend by yeare:—
     But whiles ten pound goes to his wife's new gowne,
     Nor little lesse can serve to suit his owne;
     Whiles one piece pays her idle waiting-man,
     Or buys an hoode, or silver-handled fanne,
     Or hires a Friezeland trotter, halfe yard deepe,
     To drag his tumbrell through the staring Cheape;
     Or whiles he rideth with two liveries,
     And's treble rated at the subsidies;
     One end a kennel keeps of thriftlesse hounds;
     What think ye rests of all my younker's pounds
     To diet him, or deal out at his doore,
     To coffer up, or stocke his wasting store?"[119:B]

In contrast to this character, who keeps a pack of hounds, and sports
a couple of liveries, it will be interesting to bring forward the
picture of the _poor copyholder_, as drawn by the same masterly pencil;
the description of the wretched hovel is given in all the strength of
minute reality, and the avidity of the avaricious landlord is wrought
up with several strokes of humour.

    "Of one bay's breadth, God wot, a silly cote,
     Whose thatched spars are furr'd with sluttish soote
     A whole inch thick, shining like black-moor's brows,
     Through smoke that downe the headlesse barrel blows.
     At his bed's feete feeden his stalled teame,
     His swine beneath, his pullen o'er the beame.
     A starved tenement, such as I guesse
     Stands straggling on the wastes of Holdernesse:
     Or such as shivers on a Peake hill side, &c.—
     Yet must he haunt his greedy landlord's hall
     With often presents at each festivall:
     With crammed capons everie new-yeare's morne,
     Or with greene cheese when his sheepe are shorne:
     Or many maunds-full of his mellow fruite,
     To make some way to win his weighty suite.—
     The smiling landlord shews a sunshine face,
     Feigning that he will grant him further grace;
     And leers like Esop's foxe upon the crane,
     Whose neck he craves for his chirurgian."[120:A]

We shall close these characters, illustrative of rural manners, as they
existed in the reigns of Elizabeth and James 1st, with a delineation
of the _plain Country Fellow or down right Clown_, from the accurate
pen of Bishop Earle, who has touched this homely subject with singular
point and spirits.

"A _plain country fellow_ is one that manures his ground well, but
lets himself lye fallow and untilled. He has reason enough to do his
business, and not enough to be idle or melancholy. He seems to have
the punishment of _Nebuchadnezzar_, for his conversation is among
beasts, and his tallons none of the shortest, only he eats not grass,
because he loves not sallets. His hand guides the plough, and the
plough his thoughts, and his ditch and land-mark is the very mound of
his meditations. He expostulates with his oxen very understandingly,
and speaks gee, and ree, better than English. His mind is not much
distracted with objects, but if a good fat cow come in his way, he
stands dumb and astonished, and though his haste be never so great,
will fix here half an hour's contemplation. His habitation is some poor
thatched roof, distinguished from his barn by the loop-holes that let
out smoak, which the rain had long since washed through, but for the
double ceiling of bacon on the inside, which has hung there from his
grandsire's time, and is yet to make rashers for posterity. His dinner
is his other work, for he sweats at it as much as at his labour; he
is a terrible fastner on a piece of beef, and you may hope to stave
the guard off sooner. His religion is a part of his copy-hold, which
he takes from his land-lord, and refers it wholly to his discretion:
yet if he give him leave he is a good Christian to his power, (that
is,) comes to church in his best cloaths, and sits there with his
neighbours, where he is capable only of two prayers, for rain, and
fair weather. He apprehends God's blessings only in a good year, or a
fat pasture, and never praises him but on _good ground_. Sunday, he
esteems a day to make merry in, and thinks a bag-pipe as essential to
it as evening prayer, where he walks very solemnly after service with
his hands coupled behind him, and censures the dancing of his parish.
His compliment with his neighbour is a good thump on the back, and his
salutation commonly some blunt curse. He thinks nothing to be vices,
but pride and ill husbandry, from which he will gravely dissuade the
youth, and has some thrifty hob-nail proverbs to clout his discourse.
He is a niggard all the week, except only market-day, where, if his
corn sell well, he thinks he may be drunk with a good conscience. He
is sensible of no calamity but the burning a stack of corn or the
overflowing of a meadow, and thinks Noah's flood the greatest plague
that ever was, not because it drowned the world, but spoiled the
grass. For death he is never troubled, and if he get in but his harvest
before, let it come when it will, he cares not."[122:A]

The _nine_ characters which have now passed in brief review before us,
namely, the _Rural Squire_; the _Rural Coxcomb_; the _Rural Clergyman_;
the _Rural Pedagogue_; the _Farmer_ or _substantial Yeoman_; the
_Farmer's Wife_; the _Farmer's Heir_; the _Poor Copyholder_, and the
mere _Ploughman_ or _Country Boor_, will, to a certain extent, point
out the personal manners, condition, and mode of living of those
who inhabited the country, during the period in which Shakspeare
flourished. They have been given from the experience, and, generally,
in the very words of contemporary writers, and may, therefore, be
considered as faithful portraits. To complete the picture, a further
elucidation of the customs of the country, as drawn from its principal
occurrences and events, will be the subject of the ensuing chapter, in
which the references to the works of our immortal bard will be more
frequent than could take place while collecting mere out-line draughts
of rural character.


FOOTNOTES:

[68:A] Holinshed's Chronicles, edit. of 1807, in six vols. 4to. vol. i.
p. 276.

[68:B] Holinshed, vol. i. p. 273.

[69:A] Taming of the Shrew, act ii. sc. 1.

[70:A] Of the very rare tract from which these extracts are taken, the
following is the entire title-page:—"The Gentleman's Academie; or,
the Booke of St. Albans: containing three most exact and excellent
Bookes: the first of Hawking, the second of all the proper Termes of
Hunting, and the last of Armorie: all compiled by Juliana Barnes, in
the Yere from the Incarnation of Christ 1486. And now reduced into a
better method, by G. M. London. Printed for Humphrey Lownes, and are to
be sold at his shop in Paules Church-yard, 1595." This curious edition
of the _Booke of St. Albans_, accommodated to the days of Shakspeare,
contains 95 leaves 4to. and I shall add the interesting dedication:

                     "To the Gentlemen of England:
                        and all good fellowship
                            of Huntsmen and
                              Falconers.

"Gentlemen, this booke, intreting of Hawking, Hunting, and Armorie;
the originall copie of the which was doone at St. Albans, about what
time the excellent arte of printing was first brought out of Germany,
and practised here in England: which booke, because of the antiquitie
of the same, and the things therein contained, being so necessarie and
behovefull to the accomplishment of the gentlemen of this flourishing
ile, and others which take delight in either of these noble sports, or
in that heroicall and excellent study of Armory, I have revived and
brought again to light the same which was almost altogether forgotten,
and either few or none of the perfect copies thereof remaining, except
in their hands, who wel knowing the excellency of the worke, and the
rarenesse of the booke, smothered the same from the world, thereby to
inrich themselves in private with the knowledge of these delights.
Therfore I humbly crave pardon of the precise and judicial reader,
if sometimes I use the words of the ancient authour, in such plaine
and homely English, as that time affoorded, not being so regardful,
nor tying myself so strictly to deliver any thing in the proper and
peculiar wordes and termes of arte, which for the love I beare to
antiquitie, and to the honest simplicitie of those former times, I
observe as wel beseeming the subject, and no whit disgracefull to the
worke, our tong being not of such puritie then, as at this day the
poets of our age have raised it to: of whom, and in whose behalf I wil
say thus much, that our nation may only thinke herself beholding for
the glory and exact compendiousnes of our longuage. Thus submitting our
academy to your kind censures and friendly acceptance of the same, and
requesting you to reade with indifferency, and correct with judgement;
I commit you to God.

                                                           G. M."

From this dedication we learn that the original edition of the Booke
of St. Albans was as scarce towards the close of the sixteenth century
as at the present day; that "few or none of the perfect copies" were
to be obtained; for that those were in the hands of _Bibliomaniacs_
who (like too many now existing) "smother'd them from the world." We
have, therefore, every reason to conclude, from "the rarenesse (and
consequent value) of the booke" of 1486, that the copy of Juliana's
work in the library of Shakspeare, was the edition by Markham of
1595. I shall just add, that the copy now before me, was purchased at
the Roxburgh sale, for 9_l._ 19_s._ 6_d._! It is, notwithstanding,
probable, from the _peculiarities_ attending Markham's re-impression,
that this sum, great as it may appear, will be exceeded at some future
sale.

The attachment of _Gervase Markham_ to the subjects which employed
the pen of his favourite Prioress, is very happily introduced by Mr.
Dibdin, while alluding to the similar propensities of the _modern
Markham_, Mr. Haslewood. "Up starts FLORIZEL, and blows his
bugle, at the annunciation of any work, new or old, upon the
diversions of _Hawking_, _Hunting_, or _Fishing_! Carry him through
CAMILLO'S cabinet of Dutch pictures, and you will see how
instinctively, as it were, his eyes are fixed upon a sporting piece by
Wouvermans. The hooded hawk, in his estimation, hath more charms than
Guido's Madonna:—how he envies every rider upon his white horse!—how
he burns to bestride the foremost steed, and to mingle in the fair
throng, who turn their blue eyes to the scarcely bluer expanse of
heaven! Here he recognises _Gervase Markham_, spurring his courser; and
there he fancies himself lifting _Dame Juliana_ from her horse! Happy
deception! dear fiction! says Florizel—while he throws his eyes in an
opposite direction, and views every printed book upon the subject, from
_Barnes_ to _Thornton_." Bibliomania, p. 729, 730.

The following very amusing description of "the difference twixt
Churles and Gentlemen," will prove an adequate specimen of Markham's
edition, will be appropriate to the subject in the text, and may be
compared with the accurate reprint of the edition of W. De Worde by Mr.
Haslewood.

"There was never gentleman, nor churle ordained, but hee had father and
mother: Adam and Eve had neither father nor mother, and therefore in
the sonnes of Adam and Eve, first issued out both gentleman and churle.
By the sonnes of Adam and Eve, to wit, Seth, Abell, and Caine, was the
royall blood divided from the rude and barbarous, a brother to murder
his brother contrary to the law, what could be more ungentlemanly or
vile? in that, therefore, became Caine and al his ofspring churles,
both by the curse of God, and his owne father. Seth was made a
gentleman through his father and mother's blessing, from whose loynes
issued Noah, a gentleman by kind and linage. Noah had three sonnes
truely begotten, two by the mother, named Cham and Sem, and the third
by the father called Japhet, even in these three, after the world's
inundation, was both gentlenes and vilenes discerned, in Cham was
grose barbarisme founde towardes his owne father in discovering his
privities, and deriding from whence hee proceeded. Japhet the yongest
gentlemanlike reproved his brother, which was to him reputed a vertue,
where Cham for his abortive vilenes became a churle both through the
curse of God and his father Noah. When Noah awoke, hee said to Cham his
sonne knowest not thou how it is become of Caine the sonne of Adam, and
of his churlelike blood, that for them all the worlde is drowned save
eight persons, and wilt thou nowe begin barbarisme againe, whereby the
world in after ages shall be brought to consummation? well upon thee it
shall bee and so I pray the Great one it maye fall out, for to thee I
give my curse, and withall the north part of the world, to draw thine
habitation unto, for there shall it be where sorrow, care, colde, and
as a mischievous and unrespected churle thou shall live, which part
of the earth shall be termed Europe, which is the country of churles.
Japhet come hither my sonne, on thee will I raine my blessing, deare
insteede of Seth: Adams sonne, I make thee a gentleman, and thy renowne
shall stretch through the west part of the world, and to the end of
the Occident, where wealth and grace shall flourish, there shall be
thine habitation, and thy dominion shall bee called Asia, which is the
cuntrie of gentlemen. And Sem my sonne, I make thee a gentleman also,
to multiply the blood of Abell slaine so undeservedlie, to thee I give
the orient, that part of the world which shal be called Africa, which
is the country of temperateres: and thus divided Noah the world and
his blessings. From the of-spring of gentlemanly Japhet came Abraham,
Moyses, Aaron and the Prophets, and also the king of the right line of
Mary, of whom that only absolute gentleman Jesus was borne, perfite God
and perfite man, according to his manhood king of the lande of Juda and
the Jewes, and gentleman by his mother Mary princesse of coat armor."
Fol. 44.

[72:A] Holinshed, vol. i. p. 316.

[73:A] Holinshed, vol. i. p. 315.

[73:B] Holinshed, vol. i. p. 315. 317.

[74:A] Bacon's Essayes or Counsels, 4to. edit., 1632, p. 260.

[74:B] Act v. sc. 2.

[74:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xv. p. 184. note 5. by Steevens.

[75:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 236.

[75:B] Ancient British Drama, vol. i. p. 531.

[75:C] Massinger's Plays, _apud_ Gifford, vol. iv. p. 7.

[76:A] From a MS. of Aubrey's in the Ashmole Museum, as quoted by Mr.
Malcolm in his Anecdotes of the Manners and Customs of London, part i.
p. 220. 4to.

[76:B] Aubrey's MS. Malcolm, p. 221, 222.

[79:A] Henry IV. part ii. act v. sc. 1.

[79:B] Holinshed, vol. i. p. 281. The particulars of the diet of our
ancestors in the age of Shakspeare will be given in a subsequent part
of the work.

[80:A] City Madam, act ii. sc. 1.

Gervase Markham in his English House-Wife, the first edition of which
was published not long after Shakspeare's death, after mentioning in
his second chapter, which treats of cookery, the manner of "ordering
great feasts," closes his observations under this head, with directions
for "a more humble feast, or an ordinary proportion which any good man
may keep in his family, for the entertainment of his true and worthy
friend;" this _humble feast_ or _ordinary proportion_, he proceeds
to say, should consist for the first course of "sixteen full dishes,
that is, dishes of meat that are of substance, and not empty, or for
shew—as thus, for example; first, a shield of brawn with mustard;
secondly, a boyl'd capon; thirdly, a boyl'd piece of beef; fourthly, a
chine of beef rosted; fifthly, a neat's tongue rosted; sixthly, a pig
rosted; seventhly, chewets bak'd; eighthly, a goose rosted; ninthly,
a swan rosted; tenthly, a turkey rosted; the eleventh, a haunch of
venison rosted; the twelfth, a pasty of venison; the thirteenth, a
kid with a pudding in the belly; the fourteenth, an olive-pye; the
fifteenth, a couple of capons; the sixteenth, a custard or dowsets. Now
to these full dishes may be added sallets, fricases, quelque choses,
and devised paste, as many dishes more which make the full service no
less than two and thirty dishes, which is as much as can conveniently
stand on one table, and in one mess; and after this manner you may
proportion both your second and third course, holding fulness on one
half of the dishes, and shew in the other, which will be both frugal in
the spendor, contentment to the guest, and much pleasure and delight to
the beholders." P. 100, 101. ninth edition of 1683, small 4to.

[80:B] Henry IV. part ii. act v. sc. 3.

[81:A] Holinshed, vol. i. p. 287.

[81:B] Puttenham's Art of English Poesie, p. 69, reprint of 1811.

[81:C] Ibid. p. 33.

[82:A] Macbeth, act ii. sc. 2.

[82:B] Merry Wives of Windsor, act i. sc. 4.

[82:C] Merry Wives of Windsor, act v. sc. 5.

[82:D] Heywood's Edward II. p. 1.

[82:E] Jonson's Every Man in his Humour, act i. sc. 1. Acted in the
year 1598.

[83:A] Holinshed, vol. i. p. 290.

[84:A] Chalmers' Poets, vol. iv. p. 435, 436. Drayton, Fourth Eclogue.

[84:B] "A term in hawking, signifying the short straps of leather which
are fastened to the hawk's legs, by which he is held on the fist, or
joined to the leash." Bliss.

[85:A] Earle's Microcosmography; or a Piece of the World discovered, in
Essays and Characters. Edition of 1811, by Philip Bliss.

[85:B] Hall's Satires, book v. sat. 2. printed in 1598.

[86:A] Lodge's Illustrations of British History, Biography, and
Manners, in the Reigns of Henry VIII., Edward VI., Mary, Elizabeth, and
James I., vol. ii. p. 383.

That this evil kept gradually increasing during the reign of James
I., may be proved from the testimony of Peacham and Brathwait; the
former, in his _Compleat Gentleman_, observes,—"Much doe I detest
that effeminacy of the most, that burne out day and night in their
beds, and by the fire side; in trifles, gaming, or courting their
yellow mistresses all the winter in a city; appearing but as cuckoes
in the spring, one time in the yeare to the countrey and their
tenants, leaving the care of keeping good houses at Christmas, to
the honest yeomen of the countrey;" (p. 214.) and the latter, in his
_English Gentleman_, addressing the rural fashionables of his day,
exclaims,—"Let your countrey (I say) enjoy you, who bred you, shewing
there your hospitality, where God hath placed you, and with sufficient
meanes blessed you. I doe not approve of these, who fly from their
countrey, as if they were ashamed of her, or had committed something
unworthy of her. How blame-worthy then are these _Court-comets_,
whose onely delight is to admire themselves? These, no sooner have
their bed-rid _fathers_ betaken themselves to their last home, and
removed from their crazie couch, but they are ready to sell a mannor
for a coach. They will not take it as their fathers tooke it: their
countrey houses must bee barred up, lest the poore passenger should
expect what is impossible to finde, releefe to his want, or a supply
to his necessity. No, the cage is opened, and all the birds are fled,
not one crum of comfort remaining to succour a distressed poore one.
Hospitality, which was once a _relique_ of _gentry_, and a knowne
_cognizance_ to all ancient houses, hath lost her title, meerely
through discontinuance: and _great houses_, which were at first founded
to releeve the poore, and such needfull passengers as travelled by
them, are now of no use but onely as _waymarkes_ to direct them. But
whither are these _Great ones_ gone? To the _Court_; there to spend in
boundlesse and immoderate riot, what their provident ancestors had so
long preserved, and at whose doores so many needy soules have beene
comfortably releeved." Second edition, 1633. p. 332.

In the margin of the page from which this extract is taken, occurs the
following note:—"This is excellently seconded by a Princely pen, in
a pithy poem directed to all persons to ranke or quality to leave the
Court, and returne into their owne countrey."

[86:B] In confirmation of this remark, I shall beg leave to give,
for the entertainment of my readers, the two following sketches of
country-squires, as they existed towards the middle of the seventeenth,
and commencement of the eighteenth century. "Mr. Hastings," relates
Gilpin from Hutchin's History of Dorsetshire, "was low of stature, but
strong and active, of a ruddy complexion with flaxen hair. His cloaths
were always of green cloth, his house was of the old fashion; in the
midst of a large park, well stocked with deer, rabbits, and fish-ponds.
He had a long narrow bowling green in it; and used to play with round
sand bowls. Here too he had a banquetting room built, like a stand, in
a large tree. He kept all sorts of hounds, that ran buck, fox, hare,
otter, and badger: and had hawks of all kinds, both long and short
winged. His great hall was commonly strewed with marrow bones; and full
of hawk-perches, hounds, spaniels, and terriers. The upper end of it
was hung with fox-skins, of this and the last year's killing. Here and
there a pole-cat was intermixed; and hunter's poles in great abundance.
The parlour was a large room, compleatly furnished in the same style.
On a broad hearth, paved with brick, lay some of the choicest terriers,
hounds and spaniels. One or two of the great chairs had litters of cats
in them, which were not to be disturbed. Of these, three or four always
attended him at dinner, and a little white wand lay by his trencher, to
defend it, if they were too troublesome. In the windows which were very
large, lay his arrows, cross-bows, and other accoutrements. The corners
of the room were filled with his best hunting and hawking poles. His
oyster table stood at the lower end of the room, which was in constant
use twice a day, all the year round; for he never failed to eat oysters
both at dinner and supper; with which the neighbouring town of Pool
supplied him. At the upper end of the room stood a small table with a
double desk; one side of which held a CHURCH BIBLE; the other the BOOK
OF MARTYRS. On different tables in the room lay hawk's-hoods, bells,
old hats, with their crowns thrust in, full of pheasant eggs; tables,
dice, cards, and store of tobacco pipes. At one end of this room was a
door, which opened into a closet, where stood bottles of strong beer
and wine; which never came out but in single glasses, which was the
rule of the house; for he never exceeded himself nor permitted others
to exceed. Answering to this closet, was a door into an old chapel;
which had been long disused for devotion; but in the pulpit, as the
safest place, was always to be found a cold chine of beef, a venison
pasty, a gammon of bacon, or a great apple-pye, with thick crust well
baked. His table cost him not much, though it was good to eat at. His
sports supplied all, but beef and mutton; except on Fridays, when he
had the best of fish. He never wanted a London pudding; and he always
sang it in with "_My part lies therein-a_." He drank a glass or two of
wine at meals; put syrup of gilly-flowers into his sack; and had always
a tun glass of small beer standing by him, which he often stirred about
with rosemary. He lived to be an hundred; and never lost his eye sight,
nor used spectacles. He got on horseback without help; and rode to
the death of the stag, till he was past four score." Gilpin's Forest
Scenery; vol. ii. p. 23. 26.

Mr. Dibdin, in the second edition of his Bibliomania, the most pleasing
and interesting book which Bibliography has ever produced, has quoted
the above passage, and thus alludes, in his text, to the character
which it describes:—"But what shall we say to Lord Shaftesbury's
eccentric neighbour, HENRY HASTINGS? who, in spite of his hawks,
hounds, kittens, and oysters, could not forbear to indulge his
book-propensities, though in a moderate degree! Let us fancy we see
him, in his eightieth year, just alighted from the toils of the chase,
and listening, after dinner, with his 'single glass' of ale by his
side, to some old woman with 'spectacle on nose,' who reads to him a
choice passage out of John Fox's _Book of Martyrs_! A rare old boy was
this Hastings." Bibliomania, p. 379.

Mr. Grose, the antiquary, has given us, in his sketches of some
worn-out characters of the last age, a most amusing portrait of the
country squire of Queen Anne's days: "I mean," says he, "the little
independant gentleman of three hundred pounds per annum, who commonly
appeared in a plain drab or plush coat, large silver buttons, a
jockey cap, and rarely without boots. His travels never exceeded the
distance of the county town, and that only at assize and session time,
or to attend an election. Once a week he commonly dined at the next
market town, with the attornies and justices. This man went to church
regularly, read the Weekly Journal, settled the parochial disputes
between the parish officers at the vestry, and afterwards adjourned to
the neighbouring ale-house, where he usually got drunk for the good of
his country. He never played at cards but at Christmas, when a family
pack was produced from the mantle-piece. He was commonly followed by
a couple of grey-hounds and a pointer, and announced his arrival at a
neighbours house by smacking his whip, or giving the view-halloo. His
drink was generally ale, except on Christmas, the fifth of November, or
some other gala days, when he would make a bowl of strong brandy punch
garnished with a toast and nutmeg. A journey to London was, by one of
these men, reckoned as great an undertaking, as is at present a voyage
to the East Indies, and undertaken with scarce less precaution and
preparation.

"The mansion of one of these 'Squires was of plaister striped with
timber, not unaptly called callimanco work, or of red brick, large
casemented bow windows, a porch with seats in it, and over it a study;
the eaves of the house well inhabited by swallows, and the court set
round with holly-hocks. Near the gate a horse-block for the conveniency
of mounting.

"The hall was furnished with flitches of bacon, and the mantle-piece
with guns and fishing rods of different dimensions, accompanied by the
broad sword, partizan, and dagger, borne by his ancestor in the civil
wars. The vacant spaces were occupied by stag's horns. Against the
wall was posted King Charles's Golden Rules, Vincent Wing's Almanack,
and a portrait of the Duke of Marlborough; in his window lay Baker's
Chronicle, Fox's Book of Martyrs, Glanvil on Apparitions, Quincey's
Dispensatory, the Complete Justice, and a Book of Farriery.

"In the corner, by the fire side, stood a large wooden two-armed chair
with a cushion; and within the chimney corner were a couple of seats.
Here, at Christmas, he entertained his tenants assembled round a
glowing fire made of the roots of trees, and other great logs, and told
and heard the traditionary tales of the village respecting ghosts and
witches, till fear made them afraid to move. In the mean time the jorum
of ale was in continual circulation.

"The best parlour, which was never opened but on particular occasions,
was furnished with Turk-worked chain, and hung round with portraits
of his ancestors; the men in the character of shepherds, with their
crooks, dressed in full suits and huge full-bottomed perukes: others in
complete armour or buff coats, playing on the base viol or lute. The
females likewise as shepherdesses, with the lamb and crook, all habited
in high heads and flowing robes.

    "Alas! these men and these houses are no more!"
                   _Grose's Olio_, 2nd edit. 1796. p. 41-44.

[89:A] Richard Berket Reader, æt. 74. MS. note.

[89:B] In the margin is a MS. note seemingly in the hand-writing of
Bishop Nicholson, who gave these volumes to the library:

"Since I can remember there was not a reader in any chapel but was
called _Sir_."

[90:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. v. p. 8. note.

[90:B] Twelfth Night, act iii. sc. 4.

[91:A] Holinshed, vol. i. p. 233, 234.

[92:A] Holinshed, vol. i. p. 231.

[93:A] Lodge's Illustrations, vol. iii. p. 391.

[93:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xx. p. 221. note 7.

[95:A] The Compleat Gentleman. Fashioning him absolut, in the most
necessary and commendable Qualities concerning Minde or Body that may
be required in a Noble Gentleman. By Henry Peacham Master of Arts:
Sometime of Trinitie Colledge in Cambridge.

This book, which is written in an easy and elegant style, was
published in 1622, and has been several times reprinted; it is a work
of considerable interest and amusement, and throws much light on the
education and literature of its times.

[95:B] Hall's Satires, Book ii. sat. 6.

[96:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xx. p. 451.

[96:B] The Staple of Newes, the third Intermeane after the third act.

[96:C] Act v. sc. 1.

[96:D] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. vii. p. 132. note 7.

[97:A] Compleat Gentleman, p. 22. edit. of 1634.

[97:B] Ibid. p. 25.

[97:C] Instruction of a Christian Woman, 4to. edit. of 1557.

[98:A] Compleat Gentleman, p. 26, 27.

[99:A] Holinshed, vol. i. p. 275.

[100:A] Holinshed, vol. i. p. 315.

[100:B] Three editions of Tusser's Poem on Husbandry are now before
me; the first printed in 1557, entitled _A Hundreth good Pointes of
Husbandrie_; the 4to. edition of 1586, termed _Five Hundred Pointes
of Good Husbandrie_; and _Tusser Redivivus_, by Daniel Hilman, first
published in 1710, and again in 1744; the quatrain just quoted is from
the copy of 1744, p. 56.

[101:A] Gilpin's Life of Latimer, p. 2.

[103:A] Holinshed, vol. i. p. 317, 318.

[104:A] Warner's Albion's England, chap. 42. Chalmers's English Poets,
vol. iv. p. 602.

[105:A] Warner in Chalmers's Poets, vol. iv. p. 552, 553.

[105:B] Act v. sc. 2. Song at the conclusion.

[106:A] Act ii. sc. 1.

[106:B] Damon and Pithias, 1582.

[106:C] Summer's Last Will and Testament, by Nash, 1600.

[106:D] Introductory Song to the second acte. Vide Ancient British
Drama, vol. i.

[107:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 255.

[107:B] Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, p. 172, 173., eighth edition of
1676.

[107:C] Milton's Poems by Warton, second edition, p. 56. 61.

[108:A] Crones are ewes whose teeth are so worn down, that they can no
longer live in their sheep-walk; but will sometimes, if put into good
pasture, thrive exceedingly.

[108:B] Tusser, 4to. edit. 1586., chap. 12. fol. 25, 26.

[108:C] Tusser, 4to. edit. 1586., fol. 138. 144, 145.

[109:A] Tusser, 4to. of 1586. fol. 133.

[109:B] Holinshed, vol. i. p. 282.

[110:A] Tusser, first edit. of 1557. title-page.

[110:B] The English House-Wife, containing the inward and outward
vertues which ought to be in a Compleat Woman. Ninth edition, 1683.
Dedication.

[111:A] English House-Wife, p. 2, 3, 4.

[113:A] Tusser, first edit. p. 14, 15.

[115:A] Mayor's Tusser, p. 247. ad p. 270.

Even this, and every other description of the duties of the Huswife,
may be traced to "The Book of Husbandry," written by Sir Anthony
Fitzherbert, of Norbury, in Derbyshire.

This gentleman, who was a Judge of the Common Pleas, in the reign of
Henry the Eighth, is justly entitled to the appellation of "the father
of English Husbandry." His work, the first edition of which was printed
by Richard Pynson, in 1528, 4to., underwent not less than eleven
editions during the sixteenth century, and soon excited among his
countrymen a most beneficial spirit of emulation. Notwithstanding these
numerous impressions, there are probably not ten complete copies left
in the kingdom.

One of these is, however, now before me included in a thick duodecimo,
of which the _first article_ is "Xenophon's treatise of householde,"
black letter, title wanting; the colophon, "Imprinted At London in
fletestrete in the house of Thomas Berthelet. Cum privilegio ad
imprimendum solum." No date. The _second article_ is "The booke of
Husbandrye verye profitable and necessary for all maner of persons,
newlye corrected and amended by the auctor fitzherbard, with dyvers
addicions put thereunto. Anno do. 1555," black letter. Colophon,
"Imprinted at London in Flete strete at the signe of the Sunne over
agaynst the Conduit by John Weylande." Sixty-one leaves, exclusive of
the table. The _third article_ is entitled "Surveyinge," An. 1546.
Colophon, "Londini in ædibus Thome Berthelet typis impress. Cum
privilegio ad imprimendum solum." Contains sixty leaves, black letter.

From "The booke of husbandrye," I shall extract the detail of huswifely
duties, as a specimen of the work, and as a proof of the assertion at
the commencement of this note.


"What workes a wyfe shoulde doe in generall.

"First in the mornyng when thou art wakēd and purpose to rise, lift
up thy hand, and blis the and make a signe of the holy crosse. In
nomine patris et filii et spiritus sancti. Amen. In the name of the
father y{e} sonne, and the holy gost. And if thou saye a Paternoster,
an Ave and a Crede, and remembre thy maker thou shalte spede much the
better, and when thou art up and readye, then firste swepe thy house;
dresse up the dysshe bord, and set al thynges in good order within
thy house, milke y{e} kie, socle thy calves, sile by thy milke,
take up thy children, and aray them, and provide for thy husbande's
breakefaste, diner, souper, and for thy children and servauntes, and
take thy parte wyth them. And to ordeyne corne and malt to the myll,
to bake and brue withal when nede is. And mete it to the myl and fro
the myl, and se that thou have thy mesure agayne besides the tole or
elles the mylner dealeth not truly wyth the, or els thy corne is not
drye as it should be, thou must make butter and chese when thou may,
serve thy swine both mornynge and eveninge, and give thy polen meate
in the mornynge, and when tyme of yeare cometh thou must take hede
how thy henne, duckes and geese do ley, and to gather up their egges
and when they waxe broudy to set them there as no beastes, swyne, nor
other vermyne hurt them, and thou must know that al hole foted foule
wil syt a moneth and all cloven foted foule wyll syt but three wekes
except a peyhen and suche other great foules as craynes, bustardes,
and suche other. And when they have brought forth theyr birdes to se
that they be well kepte from the gleyd, crowes fully martes and other
vermyn, and in the begynyng of March, or a lytle before is time for
a wife to make her garden and to get as manye good sedes and herbes
as she can, and specyally such as be good for the pot and for to eate
and as ofte as nede shall require it must be weded, for els the wede
wyll over grow the herbes, and also in Marche is time to sowe flaxe
and hempe for I have heard olde huswyves say, that better is Marche
hurdes than Apryll flaxe, the reason appereth, but howe it shoulde bee
sowen, weded, pulled, repealed, watred, washen, dried, beten, braked,
tawed, hecheled, spon, wounden, wrapped and oven, it nedeth not for me
to shewe, for they be wyse ynough, and thereof may they make shetes,
bordclothes, towels, shertes, smockes, and suche other necessaryes, and
therefore lette thy dystaffe be alwaye redy for a pastyme, that thou
be not ydell. And undoubted a woman can not get her livinge honestly
with spinning on the dystaffe, but it stoppeth a gap and must nedes be
had. The bolles of flaxe when they be rypled of, must be rediled from
the wedes and made dry with the sunne to get out the sedes. Now be it
one maner of linsede called loken sede wyll not open by the sunne, and
therefore when they be drye they must be sore brusen and broken the
wyves know how, and then wynowed and kept dry til peretime cum againe.
Thy femell hempe must be pulled fro the chucle hempe for this beareth
no sede and thou must doe by it as thou didest by the flaxe. The chucle
hempe doth beare sede, and thou must be ware that birdes eate it not as
it groweth, the hempe thereof is not so good as the femel hempe, but
yet it wil do good service. It may fortune sometime that thou shalte
have so many thinges to do that thou shalte not wel know where is best
to begyn. Then take hede which thing should be the greatest losse if it
were not done and in what space it woulde be done, and then thinke what
is the greatest los and ther begin. But I put case that, that thing
that is of the greatest losse wyll be longe in doing, that thou might
do thre or iiij other thinges in the meane whyle then loke wel if all
these thinges were set togyther whiche of them were greatest losse, and
yf these thynges be of greater losse, and may be al done in as shorte
space as the other, then do thy many thinges fyrst. It is convenient
for a husbande to have shepe of his owne for many causes, and then may
his wife have part of the wooll to make her husbande and her selfe sum
clothes. And at the least waye she may have the lockes of the shepe
therwith to make clothes or blankets, and coverlets, or both. And if
she have no wol of her owne she maye take woll to spynne of cloth
makers, and by that meanes she may have a convenient living, and many
tymes to do other workes. It is a wives occupacion to winow al maner of
cornes, to make malte wash and wring, to make hey, to shere corne, and
in time of nede to helpe her husbande to fyll the mucke wayne or donge
carte, dryve the plough, to lode hey corne and such other. Also to go
or ride to the market to sell butter, chese, mylke, egges, chekens,
kapons, hennes, pygges, gees, and al maner of corne. And also to bye al
maner of necessary thinges belonging to a houshold, and to make a true
rekening and accompt to her husband what she hath receyved and what
she hathe payed. And yf the husband go to the market to bye or sell as
they ofte do, he then to shew his wife in lyke maner. For if one of
them should use to disceive the other, he disceyveth himselfe, and he
is not lyke to thryve, and therfore they must be true ether to other.
I could peraventure shew the husbande of divers pointes that the wives
disceve their husbandes in, and in like maner how husbandes deceve
their wives. But yf I should do so, I shuld shew mo subtil pointes of
disceite then other of them knew of before. And therfore me semeth best
to holde my peace, leste I shuld do as the knight of the tower did the
which had many faire doghters, and of fatherlie love that he oughte to
them he made a boke unto a good intent that they mighte eschewe and
flee from vices and folowe vertues in the which boke he sheweth that
yf they were woed, moved, or styrred by any man after such a maner as
is there shewed that they shuld withstande it, in the which booke he
shewed so manye wayes how a man shuld attaine to his purpose to bryng a
woman to vice, the which waies were so naturall and the wayes to come
to theyr purpose was so subtylly contrived and craftely shewed that
hard it wolde be for any woman to resist or deny their desyre. And by
the sayd boke hath made both the man and the woman to know mo vyces
subtylty and crafte then ever they shoulde have knowen if the boke had
not bene made, the which boke he named him selfe the knighte of the
tower. And thus I leave the wyves to use theyr occupations at theyr
owne discression." Fol. 45, 46, 47.

[118:A] See Antiquarian Repertory, vol. i. p. 236; and Moryson's
Itinerary, part iii. fol. 1617.

[118:B] The Freirs of Berwick; Pinkerton's Ancient Scotish Poems, 12mo.
2 vols. 1786. v. 2. p. 70.

[119:A] Warner's Albion's England, book ix. chap. xlvii.

[119:B] Hall's Satires, book v. satire 4.

[120:A] Hall's Satires, book v. satire 4.

[122:A] Earle's Microcosmography, p. 64. et seq. edit. of 1811, by
Philip Bliss.




CHAPTER VI.

    A VIEW OF _COUNTRY LIFE_ DURING THE AGE OF SHAKSPEARE; ITS
    MANNERS AND CUSTOMS.—RURAL HOLYDAYS, AND FESTIVALS.


The record of rural festivity and amusement, must, as far as it is
unaccompanied by any detail of riot or intemperance, be a subject of
pleasing contemplation to every good and cheerful mind. Labour, the
destined portion of by far the greater part of human beings, requires
frequent intervals of relaxation; and the encouragement of innocent
diversion at stated periods, may be considered, therefore, both in a
moral and political point of view, as essentially useful. The sports
and amusements of our ancestors on their holydays and festivals, while
they had little tendency to promote either luxury or dissipation,
contributed very powerfully to preserve some of the best and most
striking features of our national manners and character, and were
frequently mingled with that cheerful piety which forms the most
heart-felt species of devotion, where religion, mixing with the social
rite, offers up the homage of a happy and contented heart.

It may be necessary here to mention, that in enumerating the various
ceremonial and feast days of rural life, we have purposely omitted
those which are _peculiarly_ occupied by _superstitious_ observances,
as they will with more propriety be included under a subsequent
chapter, appropriated to the consideration of popular superstitions.

The ushering in of the New Year, or _New Years tide_, with rejoicings,
presents, and good wishes, was a custom observed, during the sixteenth
century, with great regularity and parade, and was as cordially
celebrated in the court of the prince as in the cottage of the peasant.

To end the old year _merrily_ and begin the new one _well_, and in
_friendship_ with their neighbours, were the objects which the common
people had in view in the celebration of this tide or festival.
New-Years Eve, therefore, was spent in festivity and frolic by the
men; and the young women of the village carried about, from door to
door, a bowl of spiced ale, which they offered to the inhabitants of
every house where they stopped, singing at the same time some rude
congratulatory verses, and expecting some small present in return. This
practice, however, which originated in pure kindness and benevolence,
soon degenerated into a mere pecuniary traffic, for Selden, in his
Table Talk, thus alludes to the subject, while drawing the following
curious comparison: "The pope in sending relicks to princes, does as
_wenches_ do by their _wassails_ at _New Years Tide_.—They _present
you_ with a _cup_, and you must _drink_ of a slabby stuff; but the
meaning is, you must _give_ them _money_ ten times more than it is
worth."[124:A]

It was customary also, on this eve, for the young men and women to
exchange their clothes, which was termed _Mumming_ or _Disguising_;
and when thus dressed in each other's garments, they would go from one
neighbour's cottage to another, singing, dancing, and partaking of
their good cheer; a species of masquerading which, as may be imagined,
was often productive of the most licentious freedoms.

On the succeeding morning, the first of the New Year, presents, called
new-year's gifts, were given and received, with the mutual expression
of good wishes, and particularly that of a _happy New Year_. The
compliment was sometimes paid at each other's doors in the form of a
song; but more generally, especially in the north of England and in
Scotland, the house was entered very early in the morning, by some
young men and maidens selected for the purpose, who presented the
spiced bowl, and hailed you with the gratulations of the season.

The custom of interchanging gifts on this day, though now nearly
obsolete, was, in the days of Shakspeare, observed most scrupulously;
and not merely in the country, but, as hath been just before hinted,
even in the palace of the monarch. In fact the wardrobe and jewelry of
Elizabeth appear to have been supported principally by these annual
contributions.

As a brief summary of these presents, though given not in the country,
but at court, will yet, as including almost every rank in life, from
the peer to the dustman, place in a strong light the prevalence of this
custom, and point out of what these gifts usually consisted in a town,
and therefore, by inference, of what they must have included in the
country, its introduction will not, we should hope, be considered as
altogether digressive from the nature of our subject.

To Mr. Nichols, who, in his work entitled "Queen Elizabeth's
Progresses," has printed, from the original rolls in vellum, some very
copious lists of New Year's gifts annually presented to this popular
monarch, are we indebted for the following curious enumeration.

"From all these rolls," says he, "and more of them perhaps are still
existing, it appears that the greatest part, if not all the peers
and peeresses of the realm, all the bishops, the chief officers of
state, and several of the Queen's houshold servants, even down to her
apothecaries, master cook, serjeant of the pastry, &c. gave New Year's
gifts to Her Majesty; consisting, in general, either of a sum of money,
or jewels, trinkets, wearing apparel, &c. The largest sum given by any
of the temporal lords was 20_l._; but the Archbishop of Canterbury
gave 40_l._, the Archbishop of York 30_l._, and the other spiritual
lords 20_l._ and 10_l._; many of the temporal lords and great officers,
and most of the peeresses, gave rich gowns, petticoats, smocks,
kirtles, silk stockings, cypres garters, sweet-bags, doblets, mantles,
some embroidered with pearles, garnets, &c. looking-glasses, fans,
bracelets, caskets studded with precious stones, jewels ornamented with
sparks of diamonds in various devices, and other costly trinkets. Sir
Gilbert Dethick, Garter King of Arms, gave a book of the states in King
William the Conqueror's time, and a book of the arms of the noblemen
in Henry the Fifth's time; Absolon, the master of the Savoy, a Bible
covered with cloth of gold, garnished with silver, and gilt, and two
plates with the royal arms; _Petruchio Ubaldino_, a book covered with
vellum of Italian; Lambarde, the antiquary, his Pandecta of all the
Rolls, &c. in the Tower of London. The Queen's physician presented her
with a box of foreign sweetmeats; another physician with two pots, one
of green ginger, the other of orange flowers; two other physicians
gave each a pot of green ginger, and a pot of the rinds of lemons; her
apothecaries a box of lozenges, a box of ginger candy, a box of grene
ginger, a box of orange candit, a pot of conserves, a pot of wardyns
condite, a box of wood with prunolyn, and two boxes of _manus Christi_;
Mrs. Blanch a Parry, a little box of gold to put in cumphetts, and
a little spoon of gold; Mrs. Morgan a box of cherryes, and one of
aberycocks; her master cook a fayre marchepayne; her serjeant of the
pastry a fayre pie of quinces oringed; a box of peaches of Jenneway
(Genoa); a great pie of quynses and wardyns guilte; _Putrino_, an
Italian, presented her with two pictures; _Innocent Corry_ with a
box of lutestrings; _Ambrose Lupo_ with another box of lutestrings,
and a glass of sweet water; _Petro Lupo_, _Josepho Lupo_, and _Cæsar
Caliardo_, each with a pair of sweet gloves; a cutler with a meat knyfe
with a fan haft of bone, _a conceit in it_; _Jaromy_ with twenty-four
drinking-glasses; _Jeromy Bassano_ two drinking-glasses; Smyth,
_dustman_, two boltes of cambrick."[126:A]

The Queen, though she made returns in plate and other articles, took
sufficient care that the balance should be in her own favour; hence,
as the custom was found to be lucrative, and had indeed been practised
with success by her predecessors on the throne, it was encouraged
and rendered fashionable to an extent hitherto unprecedented in this
kingdom. In the country, however, with the exception of the extensive
households of the nobility, this interchange was conducted on the pure
basis of reciprocal kindness and good will, and without any view of
securing patronage or support; it was, indeed, frequently the channel
through which charity delighted to exert her holy influence, and though
originating in the heathen world, became sanctified by the Christian
virtues.

To the rejoicings on New Year's tide succeeded, after a short interval,
the observance of the TWELFTH DAY, so called from its being the twelfth
after the Nativity of our Saviour, and the day on which the _Eastern
Magi_, guided by the star, arrived at Bethlehem to worship the infant
Jesus.

This festive day, the most celebrated of the twelve for the peculiar
conviviality of its rites, has been observed in this kingdom ever since
the reign of Alfred, in whose days, says Collier, "a Law was made with
relation to Holidays, by virtue of which the _twelve_ days _after_ the
Nativity of our Saviour were made Festivals."[127:A]

In consequence of an idea, which seems generally to have prevailed,
that the _Eastern Magi_ were kings, this day has been frequently termed
the _Feast of the Three Kings_; and many of the rites with which it
is attended, are founded on this conception; for it was customary to
elect, from the company assembled on this occasion, a king or queen,
who was usually elevated to this rank by the fortuitous division of a
cake containing a bean or piece of coin, and he or she to whom this
symbol of distinction fell, in dividing the cake, was immediately
chosen king or queen, and then forming their ministers and court from
the company around, maintained their state and character until midnight.

The _Twelfth Cake_ was almost always accompanied by the _Wassail Bowl_,
a composition of spiced wine or ale, or mead, or metheglin, into which
was thrown roasted apples, sugar, &c. The term _Wassail_, which in
our elder poets is connected with much interesting imagery, and many
curious rites, appears to have been first used in this island during
the well-known interview between Vortigern and Rowena. Geoffrey of
Monmouth relates, on the authority of Walter Calenius, that this lady,
the daughter of Hengist, knelt down, on the approach of the king, and
presenting him with a cup of wine, exclaimed "Lord king _wæs heil_,"
that is, literally "Health be to you." Vortigern being ignorant of
the Saxon language, was informed by an interpreter, that the purport
of these words was to wish him health, and that he should reply by
the expression _drinc-heil_, or "Drink the health;" accordingly, on
his so doing, Rowena drank, and the king receiving the cup from her
hand, kissed and pledged her.[128:A] Since this period, observes the
historian, the custom has prevailed in Britain of using these words
whilst drinking; the person who drank to another saying _was-heil_, and
he who received the cup answering _drinc-heil_.

It soon afterwards became a custom in villages, on Christmas-Eve, New
Year's Eve, and Twelfth Night, for itinerant minstrels to carry to
the houses of the gentry, and others, where they were generally very
hospitably received, a bowl of spiced wine, which being presented with
the Saxon words just mentioned, was therefore called a _Wassail-bowl_.
A bowl or cup of this description was likewise to be found in almost
every nobleman's and gentleman's house, (and frequently of massy
silver,) until the middle of the seventeenth century, and which was
in perpetual requisition during the revels of Christmas. In "_The
Antiquarian Repertory_, vol. i. p. 217," relates Mr. Douce, "there is
an account, accompanied with an engraving, of an oaken chimney-piece
in a very old house at Berlen, near Snodland in Kent, on which is
carved a wassel-bowl resting on the branches of an apple-tree,
alluding, probably, to part of the materials of which the liquor was
composed. On one side is the word =wassheil=, and on the other
=drincheile=."[129:A] "This is certainly," he adds, "a very
great curiosity of its kind, and at least as old as the fourteenth
century. Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March, in his will gave to Sir John
Briddlewood a silver cup called _wassail_: and it appears that John
Duke of Bedford, the regent, by his first will bequeathed to John
Barton, his maitre d'hotel, a silver cup and cover, on which was
inscribed WASHAYL."[129:B]

In consequence of the _Wassail-bowl_ being peculiar to scenes of
revelry and festivity, the term _wassail_ in time became synonymous
with feasting and carousing, and has been used, therefore, by many of
our poets either to imply drinking and merriment, or the place where
such joviality was expected to occur. Thus Shakspeare makes Hamlet say
of the king "draining his draughts of Rhenish down," that he

    "Keeps _wassel_:"[129:C]

and in Macbeth, the heroine of that play declares that she will
convince the two chamberlains of Duncan

    "With wine and _wassel_."[129:D]

In Anthony and Cleopatra also, Cæsar, advising Anthony to live more
temperately, tells him to leave his

    "Lascivious _wassals_."[129:E]

And lastly, in Love's Labour's Lost, Biron, describing the character
of Boyet, says,

    "He is wit's pedler: and retails his wares
     At wakes, and _wassels_, meetings, markets, fairs."[130:A]

Ben Jonson has given us two curious personifications of the Wassal; the
first in his Forest, No. 3. whilst giving an account of a rural feast
in the hall of Sir Robert Wroth; he says,

    "The rout of rural folk come thronging in,
       Their rudenesse then is thought no sin—
     The jolly _Wassal_ walks the often round,
       And in their cups their cares are drown'd:"[130:B]

and the second in "Christmas, His Masque, as it was presented at Court
1616," where _Wassall_, as one of the ten children of Christmas, is
represented in the following quaint manner. _Like a neat Sempster, and
Songster; her Page bearing a browne bowle, drest with Ribbands, and
Rosemarie before her._[130:C]

Fletcher, in his Faithful Shepherdess, has given a striking description
of the festivity attendant on the Wassal bowl:

    ——— "The woods, or some near town
    That is a neighbour to the bordering down,
    Hath drawn them thither, 'bout some lusty sport,
    Or spiced _Wassel-Boul_, to which resort
    All the young men and maids of many a cote,
    Whilst the trim minstrell strikes his merry note."[130:D]

The persons thus accompanying the Wassal bowl, especially those who
danced and played, were called _Wassailers_, an appellation which it
was afterwards customary to bestow on all who indulged, at any season,
in intemperate mirth. Hence Milton introduces his Lady in Comus making
use of the term in the following beautiful passage:

    ——————— "Methought it was the sound
    Of riot and ill-manag'd merriment,
    Such as the jocund flute, or gamesome pipe
    Stirs up among the loose unletter'd hinds,
    When for their teeming flocks, and granges full,
    In wanton dance, they praise the bounteous Pan,
    And thank the gods amiss. I should be loath
    To meet the rudeness, and swill'd insolence,
    Of such late _wassailers_."[131:A]

During the reigns of Elizabeth and James I. the celebration of
Twelfth Night was, equally with Christmas-Day, a festival through
the land, and was observed with great ostentation and ceremony in
both the Universities, at Court, at the Temple, and at Lincoln's
and Gray's-Inn. Many of the Masques of Ben Jonson were written for
the amusement of the royal family on this night, and Dugdale in his
_Origines Juridicales_, has given us a long and particular account of
the revelry at the Temple on each of the twelve days of Christmas,
in the year 1562. It appears from this document that the hospitable
rites of St. Stephen's Day, St. John's Day, and Twelfth Day, were
ordered to be exactly alike, and as many of them are, in their
nature, perfectly rural, and were, there is every reason to suppose,
observed, to a certain extent, in the halls of the country-gentry and
substantial yeomanry, a short record here, of those that fall under
this description, cannot be deemed inapposite.

The breakfast on Twelfth Day is directed to be of brawn, mustard, and
malmsey; the dinner of two courses, to be served in the hall, and after
the first course "cometh in the Master of the Game, apparalled in green
velvet: and the Ranger of the Forest also, in a green suit of satten;
bearing in his hand a green bow and divers arrows, with either of them
a hunting horn about their necks: blowing together three blasts of
venery, they pace round about the fire three times. Then the Master
of the Game maketh three curtesies," kneels down, and petitions to be
admitted into the service of the Lord of the Feast.

"This ceremony performed, a huntsman cometh into the hall, with a fox
and a purse-net; with a cat, both bound at the end of a staff; and with
them nine or ten couple of hounds, with the blowing of hunting-horns.
And the fox and cat are by the hounds set upon, and killed beneath the
fire. This sport finished, the Marshal (an officer so called, who, with
many others under different appellations, were created for the purpose
of conducting the revels) placeth them in their several appointed
places."

After the second course, the "antientest of the Masters of the Revels
singeth a song, with the assistance of others there present;" and after
some repose and revels, supper, consisting of two courses, is then
served in the hall, and, being ended, "the Marshall presenteth himself
with drums afore him, mounted upon a scaffold, born by four men; and
goeth three times round about the harthe, crying out, aloud, 'A Lord, a
Lord,' &c., then he descendeth, and goeth to dance."

"This done, the Lord of Misrule (an officer whose functions will be
afterwards noticed) addresseth himself to the Banquet; which ended
with some minstralsye, mirth and dancing, every man departeth to
rest."[133:A]

Herrick, who was the contemporary of Shakspeare for the first
twenty-five years of his life, that is, from the year 1591 to 1616, has
given us the following curious and pleasing account of the ceremonies
of Twelfth Night, as we may suppose them to have been observed in
almost every private family:


"TWELFTH-NIGHT,

OR KING AND QUEEN.

        Now, now the mirth comes
        With the cake full of plums,
    Where Beane's the king of the sport here;
        Beside, we must know,
        The Pea also
    Must revell, as Queene, in the court here.

        Begin then to chuse,
        This night as ye use,
    Who shall for the present delight here,
        Be a King by the lot,
        And who shall not
    Be Twelfe-day Queene for the night here.

        Which knowne, let us make
        Joy-sops with the cake;
    And let not a man then be seen here,
        Who unurg'd will not drinke
        To the base from the brink
    A health to the King and the Queene here.

        Next crowne the bowle full
        With gentle lambs-wooll;
    Adde sugar, nutmeg and ginger,
        With store of ale too;
        And thus ye must doe
    To make the _wassaile_ a swinger.

        Give then to the King
        And Queene wassailing;
    And though with ale ye be whet here;
        Yet part ye from hence,
        As free from offence,
    As when ye innocent met here."
                        _Herrick's Hesperides_, p. 376, 377.

The _Twelfth Day_ was the usual termination of the festivities of
Christmas with the higher ranks; but with the vulgar they were
frequently prolonged until Candlemas, to which period it was thought a
point of much importance to retain a portion of their Christmas cheer.

It should not be forgotten here, that Shakspeare has given the
appellation of _Twelfth Night_ to one of his best and most finished
plays. No reason for this choice is discoverable in the drama itself,
and from its adjunctive title of _What You Will_, it is probable, that
the name was meant to be no otherwise appropriate than as designating
an evening on which dramatic mirth and recreation were, by custom,
peculiarly expected and always acceptable.[134:A]

It appears from a passage from Warner's Albion's England, that between
Twelfth Day and Plough-Monday, a period was customarily fixed upon
for the celebration of games in honour of the Distaff, and which was
termed ROCK-DAY.[135:A] The notice in question is to be found in the
lamentations of the Northerne-man over the decline of festivity, where
he exclaims,

    "_Rock_, and plow-mondaies, _gams_ sal gang,
       With saint-feasts and kirk sights."[135:B]

That this festival was observed not only during the immediate days of
Warner and Shakspeare, but for some time afterwards, we learn from
a little poem by Robert Herrick, which was probably written between
the years 1630 and 1640. Herrick was born in 1591, and published his
collection of poems, entitled Hesperides, in 1648. He gives us in his
title the additional information that _Rock_, or _Saint Distaff's
Day_, was the morrow after Twelfth Day; and he advises that it should
terminate the sports of Christmas.


    "SAINT DISTAFF'S OR THE MORROW AFTER
    TWELFTH-DAY.

    Partly worke and partly play
    Ye must on S. _Distaff's day_:
    From the plough soone free your teame;
    Then come home and fother them.
    If the Maides a spinning goe,
    Burne the flax, and fire the tow:
    Scorch their plackets, but beware
    That ye singe no maiden-haire.
    Bring in pailes of water then,
    Let the Maides bewash the men.
    Give S. _Distaffe_ all the right,
    Then bid Christmas sport _good night_.
    And next morrow, every one
    To his owne vocation."[136:A]

The first Monday after Twelfth Day used to be celebrated by the
ploughmen as a Holiday, being the season at which the labours
of the plough commenced, and hence the day has been denominated
PLOUGH-MONDAY. Tusser, in his poem on husbandry, after observing that
the "old guise must be kept," recommends the ploughmen on this day to
the hospitality of the good huswife:

    "Good huswives, whom God hath enriched ynough,
       forget not the feasts, that belong to the plough:
     The meaning is only to joy and be glad,
       for comfort with labour, is fit to be had."

He then adds,

    "Plough-Munday, next after that Twelftide is past,
       bids out with the plough, the worst husband is last:
     If plowman get hatchet, or whip to the skreene,
       maids loveth their cocke, if no water be seene."

These lines allude to a custom prevalent in the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries, and which Mr. Hilman, in a note on the passage,
has thus explained: "After Christmas, (which formerly, during the
twelve days, was a time of very little work,) every gentleman
feasted the farmers, and every farmer their servants and task-men.
_Plough-monday_ puts them in mind of their business. In the morning the
men and maid-servants strive who shall shew their diligence in rising
earliest; if the ploughman can get his whip, his plough-staff, hatchet,
or any thing that he wants in the field, by the fire-side, before the
maid hath got her kettle on, then the maid loseth her _Shrovetide_
cock, and it wholly belongs to the men. Thus did our forefathers
strive to allure youth to their duty, and provided them innocent mirth,
as well as labour. On this _Plough-Monday_ they have a good supper
and some strong drink, that they might not go immediately out of one
extreme into another."[137:A]

In the northern and north-western parts of England, the entire day was
usually consumed in parading the streets, and the night was devoted
to festivity. The ploughmen, apparently habited only in their shirts,
but in fact with flannel jackets underneath, to keep out the cold, and
these shirts decorated with rose-knots of various coloured riband, went
about collecting what they called "_plough-money_ for drink." They were
accompanied by a plough, which they dragged along, and by music, and
not unfrequently two of the party were dressed to personate an _old
woman_, whom they called _Bessy_, and a _Fool_, the latter of these
characters being covered with skins, with a hairy cap on his head, and
the tail of some animal pendent from his back. On one of these antics
was devolved the office of collecting money from the spectators by
rattling a box, into which their contributions were dropped, while the
rest of the ploughmen were engaged in performing a _sword-dance_, a
piece of pageantry derived from our northern ancestors, and of which
Olaus Magnus has left us an accurate description in his history of the
Gothic nations.[137:B] It consisted, for the most part, in forming
various figures with the swords, sheathed and unsheathed, commencing
in slow time, and terminating in very rapid movements, which required
great agility and address to be conducted with safety and effect.[137:C]

It was the opinion of Dr. Johnson that Shakspeare alluded to the
_sword-dance_, where, in _Anthony and Cleopatra_, he makes his hero
observe of Augustus, that

    ——————— "He, at Philippi, kept
    His sword even like a dancer."[138:A]

But Mr. Malone has remarked, with more probability, that the allusion
is to the English custom of dancing with a sword _worn by the side_; in
confirmation of which idea, he quotes a passage from _All's Well That
Ends Well_, where Bertram, lamenting that he is kept from the wars,
says,

    "I shall stay here the forehorse to a smock,
     Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry,
     Till honour be bought up, and no _sword worn_.
     But one to _dance_ with."[138:B]

It has been observed in a preceding page, that, among the common
people, the festivities of Christmas were frequently protracted to
CANDLEMAS-DAY. This was done under the idea of doing honour to the
Virgin Mary, whose _purification_ is commemorated by the church at this
period. It was generally, remarks Bourne, "a day of festivity, and more
than ordinary observation among women, and is therefore called the
_Wives Feast-Day_."[138:C] The term _Candlemas_, however, seems to have
arisen from a custom among the Roman Catholics, of consecrating tapers
on this day, and bearing them about lighted in procession, to which
they were enjoined by an edict of Pope Sergius, A. D. 684; but on what
foundation is not accurately ascertained. At the Reformation, among the
rites and ceremonies which were ordered to be retained in a convocation
of Henry VIII., this is one, and expressedly because it was considered
as symbolical of the spiritual illumination of the Gospel.[138:D]

From Candlemas to Hallowmas, the tapers which had been lighted all
the winter in Cathedral and Conventual Churches ceased to be used; and
so prevalent, indeed, was the relinquishment of candles on this day in
domestic life, that it has laid the foundation of one of the proverbs
in the collection of Mr. Ray:

    On _Candlemas-day_ throw _Candle_ and _Candlestick_ away.

On this day likewise the Christmas greens were removed from churches
and private houses. Herrick, who may be considered as the contemporary
of Shakspeare, being five-and-twenty at the period of the poet's death,
has given us a pleasing description of this observance; he abounds,
indeed, in the history of local rites, and, though surviving beyond
the middle of the seventeenth century, paints with great accuracy
the manners and superstitions of the Shakspearean era. He has paid
particular attention to the festival that we are describing, and
enumerates the various greens and flowers appropriated to different
seasons in a little poem entitled


"CEREMONIES FOR CANDLEMASSE EVE.

    DOWN with the Rosemary and Bayes,
      Down with the Misleto;
    Instead of Holly, now up-raise
      The greener Box (for show).

    The Holly hitherto did sway;
      Let Box now domineere;
    Untill the dancing Easter-day,
      On Easter's Eve appeare.

    Then youthfull Box which now hath grace,
      Your houses to renew;
    Grown old, surrender must his place,
      Unto the crisped Yew.

    When Yew is out, then Birch comes in,
      And many Flowers beside;
    Both of a fresh and fragrant kinne,
      To honour Whitsontide.

    Green Bushes then, and sweetest Bents,
      With cooler Oken boughs;
    Come in for comely ornaments,
      To re-adorn the house."[140:A]

The usage which we have alluded to, of preserving the Christmas cheer
and hospitality to Candlemas, is immediately afterwards recorded and
connected with a singular superstition, in the following poems under
the titles of


"CEREMONIES FOR CANDLEMASSE DAY.

    KINDLE the Christmas Brand, and then
      Till sunne-set, let it burne;
    Which quencht, then lay it up agen,
      Till Christmas next returne.

    Part must be kept wherewith to teend[140:B]
      The Christmas Log next yeare;
    And where 'tis safely kept, the fiend
      Can do no mischiefe there.——

           *       *       *       *       *

    End now the white-loafe, and the pye,
    And let all sports with Christmas dye."[140:C]

To the exorcising power of the Christmas Brand is added, in the
subsequent effusion, a most alarming denunciation against those who
heedlessly leave in the Hall on Candlemas Eve, any the smallest portion
of the Christmas greens.


"CEREMONY UPON CANDLEMAS EVE

    DOWN with the Rosemary, and so
    Down with the Baies, and Misletoe:
    Down with the Holly, Ivie, all
    Wherewith ye drest the Christmas Hall:
    That so the superstitious find
    No one least Branch there left behind:
    For look, how many leaves there be,
    Neglected there, maids, trust to me,
    So many _goblins_ you shall see."[141:A]

The next important period of feasting in the country occurred at
SHROVE-TIDE, which among the Roman Catholics was the time appointed
for _shriving_ or _confession of sins_, and was also observed as
a _carnival_ before the commencement of Lent. The former of these
ceremonies was dispensed with at the Reformation; but the rites
attending the latter were for a long time supported with a rival
spirit of hilarity. The Monday and Tuesday succeeding _Shrove_ Sunday,
called _Collop Monday_ and _Pancake Tuesday_, were peculiarly devoted
to _Shrovetide Amusement_; the first having been, in papal times, the
period at which they took leave of flesh, or slices of meat, termed
_collops_ in the north, which had been preserved through the winter by
salting and drying, and the second was a relic of the feast preceding
Lent; eggs and collops therefore on the Monday, and pancakes, as a
delicacy, on the Tuesday, were duly if not religiously served up.

Tusser, in his very curious and entertaining poem on agriculture, thus
notices some of the old observances at _Shrovetide_:—

    "At Shroftide to shroving, go thresh the fat hen,
       If blindfold can kill her, then give it thy men:
     Maids, fritters and pancakes, ynow see ye make,
       Let slut have one pancake, for company sake."

For an explanation of the obsolete custom of "threshing the fat hen,"
we are indebted to Mr. Hilman. "The hen," says he, "is hung at a
fellow's back, who has also some horse-bells about him; the rest of
the fellows are blinded, and have boughs in their hands, with which
they chase this fellow and his hen about some large court or small
enclosure. The fellow with his hen and bells shifting as well as he
can, they follow the sound, and sometimes hit him and his hen; at other
times, if he can get behind one of them, they thresh one another well
favour'dly; but the jest is, the maids are to blind the fellows, which
they do with their aprons, and the cunning baggages will endear their
sweet-hearts with a peeping hole, whilst the others look out as sharp
to hinder it. After this the hen is boil'd with bacon, and store of
pancakes and fritters are made. She that is noted for lying in bed
long, or any other miscarriage, hath the first pancake presented to
her, which most commonly falls to the dogs share at last, for no one
will own it their due." Mr. Hilman concludes his comment on the text
with a singular remark; "the loss of the above laudable custom, is one
of the benefits we have got by smoaking tobacco."[142:A]

Shakspeare has twice noticed this season of feasting and amusement;
first, in _All's Well That Ends Well_, where he makes the Clown tell
the Countess (among a string of other similes), that his answer is "as
fit as a pancake for Shrove-tuesday[143:A];" and in the _Second Part
of King Henry IV._ he has introduced _Silence_ singing the following
song:—

    "Be merry, be merry, my wife's as all;[143:B]
     For women are shrews, both short and tall:
     'Tis merry in hall, when beards wag all,
       And welcome merry _shrove-tide_.
     Be merry, be merry, &c."

The third line of this song appears to have been proverbial, and of
considerable antiquity; for Adam Davie, who flourished about 1312, has
the same imagery with the same rhyme, in his _Life of Alexander_:

    "Merry swithe it is in halle,
     When the _berdes waveth alle_."[143:C]

And the subsequent passage, quoted by Mr. Reed from a writer
contemporary with Shakspeare, proves, that it was a common burden or
under song in the halls of our gentry at that period:—"which done,
grace said, and the table taken up, the plate presently conveyed into
the pantrie, the hall summons this consort of companions (upon payne
to dyne with Duke Humphfrie, or to kisse the hare's foot,) to appear
at the first call: where a song is to be sung, the under song or
holding whereof is, _It is merrie in haul where beards wag all._" The
Serving-man's Comfort, 1598, sign. C.[144:A]

The evening of _Shrove-Tuesday_ was usually appropriated, as well
in the country as in town, to the exhibition of dramatic pieces.
Not only at Court, where Jonson was occasionally employed to write
Masques on this night[144:B], but at both the Universities, in the
provincial schools, and in the halls of the gentry and nobility, were
these the amusements of _Shrovetide_, during the days of Elizabeth
and James. Warton, speaking of these ephemeral plays, adds, in a
note, "I have seen an anonymous comedy, APOLLO SHROVING, composed
by the Master of Hadleigh-school, in Suffolk[144:C], and acted by
his scholars, on Shrove-tuesday, Feb. 7, 1626, printed 1627. 8vo.
published, as it seems, by E. W. _Shrove-tuesday_, as the day
immediately preceding Lent, was always a day of extraordinary sport
and feasting."—"Some of these festivities," he proceeds to say, "still
remain in our universities. In the PERCY HOUSHOLD-BOOK, 1512, it
appears, that the clergy and officers of Lord Percy's chapel performed
a play _before his lordship upon Shrowftewesday at night_." Pag.
345.[144:D]

The cruel custom of _Cock-throwing_, which, until lately, was a
diversion peculiar to this day, seems to have originated from the
barbarous, yet less savage, amusement of _Cock-fighting_. "Every yeare
on _Shrove-Tuesday_," says Fitzstephen, who wrote in the reign of Henry
II., "the schoole-boyes doe bring cockes of the game to their master,
and all the forenoone they delight themselves in Cock-fighting."[145:A]
At what period this degenerated into Cock-throwing cannot now be
ascertained; Chaucer seems to allude to it in his _Nonnes Priests'
Tale_, where the Cock revenges himself on the Priest's son, because he

        —————— "gave hym a knocke
    Upon his legges, when he was yonge and nice;"

and that it was common in the sixteenth century, we have the testimony
of Sir Thomas More, who, describing the state of childhood, speaks of
his skill in casting a cok-stele, that is, a stick or cudgel to throw
at a cock.[145:B]

The first effective blow directed against this infamous sport, was
given by the moral pencil of Hogarth, who in one of his prints called
_The Four Stages of Cruelty_, has represented, among other puerile
diversions, a groupe of boys _throwing at a Cock_, and, as Trusler
remarks, "beating the harmless feathered animal to jelly."[145:C] The
benevolent satire of this great artist gradually produced the necessary
reform, and for some time past, the magistrates have so generally
interdicted the practice, that the pastime may happily be considered as
extinct.[145:D]

EASTER-TIDE, or the week succeeding Easter-Sunday, afforded another
opportunity for rejoicing, and was formerly a season of great
festivity. Not only, as bound by every tie of gratitude to do, did man
rejoice on this occasion, but it was the belief of the vulgar that
the sun himself partook of the exhilaration, and regularly danced on
Easter-Day. To see this glorious spectacle, therefore, it was customary
for the common people to rise before the sun on Easter-morning, and
though, as we may conclude, they were constantly disappointed, yet
might the habit occasionally lead to serious thought and useful
contemplation; metaphorically considered, indeed, the idea may be
termed both just and beautiful, "for as the earth and her valleys
standing thick with corn, are said _to laugh and sing_; so, on account
of the Resurrection, the heavens and the sun may be said to dance for
joy; or, as the Psalmist words it, the _heavens may rejoice and the
earth may be glad_."[146:A]

The great amusement of the Easter-holidays consisted in playing at
hand-ball, a game at which, say the ritualists Belithus and Durandus,
bishops and archbishops used, upon the continent at this period, to
recreate themselves with their inferior clergy[147:A]; nor was it
uncommon for corporate bodies on this occasion in England to amuse
themselves in a similar way with their burgesses and young people;
antiently this was the custom, says Mr. Brand, at Newcastle, at the
feasts of Easter and Whitsuntide, when the mayor, aldermen, and
sheriff, accompanied by great numbers of the burgesses, used to go
yearly at these seasons to the Forth, or little mall of the town, with
the mace, sword, and cap of maintenance carried before them, and not
only countenance, but frequently join in the diversions of hand-ball,
dancing, &c.[147:B]

The constant prize at hand-ball, during Easter, was a _tansy-cake_,
supposed to be allusive to the _bitter herbs_ used by the Jews on
this festival. Selden, the contemporary of Shakspeare, speaking of
our chief holidays, remarks, that "our Meats and Sports have much of
them relation to Church-Works. The coffin of our _Christmas Pies_, in
shape long, is in imitation of the Cratch[147:C]: our chusing Kings and
Queens on Twelfth Night, hath reference to the three kings. So likewise
our eating of fritters, _whipping_ of tops, _roasting_ of herrings,
Jack of Lents, &c. they are all in imitation of Church-Works, emblems
of martyrdom. Our _Tansies at Easter_ have reference to the _bitter
Herbs_; though at the same time 'twas always the fashion for a man
to have a _Gammon of Bacon_, to shew himself to be no _Jew_."[147:D]
Fuller has noticed this Easter game under his Cheshire, where,
explaining the origin of the proverb "When the daughter is stolen shut
Pepper Gate," he says, "The mayor of the city had his daughter, as she
was _playing at ball_ with other maidens in Pepper-street, stolen away
by a young man through the same gate, whereupon he caused it to be shut
up."[148:A]

Another custom which prevailed in this country, during the sixteenth
century, at Easter, and is still kept up in some parts of the north,
was that of presenting children with _eggs stained with various colours
in boiling_, termed _Paste_ or more properly _Pasche Eggs_, which the
young people considered in the light of _fairings_. This observance
appears to have arisen from a superstition, prevalent among the Roman
Catholics, that eggs were an emblem of the resurrection, and, indeed,
in the Ritual of Pope Paul the Fifth, which was composed for the use of
England, Ireland, and Scotland, there is a prayer for the consecration
of eggs, in which the faithful servants of the Lord are directed to eat
this his creature of eggs _on account of the resurrection_. On this
custom Mr. Brand has well observed, that "the antient Egyptians, if the
resurrection of the body had been a tenet of their faith, would perhaps
have thought an _Egg_ no improper hieroglyphical representation of
it. The exclusion of a living creature by incubation, after the vital
principle has lain a long while dormant or extinct, is a process so
truly marvellous, that if it could be disbelieved, would be thought by
some a thing as incredible, as that the Author of _Life_ should be able
to re-animate the _dead_."[148:B] So prevalent indeed was this custom
of _egg-giving_ at Easter, that it forms the basis of an old English
proverb, which, in the collection of Mr. Ray, runs thus:

    "I'll warrant you for an _egg_ at _Easter_."[148:C]

A popular holiday, called HOKE-DAY, or HOCK-DAY, which used to be
celebrated with much festivity in Shakspeare's native county, was
usually observed on the Tuesday following the second Sunday after
Easter-day. Its origin is doubtful, some antiquaries supposing it was
commemorative of the massacre of the Danes in the reign of Ethelred
the Unready, which took place on the 13th of November 1002; and others
that it was meant to perpetuate the deliverance of the English from
the tyrannical government of the Danes, by the death of Hardicanute
on Tuesday the 8th of June 1041. At Coventry in Warwickshire,
however, it was celebrated in memory of the former event, though the
commemoration was held on a day wide apart from that on which the
catastrophe occurred, a circumstance which originated in an ordinance
of Ethelred himself, who transferred the sports of this day to the
Monday and Tuesday in the third week after Easter. John Rouse, or Ross,
the Warwickshire historian, says, that this day was distinguished by
various sports, in which the people, divided into parties, used to draw
each other by ropes[149:A]; a species of diversion of which Spelman has
given us a more intelligible account by telling us that it "consisted
in the men and women binding each other, and especially the women the
men," and that the day, in consequence of this pastime, was called
_Binding-Tuesday_.[149:B]

The term _hock_, by which this day is designated, is thus accounted
for by Henry of Huntingdon. "The secret letters of Ethelred, directed
to all parts of his kingdom from this city (Winchester), ordered
that all the Danes indiscriminately should be put to death; and this
was executed, as we learn from the chronicle of Wallingford, with
circumstances of the greatest cruelty, even upon women and children,
in many parts: but in other places, it seems that the English, instead
of killing their guests, satisfied themselves with what was called
_hock-shining_, or _houghing_ them, by cutting their ham-strings, so
as to render them incapable of serving in war. Hence the sports which
were afterwards instituted in our city, and from thence propagated
throughout the whole kingdom, obtained the name of _Hocktide
merriments_."

It appears from the following passage in Laneham's Account of Queen
Elizabeth's Entertainment at Kenelworth Castle, A. D. 1575, that the
citizens of Coventry had lately been compelled to give up their annual
amusements on _Hock Tuesday_, and took the opportunity of the queen's
visit to the Earl of Leicester to petition her for a renewal of the
same. "Hereto followed," says Laneham, "as good a sport (methought),
presented in an historical cue, by certain good-hearted men of
_Coventry_, my Lord's neighbours there; who understanding among them
the thing that could not be hidden from any, how careful and studious
his Honour was that by all pleasant recreations her Highness might best
find herself welcome, and be made gladsome and merry (the groundwork
indeed and foundation of his Lordship's mirth and gladness of us all),
made petition that they mought renew now their old storial shew: Of
argument how the _Danes_, whylome here in a troublous season were for
quietness borne withal and suffered in peace; that anon, by outrage and
importable insolency, abusing both _Ethelred_ the _King_, then, and
all Estates every where beside; at the grievous complaint and counsel
of _Huna_ the _King_'s chieftain in wars on a _Saint Brice_'s night,
A. D. 1012 (as the book says, that falleth yearly on the thirteenth of
November) were all dispatched, and the realm rid. And for because the
matter mentioneth how valiantly our _English_ women for love of their
country behaved themselves, expressed in actions and rymes after their
manner, they thought it mought move some mirth to her Majesty the
rather. The thing, said they, is grounded on story, and for pastime
wont to be played in our city yearly; without ill example of manners,
papistry, or any superstition; and else did so occupy the heads of a
number, that likely enough would have had worse meditations; had an
ancient beginning and a long continuance; till now of late laid down,
they knew no cause why, unless it were by the zeal of certain their
preachers, men very commendable for their behaviour and learning,
and sweet in their sermons, but somewhat too sour in preaching away
their pastime: Wished therefore, that as they should continue their
good doctrine in pulpit, so, for matters of policy and governance of
the city, they would permit them to the _Mayor_ and _Magistrates_;
and said, by my faith, _Master Martyn, they would make their humble
petition unto her Highness, that they might have their Plays up
again_."[151:A]

As it is subsequently stated that their play was very graciously
received by the queen, who commanded it to be represented again on the
following Tuesday, and gave the performers two bucks, and five marks
in money, we must suppose, that their petition was not rejected, and
that they were allowed to renew yearly at Coventry, their favourite
diversions on _Hock-Tuesday_. The observance of this day, indeed,
was still partially retained in the time of Spelman, who died A. D.
1641[151:B], and even Plott, who lived until 1696, mentions it then as
not totally discontinued; but the eighteenth century, we believe, never
witnessed its celebration.

We have now reached that period of the year which was formerly
dedicated to one of the most splendid and pleasing of our festal rites.
The observance of MAY-DAY was a custom which, until the close of the
reign of James the First, alike attracted the attention of the royal
and the noble, as of the vulgar class. Henry the Eighth, Elizabeth,
and James, patronized and partook of its ceremonies; and, during this
extended era, there was scarcely a village in the kingdom but what had
a _May-pole_, with its appropriate games and dances.

The origin of these festivities has been attributed to three different
sources, _Classic_, _Celtic_, and _Gothic_. The first appears to us
to establish the best claim to the parentage of our May-day rites,
as a relique of the _Roman Floralia_, which were celebrated on the
last four days of April, and on the first of May, in honour of the
goddess Flora, and were accompanied with dancing, music, the wearing of
garlands, strewing of flowers, &c. The _Beltein_, or rural sacrifice
of the Highlanders on this day, as described by Mr. Pennant and Dr.
Jamieson[152:A], seems to have arisen from a different motive, and
to have been instituted for the purpose of propitiating the various
noxious animals which might injure or destroy their flocks and herds.
The Gothic anniversary on May-day makes a nearer approach to the
general purpose of the _Floralia_, and was intended as a thanksgiving
to the sun, if not for the return of flowers, fruit, and grain, yet for
the introduction of a better season for fishing and hunting.[152:B]

The modes of conducting the ceremonies and rejoicings on _May-day_, may
be best drawn from the writers of the Elizabethan period, in which this
festival appears to have maintained a very high degree of celebrity,
though not accompanied with that splendour of exhibition which took
place at an earlier period in the reign of Henry the Eighth. It may be
traced, indeed, from the era of Chaucer, who, in the conclusion of his
_Court of Love_, has described the _Feast of May_, when

    "—— Forth goth all the court both most and lest,
     To fetch the floures fresh, and braunch and blome—
     And namely hauthorn brought both page and grome
     And than rejoysen in their great delite:
     Eke ech at other throw the floures bright,
     The primerose, the violete, and the gold,
     With fresh garlants party blew and white."[153:A]

And, it should be observed, that this, the simplest mode of celebrating
May-day, was as much in vogue, in the days of Shakspeare, as the
more complex one, accompanied by the morris-dance, and the games
of Robin Hood. The following descriptions, by Bourne and Borlase,
manifestly allude to the costume of this age, and to the simpler mode
of commemorating the 1st of May: "On the _Calends_, or the 1st day of
May," says the former, "commonly called _May-day_, the juvenile part
of both sexes were wont to rise a little after midnight, and walk to
some neighbouring wood, accompany'd with music, and the blowing of
horns, where they break down branches from the trees, and adorn them
with _nosegays_ and _crowns of flowers_. When this is done, they return
with their booty homewards, about the rising of the sun, and make their
doors and windows to triumph in the flowery spoil. The after part of
the day, is chiefly spent in dancing round a tall poll, which is called
a _May Poll_; which being placed in a convenient part of the village,
stands there, as it were consecrated to the _Goddess of Flowers_,
without the least violence offered it, in the whole circle of the
year."[153:B] "An antient custom," says the latter, "still retained by
the Cornish, is that of decking their doors and porches on the first of
May with green sycamore and hawthorn boughs, and of planting trees, or
rather stumps of trees, before their houses: and on May-eve, they from
towns make excursions into the country, and having cut down a tall elm,
brought it into town, fitted a straight and taper pole to the end of
it, and painted the same, erect it in the most public places, and on
holidays and festivals adorn it with flower garlands, or insigns and
streamers."[154:A]

Now both these passages are little more than a less extended account
of what Philip Stubbes was a witness of, and described, in the year
1595, in his puritanical work, entitled _The Anatomie of Abuses_.
"Against Maie-day," relates this vehement declaimer, "every parish,
towne, or village, assemble themselves, both men, women, and children;
and either all together, or dividing themselves into companies, they
goe some to the woods and groves, some to the hills and mountaines,
some to one place, some to another, where they spend all the night in
pleasant pastimes, and in the morning they return bringing with them,
birche boughes and branches of trees to deck their assemblies withal.
But their chiefest jewel they bring from thence is the maie-pole,
which they bring home with great veneration, as thus—they have
twentie or fortie yoake of oxen, every oxe having a sweete nosegaie of
flowers tied to the tip of his hornes, and these oxen drawe home the
maie-poale, their stinking idol rather, which they covered all over
with flowers and hearbes, bound round with strings from the top to the
bottome, and sometimes it was painted with variable colours, having
two or three hundred men, women, and children following it with great
devotion. And thus equipp'd it was reared with handkerchiefes and
flagges streaming on the top, they strawe the ground round about it,
they bind green boughs about it, they set up summer halles, bowers, and
arbours, hard by it, and then fall they to banquetting and feasting,
to leaping and dauncing about it, as the heathen people did at the
dedication of their idolls.—I have heard it crediblie reported," he
sarcastically adds, "by men of great gravity, credite, and reputation,
that of fourtie, three score, or an hundred maides going to the wood,
there have scarcely the third part of them returned home againe as they
went."[154:B]

Browne also has given a similar description of the May-day rites in
his Britannia's Pastorals:—

    "As I have seene the Lady of the May
     Set in an arbour —— —— ——
     Built by the May-pole, where the jocund swaines
     Dance with the maidens to the bagpipe's straines,
     When envious night commands them to be gone,
     Call for the merry yongsters one by one,
     And for their well performance some disposes,
     To this a garland interwove with roses;
     To that a carved hooke, or well-wrought scrip,
     Gracing another with her cherry lip:
     To one her garter, to another then
     A handkerchiefe cast o're and o're agen;
     And none returneth empty, that hath spent
     His paynes to fill their rurall merriment."[155:A]

The custom of rising early on a May-morning to enjoy the season, and
honour the day, is thus noticed by Stow:—"In the month of May," he
says, "namely, on May-day in the morning, every man, except impediment,
would walke into the sweete meddowes and green woods, there to
rejoice their spirits, with the beauty and savour of sweet flowers,
and with the harmony of birds, praysing God in their kind[155:B];"
and Shakspeare has repeated references to the same observance; in
_Midsummer-Night's Dream_, Lysander tells Hermia,

    —— "I did meet thee once with Helena,
    _To do observance to a morn of May_;"[155:C]

and again, in the same play, Theseus says,—

    "No doubt they rose up early, _to observe
     The rite of May_."[156:A]

So generally prevalent was this habit of early rising on May-day, that
Shakspeare makes one of his inferior characters in _King Henry the
Eighth_ exclaim,—

    "Pray, sir, be patient; _'tis as much impossible_
     (Unless we sweep them from the door with cannons)
     _To scatter them, as 'tis to make them sleep
     On May-day morning; which will never be_."[156:B]

Herrick, the minute describer of the customs and superstitions of his
times, which were those of Shakspeare, and the _immediately_ succeeding
period, has a poem called _Corinna's Going A Maying_, which includes
most of the circumstances hitherto mentioned; he thus addresses his
mistress:—

     "Get up —— and see
      The dew bespangling herbe and tree:
    Each flower has wept, and bow'd toward the east,
    Above an houre since;—it is sin,
      Nay profanation to keep in;
    When as a thousand virgins on this day,
    Spring sooner than the lark, to fetch in May!
      Come, my Corinna, come; and comming marke
      How each field turns a street, each street a parke
        Made green, and trimm'd with trees; see how
        Devotion gives each house a bough,
        Or branch: each porch, each doore, ere this,
        An arke, a tabernacle is
      Made up of white-thorn neatly enterwove.—

    There's not a budding boy, or girle, this day
    But is got up, and gone to bring in May:
      A deale of youth, ere this, is come
      Back, and with white-thorn laden home.
      Some have dispatcht their cakes and creame,
      Before that we have left to dreame:
    And some have wept, and woo'd, and plighted troth,
    And chose their priest, ere we can cast off sloth:
      Many a green gown has been given;
      Many a kisse, both odde and even:
      Many a glance too has been sent
      From out the eye, Love's firmament:
    Many a jest told of the keyes betraying
    This night, and locks pickt, yet w'are not a Maying!"[157:A]

With this, the simplest mode of celebrating the rites of May-day,
was frequently united, in the days of Henry VIII. and Elizabeth, a
groupe of _Morris Dancers_, consisting of several characters, which
were often varied both in number, appellation, and dress. The _Morris
Dance_ appears to have been introduced into this kingdom about the
reign of Edward the Fourth, and is, without doubt, derived from the
_Morisco_, a dance peculiar to the _Moors_, and generally termed the
_Spanish Morisco_, from its notoriety in Spain, during the dynasty of
that people in the peninsula. The _Morris Dance_ in this country, when
performed on a May-day, and not connected with the Games of Robin Hood,
usually consisted of the Lady of the May, the Fool, or domestic buffoon
of the 15th and 16th centuries, a Piper, and two, four, or more, Morris
Dancers. The dress of these last personages, who designated the
amusement, was of a very peculiar kind; they had their faces blackened
to resemble the native Moors, and "in the reign of Henry the Eighth,"
says Mr. Douce, "they were dressed in gilt leather and silver paper,
and sometimes in coats of white spangled fustian. They had purses at
their girdles, and garters to which bells were attached[158:A];" but
according to Stubbes, who wrote in 1595, the costume had been altered,
for he tells us that they were clothed in "greene, yellow, or some
other light wanton collour. And as though that were not gawdy ynough,"
he continues, "they bedeeke themselves with scarffes, ribbons, and
laces hanged all over with golde ringes, precious stones, and other
jewels: this done, they tie about either legge twentie or fourtie
belles, with rich handkerchiefe in their handes, and sometimes laide a
crosse over their shoulders and neckes borrowed for the most part of
their pretie _Mopsies_ and loving _Bessies_ for bussing them in the
darke."[158:B] Feathers, too, were usually worn in their hats, and they
had occasionally bells fixed on their arms or wrists, as well as on
their legs. That these jingling ornaments were characteristic of, and
derived from, the genuine _Moorish Dance_, appears from a plate copied
by Mr. Douce from the habits of various nations, published by Hans
Weigel at Nuremberg, in 1577, and which represents the figure of an
African lady of the kingdom of Fez in the act of dancing, with bells at
her feet.[158:C]

It was the business of these motley figures to dance round the
May-pole, which was painted of various colours; thus in Mr. Tollett's
painted glass window, at Betley in Staffordshire, which represents an
English May-game and morris-dance, the May-pole is stained yellow and
black, in spiral lines[158:D]; and Shakspeare, in allusion to this
custom, makes Hermia tell Helena, whilst ridiculing the tallness of her
form, that she is a "painted May-pole[158:E];" so Stubbes, likewise,
in a passage previously quoted, says, that the Maie-pole was "painted
with variable colours."

That the _morris-dance_ was an almost constant attendant on the May-day
festivities, may be drawn from our usual authority, the works of
Shakspeare; for, in _All's Well That Ends Well_, the Clown affirms,
that his answer will serve all questions

    "As fit as a morris for May-day."[159:A]

But, about the commencement of the sixteenth century, or somewhat
sooner, probably towards the middle of the fifteenth century, a very
material addition was made to the celebration of the rites of May-day,
by the introduction of the characters of Robin Hood and some of his
associates. This was done with a view towards the encouragement of
archery, and the custom was continued even beyond the close of the
reign of James I. It is true, that the May-games in their rudest form,
the mere dance of lads and lasses round a May-pole, or the simple
morris with the Lady of the May, were occasionally seen during the
days of Elizabeth; but the general exhibition was the more complicated
ceremony which we are about to describe.

The personages who now became the chief performers in the
_morris-dance_, were four of the most popular outlaws of Sherwood
forest; that Robin Hood, of whom Drayton says,—

    "In this our spacious isle, I think there is not one,
     But he hath heard some talk of him and little John;—
     Of Tuck the merry friar, which many a sermon made
     In praise of Robin Hood, his outlaws and their trade;—
     "Of Robin's" mistress dear, his loved Marian,
     —— —— —— which wheresoe'er she came,
     Was sovereign of the woods, chief lady of the game:
     Her clothes tuck'd to the knee, and dainty braided hair,
     With bow and quiver arm'd;"[159:B]

characters which Warner, the contemporary of Drayton and Shakspeare,
has exclusively recorded as celebrating the rites of May; for,
speaking of the periods of some of our festivals, and remarking that
"ere penticost begun our May," he adds,

    "Tho' (_then_) Robin Hood, liell John, frier Tucke,
       And Marian, deftly play,
     And lord and ladie gang till kirke
       With lads and lasses gay:

     Fra masse and een sang sa gud cheere
       And glee on ery greene."[160:A]

These four characters, therefore, _Robin Hood_, _Little John_, _Friar
Tuck_, and _Maid Marian_, although no constituent parts of the original
English morris, became at length so blended with it, especially on the
festival of May-day, that until the practice of archery was nearly laid
aside, they continued to be the most essential part of the pageantry.

In consequence of this arrangement, "the old _Robin Hood_ of England,"
as Shakspeare calls him[160:B], was created the King or Lord of
the May, and sometimes carried in his hand, during the May-game, a
painted standard.[160:C] It was no uncommon circumstance, likewise,
for metrical interludes, of a comic species, and founded on the
achievements of this outlaw, to be performed after the morris, on
the May-pole green. In Garrick's Collection of Old Plays, occurs
one, entitled "A mery Geste of Robyn Hoode, and of hys Lyfe, wyth
a newe Playe _for to be played in Maye-Games_, very pleasaunte and
full of pastyme;" it is printed at London, in the black letter, for
William Copland, and has figures in the title page of Robin Hood and
Lytel John.[160:D] Shakspeare appears to allude to these interludes
when he represents Fabian, in the _Twelfth Night_, exclaiming on the
approach of Sir Andrew Ague-Cheek with his challenge, "More matter for
May-morning."[160:E]

Upon this introduction of Robin Hood and his companions into the
celebration of May-day, his paramour _Maid Marian_, assumed the office
of the former Queen of May. This far-famed lady has, according to Mr.
Ritson, no part in the original and more authentic history of Robin
Hood; but seems to have been first brought forward when the story of
this hero became dramatised, which was at a very early period in this
country; and Mr. Douce is of opinion that the name, which is a stranger
to English history, has been taken from "a pretty French pastoral drama
of the eleventh or twelfth century, entitled _Le jeu du berger et de la
bergere_, in which the principal characters are _Robin_ and _Marian_,
a shepherd and shepherdess."[161:A] This appears the more probable, as
the piece was not only very popular in France, but performed at the
season when the May-games took place in England.

_Maid Marian_, in the days of Shakspeare, was usually represented by a
delicate, smooth-faced youth, who was dressed in all the fashionable
finery of the times; and this assumption of the female garb gave, not
without some reason, great offence to the puritanical dissenters, one
of whom, exclaiming against the amusements of May-day, notices this,
amongst some other abuses, in the following very curious passage:—"The
abuses which are committed in your May-games are infinite. The first
whereof is this, that you doe use to attyre in woman's apparrell whom
you doe most commonly call _may-marrions_, whereby you infringe that
straight commandment whiche is given in Deut. xxii. 5., that men must
not put on women's apparrell for feare of enormities. Nay I myself
have seene in a may game a troupe, the greater part whereof hath been
men, and yet have they been attyred so like into women, that their
faces being hidde (as they were indeede) a man coulde not discerne them
from women. The second abuse, which of all other is the greatest, is
this, that it hath been toulde that your morice dauncers have dannced
naked in nettes: what greater enticement unto naughtiness could have
been devised? The third abuse is, that you (because you will loose no
tyme) doe use commonly to runne into woodes in the night time, amongst
maidens, to fet bowes, in so muche as I have hearde of tenne maidens
which went to fet May, and nine of them came home with childe."[162:A]

That, in consequence of this custom, effeminate and coxcomical men were
sarcastically compared to _Maid Marian_, appears from a passage in a
pamphlet by Barnaby Rich, who, satirising the male attire, as worn by
the fops of the reigns of Elizabeth and James I., cries out,—"From
whence commeth this wearing, and this embroidering of long locks, this
curiosity that is used amongst men, in frizeling and curling of their
haire, this gentlewoman-like starcht bands, so be-edged and be-laced,
_fitter for Maid Marian in a Moris dance_, than for him that hath
either that spirit or courage that shold be in a gentleman."[162:B]

It will not seem surprising that the converse of this was occasionally
applicable to the female sex; and that those women who adopted
masculine airs and habits should be branded with a similarity to the
clown who, though personating the lady of the May, never failed,
however nice or affected he might be, to disclose by the boldness
and awkwardness of his gesture and manner, both his rank and sex.
Thus Falstaff is represented as telling the hostess, when he means to
upbraid her for her masculine appearance and conduct, that "for _woman
hood_ Maid Marian may be the Deputy's wife of the ward to thee."[162:C]
A fancy coronet of gilt metal, or interwoven with flowers, and a
watchet coloured tunic, a kirtle or petticoat of green, as the livery
of Robin Hood, were customary articles of decoration in the dress of
the May-Queen.

_Friar Tuck_, the next of the four characters which we have mentioned
as introduced into the May-games, was the chaplain of Robin Hood, and
is noticed by Shakspeare, who makes one of the outlaws, in the _Two
Gentlemen of Verona_, swear

    "By the bare scalp of _Robin Hood's fat friar_."[163:A]

He is represented in the engraving of Mr. Tollet's window as a
Franciscan friar in the full clerical tonsure; for, as Mr. T. observes
in giving an account of his window, "when the parish priests were
inhibited by the diocesan to assist in the May games, the Franciscans
might give attendance, as being exempted from episcopal jurisdiction;"
he adds that "most of Shakspeare's friars are Franciscans," and that
in Sir David Dalrymple's extracts from the book of the _Universal
Kirk_, in the year 1576, he is styled "chaplain to Robin Huid, king of
May."[163:B]

The last of this groupe was the boon companion of Robin, the "_brave
Little John_," as he is termed in one of the ballads on this popular
outlaw, and who "is first mentioned," remarks Mr. Douce, "together
with Robin Hood, by Fordun the Scotish historian, who wrote in the
fourteenth century, and who speaks of the celebration of the story of
these persons in the _theatrical performances_ of his time, and of the
minstrel's songs relating to them, which he says the common people
preferred to all _other romances_."[163:C]

With these _four_ personages therefore, who were deemed so inseparable,
that a character in Peele's Edward I. says, "We will live and die
together, like _Robin Hood_, _Little John_, _Friar Tucke_, and _Maide
Marian_[163:D]," the performers in the simple English Morris, the
_fool_, _Tom the Piper_, and the _Morris Dancers_, peculiarly so called
from their dress and function, were, for a time, generally connected.
Tom the Piper is thus mentioned by Drayton:

    "Myself above Tom Piper to advance,
     Which so bestirs him in the Morrice-dance
         For penny wage."[164:A]

And Shakspeare, alluding to the violent gesticulations and music of the
Morris dancers says, speaking of Cade the rebel,

    ——————— "I have seen him
    Caper upright like a _wild morisco_,
    Shaking the bloody darts, as he his bells."[164:B]

The music accompanying the _Morris_ and the _May-games_, was either the
simple pipe, or the pipe and tabor, or the bag-pipe. In the following
passage from a curious controversial pamphlet, published towards the
close of the sixteenth century, the morris and the pipe and tabor
are thus noticed: "If Menippus, or the man in the moone, be so quick
sighted, that he beholds these bitter sweete jests, these railing
outcries; this shouting at prelates to cast them downe, and heaving
at Martin to hang him up for Martilmas biefe; what would he imagine
otherwise, then as that stranger, which seeing a Quintessence (beside
the _foole_ and the _Maid Marian_) of all the picked youth, strained
out of an whole Endship, footing the _morris about a may pole_, and
he, not hearing the crie of the hounds, for the barking of dogs, (that
is to say) the minstrelsie for the fidling, the tune for the sound,
nor the _pipe for the noise of the tabor_, bluntly demanded if they
were not all beside themselves, that they so lip'd and skip'd whithout
an occasion."[164:C] To this quotation Mr. Haslewood has annexed the
subsequent ludicrous story from a tract entitled, _Hay any worke
for Cooper_. It is a striking proof of the singular attraction and
popularity of the May-games at this period:—"There is a neighbour of
ours, an honest priest, who was sometimes (simple as he now stands) a
vice in a play, for want of a better; his name is Gliberie of Hawstead
in Essex, hee goes much to the pulpit. On a time, I thinke it was the
last _May_, he went up with a full resolution to doe his businesse
with great commendations. But, see the fortune of it. A boy in the
church, hearing either the _summer lord with his May-game, or Robin
Hood with his morice daunce_, going by the church, out goes the boye.
Good Glibery, though he were in the pulpit, yet had a mind to his old
companions abroad, (a company of merry grigs you must thinke them to
be, as merry as a vice on a stage), seeing the boy going out, finished
his matter presently with John of London's amen, saying, ha ye faith,
boy! are they there? Then ha with thee, and so came downe and among
them he goes."[165:A]

That the music of the _bag-pipe_ was highly esteemed in the days of
Shakspeare, and even preferred to the tabor and pipe, we have a strong
instance in his _Winter's Tale_, where a servant enters announcing
Autolicus in the following terms: "If you did but hear the pedlar at
the door, you would never dance again after a tabor and pipe; no,
_the bag-pipe could not move you_[165:B];" and that especially in the
country, it was a frequent accompaniment to the morris bells, the
numerous collections of _madrigals_, published in the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries, afford many proofs. Thus, from a collection
printed in 1600:

    "Harke, harke, I heare the dancing
     And a nimble morris prancing;
     _The bagpipe and the morris bells_,
     That they are not farre hence us tells;
     Come let us all goe thither,
     And dance like friends together:"[165:C]

and from another, allusive to the May-games, edited by Thomas Morley:

      "Now is the month of Maying,
       When merry lads are playing;      Fa la la,
       Each with his bonny lasse,
       Upon the greeny grasse.           Fa la la.

       The spring clad all in gladness,
       Doth laugh at winter's sadnesse;
       And to the _bagpipe's_ sound,
       The nimphs tread out their ground.

           *       *       *       *       *

    About the May-pole new with glee and merriment,
        While as the _bagpipe_ tooted it,
        Thirsis and Cloe fine together footed it;      Fa la la."[166:A]

The Morris and the May-game of Robin Hood attained their most perfect
form when united with the _Hobby-Horse_ and the _Dragon_. Of these
the former was the resemblance of the head and tail of a horse,
manufactured in pasteboard, and attached to a person whose business it
was, whilst he seemed to ride gracefully on its back, to imitate the
prancings and curvettings of that noble animal, whose supposed feet
were concealed by a foot-cloth reaching to the ground; and the latter,
constructed of the same materials, was made to hiss and vibrate his
wings, and was frequently attacked by the man on the hobby-horse, who
then personated the character of St. George.[166:B]

In the reigns therefore of Elizabeth and James I. these eight
masqueraders, consisting of _Robin Hood_, _Maid Marian_, _Friar Tuck_,
_Little John_, the _Fool_, _Tom the Piper_, the _Hobby-Horse_, and
the _Dragon_, with from two to ten _morris-dancers_, or, in lieu of
them, the same number of _Robin Hood's men_, in coats, hoods, and hose
of green, with a painted _pole_ in the centre, represented the most
complete establishment of the May-game.[167:A]

All these characters may be traced, indeed, so far back as the middle
of the fifteenth century; and, accordingly, Mr. Strutt, in his
interesting romance, entitled "Queen-hoo Hall," has introduced a very
pleasing and accurate description of the May-games and Morris of Robin
Hood, which, as written in a lively and dramatic style, and not in the
least differing from what they continued to be in the youthful days of
Shakspeare, and before they were broken in upon by the fanaticism of
the puritans, we shall copy in this place for the entertainment of our
readers.

"In the front of the pavilion, a large square was staked out, and
fenced with ropes, to prevent the crowd from pressing upon the
performers, and interrupting the diversion; there were also two bars at
the bottom of the inclosure, through which the actors might pass and
repass, as occasion required.

"Six young men first entered the square, clothed in jerkins of leather,
with axes upon their shoulders like woodmen, and their heads bound with
large garlands of ivy-leaves intertwined with sprigs of hawthorn. Then
followed,

"Six young maidens of the village, dressed in blue kirtles, with
garlands of primroses on their heads, leading a fine sleek cow,
decorated with ribbons of various colours, interspersed with flowers;
and the horns of the animal were tipped with gold. These were succeeded
by

"Six foresters, equipped in green tunics, with hoods and hosen of the
same colour; each of them carried a bugle-horn attached to a baldrick
of silk, which he sounded as he passed the barrier. After them came

"Peter Lanaret, the baron's chief falconer, who personified _Robin
Hood_; he was attired in a bright grass-green tunic, fringed with gold;
his hood and his hosen were parti-coloured, blue and white; he had a
large garland of rose-buds on his head, a bow bent in his hand, a sheaf
of arrows at his girdle, and a bugle-horn depending from a baldrick of
light blue tarantine, embroidered with silver; he had also a sword and
a dagger, the hilts of both being richly embossed with gold.

"Fabian a page, as _Little John_, walked at his right hand; and Cecil
Cellerman the butler, as Will Stukely, at his left. These, with ten
others of the jolly outlaw's attendants who followed, were habited
in green garments, bearing their bows bent in their hands, and their
arrows in their girdles. Then came

"Two maidens, in orange-coloured kirtles with white[168:A] courtpies;
strewing flowers; followed immediately by

"The _maid Marian_, elegantly habited in a watchet-coloured[168:B]
tunic reaching to the ground; over which she wore a white linen[168:C]
rochet with loose sleeves, fringed with silver, and very neatly
plaited; her girdle was of silver baudekin[168:D], fastened with a
double bow on the left side; her long flaxen hair was divided into many
ringlets, and flowed upon her shoulders; the top part of her head was
covered with a net-work cawl of gold, upon which was placed a garland
of silver, ornamented with blue violets. She was supported by

"Two bride-maidens, in sky-coloured rochets girt with crimsom girdles,
wearing garlands upon their heads of blue and white violets. After
them, came

"Four other females in green courtpies, and garlands of violets and
cowslips: Then

"Sampson the smith, as _Friar Tuck_, carrying a huge quarter-staff
on his shoulder; and Morris the mole-taker, who represented Much the
miller's son, having a long pole with an inflated bladder attached to
one end[169:A]: And after them

"The _May-pole_, drawn by eight fine oxen, decorated with scarfs,
ribbons, and flowers of divers colours; and the tips of their horns
were embellished with gold. The rear was closed by

    "The _Hobby-horse_ and the _Dragon_.

"When the May-pole was drawn into the square, the foresters
sounded their horns, and the populace expressed their pleasure by
shouting incessantly untill it reached the place assigned for its
elevation:—and during the time the ground was preparing for its
reception, the barriers of the bottom of the inclosure were opened for
the villagers to approach, and adorn it with ribbons, garlands, and
flowers, as their inclination prompted them.

"The pole being sufficiently onerated with finery, the square was
cleared from such as had no part to perform in the pageant; and then
it was elevated amidst the reiterated acclamations of the spectators.
The woodmen and the milk-maidens danced around it according to the
rustic fashion; the measure was played by Peretto Cheveritte, the
baron's chief minstrel, on the bagpipes accompanied with the pipe
and labour, performed by one of his associates. When the dance was
finished, Gregory the jester, who undertook to play the hobby-horse,
came forward with his appropriate equipment, and, frisking up and down
the square without restriction, imitated the galloping, curvetting,
ambling, trotting, and other paces of a horse, to the infinite
satisfaction of the lower classes of the [170:A]spectators. He was
followed by Peter Parker, the baron's ranger, who personated a dragon,
hissing, yelling, and shaking his wings with wonderful ingenuity; and
to complete the mirth, Morris, in the character of Much, having small
bells attached to his knees and elbows, capered here and there between
the two monsters in the form of a dance; and as often as he came near
to the sides of the inclosure, he cast slily a handful of meal into the
faces of the gaping rustics, or rapped them about their heads with the
bladder tied at the end of his [170:B]pole. In the mean time, Sampson,
representing Friar Tuck, walked with much gravity around the square,
and occasionally let fall his heavy staff upon the toes of such of the
crowd as he thought were approaching more forward than they ought to
do; and if the sufferers cried out from the sense of pain, he addressed
them in a solemn tone of voice, advising them to count their beads,
say a paternoster or two, and to beware of purgatory. These vagaries
were highly palatable to the populace, who announced their delight
by repeated plaudits and loud bursts of laughter; for this reason
they were continued for a considerable length of time: but Gregory,
beginning at last to faulter in his paces, ordered the dragon to fall
back: the well-nurtured beast, being out of breath, readily obeyed, and
their two companions followed their example; which concluded this part
of the pastime.

"Then the archers set up a target at the lower part of the Green,
and made trial of their skill in a regular succession. Robin Hood
and Will Stukely excelled their comrades: and both of them lodged an
arrow in the centre circle of gold, so near to each other that the
difference could not readily be decided, which occasioned them to shoot
again; when Robin struck the gold a second time, and Stukely's arrow
was affixed upon the edge of it. Robin was therefore adjudged the
conqueror; and the prize of honour, a garland of laurel embellished
with variegated ribbons, was put upon his head; and to Stukely was
given a garland of ivy, because he was the second best performer in
that contest.

"The pageant was finished with the archery; and the procession began
to move away, to make room for the villagers, who afterwards assembled
in the square, and amused themselves by dancing round the May-pole in
promiscuous companies, according to the ancient custom."[171:A]

In consequence of the opposition, however, of the puritans, during
the close of Elizabeth's reign, who considered the rights of May-day
as relics of paganism, much havoc was made among the Dramatis Personæ
of this festivity. Sometimes instead of Robin and Marian, only a Lord
or Lady of the day was adopted; frequently the friar was not suffered
to appear, and still more frequently was the hobby-horse interdicted.
This zealous interference of the sectarists was ridiculed by the poets
of the day, and among the rest by Shakspeare, who quotes a line from
a satirical ballad on this subject, and represents Hamlet as terming
it an epitaph; "Else shall he suffer not thinking on," says he, "with
the hobby-horse; whose epitaph is, _For, O, for, O, the hobby horse
is forgot_."[171:B] He has the same allusion in Love's Labour's
Lost[171:C]; and Ben Jonson has still more explicitly noticed the
neglect into which this character in the May-games had fallen in his
days.

    "But see, the Hobby-horse is forgot.
     Foole, it must be your lot,
     To supply his want with faces,
     And some other Buffon graces;"[172:A]

and again, still more pointedly,—

    "_Clo._ They should be Morris dancers by their gingle, but they
    have no napkins.

    _Coc._ No, nor a hobby-horse.

    _Clo._ Oh, he's _often forgotten_, that's no rule; but there is
    no maid Marian nor Friar amongst them, which is the surer mark.

    _Coc._ Nor a Foole that I see."[172:B]

In Beaumont and Fletcher's Tragi-comedy called _Women Pleased_, the
aversion of the puritans to this festive beast is strikingly depicted;
where the person who was destined to perform the hobby-horse, being
converted by his wife, exclaims vehemently against the task imposed
upon him.

    "_Hob._

    I do defie thee and thy foot-cloth too,
    And tell thee to thy face, this prophane riding
    I feel it in my conscience, and I dare speak it,
    This unedified ambling hath brought a scourge upon us.—

    _Far._

    Will you dance no more, neighbour?

    _Hob._

    Surely no,
    Carry the beast to his crib: I have renounc'd him
    And all his works.

    _Soto._

    _Shall the Hobby-horse be forgot then?
    The hopeful Hobby-horse, shall he lye founder'd?_

    _Hob._

    I cry out on't,
    'Twas the forerunning sin brought in those tilt-staves,
    They brandish 'gainst the church, the Devil calls _May
        poles_."[173:A]

From one of these puritans, named Stephen Gosson, we learn, likewise,
that Morrice-dancers and Hobby-horses had been introduced even upon the
stage during the early part of the reign of Elizabeth; for this writer,
in a tract published about 1579, and entitled _Plays Confuted_, says,
that "the Devil beeside the beautie of the houses, and the stages,
sendeth in gearish apparell, maskes, ranting, tumbling, dauncing of
gigges, galiardes, _morisces_, _hobbi-horses_, &c."[173:B] By the
continued railings and invectives, however, of these fanatics, the
May-games were, at length, so broken in upon, that had it not been
for the _Book of Sports, or lawful Recreations upon Sunday after
Evening-prayers, and upon Holy-days_, issued by King James in 1618,
they would have been totally extinct. This curious volume permitted
May-games, Morris-dances, Whitsun-ales, the setting up of May-poles,
&c.[173:C]; and had it not allowed church-ales, and dancing on the
Sabbath, would have been unexceptionable in its tendency; for as honest
Burton observes, in allusion to this very _Declaration_ of King James,
"_Dancing_, _Singing_, _Masking_, _Mumming_, _Stage-playes_, howsoever
they be heavily censured by some severe _Catoes_, yet if _opportunely_
and _soberly used_, may justly be approved. _Melius est fodere, quam
saltare_, saith _Augustin_: but what is that if they delight in it?
_Nemo saltat sobrius._ But in what kind of dance? I know these sports
have many oppugners, whole volumes writ against them; when as all they
say (if duly considered) is but _ignoratio Elenchi_; and some again,
because they are now cold and wayward, past themselves, cavil at all
such youthful sports in others, as he did in the Comedy; they think
them, _illico nasci senes_, &c. Some out of preposterous zeal object
many times trivial arguments, and because of some abuse, will quite
take away the good use, as if they should forbid wine, because it makes
men drunk; but in my judgment they are too stern: there _is a time for
all things, a time to mourn, a time to dance_. Eccles. 3. 4. _a time
to embrace, a time not to embrace_, (ver. 5.) _and nothing better than
that a man should rejoice in his own works_, ver. 22. For my part, I
will subscribe to the _King's Declaration_, and was ever of that mind,
those _May-games_, _Wakes_, and _Whitsun-ales_, &c. if they be not at
_unseasonable_ hours, may justly be permitted. Let them freely feast,
sing and dance, have their _poppet-playes_, _hobby-horses_, _tabers_,
_crouds_, _bag-pipes_, &c., play at _ball_, and _barley-brakes_,
and what sports and recreations they like best."[174:A] All these
festivities, however, on _May-day_, were again set aside, by still
greater enthusiasts, during the period of the Commonwealth, and were
once more revived at the Restoration; at present, few vestiges remain
either of those ancient rites, or of those attendant on other popular
periodical festivals.[174:B]

Several of the amusements, and some of the characters attendant on
the celebration of May-day, were again introduced at WHITSUNTIDE,
especially the morris-dance, which was as customary on this period of
festivity as on the one immediately preceding it. Thus Shakspeare, in
King Henry V., makes the Dauphin say, alluding to the youthful follies
of the English monarch,

    ————— "Let us do it with no show of fear;
    No, with no more, than if we heard that England
    Were busied with a _Whitsun Morris-dance_."[175:A]

The rural sports and feasting at Whitsuntide were usually designated
by the term _Whitsun-ales_; _ale_ being in the time of Shakspeare, and
for a century or two, indeed, before him, synonymous with _festival_
or _merry-making_. Chaucer and the author of Pierce Plowman use the
word repeatedly in this sense, and the following passages from our
great poet, from Jonson, and from Ascham, prove that it was familiar,
in their time, in the sense of simple carousing, church-feasting, and
Whitsuntide recreation. Launcelot, in the _Two Gentlemen of Verona_,
exclaims to Speed, "Thou hast not so much charity in thee, as to go to
the _ale_ with a Christian[175:B];" and Ascham, speaking of the conduct
of husbandmen, in his Toxophilus, observes that those which have their
dinner and drink in the field, "have fatter barnes in the harvest, than
they which will either sleape at noonetyme of the day, or els _make
merye with theyr neighbours at the ale_."[175:C] In the chorus to the
first act of _Pericles_, it is recorded of an old song, that

    "It hath been sung at festivals,
     On ember-eves, and _holy-ales_."[176:A]

And Jonson says,

    —— "All the neighbourhood, from old records
    Of antique proverbs drawn from _Whitson lords_,
    And their authorities at wakes and _ales_,
    With country precedents, and old wives tales,
    We bring you now."[176:B]

It will be necessary, in this place, therefore, to notice briefly, as
being periods of festivity, the various _Ales_ which were observed
by our ancestors in the sixteenth century. They may be enumerated
under the heads of _Leet-ale_, _Lamb-ale_, _Bride-ale_, _Clerk-ale_,
_Church-ale_ and _Whitsun-ale_. We shall confine our attention at
present, however, principally to the two latter; for of the Lamb-ale
and Bride-ale, an occasion will occur to speak more at large in a
subsequent part of this chapter, and a very few words will suffice with
regard to the Leet-ale and the Clerk-ale; the former being merely the
dinner provided for the jury and customary tenants at the court-leet
of a manor, or _View of frank pledge_, formerly held once or twice a
year, before the steward of the leet[176:C]; to this court Shakspeare
alludes, in his _Taming of the Shrew_, where the servant tells Sly,
that in his dream he would "rail upon the hostess of the house," and
threaten to

    —— —— "present her at the leet:"[176:D]

and the latter, which usually took place at Easter, is thus mentioned
by Aubrey in his manuscript History of Wiltshire. "In the Easter
holidays was the _Clarkes-Ale_, for his private benefit and the solace
of the neighbourhood."[176:E]

The _Church-ale_ was a festival instituted sometimes in honour of
the church-saint, but more frequently for the purpose of contributing
towards the repair or decoration of the church. On this occasion it was
the business of the churchwardens to brew a considerable quantity of
strong ale, which was sold to the populace in the church-yard, and to
the better sort in the church itself, a practice which, independent of
the profit arising from the sale of the liquor, led to great pecuniary
advantages; for the rich thought it a meritorious duty, beside paying
for their ale, to offer largely to the holy fund. It was no uncommon
thing indeed to have four, six, or eight of these _ales_ yearly, and
sometimes one or more parishes _agreed_ to hold annually a _certain
number_ of these meetings, and to contribute individually a _certain
sum_. Of this a very curious proof may be drawn from the following
stipulation, preserved in Dodsworth's Manuscripts in the Bodleian
Library:—"The parishioners of Elveston and Okebrook, in Derbyshire,
agree jointly, to brew four _Ales_, and every _Ale_ of one quarter
of malt, betwixt this (the time of contract) and the feast of saint
John Baptist next coming. And that every inhabitant of the said town
of Okebrook shall be at the several _Ales_. And every husband and his
wife shall pay two pence, and every cottager one penny, and all the
inhabitants of Elveston shall have and receive all the profits and
advantages coming of the said _Ales_, to the use and behoof of the
said church of Elveston. And the inhabitants of Elveston shall brew
_eight Ales_ betwixt this and the feast of saint John Baptist, at the
which _Ales_ the inhabitants of Okebrook shall come and pay as before
rehersed. And if he be away at one _Ale_, to pay at the toder Ale for
both, &c."[177:A]

The date of this document is anterior to the Reformation, but that
_church-ales_ were equally popular and frequent in the days of
Shakspeare will be evident from the subsequent passages in Carew and
Philip Stubbes. The historian of Cornwall, whose work was first printed
in 1602, says that "for the church-ale, two young men of the parish are
yerely chosen by their last foregoers, to be wardens; who, dividing
the task, make collection among the parishioners, of what soever
provision it pleaseth them voluntarily to bestow. This they imploy in
brewing, baking, and other acates, against Whitsontide; upon which
holy-dayes the neighbours meet at the church-house, and there merily
feede on their owne victuals, contributing some petty portion to the
stock; which, by many smalls, groweth to a meetley greatness: for there
is entertayned a kinde of emulation betweene these wardens, who by his
graciousness in gathering, and good husbandry in expending, can best
advance the churches profit. Besides, the neighbour parishes at those
times lovingly visit one another, and this way frankely spend their
money together. The afternoones are consumed in such exercises as olde
and yong folke (having leysure) doe accustomably weare out the time
withall."[178:A] Stubbes in his violent philippic declares that, "in
certaine townes, where drunken Bacchus bears swaie against Christmas
and Easter, Whitsunday, or some other time, the churchwardens, for so
they call them, of every parish, with the consent of the whole parish,
provide half a score or twentie quarters of mault, whereof some they
buy of the church stocke, and some is given to them of the parishioners
themselves, every one conferring somewhat, according to his ability;
which mault being made into very strong ale, or beer, is set to sale,
either in the church or in some other place assigned to that purpose.
Then, when this nippitatum, this huffe-cappe, as they call it, this
nectar of life, is set abroach, well is he that can get the soonest to
it, and spends the most at it, for he is counted the godliest man of
all the rest, and most in God's favour, because it is spent upon his
church forsooth."[178:B]

There is but too much reason to suppose that the satire of this bitter
writer was not, in this instance, ill directed, and that meetings
of this description, though avowedly for the express benefit of the
church, were often productive of licentiousness, and consequently
highly injurious both to morals and religion. A few lines from Ben
Jonson will probably place this beyond doubt. In his Masque of Queens,
performed at Whitehall, 1609, he represents one of his witches as
exclaiming

    "I had a dagger: what did I with that?
     Kill'd an infant, to have his fat:
     A Piper it got, at a _Church-ale_."[179:A]

Returning to the consideration of the _Whitsuntide_ amusements, it may
be observed, that not only was the morris a constituent part in their
celebration, but that the Maid Marian of the May-games was frequently
introduced: thus Shirley represents one of his characters exclaiming
against rural diversions in the following manner:

    ——— "Observe with what solemnity
    They keep their wakes, and throw for pewter candlestickes,
    How they become the morris, with whose bells
    They ring all into _Whitson ales_, and sweate
    Through twentie scarffes and napkins, till the Hobby-horse
    Tire, and the _maide Marrian_ dissolv'd to a gelly,
    Be kept for spoone meate."[179:B]

The festivities, indeed, on this occasion, as at those on May-day,
were often regulated by a Lord and Lady of the _Whitsun-ales_.[179:C]
Very frequently, however, there was elected only a Lord of Misrule,
and as the church or holy ales were not unfrequently combined with
the merriments of this season, the church-yard, especially on the
sabbath-day, was too generally the scene of rejoicing. The severity of
Stubbes, when censuring this profanation of consecrated ground, will
scarcely be deemed too keen: "First," says he, "all the wilde heads
of the parish, flocking together, chuse them a graund captaine (of
mischiefe) whom they inrolle with the title of _my Lord of misrule_,
and him they crowne with great solemnitie, and adopt for their king.
This king annoynted, chooseth foorth twentie, fourtie, threescore, or a
hundred lustie guttes like to himselfe to wait upon his lordly majesty,
and to guarde his noble person.—(Here he describes the dress of the
morris dancers, as quoted in a former page, and proceeds as follows.)
Thus all things set in order, then have they their hobby-horses, their
dragons and other antiques, together with their baudie pipers, and
thundering drummers, to strike up the _Devils Daunce_ withall: then
martch this heathen company towards the church and church-yarde, their
pypers pypyng, their drummers thundering, their stumpes dauncing, their
belles jyngling, their handkercheefes fluttering about their heads like
madde men, their hobbie horses, and other monsters skirmishing amongst
the throng: and in this sorte they goe to the church like Devils
incarnate, with such a confused noise, that no man can heare his owne
voyce. Then the foolish people they looke, they stare, they laugh, they
fleere, and mount upon formes and pewes, to see these goodly pageants
solemnized in this sort. Then after this about the church they goe
againe and againe, and so foorth into the church yard, where they have
commonly their summer haules, their bowers, arbours, and banqetting
houses set up, wherein they feast, banquet, and daunce all that day,
and (peradventure) all that night too. And thus these terrestrial
furies spend the Sabboth day. Another sort of fantastical fooles bring
to these helhoundes (the Lord of misrule and his complices) some bread,
some good ale, some new cheese, some old cheese, some custardes, some
cracknels, some cakes, some flaunes, some tartes, some creame, some
meat, some one thing, some another; but if they knewe that as often as
they bringe anye to the maintenance of these execrable pastimes, they
offer sacrifice to the Devill and Sathanas, they would repente and with
drawe their handes, which God graunt they may."[180:A]

Dramatic exhibitions, called _Whitsun plays_, were common, at this
season, both in town and country, and in the latter they were chiefly
of a pastoral character. Shakspeare has an allusion to them in his
_Winter's Tale_, where Perdita, addressing Florizel, says,

    ——————— "Come, take your flowers:
    Methinks, I play as I have seen them do
    in _Whitsun' pastorals_."[181:A]

Soon after Whitsuntide began the season of sheep-shearing, which was
generally terminated about midsummer, and either at its commencement or
close, was distinguished by the LAMB-ALE or SHEEP-SHEARING FEAST.
At Kidlington in Oxfordshire, it seems to have been _ushered in_ by
ceremonies of a peculiar kind, for, according to Blount, "the Monday
after the Whitsun week, a fat lamb was provided, and the maidens of
the town, having their thumbs tied behind them, were permitted to run
after it, and she who with her mouth took hold of the lamb was declared
the Lady of the Lamb, which, being killed and cleaned, but with the
skin hanging upon it, was carried on a long pole before the lady and
her companions to the green, attended with music, and a morisco dance
of men, and another of women. The rest of the day was spent in mirth
and merry glee. Next day the lamb, partly baked, partly boiled, and
partly roasted, was served up for the lady's feast, where she sat,
majestically at the upper end of the table, and her companions with
her, the music playing during the repast, which, being finished, the
solemnity ended."[181:B]

The most usual mode, however, of celebrating this important period was
by a dinner, music, with songs, and the election of a Shepherd King, an
office always conferred upon the individual whose flock had produced
the earliest lamb. The dinner is thus enjoined by the rustic muse of
Tusser:—

    "Wife make us a dinner, spare flesh neither corne,
       Make wafers and cakes, for our sheepe must be shorne,
     At sheep-shearing, neighbours none other things crave,
       But good cheare and welcome, like neighbours to have."[182:A]

But it is from Drayton that we derive the most minute account of the
festival; who in the fourteenth song of his Poly-Olbion, and still more
at large in his ninth Eclogue, has given a most pleasing picture of
this rural holy-day:—

    "When the new-wash'd flock from the river's side,
     Coming as white as January's snow,
     The ram with nosegays bears his horns in pride,
     And no less brave the bell-wether doth go.

     After their fair flocks in a lusty rout,
     Come the gay swains with bag-pipes strongly blown,
     And busied, though this solemn sport about,
     Yet had each one an eye unto his own.

     And by the ancient statutes of the field,
     He that his flocks the earliest lamb should bring,
     (As it fell out then, Rowland's charge to yield)
     Always for that year was the shepherd's king.

     And soon preparing for the shepherd's board,
     Upon a green that curiously was squar'd,
     With country cates being plentifully stor'd:
     And 'gainst their coming handsomely prepar'd.

     New whig, with water from the clearest stream,
     Green plumbs, and wildings, cherries chief of feast,
     Fresh cheese, and dowsets, curds, and clouted cream,
     Spic'd syllibubs, and cyder of the best:

     And to the same down solemnly they sit,
     In the fresh shadow of their summer bowers,
     With sundry sweets them every way to fit,
     The neighb'ring vale despoiled of her flowers.—

     When now, at last, as lik'd the shepherd's king,
     (At whose command they all obedient were)
     Was pointed, who the roundelay should sing,
     And who again the under-song should bear."[183:A]

Shakspeare also, in his _Winter's Tale_, has presented us not only with
a list of the good things necessary for a sheep-shearing feast, but he
describes likewise the attentions which were due, on this occasion,
from the hostess, or Shepherd's Queen.

"Let me see," says the Clown, "what I am to buy for our sheep-shearing
feast? _Three pound of sugar; five pound of currants; rice_——What
will this sister of mine do with rice? But my father hath made
her mistress of the feast, and _she lays it on_. She hath made
me four-and-twenty nosegays for the shearers: three-man song-men
all[183:B], and very good ones; but they are most of them means[183:C]
and bases: but one Puritan amongst them, and he sings psalms to
horn-pipes. I must have _saffron_, to colour the _warden pies_;
mace,—dates,—none; that's out of my note: _nutmegs, seven_; _a race,
or two, of ginger_: but that I may beg;—_four pound of prunes, and as
many of raisins o' the sun_."[183:D]

The culinary articles in this detail are somewhat more expensive than
those enumerated by Drayton; and Mr. Steevens, in a note on this
passage of the Winter's Tale, observes that "the expence attending
these festivities, appears to have afforded matter of complaint. Thus,
in _Questions of profitable and pleasant Concernings_, &c. 1594: 'If it
be a _sheep-shearing feast_, maister Baily can entertaine you with his
bill of reckonings to his maister of three sheapheard's wages, spent on
_fresh cates_, besides _spices_ and _saffron pottage_."[183:E]

The shepherd's reproof to his adopted daughter, Perdita, as Polixenes
remarks,

    ——— "the prettiest low-born lass, that ever
    Ran on the green-sward,"

implies indirectly the duties which were expected by the peasants,
on this day, from their rural queen, and which seems to have been
sufficiently numerous and laborious:—

    "Fye, daughter, when my old wife liv'd, upon
     This day, she was both pantler, butler, cook;
     Both dame and servant: welcom'd all; serv'd all:
     Would sing her song, and dance her turn: now here,
     At upper end o'the table, now, ithe middle;
     On his shoulder, and his: her face o'fire
     With labour; and the thing, she took to quench it,
     She would to each one sip: You are retir'd,
     As if you were a feasted one, and not
     The hostess of the meeting: Pray you, bid
     These unknown friends to us welcome: for it is
     A way to make us better friends, more known.
     Come, quench your blushes; and present yourself
     That which you are, mistress o'the feast: Come on,
     And bid us welcome to your _sheep-shearing_,
     As your good flock shall prosper."[184:A]

It should be remarked that one material part of this welcome appears,
from the context, to have consisted in the distribution of various
flowers, suited to the ages of the respective visitors, a ceremony
which was, probably, customary at this season of rejoicing.

    "_Perdita._ Give me those flowers there, Dorcas.—Reverend sirs,
    For you there's rosemary, and rue; these keep
    Seeming, and savour, all the winter long:
    Grace, and remembrance, be to you both,
    And welcome to our shearing!———
    ——————————— Here's flowers for you;
    Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram;
    The marigold, that goes to bed with the sun,
    And with him rises weeping; these are flowers
    Of middle summer, and, I think, they are given
    To men of middle age: You are very welcome.—
    ———— ———— ——— Now, my fairest friend,
    I would, I had some flowers of the spring, that might
    Become your time of day; and yours, and yours;
    That wear upon your virgin branches yet
    Your maidenheads growing:—O, these I lack,
    To make you garlands of."[185:A]

A custom somewhat allied to this, that of scattering flowers on the
streams at _shearing time_, has been long observed in the south-west
of England, and is thus alluded to as an ancient rite by Dyer, in his
beautifully descriptive poem entitled _The Fleece_:

    ——— "With light fantastic toe, the nymphs
    Thither assembled, thither ev'ry swain;
    And o'er the dimpled stream a thousand flowers,
    Pale lilies, roses, violets and pinks,
    Mixt with the greens of burnet, mint and thyme,
    And trefoil, sprinkled with their sportive arms.
    Such custom holds along the irriguous vales,
    From Wreakin's brow to rocky Dolvoryn,
    Sabrina's early haunt."[185:B]

That one of the principal seasons of rejoicing should take place on
securely collecting the fruits of the field, it is natural to expect;
and accordingly, in almost every country, a HARVEST-HOME, or Feast, has
been observed on this occasion.

Much of the festivity and jocular freedom however, which subsisted
formerly at this period, has been worn away by the increasing
refinements and distinctions of society. In the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries, and, indeed, during a part of the eighteenth,
the Harvest, or _Mell_, Supper, as it was sometimes called, from the
French word _Mesler_, to mingle or mix together, was a scene not
only remarkable for merriment and hospitality, but for a temporary
suspension of all inequality between master and man. The whole family
sate down at the same table, and conversed, danced, and sang together
during the entire night without difference or distinction of any kind;
and, in many places indeed, this freedom of manner subsisted during the
whole period of getting in the Harvest. Thus Tusser, recommending the
social equality of the Harvest-tide, exclaims,

    "In harvest time, harvest folke, _servants and al_,
       should make _altogither_, good cheere in the hal:
     And fil out the blacke bol, of bleith to their song,
       and let them be merrie, _al harvest time long_."[186:A]

Of this ancient convivial licence, a modern rural poet has drawn a most
pleasing picture, lamenting, at the same time, that the Harvest-Feast
of the present day is but the phantom of what it was:—

        "The aspect only with the substance gone.

           *       *       *       *       *

    Behold the sound oak table's massy frame
    Bestride the kitchen floor! the careful dame
    And gen'rous host invite their friends around,
    _While all that clear'd the crop, or till'd the ground,
    Are guests by right of custom:——
    Here once a year Distinction low'rs its crest,
    The master, servant, and the merry guest,
    Are equal all_; and round the happy ring
    The reaper's eyes exulting glances fling,
    And, warm'd with gratitude, he quits his place,
    With sun-burnt hands and ale-enliven'd face,
    Refills the jug his honour'd host to tend,
    To serve at once the master and the friend;
    Proud thus to meet his smiles, to share his tale,
    His nuts, his conversation, and his ale.
      _Such were the days,——of days long past I sing._"[186:B]

It will be necessary to enter a little more minutely into the rites
and ceremonies which accompanied this annual feast in the days of
Shakspeare, and fortunately we can appeal to a few curious documents
on which dependence can be placed. Hentzner, a learned German who
travelled through Germany, England, France, and Italy, towards the
close of the sixteenth century, and whose Itinerary, as far as it
relates to this country, has been translated by the late Lord Orford,
says, "as we were returning to our inn (from Windsor), we happened
to meet some country people _celebrating their harvest-home_; their
last load of corn they crown with flowers, having besides an image
richly dressed, by which, perhaps, they would signify Ceres; this they
keep moving about, while men and women, men and maid servants, riding
through the streets in the cart, shout as loud as they can till they
arrive at the barn."[187:A] Dr. Moresin also, another foreigner, who
published, in the reign of James I., an elaborate work on the "Origin
and Increase of Depravity in Religion," relates that he saw "in England
the country people bringing home, in a cart from the harvest field,
a figure made of corn, round which men and women were promiscuously
singing, preceded by a piper and a drum."[187:B]

To this custom of accompanying home the last waggon-load of corn, at
the close of harvest, with music, Shakspeare is supposed to allude in
the _Merchant of Venice_, where Lorenzo tells the musicians to pierce
his mistress' ear with sweetest touches,

    "And draw her home with musick."[187:C]

It was usual also, not only to feast the men and women, but to reward
likewise the boys and girls who were in any degree instrumental in
getting in the harvest; accordingly Tusser humanely observes,

    "Once ended thy harvest, let none be begilde,
       please such as did please thee, man, woman and _child_:
     Thus doing, with alwaie such helpe as they can,
       thou winnest the praise, of the labouring man;"[188:A]

an injunction which Mr. Hilman has further explained by subjoining to
this stanza the following remark:—"Every one," says he, "that did
any thing towards the Inning, must now have some reward, as ribbons,
laces, rows of pins to boys and girls, if never so small, for their
encouragement, and to be sure plumb-pudding."

The most minute account, however, which we can now any where meet
with, of the ceremonies and rejoicings at Harvest-Home, as they
existed during the prior part of the seventeenth century, and which
we may justly consider as not deviating from those that accompanied
the same festival in the reign of Elizabeth, is to be found among the
poems of Robert Herrick, and will be valued, not exclusively for its
striking illustration of the subject, but for its merit, likewise, as a
descriptive piece.


"THE HOCK-CART, OR HARVEST-HOME.[188:B]

    COME, Sons of Summer, by whose toile
    We are the Lords of wine and oile:
    By whose tough labours, and rough hands,
    We rip up first, then reap our lands.
    Crown'd with the eares of corne, now come,
    And, to the pipe, sing Harvest-home.
    Come forth, my Lord, and see the cart
    Drest up with all the country art.
    See, here a _Maukin_, there a sheet,
    As spotlesse pure, as it is sweet:
    The horses, mares, and frisking fillies,
    Clad, all, in linnen, white as lillies.
    The Harvest swaines, and wenches bound
    For joy, to see the _Hock-cart_ crown'd.
    About the cart, heare, how the rout
    Of rurall younglings raise the shout;
    Pressing before, some coming after,
    These with a shout, and these with laughter.
    Some blesse the cart; some kisse the sheaves;
    Some prank them up with oaken leaves:
    Some crosse the fill-horse; some with great
    Devotion, stroak the home-borne wheat:
    While other rusticks, lesse attent
    To prayers, then to merryment,
    Run after with their breeches rent.
    Well, on, brave boyes, to your Lord's hearth,
    Glitt'ring with fire; where, for your mirth,
    Ye shall see first the large and cheefe
    Foundation of your feast, fat beefe:
    With upper stories, mutton, veale
    And bacon, which makes full the meale;
    With sev'ral dishes standing by,
    As here a custard, there a pie,
    And here all tempting frumentie.
    And for to make the merry cheere,
    If smirking wine be wanting here,
    There's that, which drowns all care, stout beere;
    Which freely drink to your Lord's health,
    Then to the plough, the commonwealth;
    Next to your flailes, your fanes, your fats;
    Then to the maids with wheaten hats;
    To the rough sickle, and crookt sythe,
    Drink frollick boyes, till all be blythe.
    Feed, and grow fat; and as ye eat,
    Be mindfull, that the lab'ring neat,
    As you, may have their fill of meat.
    And know, besides, ye must revoke
    The patient oxe unto the yoke,
    And all goe back unto the plough
    And harrow, though they're hang'd up now.
    And, you must know, your Lord's word true,
    Feed him ye must, whose food fils you.
    And that this pleasure is like raine,
    Not sent ye for to drowne your paine,
    But for to make it spring againe."[189:A]

We must not forget that, during the reign of Elizabeth, another
_feast-day_ fell to the lot of the husbandman, at the close of
wheat-sowing, in October. This was termed, from one of the chief
articles provided for the table, THE SEED-CAKE, and is no where
recorded so distinctly as by the agricultural muse of Tusser:—

    "Wife sometime this week, if the weather hold cleer,
       an end of wheat-sowing, we make for this yeere:
     Remember thou therefore, though I do it not,
       the _seed-cake_, the _pastries_, and _furmenty pot_."[190:A]

Proceeding with the year, and postponing the consideration of All
Hallowmas to the chapter on superstitions, we reach the eleventh
of November, or the festival of St. Martin, usually called
MARTINMAS, or MARTLEMAS, a day formerly devoted to feasting and
conviviality, and on which a stock of salted provisions was laid in
for the winter. This custom of killing cattle, swine, &c. and _curing_
them against the approaching season, was, during the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries, common every where, though _now_ only partially
observed in a few country-villages; for smoke-dryed meat in those days
was more generally relished than at present. We find Tusser, therefore,
as might be expected, recommending this savoury diet; in one place
saying to his farmer,—

    "For Easter, at _Martilmas_, hang up a beefe—
     With that and the like, yer grasse beef come in,
     thy folke shall look cheerely, when others look thin;"[190:B]

and again,—

    "_Martilmas_ beefe doth bear good tacke,
     When countrey folke do dainties lacke;"[190:C]

so, likewise, in _The Pinner of Wakefield_, printed in 1559,

    "A piece of beef hung up since _Martlemas_."

Moresin tells us, in the reign of James I., that there were
great rejoicings and feasting on this day throughout Europe, an
assertion which is verified by the ancient Calendar of the church
of Rome, where under the eleventh of November occur the following
observations:—"Martinalia, Geniale Festum. Vina delibantur et
defecantur. Vinalia veterum festum huc translatum. Bacchus in Martini
figura.—The Martinalia, a genial feast. Wines are tasted of and
drawn from the lees. The Vinalia, a feast of the Antients, removed to
this day. Bacchus in the figure of Martin."[191:A] J. Boëmus Aubanus
likewise informs us, as Mr. Brand remarks, "that in Franconia, there
was a great deal of eating and drinking at this season; no one was so
poor or niggardly that on the _Feast of St. Martin_ had not his dish of
the _entrails_ either of _oxen_, _swine_, or _calves_. They drank, too,
he says, very liberally of _wine_ on the occasion."[191:B]

In this country, merriment and good cheer were equally conspicuous on
St. Martin's feast; the young danced and sang, and the old regaled
themselves by the fire-side. A modern poet, who has beautifully copied
the antique, under the somewhat stale pretence of discovering an
ancient manuscript, presents us with a specimen of his manufacture
of considerable merit, under the title of _Martilmasse Daye_; this,
as being referred to the age of Elizabeth, and recording, with due
attention to historical costume, the mirth and revelry which used
formerly to distinguish this period, may be admitted here as a species
of traditional evidence of no exceptionable kind. The poem, which is
supposed to have been found at Norwich, at an ancient Hostelrie, whilst
under repair, consists of six stanzas, two of which, however, though
possessing poetical and descriptive point, we have omitted, as not
referable to any peculiar observance of the day:—

    "It is the day of Martilmasse,
     Cuppes of ale should freelie passe;
     What though Wynter has begunne
     To push downe the summer sunne,
     To our fire we can betake
     And enjoie the cracklinge brake,
     Never heedinge winter's face
     On the day of Martilmasse.—

     Some do the citie now frequent,
     Where costlie shews and merriment
     Do weare the vaporish ev'ninge out
     With interlude and revellinge rout;
     Such as did pleasure Englandes Queene,
     When here her royal Grace was seene,[192:A]
     Yet will they not this day let passe,
     The merrie day of Martilmasse.

     Nel hath left her wool at home,
     The Flanderkin hath stayed his loom,[192:B]
     No beame doth swinge nor wheel go round
     Upon Gurguntums walled ground;[192:C]
     Where now no anchorite doth dwell
     To rise and pray at Lenard's bell:
     Martyn hath kicked at Balaam's ass,
     So merrie be old Martilmasse.

     When the dailie sportes be done,
     Round the market crosse they runne,
     Prentis laddes, and gallant blades,
     Dancinge with their gamesome maids,
     Till the beadel, stoute and sowre,
     Shakes his bell, and calls the houre;
     Then farewell ladde and farewell lasse,
     To' th' merry night of Martilmasse."[193:A]

Shakspeare has an allusion to this formerly convivial day in the
_Second Part of King Henry IV._, where Poins, asking Bardolph after
Falstaff, says: "How doth the _martlemas_, your master?" an epithet
by which, as Johnson observes, he means the latter spring, or the old
fellow with juvenile passions.[193:B]

We have now to record the closing and certainly the greatest festival
of the year, the celebration of CHRISTMAS, a period which our ancestors
were accustomed to devote to hospitality on a very large scale, to the
indulgence indeed of hilarity and good cheer for, at least, twelve
days, and sometimes, especially among the lower ranks, for six weeks.

Christmas was always ushered in by the due observance of its _Eve_,
first in a religious and then in a festive point of view. "Our
forefathers," remarks Bourne, "when the common devotions of the _Eve_
were over, and night was come on, were wont to light up _candles_ of
an uncommon size, which were called _Christmas-candles_, and to lay
a _log_ of wood upon the fire, which they termed a _Yule-clog_, or
Christmas-block. These were to illuminate the house, and turn the
night into day; which custom, in some measure, is still kept up in the
northern parts."[194:A]

This mode of rejoicing, at the winter solstice, appears to have
originated with the Danes and Pagan Saxons, and was intended to be
emblematical of the return of the sun, and its increasing light and
heat; _gehol_ or _Geol_, Angl. Sax. _Jel_, _Jul_, _Huil_, or _Yule_,
Dan. Sax. Swed., implying the idea of _revolution_ or of _wheel_,
and not only designating, among these northern nations, the month
of December, called _Jul_-Month, but the great feast also of this
period.[194:B] On the introduction of Christianity, the illuminations
of the _Eve of Yule_ were continued as representative of the _true
light_ which was then ushered into the world, in the person of our
Saviour, the _Day spring from on High_.

The ceremonies and festivities which were observed on Christmas-Eve
during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, and which in some
parts of the north have been partially continued, until within
these last thirty years, consisted in bringing into the house, with
much parade and with vocal and instrumental harmony, the _Yule_ or
_Christmas-block_, a massy piece of fire-wood, frequently the enormous
root of a tree, and which was usually supplied by the carpenter
attached to the family. This being placed in the centre of the
great hall, each of the family, in turn, sate down upon it, sung a
_Yule-Song_, and drank to a _merry Christmas_ and a _happy new year_.
It was then placed on the large open hearth in the hall chimney, and,
being lighted with the last year's brand, carefully preserved for this
express purpose, the music again struck up, when the addition of fuel
already inflamed, expedited the process, and occasioned a brilliant
conflagration. The family and their friends were then feasted with
_Yule-Dough_ or _Yule-cakes_, on which were impressed the figure of the
child Jesus; and with bowls of _frumenty_, made from wheat cakes or
creed wheat, boiled in milk, with sugar, nutmeg, &c. To these succeeded
tankards of spiced ale, while preparations were usually going on among
the domestics for the hospitalities of the succeeding day.

In the curious collection of Herrick is preserved a poem descriptive
of some of these observances, and which was probably written for the
express purpose of being sung during the kindling of the Yule-clog.

     "COME, bring with a noise,
      My merrie, merrie boyes,
    The Christmas Log to the firing;
      While my good Dame, she
      Bids ye all be free,
    And drink to your hearts desiring.

      With the last yeere's brand
      Light the new block, and
    For good success in his spending,
      On your psalteries play,
      That sweet luck may
    Come while the Log is a teending.[195:A]

      Drink now the strong beere,
      Cut the white loafe here,[195:B]
    The while the meat is a shredding
      For the rare mince-pie,
      And the plums stand by
    To fill the paste that's a kneading."[195:C]

It was customary on this _eve_, likewise, to decorate the windows
of every house, from the nobleman's seat to the cottage, with bay,
laurel, ivy, and holly leaves, which were continued during the whole
of the Christmas-holidays, and frequently until Candlemas. Stowe, in
his Survey of London, particularly mentions this observance:—"Against
the feast of _Christmas_," says he, "every man's house, as also their
parish churches, were decked with holm, ivie, bayes, and whatsoever the
season of the yeere aforded to be greene: The conduits and standards
in the streetes were likewise garnished. Amongst the which, I read,
that in the yeere 1444, by tempest of thunder and lightning, on the
first of February at night, Paul's steeple was fired, but with great
labour quenched, and toward the morning of Candlemas day, at the Leaden
Hall in Cornhill, a standard of tree, beeing set up in the midst of
the pavement fast in the ground, nayled full of holme and ivy, for
disport of Christmas to the people; was torne up, and cast downe by the
_malignant spirit_ (as was thought) and the stones of the pavement all
about were cast in the streetes, and into divers houses, so that the
people were sore agast at the great tempests."[196:A]

This custom, which still prevails in many parts of the kingdom,
especially in our parish-churches, is probably founded on a very
natural idea, that whatever is green, at this bleak season of the year,
may be considered as emblematic of joy and victory, more particularly
the laurel, which had been adopted by the Greeks and Romans, for this
express purpose. That this was the opinion of our ancestors, and that
they believed the _malignant spirit_ was envious of, and interested in
destroying these symbols of their triumph, appears from the passage
just quoted from Stowe.

It has been, indeed, conjectured, that this mode of ornamenting
churches and houses is either allusive to numerous figurative
expressions in the prophetic Scriptures typical of Christ, as the
_Branch of Righteousness_, or that it was commemorative of the style
in which the first Christian churches in this country were built, the
materials for the erection of which being usually _wrythen wands or
boughs_[196:B]; it may have, however, an origin still more remote,
and fancy may trace the misletoe, which is frequently used on these
occasions, to the times of the ancient Druids, an hypothesis which
acquires some probability from a passage in Dr. Chandler's Travels in
Greece, where he informs us, "It is related where Druidism prevailed,
the _houses_ were _decked_ with _evergreens_ in _December_, that the
Sylvan spirits might repair to them, and remain unnipped with frost
and cold winds, until a milder season had renewed the foliage of their
darling abodes."[197:A]

The morning of the Nativity was ushered in with the chaunting of
_Christmas Carols_, or _Pious Chansons_. _The Christmas Carol_ was
either _scriptural_ or _convivial_, the first being sung morning and
evening, until the twelfth day, and the second during the period of
feasting or carousing.

"As soon as the morning of the Nativity appears," says Bourne, "it is
customary among the common people to sing a _Christmas Carol_, which
is a song upon the birth of our Saviour, and generally sung from the
Nativity to the Twelfth-day; this custom," he adds, "seems to be an
imitation of the _Gloria in Excelsis_, or _Glory be to God on High_,
&c. which was sung by the angels, as they hovered o'er the fields of
Bethlehem on the morning of the Nativity; for even that song, as the
learned Bishop Taylor observes, was a Christmas Carol. _As soon_, says
he, _as these blessed Choristers had sung their Xmas Carol, and taught
the Church a hymn, to put into her offices for ever, on the anniversary
of this festivity; the angels_," &c.[197:B] We can well remember that,
during the early period of our life, which was spent in the north of
England, it was in general use for the young people to sing a _carol_
early on the morning of this great festival, and the burthen of which
was,

    "All the angels in heaven do sing
     On a Chrismas day in the morning;"

customs such as this, laudable in themselves and highly impressive on
the youthful mind, are, we are sorry to say, nearly, if not totally,
disappearing from the present generation.

To the carols, hymns, or pious chansons, which were sung about the
streets at night, during Christmas-tide, Shakspeare has two allusions;
one in _Hamlet_, where the Prince quotes two lines from a popular
ballad entitled "_The Songe of Jepthah's Daughter_," and adds, "The
first row of the pious chanson will show you more[198:A];" and the
other in the _Midsummer-Night's Dream_, where Titania remarks that

    "No night is now with _hymn_ or _carol_ blest."[198:B]

Upon the first of these passages Mr. Steevens has observed that the
"_pious chansons_ were a kind of _Christmas carols_, containing some
scriptural history thrown into loose rhymes, and sung about the streets
by the common people;" and upon the second, that "_hymns_ and _carols_,
in the time of Shakspeare, during the season of Christmas, were sung
every night about the streets, as a pretext for collecting money from
house to house."

Carols of this kind, indeed, were, during the sixteenth century, sung
at Christmas, through every town and village in the kingdom; and
Tusser, in his _Five Hundred Pointes of Good Husbandrie_, introduces
one for this season, which he orders to be sung to the tune of _King
Salomon_.[198:C]

The chief object of the common people in chaunting these _nightly_
carols, from house to house, was to obtain money or _Christmas-Boxes_,
a term derived from the usage of the Romish priests, who ordered masses
at this time to be made to the Saints, in order to atone for the
excesses of the people, during the festival of the Nativity, and as
these masses were always purchased of the priest, the poor were allowed
to gather money in this way with the view of liberating themselves
from the consequence of the debaucheries of which they were enabled to
partake, through the hospitality of the rich.

The _convivial_ or _jolie carols_ were those which were sung either
by the company, or by itinerant minstrels, during the revelry that
daily took place, in the houses of the wealthy, from Christmas-Eve
to Twelfth Day. They were also frequently called _Wassel Songs_, and
may be traced back to the Anglo-Norman period. Mr. Douce, in his very
interesting "Illustrations of Shakspeare and of Ancient Manners," has
given us a Christmas-carol of the thirteenth or fourteenth century
written in the Norman language, and which may be regarded, says he,
"as the most ancient drinking song, composed in England, that is
extant. This singular curiosity," he adds, "has been written on a
spare leaf in the middle of a valuable miscellaneous manuscript of the
fourteenth century, preserved in the British Museum, Bibl. Regal. 16,
E. 8."[199:A] To the original he has annexed a translation, admirable
for its fidelity and harmony, and we are tempted to insert three
stanzas as illustrative of manners and diet which still continued
fashionable in the days of Shakspeare. We shall prefix the first stanza
of the original, as a specimen of the language, with the observation,
that from the word _Noel_, which occurs in it, Blount has derived the
term _Ule_ or _Yule_; the French _Nouël_ or Christmas, he observes,
the Normans corrupted to _Nuel_, and from _Nuel_ we had _Nule_, or
_Ule_.[199:B]

    "Seignors ore entendez a nus,
     De loinz sumes renuz a wous,
         Pur quere NOEL;
     Car lem nus dit que en cest hostel
     Soleit tenir sa feste anuel
         A hi cest jur."

       "Lordings, from a distant home,
        To seek old CHRISTMAS we are come,
            Who loves our minstrelsy:
        And here, unless report mis-say,
        The grey-beard dwells; and on this day
        Keeps yearly wassel, ever gay,
            With festive mirth and glee.

        Lordings list, for we tell you true;
        CHRISTMAS loves the jolly crew
            That cloudy care defy:
        His liberal board is deftly spread
        With manchet loaves and wastel-bread;
        His guests with fish and flesh are fed,
            Nor lack the stately pye.

        Lordings, it is our hosts' command,
        And Christmas joins him hand in hand,
            To drain the brimming bowl:
        And I'll be foremost to obey:
        Then pledge me sirs, and drink away,
        For CHRISTMAS revels here to day
            And sways without controul.
    Now _Wassel_ to you all! and merry may ye be!
    But foul that wight befall, who _Drinks_ not _Health_ to me!"[200:A]

_Manchet loaves_, _wastel-bread_, and the _stately pye_, that is,
a _peacock_ or _pheasant_ pye, were still common in the days of
Shakspeare. During the prevalence of chivalry, it was usual for the
knights to take their vows of enterprise, at a solemn feast, on the
presentation to each knight, in turn, of a roasted peacock in a golden
dish. For this was afterwards substituted, though only in a culinary
light, and as the most magnificent dish which could be brought to
table, a peacock in a pie, preserving as much as possible the form of
the bird, with the head elevated above the crust, the beak richly gilt,
and the beautiful tail spread out to its full extent. In allusion to
these superb dishes a ludicrous oath was prevalent in Shakspeare's
time, which he has, with much propriety, put into the mouth of Justice
Shallow, who, soliciting the stay of the fat knight, exclaims,

    "By _cock and pye_, sir, you shall not away to night."[201:A]

The use of the peacock, however, as one of the articles of a second
course, continued to the close of the seventeenth century; for Gervase
Markham, in the ninth edition of his _English House-Wife_, London 1683,
enumerating the articles and ordering of a _great feast_, mentions
this, among other birds, now seldom seen as objects of cookery; "then
in the second course she shall first preferr the lesser wild-fowl, as
&c. then the lesser land-fowl as &c. &c. then the great wild-fowl, as
_bittern_, _hearn_, _shoveler_, _crane_, bustard, and such like. Then
the greater land-fowl, as PEACOCKS, phesant, _puets_, _gulls_,
&c."[201:B]

Numerous collections of _Carols_, or _festal chansons_, to be sung
at the various feasts and ceremonies of the Christmas-holidays, were
published during the sixteenth century. One of the earliest of these
was printed by Wynkyn de Worde in 1521, and entitled _Christmasse
carolles_. It contains, among many very curious specimens of this
species of popular poetry, one, which not only contributed to the
hilarity of our ancestors in the reigns of Henry, Elizabeth, and James,
but is still in use, though with many alterations, in Queen's College,
Oxford; it is designated as _a Carol bryngyng in the bores head_, which
was the first dish served up at the baron's high table in the great
hall on Christmas-day, and was usually accompanied by a procession,
with the sound of trumpets and other instruments.

       "_Caput Apri defero,
        Reddens laudes Domino._
    The bores head in hande bringe I,
    With garlandes gay and rosemary.
    I pray you all synge merily,
        _Qui estis in convivio_.

    The bores head, I understande,
    Is the chefe servyce in this lande:
    Loke wherever it be fande
        _Servite cum cantico_.

    Be gladde lordes, both more and lasse,
    For this hath ordayned our stewarde
    To chere you all this christmasse,
    The bores head with mustarde."[202:A]

For the hospitality, indeed, the merriment and good cheer, which
prevailed during the season of Christmas, this country was peculiarly
distinguished in the sixteenth century. Setting aside the splendid
manner in which this festival was kept at court, and in the capital, we
may appeal to the country, in confirmation of the assertion; the hall
of the nobleman and country-gentleman, and even the humbler mansions
of the yeoman and husbandman, vied with the city in the exhibition
of plenty, revelry, and sport. Of the mode in which the farmer and
his servants enjoyed themselves, on this occasion, a good idea may
be formed from the poem of Tusser, the first edition of which thus
admonishes the housewife:—

    "Get ivye and hull, woman deck up thyne house:
     and take this same brawne, for to seeth and to souse.
     Provide us good chere, for thou know'st the old guise:
     olde customes, that good be, let no man despise.

     At Christmas be mery, and thanke god of all
     and feast thy pore neighbours, the great with the small."[202:B]

And in subsequent impressions, the articles of the _Christmas
husbandlie fare_ are more particularly enumerated; for instance, good
drinke, a blazing fire in the hall, brawne, pudding and souse, and
mustard _with all_, beef, mutton, and pork, shred or minced pies _of
the best_, pig, veal, goose, capon, and turkey, cheese, apples, and
nuts, with _jolie carols_; a pretty ample provision for the rites of
hospitality, and a powerful security against the inclemencies of the
season!

The Hall of the baron, knight, or squire, was the seat of the same
festivities, the same gambols, wassailing, mummery, and mirth, which
usually took place in the palaces and mansions of the metropolis, and
of these Jonson has given us a very curious epitome in his _Masque of
Christmas_, where he has personified the season and its attributes in
the following manner:


"_Enter CHRISTMAS with two or three of the Guard._

    "He is attir'd in round hose, long stockings, a close
    doublet, a high crownd hat with a broach, a long thin beard,
    a truncheon, little ruffes, white shoes, his scarffes, and
    garters tyed crosse, and his drum beaten before him.—


"The names of his CHILDREN, with their attyres.

    "_Mis-rule._ In a velvet cap with a sprig, a short cloake,
    great yellow ruffe like a reveller, his torch-bearer bearing a
    rope, a cheese and a basket.

    "_Caroll._ A long tawny coat, with a red cap, and a flute at
    his girdle, his torch-bearer carrying a song booke open.

    "_Minc'd Pie._ Like a fine cooke's wife, drest neat; her man
    carrying a pie, dish, and spoones.

    "_Gamboll._ Like a tumbler, with a hoope and bells; his
    torch-bearer arm'd with a cole-staffe, and a blinding cloth.

    "_Post And Paire._ With a paire-royall of aces in his hat;
    his garment all done over with payres, and purrs; his squier
    carrying a box, cards and counters.

    "_New-Yeares-Gift._ In a blew coat, serving-man like, with
    an orange, and a sprig of rosemarie guilt on his head, his
    hat full of broaches, with a coller of gingerbread, his
    torch-bearer carrying a march-paine, with a bottle of wine on
    either arme.

    "_Mumming._ In a masquing pied suite, with a visor, his
    torch-bearer carrying the boxe, and ringing it.

    "_Wassall._ Like a neat sempster, and songster; her page
    bearing a browne bowle, drest with ribbands, and rosemarie
    before her.

    "_Offering._ In a short gowne, with a porter's staffe in his
    hand; a wyth borne before him, and a bason by his torch-bearer.

    "_Babie-Coche._ Drest like a boy, in a fine long coat, biggin,
    bib, muckender, and a little dagger; his usher bearing a great
    cake with a beane, and a pease."[203:A]

Of these personified attributes we have already noticed, at
some length, the most material, such as _Misrule_, _Caroll_,
_New-Year's-Gift_ and _Wassall_; to the account, however, which has
been given of the Summer Lord of Misrule, from Stubbes's Anatomie of
Abuses, it will be here necessary to add, that the sway of this mock
prince, both in town and country, was still more absolute during the
Christmas-holidays; "what time," says Holinshed, "of old ordinarie
course there is alwaies one appointed to make sport in the court,
called commonlie Lord of Misrule: whose office is not unknowne to
such as have beene brought up in noblemen's houses, and among great
house-keepers, which use liberal feasting in that season."[204:A]
Stowe, likewise, has recorded, in his Survey, the universal domination
of this holiday monarch. "In the feast of Christmas," he remarks,
"there was in the king's house, wheresoever he was lodged, a _Lord of
Misrule_, or _Master of merry desports_, and the like had yee in the
house of every nobleman of honour, or good worship, were he spirituall
or temporall. Amongst the which, the Maior of London, and either of the
Sheriffes had their severall Lords of Misrule, ever contending without
quarrell or offence, who should make the rarest pastimes to delight
the beholders. These Lords beginning their rule on Alhallow Eve,
continued the same til the morrow after the feast of the Purification,
commonly called Candlemas-day: In all which space, there were fine and
subtill disguisings, maskes and mummeries, with playing at cardes for
counters, nayles and points _in every house_, more for pastime than for
gaine."[204:B]

In short, the directions which are to be found for a grand Christmas
in the capital, were copied with equal splendour and profusion in the
houses of the opulent gentlemen in the country, who made it a point to
be even lavish at this season of the year. We may, therefore, consider
the following description as applying accurately to the Christmas
hospitality of the Baron's hall.

"On Christmas-day, service in the church ended, the gentlemen presently
repair into the hall to breakfast, with brawn, mustard, and malmsey.

"At dinner the butler, appointed for the Christmas, is to see the
tables covered and furnished: and the ordinary butlers of the house
are decently to set bread, napkins, and trenchers, in good form, at
every table; with spoones and knives. At the first course is served in
a fair and large bore's head, upon a silver platter, with minstralsye.

"Two 'servants' are to attend at supper, and to bear two fair torches
of wax, next before the musicians and trumpeters, and stand above the
fire with the music, till the first course be served in through the
hall. Which performed, they, with the musick, are to return into the
buttery. The like course is to be observed in all things, during the
time of Christmas.

"At night, before supper, are revels and dancing, and so also after
supper, during the twelve daies of Christmas. The Master of the Revels
is, after dinner and supper, to sing a caroll, or song; and command
other gentlemen then there present to sing with him and the company;
and so it is very decently performed."[205:A]

Beside the revelry and dancing here mentioned, we may add, that it was
customary, at this season, after the Christmas sports and games had
been indulged in, until the performers were weary, to gather round the
ruddy fire, and tell tales of legendary lore, or popular superstition.
Herrick, recording the diversions of this period, mentions one of them
as consisting of "winter's tales about the hearth[205:B];" and Grose,
speaking of the source whence he had derived many of the superstitions
narrated in the concluding section of his "Provincial Glossary," says,
that he gives them, as they had, from age to age, been "related to a
closing circle of attentive hearers, assembled in a winter's evening,
round the capacious chimney of an old hall or manor-house;" and he
adds, that tales of this description formed, among our ancestors, "a
principal part of rural conversation, in all large assemblies, _and
particularly those in Christmas holidays, during the burning of the
Yule-block_."[205:C]

Of the conviviality which universally reigned during these holidays,
a good estimate may be taken by a few lines from the author of
Hesperides, who, addressing a friend at Christmas-tide, makes the
following request:

      ———— "When your faces shine
    With bucksome meat and cap'ring wine,
    Remember us in cups full crown'd,—
    Untill the fired chesnuts leape
    For joy, to see the fruits ye reape
    From the plumpe challice, and the cup,
    That tempts till it be tossed up:—
    —— —— —— —— carouse
    Till Liber Pater[206:A] twirles the house
    About your eares;——
    "Then" to the bagpipe all addresse,
    Till sleep takes place of wearinesse:
    And thus throughout, with Christmas playes,
    Frolick the full twelve holy-dayes."[206:B]

We shall close this detail of the ceremonies and festivities of
Christmas with a passage from the descriptive muse of Mr. Walter
Scott, in which he has collected, with his usual accuracy, and with
his almost unequalled power of costume-painting, nearly all the
striking circumstances which distinguished the celebration of this high
festival, from an early period, to the close of the sixteenth century.
They form a picture which must delight, both from the nature of its
subject, and from the truth and mellowness of its colouring.

      —— "Well our Christian sires of old
    Loved when the year its course had rolled,
    And brought blithe Christmas back again,
    With all his hospitable train.
    Domestic and religious rite
    Gave honour to the holy night:
    On Christmas eve the bells were rung;—
    The damsel donned her kirtle sheen;
    The hall was dressed with holly green;
    Forth to the wood did merry-men go,
    To gather in the misletoe.
    Then opened wide the baron's hall
    To vassal, tenant, serf and all;
    Power laid his rod of rule aside,
    And Ceremony doffed his pride.
    The heir with roses in his shoes,
    That night might village partner chuse;
    The lord, underogating, share
    The vulgar game of "post and pair."
    All hailed, with uncontrolled delight,
    And general voice, the happy night,
    That to the cottage, as the crown,
    Brought tidings of salvation down.
      The fire with well dried logs supplied,
    Went roaring up the chimney wide;
    The huge hall-table's oaken face,
    Scrubbed till it shone, the day to grace,
    Bore then upon its massive board
    No mark to part the squire and lord.
    Then was brought in the lusty brawn,
    By old blue-coated serving-man;
    Then the grim boar's-head frowned on high,
    Crested with bays and rosemary.
    Well can the green-garbed ranger tell,
    How, when, and where, the monster fell;
    What dogs before his death he tore,
    And all the baiting of the boar.
    The wassol round, in good brown bowls,
    Garnished with ribbons, blithely trowls.
    There the huge sirloin recked: hard by
    Plumb-porridge stood, and Christmas pye;
    Nor failed old Scotland to produce,
    At such high tide, her savoury goose.
    Then came the merry masquers in,
    And carols roared with blithesome din;
    If unmelodious was the song,
    It was a hearty note, and strong.
    Who lists may in their mumming see
    Traces of ancient mystery;
    White shirts supplied the masquerade,
    And smutted cheeks the visors made;
    But, O! what masquers, richly dight,
    Can boast of bosoms half so light!
    England was merry England, when
    Old Christmas brought his sports again.
    'Twas Christmas broached the mightiest ale;
    'Twas Christmas told the merriest tale;
    A Christmas gambol oft could cheer
    The poor man's heart through half the year."[208:A]


FOOTNOTES:

[124:A] Selden, under the article Pope. The _Table Talk_, though not
printed until A. D. 1689, is a work illustrative of the era under our
consideration.

[126:A] Nichols's Progresses and Public Processions of Queen Elizabeth,
vol. i. preface, p. 25-28.

[127:A] Collier's Ecclesiastical History, vol. i. p. 163.

[128:A] Galfred. Monumeth. l. 3. c. 1. _Robert_ of _Gloucester_ gives
us a similar account of the origin of this ceremony, and makes the
same observation as to its general prevalency. The rude lines of the
ancient poet have been thus beautifully paraphrased in the Antiquarian
Repertory:—

    'Health, my Lord King,' the sweet Rowena said—
    'Health,' cried the Chieftain to the Saxon maid;
    Then gaily rose, and, 'mid the concourse wide,
    Kiss'd her hale lips, and plac'd her by his side.
    At the soft scene such gentle thoughts abound,
    That healths and kisses 'mongst the guests went round:
    From this the social custom took its rise,
    We still retain, and still must keep the prize.

[129:A] "The ingenious remarker on this representation observes, that
it is the figure of the old Wassel-Bowl, so much the delight of our
hardy ancestors, who on the vigil of the New-Year never failed to
assemble round the glowing hearth, with their chearful neighbours,
and then in the spicy Wassel-Bowl (which testified the goodness of
their hearts) drowned every former animosity, an example worthy modern
imitation. _Wassel_ was the word, _Wassel_ every guest returned as he
took the circling goblet from his friend, whilst song and civil mirth
brought in the infant year." Brand's Observations, by Ellis, vol. i. p.
3.

[129:B] Douce's Illustrations of Shakspeare and of Ancient Manners,
vol. ii. p. 209, 210.

[129:C] Act i. sc. 4. Reed's edit. vol. xviii. p. 64.

[129:D] Act i. sc. 7. Reed, vol. x. p. 88.

[129:E] Act i. sc. 4. Reed, vol. xvii. p. 49.

[130:A] Act v. sc. 2. Reed, vol. vii. p. 165.

[130:B] Epigrammes i. booke folio 1640, p. 50.

[130:C] Jonson's Works, fol. vol. ii. 1640.

[130:D] Act v. sc. 1.

[131:A] Warton's Milton, 2d edit. p. 160. The _Peg Tankard_, a species
of Wassail-Bowl introduced by the Saxons, was still in use in the days
of Shakspeare. I am in possession of one, which was given to a member
of my family about one hundred and fifty years ago; it is of chased
silver, containing nearly two quarts, and is divided by four pegs.

This form of the _wassail_ or _wish-health bowl_ was introduced
by _Dunstan_, with the view of checking the intemperance of his
countrymen, which for a time it effected; but subsequently the remedy
was converted into an additional stimulus to excess; "for, refining
upon Dunstan's plan, each was obliged to drink precisely to a pin,
whether he could sustain a quantity of liquor equal to others or not:
and to that end it became a rule, that whether they exceeded, or fell
short of the prescribed bumper, they were alike compelled to drink
_again_, until they reached the next mark. In the year 1102, the
_priests_, who had not been backward in joining and encouraging these
drunken assemblies, were ordered to avoid such abominations, and wholly
to _discontinue_ the practice of "DRINKING TO PEGS." Some of these PEG
or PIN CUPS, or _Bowls_, and PIN or PEG TANKARDS, are yet to be found
in the cabinets of antiquaries; and we are to trace from their use
some common terms yet current among us. When a person is much elated,
we say he is "IN A MERRY PIN," which no doubt originally meant, he had
reached that _mark_ which had deprived him of his usual sedateness
and sobriety: we talk of taking a man "A PEG LOWER," when we imply we
shall check him in any forwardness; a saying which originated from a
regulation that deprived all those of their turn of drinking, _or of
their Peg_, who had become troublesome in their liquor: from the like
rule of society came also the expression of "HE IS A PEG TOO LOW,"
_i. e._ has been restrained too far, when we say that a person is not in
equal spirits with his company; while we also remark of an individual,
that he is getting on "PEG BY PEG," or, in other words, he is taking
greater freedoms than he ought to do, which formerly meant, he was
either drinking out of his turn, or, contrary to express regulation,
did not confine himself to his proper portion, or _peg_, but drank
into the _next_, thereby taking a double quantity." Brady's Clavis
Calendaria, vol. ii. p. 322, 323. 1st edit.

[133:A] Nichols's Progresses of Elizabeth, vol. i. Entertainments at
the Temple, &c. p. 22. 24.

[134:A] The only rite that still lingers among us on the Twelfth
Day, is the election of a King and Queen, a ceremony which is now
usually performed by drawing tickets, and of which Mr. Brand, in his
commentary on Bourne's Antiquities of the Common People, has extracted
the subsequent detail from the Universal Magazine of 1774:—"I went to
a Friend's house in the country to partake of some of those innocent
pleasures that constitute a merry Christmas; I did not return till I
had been present at _drawing King and Queen_, and _eaten_ a _Slice_ of
the _Twelfth Cake_, made by the fair hands of my good friend's Consort.
After Tea Yesterday, a _noble Cake_ was produced, and two _Bowls_,
containing the _fortunate chances_ for the different sexes. Our Host
_filled up_ the _tickets_; the whole company, except the _King_ and
_Queen_, were to be _Ministers of State_, _Maids of Honour_, or _Ladies
of the Bed-chamber_.

"Our kind _Host_ and _Hostess_, whether by _design_, or _accident_
became _King_ and _Queen_. According to _Twelfth-Day Law_, each _party_
is to _support_ their _character_ till Mid-night. After supper one
called for a _Kings Speech_, &c." Observations on Popular Antiquities,
edit. of 1810, p. 228.

[135:A] Dr. Johnson's definition of the word _Rock_ in the sense of the
text, is as follows:

"(_rock_, Danish; _rocca_, Italian; _rucca_, Spanish; _spinrock_,
Dutch) A distaff held in the hand, from which the wool was spun by
twirling a ball below." I shall add one of his illustrations:

    "A learned and a manly soul
     I purpos'd her; that should with even powers,
     The _rock_, the spindle, and the sheers, controul
     Of destiny, and spin her own free hours.
                                              _Ben Jonson._"

[135:B] Chalmers's Poets, vol. iv. p. 564. Albion's England, chap. 24.

[136:A] Hesperides, p. 374.

[137:A] Tusser Redivivus, p. 79, 80.

[137:B] Olai Magni Gent. Septent. Breviar. p. 341.

[137:C] See Brand on Bourne's Antiquitates Vulgares, p. 194; and
Strutt's Sports and Pastimes of the People of England, p. 307. edit.
of 1810. Of this curious exhibition on _Plough-Monday_, I have often,
during my boyhood, at York, been a delighted spectator, and, as far as
I can now recollect, the above description appears to be an accurate
detail of what took place.

[138:A] Act iii. sc. 9. Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xvii. p. 171.

[138:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xvii. p. 172.

[138:C] Bourne's Antiquities apud Brand, p. 244.

[138:D] Fuller's Church History, p. 222.

[140:A] Hesperides, p. 337.

[140:B] _Teend_, to kindle.

[140:C] Hesperides, p. 337, 338.

[141:A] Hesperides, p. 361. Dramatic amusements were frequent on
this day, as well in the halls of the nobility in the country, as at
court. With regard to their exhibition in the latter, many documents
exist; for instance, in a chronological series of Queen Elizabeth's
payments for plays acted before her (from the Council Registers) is the
following entry:

"18th March, 1573-4. To Richard Mouncaster, (Mulcaster, the
Grammarian,) for two plays presented before her on Candlemas-day and
Shrove-tuesday last, 20 marks."[141:B]

[141:B] Gentleman's Magazine, vide life of Richard Mulcaster, May,
June, and July, 1800.

[142:A] Hilman's Tusser, p. 80. Mr. Hilman seems to have had as great
an aversion to tobacco as King James; for, in another part of his
notes, he observes, that "_Suffolk_ and _Essex_ were the counties
wherein our author was a farmer, and no where are better dairies for
butter, and neater housewives than there, _if too many of them at
present do not smoke tobacco_." p. 19.

[143:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. viii. p. 272, 273. Act ii. sc.
2. Warner has also noticed this culinary article as appropriated
to Shrove-Tuesday in his Albion's England, chapter xxiv., where,
enumerating the feasts and holidays of his time, he says, they had

    "At fasts-eve pan-puffes."—
                        _Chalmers's Poets_, vol. iv. p. 564.

_Shrove_ or _Pancake Tuesday_, is still called, in the North,
_Fastens_, or _Fasterns E'en_, as preceding _Ash-Wednesday_, the first
day of Lent; and the turning of these cakes in the pan is yet observed
as a feat of dexterity and skill.

Of the _pancake-bell_ which used to be rung on Shrove-Tuesday,
Taylor, the Water Poet, has given us the following most singular
account:—"Shrove-Tuesday, at whose entrance in the morning all the
whole kingdom is unquiet, but by that time the clocke strikes eleven,
which (by the help of a knavish sexton) is commonly before nine, then
there is a bell rung, cal'd pancake-bell, the sound whereof makes
thousands of people distracted, and forgetful either of manners or
humanitie." See his Works, folio, 1630. p. 115.

[143:B] —_my wife's as all_;] _i. e._ as all women are. Farmer.

[143:C] Warton's History of English Poetry, vol. i. p. 225. note (p).

[144:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xii. p. 235.

[144:B] See his Masque on the Shrove-tuesday at night 1608, and
Chloridia, a Masque, at Shrove-tide, 1630.

[144:C] The author of _Apollo Shroving_ was _William Hawkins_,
who likewise published "Corolla varia contexta per Guil. Haukinum
scholarcham Hadleianum in agro Suffolcienci. Cantabr. ap. Tho. Buck."
12mo. 1634.

It may be observed, that _Shrove-Tuesday_ was considered by the
_apprentices_ as their peculiar _holiday_, and it appears that in
the days of Shakspeare, they claimed a right of punishing, at this
season, women of ill-fame. To these customs Dekker and Sir Thomas
Overbury allude, when the former says: "They presently (like Prentises
upon Shrove-Tuesday) take the lawe into their owne handes and do what
they list." Seven Deadly Sinnes of London, 4to. p. 35. 1606. And when
the latter, in his Characters, speaking of a bawd, remarks: "Nothing
daunts her so much as the approach of Shrove-Tuesday;" and describing a
"roaring boy," adds, "he is a supervisor of brothels, and in them is a
more unlawful reformer of vice than prentices on Shrove-Tuesday."

[144:D] History of English Poetry, vol. ii. p. 387.

[145:A] Stow's Survey of London, edit. of 1618, p. 142.

[145:B] Vide Strutt's Sports and Pastimes, p. 250.

[145:C] Vide Hogarth Moralized, p. 134.

[145:D] "In some places," says Mr. Strutt, "it was a common practice
to put the cock into an earthern vessel made for the purpose, and to
place him in such a position that his head and tail might be exposed to
view; the vessel, with the bird in it, was then suspended across the
street, about twelve or fourteen feet from the ground, to be thrown
at by such as chose to make trial of their skill; two-pence was paid
for four throws, and he who broke the pot, and delivered the cock from
his confinement, had him for a reward. At North-Walsham, in Norfolk,
about forty years ago, some wags put an owl into one of these vessels;
and having procured the head and tail of a dead cock, they placed them
in the same position as if they had appertained to a living one; the
deception was successful; and at last, a labouring man belonging to the
town, after several fruitless attempts, broke the pot, but missed his
prize; for the owl being set at liberty, instantly flew away, to his
great astonishment, and left him nothing more than the head and tail
of the dead bird, with the potsherds, for his money and his trouble;
this ridiculous adventure exposed him to the continual laughter of the
town's people, and obliged him to quit the place, to which I am told he
returned no more." Sports and Pastimes, p. 251.

"For many years," observes Mr. Brady, "our public diaries, and monthly
publications, took infinite pains to impress upon the minds of the
populace a just abhorrence of such barbarities (cock-fighting and
cock-throwing); and, by way of strengthening their arguments, they
failed not to detail in the most pathetic terms the following fact,
which for the interest it contains is here transcribed, from the
Obituary of the Gentleman's Magazine for April, 1789. 'Died, April 4th,
at Tottenham, JOHN ARDESOIF, esquire, a young man of large fortune,
and in the splendour of his horses and carriages, rivalled by few
country-gentlemen. His table was that of hospitality, where it may be
said he sacrificed too much to conviviality. _Mr. Ardesoif_ was very
fond of cock-fighting, and had a favourite cock upon which he had won
many profitable matches. The last bet he laid upon this cock he lost,
which so enraged him, that he had the bird tied to a spit, and roasted
alive before a large fire. The screams of the miserable animal were so
affecting, that some gentlemen who were present attempted to interfere,
which so enraged _Mr. Ardesoif_, that he seized a poker, and with the
most furious vehemence declared, that he would kill the first man who
interfered: but in the midst of his passionate asseverations, _he fell
down dead upon the spot_.' Clavis Calendaria, 1st edit. vol. i. p. 200,
201."

[146:A] Bourne's Antiquities apud Brand, p. 268.

[147:A] Bourne's Antiquities apud Brand, p. 277. "Why they should play
at _Hand Ball_ at this time," observes Mr. Bourne, "rather than any
other game, I have not been able to find out, but I suppose it will
readily be granted, that this custom of so playing, was the original of
our present recreations and diversions on Easter Holy Days," p. 277.

[147:B] Brand on Bourne, p. 280. note. The _morris dance_, of which
such frequent mention is made in our old poets, was frequently
performed at Easter; but, as we shall have occasion to notice this
amusement, at some length, under the article "May-Day," we shall here
barely notice that Warner has recorded it as an Easter diversion in the
following line:

    "At _Paske begun_ our _morrise_: and ere Penticost our May."
                             _Albion's England_, Chap. xxiv.

[147:C] _Rack_ or _Manger_.

[147:D] Selden's Table-Talk, art. Christmas.

[148:A] Fuller's Worthies, p. 188.

[148:B] Bourne apud Brand, p. 316.

[148:C] The following whimsical custom, relates Mr. Brand, "is still
retained at the city of Durham on these holidays. On one day the men
take off the women's shoes, which are only to be redeem'd by a present;
on another day the women take off the men's in like manner." Bourne
apud Brand, p. 282.

Stow also records, that in the week before Easter there were "great
shewes made, for the fetching in of a twisted tree, or With, as they
tearmed it, out of the Woods into the King's house, and the like into
every man's house of Honor or Worship," p. 150.; but whether this was
general throughout the kingdom, is not mentioned.

[149:A] Vide Ross, as published by Hearne, p. 105.

[149:B] Spelman's Glossary, under the title Hock-day.

[151:A] Nichols's Progresses of Queen Elizabeth, vol. i. Laneham's
Letter, p. 32-34.

[151:B] That Hock-tide was _generally_ observed in the days of
Shakspeare, is evident from the following passage in Withers's "Abuses
Stript and Whipt." 8vo. London. 1618.

    "Who think (forsooth) because that once a yeare
     They can affoord the poore some slender cheere,
     Observe their country feasts, or common doles,
     And entertaine their Christmass Wassaile Boles,
     Or els because that, _for the Churche's good,
     They in defence of HOCKTIDE custome stood_:
     A Whitsun-ale, or some such goodly motion,
     The better to procure young men's devotion:
     What will they do, I say, that think to please
     Their mighty God with such fond things as these?
     Sure, very ill."                                P. 232.

[152:A] Vide Pennant's Scotland, p. 91.; and Jamieson's Etymological
Dictionary of the Scottish Language.

[152:B] Olaus Magnus de Gentibus Septentrionalibus, lib. xv. c. 8.

[153:A] Chalmers's English Poets, vol. i. p. 378.

[153:B] Bourne's Antiquitates Vulgares apud Brand, p. 283.

[154:A] Vide Borlase's Natural History of Cornwall, &c.

[154:B] Stubbes's Anatomie of Abuses, p. 109. edit. 1595, 4to.

[155:A] Book ii. Song 4. Chalmers's Poets, vol. vi. p. 296.—It was no
uncommon thing also for the milk-maids to join the procession to the
May-pole on this day, leading a cow decorated with ribands of various
colours, intermingled with knots of flowers, and wreathes of oaken
leaves, and with the horns of the animal gilt.

[155:B] Stow's Survey of London, p. 150. 1618.

[155:C] Act i. sc. 1. Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iv. p. 327.

[156:A] Act iv. sc. 1. Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iv. p. 452, 453.—"The
_rite_ of this month," observes Mr. Steevens, "was once so universally
observed, that even authors thought their works would obtain a more
favourable reception, if published on _May-day_. The following is a
title-page to a metrical performance by a once celebrated poet, Thomas
Churchyard:

    'Come bring in _Maye_ with me,
       My _Maye_ is fresh and greene;
     A subjectes harte, an humble mind,
       To serve a mayden Queene.

'A discourse of rebellion, drawne forth for to warne the wanton wittes
how to kepe their heads on their shoulders.

'Imprinted at London, in Flete-streat by William Griffith, Anno Domini
1570. The _first_ of _Maye_.'"

[156:B] Act v. sc. 3. Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xi. p. 201.

[157:A] Herrick's Hesperides, p. 74, 75.

[158:A] Illustrations of Shakspeare, vol. ii. p. 473.

[158:B] Anatomie of Abuses, p. 107.

[158:C] Illustrations of Shakspeare, vol. ii. p. 474.

[158:D] Vide Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xi. p. 440.

[158:E] Midsummer-Night's Dream, act iii. sc. 2. Reed's Shakspeare,
vol. iv. p. 427.

[159:A] Act ii. sc. 2. Reed's Shakspeare, vol. viii. p. 278.

[159:B] Drayton's Poly-Olbion, Song 26. Chalmers's Poets, vol. iv. p.
373, 374.

[160:A] Warner's Albion's England, chapter 21. Chalmers's Poets, vol.
iv. p. 564.

[160:B] As You Like It, act i. sc. 1. Reed's Shakspeare, vol. viii. p.
13.

[160:C] Lysons's Environs of London, vol. i. p. 227.

[160:D] Beloe's Anecdotes of Literature and scarce Books, vol. i. p.
401.

[160:E] Act iii. sc. 4. Reed's Shakspeare, vol. v. p. 364.

[161:A] Douce's Illustrations of Shakspeare, vol. ii. p. 451.

[162:A] Fetherston's Dialogue agaynst light, lewde, and lascivious
dancing, 1582, 12mo. sign. D. 7. apud Douce.

[162:B] The honestie of this age, 1615, 4to. p. 35.

[162:C] First part of King Henry IV. act iii. sc. 3. Reed's Shakspeare,
vol. xi. p. 362.

[163:A] Act iv. sc. 1. Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iv. p. 266.

[163:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xi. p. 438.

[163:C] Douce's Illustrations of Shakspeare, vol. ii. p. 450. Fordun's
Scotichronicon, 1759, folio, tom. ii. p. 104. "In this time," says
Stow, that is, about the year 1190, in the reign of Richard I. "were
many robbers, and outlawes, among the which Robin Hood and Little John,
renowned theeves, continued in woods, despoyling and robbing the goods
of the rich." Annals, p. 159.

[163:D] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iv. p. 267. note by Malone.

[164:A] Eclogue iii. Chalmers's Poets, vol. iv. p. 433.

[164:B] Second Part of King Henry the Sixth, act iii. sc. 1. Reed's
Shakspeare, vol. xiii. p. 276.

[164:C] Plaine Percevall the peace-maker of England, &c. &c. Vide
Censura Literaria, vol. ix. p. 250.

[165:A] Censura Literaria, vol. ix. p. 251.

[165:B] Act iv. sc. 3. Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 345.

[165:C] Canto Madrigals, of 5 and 6 parts, apt for the viols and
voices. Made and newly published by Thomas Weelkes of the Coledge at
Winchester, Organist. At London printed by Thomas Este, the assigne of
Thomas Morley. 1600. 4to.

[166:A] Censura Literaria, vol. ix. p. 34.

[166:B] It is probable indeed from the subsequent Madrigal, that the
Hobby-horse was frequently attached to, and provided for, by the town
or village.

    "Our country swains, in the morris daunce,
       Thus woo'd and win their brides;
     _Will, for our towne, the hobby horse
       A pleasure frolike rides_."[166:C]

[166:C] Vide Cantus primo. Madrigals to 3, 4, 5, and 6 voyces. Made and
newly published by Thomas Weelkes at London, printed by Thomas Este,
1597, 4to. Censura Literaria, vol. ix. p. 9-10.

[167:A] "The English were famed," observes Dr. Grey, "for these and
such like diversions; and even the old, as well as young persons,
formerly followed them: a remarkable instance of which is given by Sir
William Temple, (Miscellanea, Part 3. Essay of Health and Long Life,)
who makes mention of a Morrice Dance in Herefordshire, from a noble
person, who told him he had a pamphlet in his library written by a very
ingenious gentleman of that county, which gave an account how, in such
a year of King James's reign, there went about the country a sett of
Morrice Dancers, composed of _ten_ men, who danced a Maid Marian, and
a taber and pipe: and how these ten, one with another, made up twelve
hundred years. 'Tis not so much, says he, that so many in one county
should live to that age, as that they should be in vigour and humour to
travel and dance." Grey's Notes on Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 382.

[168:A] _Courtpie_, in women's dress, a short vest. Strutt.

[168:B] _Watchet-coloured_, pale blue. Strutt.

[168:C] _Rochet_, a lawn garment resembling a surplice gathered at the
wrists. Strutt.

[168:D] _Baudekin_, a cloth of gold tissue, with figures in silk, for
female dress. Strutt.

[169:A] The mole-taker, in this place, personates the character of the
_fool_ or domestic buffoon.

[170:A] The management of the hobby-horse appears to have been the
most difficult part of the May-day festivities, and from the following
passage in an old play, to have required some preparatory discipline.
A character personating this piece of pageantry, and angry with the
mayor of the town as being his rival, calls out, "Let the mayor play
the hobby-horse among his brethren, an he will, I hope our towne-lads
cannot want a hobby-horse. Have I practic'd my reines, my careeres, my
pranckers, my ambles, my false trotts, my smooth ambles and Canterbury
paces, and shall master mayor put me besides the hobby-horse? Have I
borrowed the fore horse bells, his plumes and braveries, nay had his
mane new shorne and frizl'd, and shall the mayor put me besides the
hobby-horse?" The Vow breaker, by Sampson.

[170:B] The morris-dance in this description of the May-game seems to
have been performed chiefly by the fool, with the occasional assistance
of the hobby-horse, which was always decorated with bells, and the
dragon.

[171:A] Strutt's Queenhoo-Hall, a romance, vol. i. p. 13. et seq.

[171:B] Act iii. sc. 2. Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xviii. p. 198.

[171:C] Act iii. sc. 1. Reed's Shakspeare, vol. vii. p. 53, 54.

[172:A] Entertainment of the Queen and Prince at Althorpe. 1603. fol.
edit. vol. i. p. 99.

[172:B] The Metamorphosed Gipsies, fol. edit. vol. 2. p. 65.—This folio
edition of Jonson's works, in two volumes, dated 1640, is not regularly
paged to the close of each volume; for instance, in vol. i. the Dramas
terminate at p. 668, and then the Epigrammes, Forest, Masques, &c.
commence with p. 1.

[173:A] Act iv. sc. 1.—Jonson in his _Bartholmew Fayre_, acted in the
year 1614, has a character of this kind, a Baker, who has undergone a
similar conversion, and is thus introduced:—

    "_Win. W._ What call you the Reverend _Elder_, you told me of?
    your Banbury-man.

    _Joh._ _Rabbi Busy_, Sir, he is more than an _Elder_, he is a
    _Prophet_, Sir.

    _Quar._ O, I know him! a Baker, is he not?

    _Joh._ Hee was a Baker, Sir, but hee do's dreame now, and see
    visions, he has given over his Trade.

    _Quar._ I remember that too: out of a scruple hee tooke, that
    (in spic'd conscience) those Cakes hee made, were serv'd to
    _Bridales_, _May poles_, _Morrisses_, and such prophane feasts
    and meetings; his Christen-name is _Zeale-of-the-land_ Busye."
         Jonson's Works, fol. edit. vol. ii. p. vi. act i. sc. 3.

[173:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xviii. p. 198, note, Steevens.

[173:C] Wilson, censuring these indulgences, places the era of the
publication of the Book of Sports under 1617, and says of it, that
"some of the Bishops, pretending _Recreations_, and _liberty_ to
servants and the common people (of which they carved to themselves too
much already) procured the King to put out a Book to permit dancing
about _May-poles_, _Church-ales_, and such debauched exercises upon
the Sabbath-Day after Evening-Prayer (being a specious way to make the
King, and them, acceptable to the _Rout_): which Book came out with
a command, injoyning all Ministers to read it to their parishioners,
and to approve of it; and those that did not, were brought into the
high _Commission_, imprisoned and suspended." The History of Great
Britain, being the Life and Reign of King James the First, relating to
what passed from his first access to the Crown, till his death. Folio,
London 1653. p. 105.

[174:A] Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, 8th edit. fol. p. 174.

[174:B] "The last May-pole in London was taken down in 1717, and
conveyed to Wanstead in Essex, where it was fixed in the Park for
the support of an immensely large telescope. Its original height was
upwards of one hundred feet above the surface of the ground, and its
station on the East side of Somerset-House, where the new church now
stands.—POPE thus perpetuates its remembrance:

    Amidst the area wide they took their stand,
    Where the tall May-pole once o'erlook'd the Strand."
                          Clavis Calendaria, vol. i. p. 318.

[175:A] Act ii. sc. 4. Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xii. p. 354.

[175:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iv. p. 231. act ii. sc. 6.

[175:C] Ascham's Works apud Bennet, p. 62, 63.

[176:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xxi. p. 155.

[176:B] Jonson's Works, fol. edit.

[176:C] "A leet," observes Bullokar, in his _English Expositor_, 1616,
"is a court, or law-day, holden commonly every half year."

[176:D] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 33. act i. sc. 2.

[176:E] Warton's History of English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 129, note.

[177:A] MSS. Bibl. Bod., vol. cxlviii. fol. 97.

[178:A] Carew's Survey of Cornwall, edit. of 1769. p. 68.

[178:B] Anatomie of Abuses, A. D. 1595.

[179:A] Jonson's Works, fol. edit. vol. i. p. 166.

[179:B] The Lady of Pleasure, act i.

[179:C] The former of which is thus noticed by Sir Philip Sidney:—

      "Strephon, with leavy twigs of laurell tree,
    A garlant made on temples for to weare,
      _For he then chosen was the dignitie
    Of village Lord that Whitsuntide to beare_."
                        The Countesse of Pembroke's Arcadie,
                            7th edit. fol. 1629. p. 84.

[180:A] Anatomie of Abuses, 1595. p. 107.

[181:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 341. Act iv. sc. 3.—Whitsun
playes or mysteries, which at first were exclusively drawn from the
sacred page, may be traced to the fourteenth century; those which
were performed at Chester have been attributed to Ranulph Higden, the
chronicler, who died 1363.

[181:B] Blount's Ancient Tenures, p. 49, and Strutt's Sports and
Pastimes, p. 316.

[182:A] Tusser apud Hilton, p. 80.

[183:A] Chalmers's Poets, vol. iv. p. 443.

[183:B] Singers of catches in three parts.

[183:C] By _means_ are meant tenors.

[183:D] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 323, 324. Act iv. sc. 2.

[183:E] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 323. note 5.

[184:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 334. Act iv. sc. 3.—I believe
the custom of choosing a king and queen at the sheep-shearing feast,
is still continued in several of our counties; that it was commonly
observed, at least, in the time of Thomson, is evident from the
following lines, taken from his description of this festival:—

    "One, chief, in gracious dignity enthron'd,
     Shines o'er the rest, the _Pas'tral Queen_, and rays
     Her smiles, sweet-beaming on her _Shepherd King_."
                                                     Summer.

[185:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 334, 335. 337, 338. 340.

[185:B] Dyer's Fleece, book i. _sub finem_.

[186:A] Tusser Redivivus, p. 104. In the first edition of Tusser, 1557,
this stanza is as follows:—

    "Then welcome thy harvest folke, serveauntes and all:
     with mirth and good chere, let them furnish the hall.
     The harvest lorde nightly, must give thee a song:
     fill him then the blacke boll, or els he hath wrong."
                      Reprint by Sir Egerton Brydges, p. 19.

[186:B] Bloomfield's Farmer's Boy, Summer, l. 299.

[187:A] Paul Hentzner's Travels in England, during the reign of Queen
Elizabeth, translated by Horace, late Earl of Orford. Edit. of 1797. p.
55.

[187:B] "Anglos vidi spiceam ferre domum in Rheda Imaginem circum
cantantibus promiscuê viris et fœminis, præcedente tibicine aut
tympano." Deprav. Rel. Orig. in verbo _Vacina_.

[187:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. vii. p. 376. Act v. sc. 1.

[188:A] Tusser Redivivus, p. 104.

[188:B] _Hock-cart_,—by this word is meant the _high_ or
_rejoicing-cart_, and was applied to the last load of corn, as
typical of the close of harvest. Thus _Hock-tide_ is derived from the
Saxon _Hoah_-+tid+, or high tide, and is expressive of the height of
festivity.

[189:A] Hesperides, p. 113-115.

[190:A] Tusser Redivivus, p. 81.

[190:B] Ibid. p. 147.

[190:C] Ibid. p. 77.

[191:A] Brand on Bourne's Antiquities, p. 392. note edit. 1810.

[191:B] Ibid. p. 393, 394.

[192:A] The magnificent reception of Queen Elizabeth at Norwich in
1578, has been recorded with great minuteness, in two tracts, by
Bernard Goldingham and Thomas Churchyard the poet, which are reprinted
in Mr. Nichols's Progresses; these accounts are likewise incorporated
by Abraham Fleming as a supplement to Holinshed, and will be found
in the last edition of this chronicler, in vol. iv. p. 375. The pomp
and pageantry which were exhibited during this regal visit were
equally gorgeous, quaint, and operose; "order was taken there," says
Churchyard, "that every day, for sixe dayes together, a shew of some
strange device should be seene; and the maior and aldermen appointed
among themselves and their breethren, that no person reteyning to
the Queene, shoulde be unfeasted, or unbidden to dinner and supper,
during the space of those sixe dayes: which order was well and wisely
observed, and gained their citie more fame and credite, than they wot
of: for that courtesie of theirs shall remayne in perpetuall memorie,
whiles the walles of their citie standeth."—Nichols's Progresses of Q.
Elizabeth, vol. ii. p. 56.

[192:B] The wise policy of Elizabeth in establishing the Flemings in
this country gave birth to our vast superiority in the woollen trade;
and the first pageant which met the eyes of Elizabeth on her entrance
into Norwich was the _artizan-strangers_ pageant, illustrative of the
whole process of the manufactory, "a shewe which pleased her Majestie
so greatly, as she particularly viewed the knitting and spinning of
the children, perused the loombes, and noted the several workes and
commodities which were made by these meanes."—Nichols's Progresses,
vol. ii. p. 13.

[192:C] Gerguntum, a fabulous kind of Briton, who is supposed to have
built Norwich Castle; in the procession which went out of Norwich
to meet the Queen, on the 16th of August, 1578, was "one whiche
represented King GURGUNT, some tyme king of Englande, whiche buylded
the castle of Norwich, called Blanch Flowre, and layde the foundation
of the citie. He was mounted uppon a brave courser, and was thus
furnished: his body armed, his bases of greene and white silke; on his
head a black velvet hat, with a plume of white feathers. There attended
upon him three henchmen in white and greene: one of them did beare his
helmet, the seconde his tergat, the thirde his staffe."—Nichols's
Progresses, vol. ii. p. 5, 6.

[193:A] The Cabinet, vol. ii. p. 75, 76.

[193:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xii. p. 66.

[194:A] Bourne's Antiquities, p. 172.

[194:B] A great display of literature on the etymon of the word _Yule_
will be found in the _Allegories Orientales_ of M. Count de Gebelin,
Paris, 1773.

[195:A] _Teending_, a word derived from the Saxon, means _kindling_.

[195:B] _White-loafe_, sometimes called at this period _wastel-bread_
or cake, from the French _wastiaux_, pastry; implied white bread well
or twice baked, and was considered as a delicacy.

[195:C] Hesperides, p. 309, 310.

[196:A] Stowe's Survey of London, 4to. edit., 1618, p. 149, 150.

[196:B] Vide Gentleman's Magazine for 1765.

[197:A] Brand on Bourne's Antiquities, p. 193.

[197:B] Ibid. p. 200, 201.

[198:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xviii. p. 143. Act ii. sc. 2.

[198:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iv. p. 361. Act ii. sc. 2.

[198:C] Chap. xxx. fol. 57. edit. 1586.

[199:A] Douce's Illustrations, vol. ii. p. 214.

[199:B] Vide Blount's Ancient Tenures of Land, and Jocular Customs of
some Manors. Beckwith's edit. 8vo. 1784.

[200:A] Douce's Illustrations, vol. ii. p. 215-217. 219.

[201:A] Act v. sc. 1. Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xii. p. 213.

[201:B] English House-Wife, p. 99. The pies which he recommends
immediately subsequent to this enumeration are somewhat curious, and
rather of a more substantial nature than those of modern days; for
instance, _red-deer pye_, _gammon of bacon pye_, _wild-bore pye_, and
_roe-pye_.

[202:A] Vide Warton's History of English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 143.

[202:B] A hundreth good poyntes of husbandry, 1557. p. 10.

[203:A] Christmas, His Masque; as it was presented at Court 1616.
Jonson's Works, folio edit. 1640. vol. ii.

[204:A] Holinshed's Chronicles, vol. iii. p. 1032. edit. 1808.

[204:B] Stowe's Survey of London, p. 149. edit. 1618.

[205:A] Nichols's Progresses and Processions of Queen Elizabeth, vol.
i. p. 20, 21. Anno 1562.

[205:B] Hesperides, p. 145.

[205:C] Provincial Glossary, Preface, p. 8. 8vo. 1787.

[206:A] _Liber Pater_, Bacchus.

[206:B] Hesperides, p. 146. The following passages place in a strong
and interesting point of view, the hospitality of our ancestors during
this season of the year, and will add not a little to the impression
derived from the text.

"Heretofore, noblemen and gentlemen of fair estates had their heralds
who wore their coate of armes at Christmas, and at other solemne times,
and cryed largesse thrice. They lived in the country like petty kings.
They always eat in Gothic Halls where the Mummings and Loaf-stealing,
and other Christmas sports, were performed. The hearth was commonly
in the middle; whence the saying, _round about our coal-fire_."
Antiquarian Repertory, No. xxvi. from the MS. Collections of Aubrey,
dated 1678.

"An English Gentleman at the opening of the great day, _i. e._ on
Christmas Day in the morning, had all his tenants and neighbours
entered his Hall by day-break. The strong beer was broached, and the
black jacks went plentifully about with toast, sugar, nutmegg, and
good Cheshire cheese. The Hackin, (the great sausage) must be boiled
by day-break, or else two young men must take the maiden (_i. e._ the
cook,) by the arms and run her round the market place till she is
ashamed of her laziness.

"In Christmass Holidays, the tables were all spread from the first to
the last; the sirloins of beef, the minced pies, the plumb-porridge,
the capons, turkeys, geese, and plumb-puddings, were all brought upon
the board: every one eat heartily, and was welcome, which gave rise to
the proverb, 'Merry in the hall when beards wag all.'" From a Tract
entitled "Round about our Coal-Fire, or Christmas Entertainments;" of
which the first edition was published, I believe, about the close of
the seventeenth century.

"Our ancestors considered Christmas in the double light of a holy
commemoration and a cheerful festival; and accordingly distinguished it
by devotion, by vacation from business, by merriment and hospitality.
They seemed eagerly bent to make themselves and every body about them
happy.—The great hall resounded with the tumultuous joys of servants
and tenants, and the gambols they played served as amusement to the
lord of the mansion and his family, who, by encouraging every art
conducive to mirth and entertainment, endeavoured to soften the rigour
of the season, and mitigate the influence of winter."—_The World_, No.
104.

[208:A] Scott's Marmion. Introduction to Canto Sixth. 8vo. edit. p.
300-303.

"At present, Christmas meetings," remarks Mr. Brady, "are chiefly
confined to family parties, happy, it must be confessed, though less
jovial in their nature; perhaps, too, less beneficial to society,
because they can be enjoyed on other days not, as originally was the
case, set apart for more general conviviality and sociability; not such
as our old ballads proclaim, and history confirms, in which the most
frigid tempers gave way to relaxation, and all in eager joy were ready
to exclaim, in honour of the festivity,—

    "For, since such delights are thine,
     CHRISTMAS, with thy bands I join."
                       _Clavis Calendaria_, vol. ii. p. 319.




CHAPTER VII.

    MANNERS AND CUSTOMS OF THE COUNTRY
    CONTINUED—WAKES—FAIRS—WEDDINGS—BURIALS.


Having described, in as brief a manner as was consistent with the
nature of our work, the various circumstances accompanying the
celebration of the most remarkable holidays and festivals, in
the country, during the age of Shakspeare, from whose inimitable
compositions we have drawn many pertinent illustrations on nearly
all the subjects as they passed before us; we shall proceed, in the
present chapter, to notice those remaining topics which are calculated
to complete, on the scale adopted, a tolerably correct view of rural
manners and customs, as they existed in the latter half of the
sixteenth, and prior portion of the seventeenth, century.

A natural transition will carry us, from the description of the rural
festival, to the gaieties of the WAKE or FAIR. Of these terms, indeed,
the former originally implied the vigil which preceded the festival in
honour of the Saint to whom the parish-church was dedicated; for "on
the Eve of this day," remarks Mr. Borlase, in his Cornwall, "prayers
were said, and hymns were sung all night in the church; and from
these watchings the festivals were stiled _Wakes_; which name still
continues in many parts of England, though the vigils have been long
abolished."[209:A] The religious institution, however, of the _Wake_,
whether held on the vigil or Saint's day, was soon forgotten; mirth
and feasting early became the chief objects of this meeting[209:B],
and it, at length, degenerated into something approaching towards a
secular Fair. These Wakes or Fairs, which were rendered more popular in
proportion as they deviated from their devotional origin, were, until
the reign of Henry the Sixth, always held on a Sunday and its eve, a
custom that continued to be partially observed as late as the middle of
the seventeenth century; hence ale-houses, and places of public resort,
in the immediate neighbourhood of church-yards, the former scene of
Wakes, were still common at the close of Shakspeare's life; thus Sir
Thomas Overbury, describing a Sexton, in his _Characters_, published
in 1616, says: "At every church-style commonly there's an ale-house;
where let him (the Sexton) bee found never so idle-pated, hee is still
a grave drunkard."

The increasing licentiousness and conviviality, however, which attended
these church-yard assemblies, frequented as they were by pedlars and
hawkers of every description, finally occasioned their suppression
in all places, at least, where much traffic was expected. In their
room regular Fairs were established, to which in central or peculiar
stations, the resort, at fixed periods, was immense.

Yet the _Wake_, the meeting for mere festivity and frolic, still
continued in every village and small town, and though not preceded by
any vigil in the church, was popularly termed the _Wake-Day_. Tusser,
in his catalogue of the "Old Guise," has not forgotten this season of
merriment; on the contrary, he seems to welcome its return with much
cordiality:—

    "Fil oven ful of flawnes, Ginnie passe not for sleepe,
       to morrow thy father his wake-daie wil keepe:
     Then every wanton may danse at hir wil,
       both Tomkin and Tomlin, and Jankin with Gil."[210:A]

Mr. Hilman, in his edition of Tusser, has made the following
observations on this passage.—"Waking in the church," says he, "was
left off because of some abuses, and we see here it was converted to
wakeing at the oven. The other continued down to our author's days, and
in a great many places continues still to be observed with all sorts
of rural merriments; such as dancing, wrestling, cudgel-playing, &c."
Bourne observes, that the feasting and sporting, on this occasion,
usually lasted for two or three days[211:A]; and Bishop Hall gives
an impressive idea of the revelry and glee which distinguished these
rural assemblages, when he exclaims, "What should I speak of our _merry
Wakes_, and May games—in all which put together, you may well say,
no Greek can be _merrier_ than they."[211:B] Indeed from one end of
the kingdom to the other, from north to south, it would appear, that,
among the country-villages, during the reigns of Elizabeth and her two
immediate successors, Wakes formed one of the principal amusements
of the peasantry, and were anticipated with much eagerness and
expectation. In confirmation of this we need only remark that Drayton,
speaking of Lancashire, declares, that

    —— "every village smokes at _wakes_ with lusty cheer;"[211:C]

and that Herrick, in Devonshire, has written a very curious little
poem, entitled _The Wake_, which, as strikingly descriptive of the
various business of this festivity, claims here an introduction:—

    "Come Anthea, let us two
     Go to feast, as others do.
     Tarts and custards, creams and cakes,
     Are the junketts still at _Wakes_:
     Unto which the tribes resort,
     Where the businesse is the sport:
     Morris-dancers thou shalt see,
     Marian too in pagentrie:
     And a Mimick to devise
     Many grinning properties.
     Players there will be, and those
     Base in action as in clothes:
     Yet with strutting they will please
     The incurious villages.
     Neer the dying of the day,
     There will be a cudgell-play,
     Where a coxcomb will be broke,
     Ere a good _word_ can be spoke:
     But the anger ends all here,
     Drencht in ale, or drown'd in beere.
     Happy Rusticks, best content
     With the cheapest merriment:
     And possesse no other feare,
     Than to want the _Wake_ next yeare."[212:A]

Of the pedlars or hawkers who, in general, formed a constituent part of
these _village-wakes_ an accurate idea may be drawn from the character
of the pedlar Autolycus, in the _Winter's Tale_ of Shakspeare, who is
delineated with the poet's customary strength of pencil, rich humour,
and fidelity to nature. The wares in which he dealt are curiously
enumerated in the following passages:—

    "_Serv._ He hath songs, for men, or women, of all sizes; no
    milliner can so fit his customers with gloves[212:B]: he has
    the prettiest love-songs for maids; he hath ribands of all
    the colours i' the rainbow; points more than all the lawyers
    in Bohemia can learnedly handle, though they come to him
    by the gross; inkles, caddisses[212:C], cambricks, lawns:
    why, he sings them over, as they were gods or goddesses: you
    would think, a smock were a she-angel; he so chants to the
    sleeve-hand, and the work about the square on't."[212:D]


    "_Enter Autolycus, singing._

    "Lawn, as white as driven snow;
     Cyprus, black as e'er was crow;
     Gloves as sweet as damask roses;
     Masks for faces, and for noses;
     Bugle bracelet, necklace-amber,
     Perfume for a lady's chamber:
     Golden quoifs, and stomachers,
     For my lads to give their dears;
     Pins and poking-sticks of steel,
     What maids lack from head to heel:
     Come, buy of me, come; come buy, come buy;
     Buy, lads, or else your lasses cry;
     Come buy, &c."[213:A]

At the close of the feast Autolycus is represented as re-entering,
and declaring "Ha, ha! what a fool honesty is! and trust, his sworn
brother, a very simple gentleman! I have sold all my trumpery; not
a counterfeit stone, not a riband, glass, pomander[213:B], brooch,
table-book, ballad, knife, tape, glove, shoe-tye, bracelet, horn-ring,
to keep my pack from fasting: they throng who should buy first; as
if my trinkets had been hallowed, and brought a benediction to the
buyer."[213:C]

In the North, the Village-Wake is still kept up, under the title of
_The Hopping_, a word derived from the Anglo-Saxon, and thus applied,
because dancing was the favourite amusement of these meetings. The
reign of Elizabeth, indeed, was marked by a peculiar propensity to
this exercise, and neither wake nor feast could be properly celebrated
without the country lads and lasses footing it on the green or yard, or
in bad weather, in the Manor-hall.

In an old play, entitled "A Woman Killed With Kindness," the production
of Thomas Heywood, and acted in 1604, is to be found a very humorous
description of one of these _Hoppings_, and particularly curious, as it
enumerates the names of the dances then in vogue among these rustic
performers. The poet, after remarking that now

    ————————— "the mad lads
    And country lasses, every mother's child,
    With nosegays and bride laces in their hats,
    Dance all their country measures, rounds and jigs,"

thus introduces his couples:

    "_Jenkin._ Come, Nick, take you Joan Miniver to trace withal;
    Jack Slime, traverse you with Sisly Milk-pail; I will take Jane
    Trubkin, and Roger Brickbat shall have Isabel Motley; and now
    strike up; we'll have a crash here in the yard.—

    _Jack Slime._ Foot it quickly; if the music overcome not my
    melancholy, I shall quarrel; and if they do not suddenly strike
    up, I shall presently strike them down.

    _Jen._ No quarrelling, for God's sake: truly, if you do, I
    shall set a knave between ye.

    _Jack Slime._ I come to dance, not to quarrel; come, what shall
    it be? Rogero?

    _Jen._ Rogero! no; we will dance 'The Beginning of the World.'

    _Sisly._ I love no dance so well, as 'John, come kiss me now.'

    _Nicholas._ I have ere now deserved a cushion; call for the
    Cushion-dance.

    _R. Brick._ For my part, I like nothing so well as 'Tom Tyler.'

    _Jen._ No; we'll have 'The hunting of the Fox.'

    _Jack Slime._ 'The Hay! the Hay!' there's nothing like 'The
    Hay.'

    _Nich._ I have said, do say, and will say again.

    _Jen._ Every man agree to have it as Nick says.

    _All._ Content.

    _Nich._ It hath been, it now is, and it shall be.

    _Sisly._ What? Mr. Nicholas? What?

    _Nich._ 'Put on your smock a Monday.'

    _Jen._ So, the dance will come cleanly off: come, for God's
    sake, agree of something; if you like not that, put it to the
    musicians; or let me speak for all, and we'll have 'Sellenger's
    Round.'

    _All._ That, that, that!

    _Nich._ No, I am resolved, thus it shall be. First take hands,
    then take ye to your heels.

    _Jen._ Why, would you have us run away?

    _Nich._ No; but I would have you shake your heels. Music,
    strike up.
                                       _They dance._"[214:A]

The _Fair_ or greater wake was usually held, as hath been observed, in
a central situation, and its period and duration were, as at present,
proclaimed by law. It was a scene of extensive business as well as
of pleasure; for before provincial cities had attained either wealth
or consequence, all communication between them was difficult, and
neither the necessaries nor the elegances of life could be procured
but at stated times, and at fixed depôts. It was usual, therefore, to
go fifty or a hundred miles to one of these fairs, in order both to
purchase goods and accommodations for the ensuing year, and to dispose
of the superfluous products of art or cultivation. In the reign of
Henry VI. the monks of the priories of Maxtoke in Warwickshire, and
of Bicester in Oxfordshire, laid in their annual stores of common
necessaries at Sturbridge Fair in Cambridgeshire, at least one hundred
miles distant, and notwithstanding the two cities of Oxford and
Coventry were in their immediate neighbourhood.[215:A] In the reign of
Henry VIII., it appears, from the Household-Book of Henry Percy, fifth
Earl of Northumberland, that His Lordship's family were supplied with
necessaries for the whole year from fairs. "He that stands charged
with my Lordes House for the houll Yeir, if he maye possible, shall
be at all Faires, where the greice Emptions shall be boughte for the
House for the houll Yeir, as Wine, Wax, Beiffes, Muttons, Wheite and
Malt[215:B];" and, in the reign of Elizabeth, Tusser recommends to his
farmer the same plan, both for purchase and sale:

    "At Bartilmewtide, or at Sturbridge faire,
       buie that as is needful, thy house to repaire:
     Then sel to thy profit, both butter and cheese,
       who buieth it sooner, the more he shall leese."[215:C]

That this custom prevailed until the commencement of the eighteenth
century, and to nearly the same extent, is evident from a note on the
just quoted lines of Tusser by Mr. Hilman. "Sturbridge Fair," says
he, "stocks the country (namely, Norfolk, Suffolk, and Essex,) with
clothes, and all other houshold necessaries; and they (the farmers)
again, sell their butter and cheese, and whatever else remains on their
hands; nay, there the shopkeepers supply themselves with divers sorts
of commodities."

In the third year, indeed, of James I., Sturbridge Fair began to
acquire such celebrity, that hackney coaches attended it from London;
and it subsequently became so extensive that for several years not less
than sixty coaches have been known to ply at this fair, then esteemed
the largest in England.

Sturbridge Fair is still annually proclaimed, but now in such a state
of decline, that its extinction, at least in a commercial light, cannot
be far distant.

To these brief notices of wakes and fairs, it may be necessary to
subjoin a slight detail of the state of _Country-Inns_ and Ale-houses
during the age of Shakspeare.

To "take mine ease in mine inn" is a proverbial phrase, which the
poet has placed in the mouth of Falstaff[216:A], and which implies a
degree of comfort which has always been the peculiar attribute of an
English house of public entertainment. That it was not less felt and
enjoyed in Shakspeare's time than in our own, is very apparent from the
accounts which have been left us by Harrison and Fynes Moryson; the
former writing towards the close of the sixteenth, and the latter at
the commencement of the seventeenth century. These descriptions, which
are curiously faithful and highly interesting, paint the provincial
hostelries of England as in a most flourishing state, and, according
to Harrison, indeed, greatly superior to those which existed in the
metropolis.

"Those townes," says the historian, "that we call thorowfaires, have
great and sumptuous innes builded in them, for the receiving of such
travellers 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 goodman of the house dooth chalenge a lordlie authoritie over
his ghests, but clean otherwise, sith every man may use his inne as
his owne house in England, and have for his monie how great or little
varietie of vittels, and what other service himselfe shall thinke
expedient to call for. Our innes are also verie well furnished with
naperie, bedding, and tapisserie, especiallie with naperie: for beside
the linnen used at the tables, which is commonlie washed dailie, is
such and so much as belongeth unto the estate and calling of the ghest.
Ech commer is sure to lie in cleane sheets, wherein no man hath béene
lodged since they came from the landresse, or out of the water wherein
they were last washed. If the traveller have an horsse, his bed dooth
cost him nothing, but if he go on foote he is sure to paie a penie for
the same: but whether he be horsseman or footman if his chamber be once
appointed he may carie the kaie with him, as of his owne house so long
as he lodgeth there. It he loose oughts whilest he abideth in the inne,
the host is bound by a generall custome to restore the damage, so that
there is no greater securitie anie where for travellers than in the
gretest ins of England." He then, after enumerating the depredations
to which travellers are subject on the road, completes the picture by
the following additional touches. "In all innes we have plentie of ale,
biere, and sundrie kinds of wine, and such is the capacitie of some of
them, that they are able to lodge two hundred or three hundred persons,
and their horsses at ease, and thereto with a verie short warning make
such provision for their diet, as to him that is unacquainted withall
may seeme to be incredible. And it is a world to see how ech owner of
them contendeth with other for goodnesse of interteinment of their
ghests, as about finesse and change of linnen, furniture of bedding,
beautie of rooms, service at the table, costlinesse of plate, strength
of drinke, varietie of wines, or well using of horsses. Finallie
there is not so much omitted among them as the gorgeousnes of their
verie signes at their doores, wherein some doo consume thirtie or
fortie pounds, a meere vanitie in mine opinion, but so vaine will they
needs be, and that not onelie to give some outward token of the inne
keeper's welth, but also to procure good ghests to the frequenting of
their houses, in hope there to be well used."[218:A]

"As soone as a passenger comes to an inne," remarks Moryson, "the
servants run to him, and one takes his horse and walkes him till he be
cold, then rubs him down, and gives him meat. Another servant gives
the passenger his private chamber, and kindles his fire; the third
pulls off his bootes and makes them cleane; then the host or hostess
visits him; and if he will eate with the hoste, or at a common table
with others, his meale will cost him sixpence, or in some places but
four-pence; but if he will eate in his chamber he commands what meate
he will according to his appetite; yea the kitchin is open to him to
order the meate to be dressed as he likes beste. After having eaten
what he pleases, he may, with credit, set by a part for the next day's
breakfast. His bill will then be written for him, and, should he object
to any charge, the host is ready to alter it."[218:B]

Taverns and ale-houses were frequently distinguished in Shakspeare's
time by a _bush or tuft of ivy_ at their doors; a custom which more
particularly prevailed in Warwickshire, and is still practised,
remarks Mr. Ritson, in this county "at statute-hirings, wakes, &c.
by people who sell ale at no other time."[218:C] The poet alludes
to this observance in his Epilogue to _As You Like It_:—"If it be
true," he says, "that _Good wine needs no bush_, 'tis true, that
a good play needs no epilogue: _Yet to good wine they do use good
bushes_."[218:D] Several old plays mention the same custom, and Bishop
Earle, in his _Microcosmography_, tells us that "A Tavern is a degree,
or (if you will) a pair of stairs above an ale-house, where men are
drunk with more credit and apology. If the vintner's rose be at door,
it is a sign sufficient, but the absence of this is supplied by the
_ivy-bush_."[218:E]

That houses of this description, the whole furniture of which,
according to Earle, consisted but of a stool, a table, and a [219:A]pot
de chambre, were as numerous two hundred years ago as at present, and
the scene of the same disgusting and intemperate orgies, is but too
apparent from the invective of Robert Burton:—"See the mischief," he
exclaims; "many men knowing that merry company is the only medicine
against melancholy, will therefore neglect their business, and in
another extream, spend all their dayes among good fellows, in a Tavern
or an Ale-house, and know not otherwise how to bestow their time but
in drinking; malt-worms, men fishes, or water-snakes, _Qui bibunt
solum ranarum more, nihil comedentes_, like so many frogs in a puddle.
'Tis their sole exercise to eat, and drink; to sacrifice to _Volupia_,
_Rumina_, _Edulica_, _Potina_, _Mellona_, is all their religion. They
wish for _Philoxenus'_ neck, _Jupiter's trinoctium_, and that the sun
would stand still as in _Joshua's_ time, to satisfie their lust, that
they might _dies noctesque pergræcari et bibere_. Flourishing wits,
and men of good parts, good fashion, and good worth, basely prostitute
themselves to every rogues company, to take tobacco and drink, to roar
and sing scurrile songs in base places.

    "_Invenies aliquem cum percussore jacentem,
     Permistum nautis, aut furibus, aut fugitivis._"
                                                    Juvenal.

"What _Thomas Erastus_ objects to _Paracelsus_, that he would lye
drinking all day long with carr-men and tapsters in a Brothel-house, is
too frequent amongst us, with men of better note: like _Timocreon_ of
_Rhodes_, _multa bibens, et multa vorans_, &c. They drown their wits
and seeth their brains in ale."[219:B]

Few ceremonies are better calculated to throw light on the manners and
customs of a country, than those attendant on WEDDINGS and BURIALS,
and with these, as they occurred in _rural life_, during the reigns of
Elizabeth and James, we shall close this chapter.

The style of courtship which prevailed in Shakspeare's time, may be
drawn, with considerable accuracy, from the numerous love-dialogues
interspersed throughout his plays. From these specimens not much
disparity, either in language or manner, appears to have existed
between the addresses of the courtier and the country-gentleman; the
female character was indeed, at this period, greatly less important
than at present; the blandishments of gallantry, and the elegancies of
compliment were little known, and consequently the expression of the
tender passion admitted of neither much variety nor much polish. The
amatory dialogues of Hamlet, Hotspur, and Henry the Fifth, are not more
refined than those which occur between Master Fenton and Anne Page,
in the _Merry Wives of Windsor_; between Lorenzo and Jessica in the
_Merchant of Venice_, and between Orlando and Rosalind, in _As You Like
It_. These last, which may be considered as instances taken from the
middle class of life, together with a few drawn from the lower rank
of rural manners, such as the courtship of Touchstone and Audrey, and
of Silvius and Phœbe, in _As You Like It_, will sufficiently apply
to the illustration of our present subject; but it must be remarked
that, in point of fancy, sentiment, and simplicity, the most pleasing
love-scenes in Shakspeare are those that take place between Romeo and
Juliet, and between Florizel and Perdita; the latter especially present
a most lovely and engaging picture, on the female side, of pastoral
naïveté and sweetness; and will, in part, serve to show, how far, in
the opinion of Shakspeare, refinement was, at that time, compatible, as
a just representation of nature, with cottage-life.

_Betrothing_ or _plighting of troth_, as an _affiance_ or _promise of
future marriage_, was still, there is reason to suppose, often observed
in Shakspeare's time, especially in the country, and as a _private_
rite. The interchange of rings was the ceremony used on this occasion,
to which the poet refers in his _Two Gentlemen of Verona_:

    "_Julia._ Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake.
                                          (_Giving a ring._)

     _Pro._ Why then we'll make exchange; here take you this.

     _Jul._ And seal the bargain with a holy kiss."[220:A]

The _public_ celebration of this contract, or what was termed
_espousals_[221:A], was formerly in this country, as well as upon the
continent, a constant preliminary to marriage. It usually took place in
the church, and though nearly, if not altogether, disused, towards the
close of the fifteenth century, is minutely described by Shakspeare in
his _Twelfth Night_. Olivia, addressing Sebastian, says,—

    "Now go with me, and with this holy man,
     Into the chantry by: there _before him_
     And underneath that _consecrated roof
     Plight me the full assurance of your faith_;
     That my most jealous and too doubtful soul
     May live at peace. He shall conceal it
     Whiles you are willing it shall come to note;
     What time we will our _celebration_ keep
     According to my birth."[221:B]

A description of what passed at this ceremony of espousals or
betrothing, is given by the priest himself in the first scene of the
subsequent act, who calls it

    "A contract of eternal bond of love
     Confirm'd by _mutual joinder of your hands_,
     Attested by the _holy close of lips_,
     Strengthened by _interchangement of your rings_;
     And all the ceremony of this compact
     Seal'd in my function, by _my testimony_."[221:C]

These four observances, therefore; 1st, _the joining of hands_; 2dly,
the _mutually given kiss_; 3dly, the _interchangement of rings_; and
4thly, the _testimony of witnesses_: appear to have been essential
parts of the public ceremony of betrothing or espousals, which usually
preceded the marriage rite by the term of forty days. The oath indeed,
administered on this occasion, was to the following effect:—"You swear
by God and his holy saints herein and by all the saints of Paradise,
that you will take this woman whose name is N. to wife within forty
days, if holy church will permit." The priest then joining their
hands, said—"And thus you affiance yourselves;" to which the parties
answered,—"Yes, sir."[222:A] So frequently has Shakspeare referred to
this custom of troth-plighting, that, either privately or publickly,
we must conclude it to have been of common usage in his days: thus, in
_Measure for Measure_, Mariana says to Angelo,

    "This is the _hand_, which with a _vow'd contract_,
     Was fast belock'd in thine:"[222:B]

and then addressing the duke, she exclaims,

    "As there is sense in truth, and truth in virtue,
     I am _affianc'd_ this man's wife."[222:C]

So in _King John_, King Philip, and the Arch-duke of Austria,
encouraging the connection of the Dauphin and Blanch:

    "_K. Phil._ It likes us well;—Young princes, _close your hands_.

     _Aust._ And your _lips_ too; for, I am well assur'd,
             That I did so, when I was first _assur'd_."[222:D]

One immoral consequence arising from this custom of public betrothing
was, that the parties, depending upon the priest as a witness,
frequently cohabited as man and wife. It would appear, indeed, from a
passage in Shakspeare, that the ceremony of troth-plight, at least
among the lower orders, was considered as a sufficient warrant for
intercourse of this kind; for he makes the jealous Leontes, in his
_Winter's Tale_, exclaim,

    "My wife's a hobby horse; deserves a name
     As rank as any flax-wench, that _puts to
     Before her troth-plight_."[223:A]

We must not forget, however, to remark, while on the subject of
betrothing, that a singular proof of delicacy and attention to the fair
sex, on this occasion, during the sixteenth century, has been quoted by
Mr. Strutt, from a manuscript in the Harleian library, and which runs
thus: "By the civil law, whatever is given _ex sponsalitia largitate,
betwixt them that are promised in marriage_, hath a condition, for the
most part silent, that it may be had again if marriage ensue not; but
if the man should have had a kiss for his money, he should lose one
half of what he gave. Yet with the woman it is otherwise; for kissing
or not kissing, whatever she gave, she may have it again."[223:B]

Concerning the customs attendant on the celebration of the _marriage
rite_, among the middle and inferior ranks, in the country, during
the period which we are endeavouring to illustrate, much information,
of the description we want, may be found in Shakspeare and his
contemporaries.

The procession accompanying a rural bride, of some consequence, or of
the middle rank, to church, has been thus given us:—"The bride being
attired in a gown of sheep's russet, and a kirtle of fine worsted, her
hair attired with a 'billement of gold, and her hair as yellow as gold
hanging down behind her, which was curiously combed and plaited, she
was led to church between two sweet boys, with bride laces and rosemary
tied about their silken sleeves. There was a fair bride-cup of silver,
gilt, carried before her, wherein was a goodly branch of rosemary,
gilded very fair, hung about with silken ribbands of all colours.
Musicians came next, then a groupe of maidens, some bearing great
bride-cakes, others garlands of wheat finely gilded; and thus they
passed on to the church."[224:A]

Rosemary being supposed to strengthen the memory, was considered as an
emblem of fidelity, and, at this period, was almost as constantly used
at weddings as at funerals: "There's rosemary," says Ophelia, "that's
for remembrance."[224:B] Many passages, illustrative of this usage at
weddings, might be taken from our old plays, during the reign of James
I., but two or three will suffice.

    —— "will I be _wed_ this morning,
    Thou shalt not be there, nor once be graced with
    A piece of _rosemary_."[224:C]

    "Were the _rosemary_ branches dipp'd, and all
     The hippocras and cakes eat and drunk off;
     Were these two arms encompass'd with the hands
     Of bachelors to lead me to the church."[224:D]

    "_Phis._ Your master is to be married to-day?

     _Trim._ Else all this _rosemary_ is lost."[224:E]

Of the peculiarities attending the marriage-ceremony within the
church, a pretty good idea may be formed from the ludicrous wedding
of Catharine and Petruchio in the _Taming of the Shrew_. It appears
from this description, that it was usual to drink wine at the altar
immediately after the service was closed, a custom which was followed
by the Bridegroom's saluting the bride.

    "He calls for wine:—A health, quoth he; as if
     He had been aboard, carousing to his mates
     After a storm:—Quaff'd off the muscadel,
     And threw the sops all in the sexton's face;—
     This done, he took the bride about the neck;
     And kiss'd her lips with such a clamorous smack,
     That, at the parting, all the church did echo."[225:A]

In the account of the procession just quoted, we find that a bride-cup
was carried before the bride; out of this all the persons present,
together with the new-married couple, were expected to drink in the
church. This custom was prevalent, in Shakspeare's time, among every
description of people, from the regal head to the thorough-paced
rustic; accordingly we are informed, on the testimony of an assisting
witness, that the same ceremony took place at the marriage of the
Elector Palatine to King James's daughter, on the 14th day of February,
1612-13: there was "in conclusion," he relates, "a joy pronounced by
the king and queen, and seconded with congratulation of the lords there
present, which crowned with draughts of _Ippocras_ out of a _great
golden bowle_, as an health to the prosperity of the marriage, (began
by the prince Palatine and answered by the princess.) After which were
served up by six or seven barons so many bowles filled with wafers, so
much of that work was consummate."[225:B]

This _bride-cup_ or _bowl_ was, therefore, frequently termed the
_knitting_ or _contracting cup_: thus in Ben Jonson's _Magnetick
Lady_, _Compass_ says to _Practise_, after enquiring for a licence,

    ———————— "Mind
    The Parson's pint t'engage him—
    A _knitting-cup_ there must be;"[226:A]

and Middleton, in one of his Comedies, gives us the following line:—

    "Even when my lip touch'd the _contracting cup_."[226:B]

The salutation of the Bride at the altar was a very ancient custom, and
is referred to by several of the contemporaries of Shakspeare; Marston,
for instance, represents one of his female characters saying,

    "The _kisse thou gav'st me in the church_, here take."[226:C]

It was still customary at this period, to bless the bridal bed at
night, in order to dissipate the supposed illusions of the Devil; a
superstitious rite of which Mr. Douce has favoured us with the form,
taken from the Manual for the use of Salisbury in the 13th[226:D]
century. It is noticed by Chaucer also in his _Marchantes Tale_, and is
mentioned as one of the marriage-ceremonies in the "Articles ordained
by King Henry VII. for the regulation of his Household."[226:E]
Shakspeare alludes to this ridiculous fashion in the person of Oberon,
who tells his fairies,

    "To the best _bride-bed_ will we,
     Which by us shall blessed be."[226:F]

To this brief description of marriage-ceremonies, it will be necessary
to subjoin some account of those which accompanied the _mere rustic_
wedding, or _Bride-ale_; and fortunately we have a most curious
picture of the kind preserved by Laneham, in his _Letter on the Queens
Entertainment at Kenelworth Castle_, in 1575, one part of which was the
representation of a _country Bride-ale_ set in order in the Tylt-yard,
and exhibited in the great court of the castle. This grotesque piece
of pageantry, a faithful draught of rural costume, as it then existed,
must have afforded Her Majesty no small degree of amusement.

"Thus were they marshalled. First, all the lustie lads and bold
bachelors of the parish, suitably every wight with his blue buckram
bridelace upon a branch of green broom (cause rosemary is scant there)
tied on his left arm (for a that side lies the heart), and his alder
poll for a spear in his right hand, in martial order ranged on afore,
two and two in a rank: Some with a hat, some in a cap, some a coat,
some a jerkin, some for lightness in his doublet and his hose, clean
trust with a point afore: Some boots and no spurs, he spurs and no
boots, and he neither one nor t'other: One a saddle, another a pail
or a pannel fastened with a cord, for girts wear geazon: And these
to the number of a sixteen wight riding men and well beseem: But the
bridegroom foremost, in his father's tawny worsted jacket (for his
friends were fain that he should be a bridegroom before the _Queen_), a
fair straw hat with a capital crown, steeple-wise on his head: a pair
of harvest gloves on his hands, as a sign of good husbandry: A pen and
inkhorn at his back; for he would be known to be bookish: lame of a
leg, that in his youth was broken at foot-ball: Well beloved yet of his
mother, that lent him a new mufflar for a napkin that was tied to his
girdle for losing. It was no small sport to mark this minion in his
full appointment, that through good schoolation became as formal in his
action, as had he been a bridegroom indeed; with this special grace by
the way, that ever as he would have framed him the better countenance,
with the worse face he looked.

"Well, Sir, after these horsemen, a lively morrice-dance, according
to the ancient manner; six dancers, maid-marian, and the fool. Then
three pretty puzels, (maids or damsels from _pucelle_) as bright as
a breast of bacon, of a thirty year old a piece, that carried three
special spice-cakes of a bushel of wheat (they had it by measure out of
my _Lords_ backhouse), before the bride: Cicely with set countinance,
and lips so demurely simpering, as it had been a mare cropping of a
thistle. After these, a lovely lubber woorts[228:A], freckle-faced,
red-headed, clean trussed in his doublet and his hose taken up now
indeed by commission, for that he was so loth to come forward, for
reverence belike of his new cut canvass doublet; and would by his
good will have been but a gazer, but found to be a meet actor for
his office: That was to bear the bride-cup, formed of a sweet sucket
barrel, a faire-turned foot set to it, all seemly besilvered and
parcel gilt, adorned with a beautiful branch of broom, gayly begilded
for rosemary; from which, two broad bride laces of red and yellow
buckeram begilded, and gallantly streaming by such wind as there was,
for he carried it aloft: This gentle cup-bearer, yet had his freckled
physiognomy somewhat unhappily infested as he went, by the busy flies,
that flocked about the bride-cup for the sweetness of the sucket that
it savoured on; but he, like a tall fellow, withstood their malice
stoutly (see what manhood may do), beat them away, killed them by
scores, stood to his charge, and marched on in good order.

"Then followed the worshipful bride, led (after the country manner)
between two ancient parishioners, honest townsmen. But a stale
stallion, and a well spred, (hot as the weather was) God wot, and ill
smelling was she; a thirty-five year old, of colour brown-bay not very
beautiful indeed, but ugly, foul ill favoured; yet marvellous vain of
the office, because she heard say she should dance before the _Queen_,
in which feat she thought she would foot it as finely as the best:
Well, after this bride, came there by two and two, a dozen damsels for
bride-maids; that for favor, attyre, for fashion and cleanliness, were
as meet for such a bride as a treen ladle for a porridge-pot; more (but
for fear of carrying all clean) had been appointed, but these few were
enow."[229:A]

From a passage in Ben Jonson's _Tale of a Tub_, we learn that the dress
of the downright rustic, on his wedding day, was as follows:

    "He had on a lether doublet, with long points,
     And a paire of pin'd-up breech's, like pudding bags:
     With yellow stockings, and his hat turn'd up
     With a silver claspe, on his leere side."[229:B]

Of the ceremonies attendant on _Christenings_, it will be necessary to
mention two that prevailed at this period, and which have since fallen
into disuse. Shakspeare, who generally transfers the customs of his own
times to those periods of which he is treating, represents Henry VIII.
saying to Cranmer, whom he had appointed Godfather to Elizabeth,

    "Come, come, my lord, you'd spare your _spoons_;"[230:A]

and again in the dialogue between the porter and his man:

    "_Port._ On my Christian conscience, this one christening will
    beget a thousand; here will be father, godfather, and all
    together.

    "_Man._ The _spoons_ will be the bigger, sir."[230:B]

In the days of Elizabeth and her predecessor, Mary, it was usual
for the sponsors at christenings to present the child with silver
spoons gilt, on the handles of which were engraved the figures of the
apostles, whence they were commonly called _apostle-spoons_: thus
Ben Jonson in _Bartholomew Fair_; "and all this for the hope of two
_apostle-spoons_, to suffer."[230:C] The opulent frequently gave a
complete set of spoons, namely, the twelve apostles; those less rich,
selected the four evangelists, and the poorer class were content to
offer a single spoon, or, at most, two, on which were carved their
favourite saint or saints.

Among the higher ranks, in the reign of Henry VIII. the practice at
christenings was to give _cups_ or bowls of gold or silver. Accordingly
Holinshed, describing the christening of Elizabeth, relates that "the
archbishop of Canturburie gave to the princesse a standing cup of gold:
the dutches of Norfolke gave to her a standing cup of gold, fretted
with pearle: the marchionesse of Dorset gave three gilt bolles, pounced
with a cover: and the marchionesse of Excester gave three standing
bolles graven, all gilt with a cover."[230:D]

In the Harleian MS. Vol. 6395, occurs a scarce pamphlet, entitled
_Merry Passages and Jeasts_, from which Dr. Birch transcribed the
following curious anecdote, as illustrative both of the custom of
offering spoons, and of the intimacy which subsisted between Shakspeare
and Jonson. "Shakspeare," says the author of this collection, who names
_Donne_ as his authority for the story, "was godfather to one of Ben
Jonson's children, and after the christening, being in deepe study,
Jonson came to cheer him up, and ask'd him why he was so melancholy: No
'faith Ben, says he, not I; but I have been considering a great while
what should be the fittest gift for me to bestow upon my godchild,
and I have resolved at last. I pr'ythee what? says he.—I'faith, Ben,
I'll give him a douzen good _latten_ (Latin) _spoons_, and thou shalt
translate them."[231:A] It was not until the close of the seventeenth
century, that this practice of spoon-giving at christenings ceased as a
general custom.

Another baptismal ceremony, now laid aside, was the use of the
chrisome, or white cloth, which was put on the child after the
performance of the sacred rite. To this usage Dame Quickly alludes
in describing the death of Falstaff, though, in accordance with her
character, she corrupts the term: "'A made a finer end, and went away,
an it had been any _christom_ child."[231:B]

Previous to the Reformation, oil was used, as well as water, in
baptism, or rather a kind of mixture of oil and balsam, which in the
Greek was called Χρισμα; hence the white cloth worn on this occasion,
as an emblem of purity, was denominated the _chrismale_ or
_chrism-cloth_. During the era of using this holy unction, with which
the priest made the sign of the cross, on the breast, shoulders, and
head of the child, the _chrismale_ was worn only for seven days, as
symbolical, it is said, of the seven ages of life; but after the
Reformation, the oil being omitted, it was kept on the child until the
purification of the mother, when, after the ceremony of churching, it
was returned to the minister, by whom it had been originally supplied.
If the child died during the month of wearing the chrisome-cloth, it
was buried in it, and children thus situated were called in the bills
of mortality _chrisoms_. This practice, which was common in the days
of Shakspeare, continued in use for nearly a century afterwards; for
Blount in his _Glossography_, 1678, explains the word _chrisoms_ as
meaning such children as die within the month of birth, because during
that time they use to wear the chrisom-cloth.[232:A]

We shall now proceed to consider some of the peculiarities accompanying
the _Funeral Rites_ of this period; and, in the first place, we shall
notice the _passing-bell_. This was rung at an early era of the church,
to solicit the prayers of all good christians for the welfare of the
soul _passing_ into another world: thus Durandus, who wrote towards the
close of the twelfth century, says: "Verum _aliquo moriente_, campanæ
debent pulsari, _ut populus hoc audiens, oret pro illo_:" "when any one
is _dying_, the bells must be tolled, _that the people may put up their
prayers for him_."[232:B] This custom of ringing a bell for a soul just
departing, which is _now_ relinquished, the bell only tolling after
death, we have reason to believe was still observed in Shakspeare's
time; for he makes Northumberland in _King Henry IV._ remark on the
"bringer of unwelcome news," that

    ——————————— "his tongue
    Sounds ever after as a sullen bell,
    Remember'd knolling a _departing_ friend."[232:C]

Another benefit formerly supposed to be derived from the sounding of
the passing-bell, and which, from the scene of Cardinal Beaufort's
death, was probably a part of Shakspeare's creed, consisted in the
discomfiture of the evil spirits, who were supposed to surround the bed
of the dying person; and who, terrified by the tolling of the holy
bell, were compelled to keep aloof; accordingly Durandus mentions it
as one of the effects of bell-ringing, _ut dæmones timentes[233:A]
fugiant_; and in the Golden Legende, printed by Wynkyn de Worde 1498,
it is observed that "the evill spirytes that ben in the regyon of the
ayre, doubte moche when they here the bells rongen: and this is the
cause why the belles ben rongen—to the ende that the feindes and
wycked spirytes shold be abashed and flee."[233:B]

That these opinions, indeed, relative to the _passing-bell_, continued
to prevail, as things of general belief, during the greater part of
the seventeenth century, is evident from the works of the pious Bishop
Taylor, in which are to be found several forms of prayer for the
souls of the _departing_, to be offered up _during the tolling of the
passing-bell_. In these the violence of Hell is deprecated, and it is
petitioned, that the spirits of darkness may be driven far from the
couch of the dying sinner.[233:C]

So common, indeed, was this practice, that almost every individual had
an exclamation or form of prayer ready to be recited on hearing the
passing-bell, whence the following proverbial rhyme:

    "When the Bell begins to toll
     Cry, _Lord have mercy on the soul_."

In the _Vittoria Corombona_ of Webster, this custom is alluded to in a
manner singularly wild and striking. Cornelia says:

    "_Cor._ I'll give you a saying which my grand-mother
            Was wont, when she _heard the bell_, to sing o'er unto her
                lute.

     _Ham._ Do an you will, do.

     _Cor._ Call for the robin-red-breast, and the wren,
            Since o'er shady groves they hover,
            And with leaves and flowers do cover
            The friendless bodies of unburied men.
            Call unto his funeral dole
            The ant, the field-mouse, and the mole,
            To raise him hillocks that shall keep him warm,
            And (when gay tombs are robb'd) sustain no harm,
            But keep the wolf far thence: that's foe to men,
            For with his nails he'll dig them up again."
                   _Ancient British Drama_, vol. iii. p. 41.

Even so late as the commencement of the eighteenth century, it appears
that this custom of praying during the passing-bell still lingered in
some parts of the country; for Mr. Bourne, the first edition of whose
book was published in 1725, after vindicating the practice, adds,—"I
know several religious families in this place (Newcastle), and I hope
it is so in other places too, who always observe it, whenever the
melancholy season offers; and therefore it will at least sometimes
happen, when we put up our prayers constantly at the tolling of the
bell, that we shall pray for a soul departing. And though it be
granted, that it will oftener happen otherwise, as the regular custom
is so little followed; yet that can be no harmful praying for the
dead."[234:A]

Immediately after death a ceremony commenced, the most offensive
part of which has not been laid aside for more than half a century.
This was called the _Licke_ or _Lake-wake_, a term derived from the
Anglo-Saxon _Lic_ a corpse, and _Wæcce_ a _wake_ or _watching_. It
originally consisted of a meeting of the friends and relations of the
deceased, for the purpose of watching by the body from the moment
it ceased to breathe, to its exportation to the grave; a duty which
was at first performed with solemnity and piety, accompanied by the
singing of psalms and the recitation of the virtues of the dead. It
speedily, however, degenerated into a scene of levity, of feasting, and
intoxication; to such a degree, indeed, that it was thought necessary
at a provincial synod held in London during the reign of Edward III. to
issue a canon for the restriction of the watchers to the near relations
and most intimate friends of the deceased, and only to such of these
as offered to repeat a fixed number of psalms for the benefit of his
soul.[235:A] To this regulation little attention, we apprehend, was
paid; for the Lake-wake appears to have been observed as a meeting of
revelry during the whole of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries;
and Mr. Bourne, so late as the year 1725, declares, that it was _then_
"a scene of sport and drinking and lewdness."[235:B]

In Scotland during the period of which we are treating, and even down
to the rebellion of 1745, the Lake-wake was observed with still greater
form and effect than in England, though not often with a better moral
result. Mr. Pennant describing it, when speaking of the Highland
customs, under the mistaken etymology of _Late_-wake, says, that the
evening after the death of any person, the relations or friends of
the deceased met at the house, attended by a bag-pipe or fiddle; the
nearest of kin, be it wife, son, or daughter, opened a melancholy ball,
dancing and _greeting_, i. e. crying violently at the same time; and
this continued till day-light, but with such gambols and frolics among
the younger part of the company, that the loss which occasioned them
was often more than supplied by the consequences of that night.[235:C]
Mrs. Grant, however, in her lately published work on the Superstitions
of the Highlanders, has given us a more favourable account of this
ancient custom, which she has connected with a wild traditionary tale
of much moral interest.

A peasant of Glen Banchar, a dreary and secluded recess in the central
Highlands, "was fortunate in all respects but one. He had three very
fine children, who all, in succession, died after having been weaned,
though, before, they gave every promise of health and firmness. Both
parents were much afflicted; but the father's grief was clamorous and
unmanly. They resolved that the next should be suckled for two years,
hoping, by this, to avoid the repetition of such a misfortune. They did
so; and the child, by living longer, only took a firmer hold of their
affections, and furnished more materials for sorrowful recollection. At
the close of the second year, he followed his brothers; and there were
no bounds to the affliction of the parents.

"There are, however, in the economy of Highland life, certain duties
and courtesies which are indispensable; and for the omission of which
nothing can apologise. One of those is, to call in all their friends,
and feast them at the time of the greatest family distress. The
death of the child happened late in spring, when sheep were abroad
in the more inhabited _straths_; but, from the blasts in that high
and stormy region, were still confined to the cot. In a dismal snowy
evening, the man, unable to stifle his anguish, went out, lamenting
aloud, for a lamb to treat his friends with at the _Late-wake_. At
the door of the cot, however, he found a stranger standing before the
entrance. He was astonished, in such a night, to meet a person so far
from any frequented place. The stranger was plainly attired; but had
a countenance expressive of singular mildness and benevolence, and,
addressing him in a sweet, impressive voice, asked him what he did
there amidst the tempest. He was filled with awe, which he could not
account for, and said, that he came for a lamb. 'What kind of lamb do
you mean to take?' said the stranger. 'The very best I can find,' he
replied, 'as it is to entertain my friends; and I hope you will share
of it.'—'Do your sheep make any resistance when you take away the
lamb, or any disturbance afterwards?'—'Never,' was the answer. 'How
differently am I treated!' said the traveller. 'When I come to visit
my sheepfold, I take, as I am well entitled to do, the best lamb to
myself; and my ears are filled with the clamour of discontent by these
ungrateful sheep, whom I have fed, watched, and protected.'

"He looked up in amaze; but the vision was fled. He went however for
the lamb, and brought it home with alacrity. He did more: It was the
custom of these times—a custom, indeed, which was not extinct till
after 1745—for people to dance at _Late-wakes_. It was a mournful kind
of movement, but still it was dancing. The nearest relation of the
deceased often began the ceremony weeping; but did, however, begin it,
to give the example of fortitude and resignation. This man, on other
occasions, had been quite unequal to the performance of this duty; but
at this time he, immediately on coming in, ordered music to begin,
and danced the solitary measure appropriate to such occasions. The
reader must have very little sagacity or knowledge of the purport and
consequences of visions, who requires to be told, that many sons were
born, lived, and prospered afterwards in this reformed family."[237:A]

Some vestiges of the _Lake-wake_ still remain at this day in remote
parts of the north of England, especially at the period of _laying
out_, or _streeking_ the corpse, as it is termed; and here it may be
remarked, that in the time of Shakspeare, the practice of _winding the
corse_, or putting on the _winding-sheet_, was a ceremony of a very
impressive kind, and accompanied by the solemn melody of dirges. Some
lines strikingly illustrative of this pious duty, are to be found in
the _White Devil; or Vittoria Corombona_ of Webster, published in 1612.
Francisco, Duke of Florence, tells Flaminio,

    "I found them _winding_ of Marcello's corse;
     And there is such a solemn melody,
     'Tween doleful songs, tears, and sad elegies;
     Such as old grandames, watching by the dead,
     Were wont to outwear the nights with; that, believe me,
     I had no eyes to guide me forth the room,
     They were so o'ercharged with water.——

     _Cornelia, the Moor, and three other ladies, discovered WINDING
     Marcello's corse. A SONG._

     _Cor._ This rosemary is wither'd, pray get fresh;
     I would have these herbs grow up in his grave,
     When I am dead and rotten. Reach the bays,
     I'll tie a garland here about his head:
     'Twill keep my boy from lightning. This _sheet_
     I have kept this twenty years, and every day
     Hallow'd it with my prayers; I did not think
     He should have worn it."[237:B]

Another exquisite passage of this fine old poet alludes to the same
practice—a villain of ducal rank, expiring from the effect of poison,
exclaims,

    "O thou soft natural death! that art joint-twin
     To sweetest slumber!—no rough-bearded comet
     Stares on thy mild departure; the dull owl
     Beats not against thy casement; the hoarse wolf
     Scents not thy carion. _Pity winds thy corse_,
     Whilst horror waits on princes."[238:A]

After the funeral was over, it was customary, among all ranks, to
give a cold, and sometimes a very ostentatious, entertainment to the
mourners. To this usage Shakspeare refers, in the character of Hamlet:

    "Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the _funeral bak'd meats_
     Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables,"

a passage which Mr. Collins has illustrated by the following quotation
from a contemporary writer: "His corpes was with funerall pompe
conveyed to the church, and there sollemnly enterred, nothing omitted
which necessitie or custom could claime; a sermon, a _banquet_, and
like observations."[238:B]

The funeral feast is not yet extinct; it may occasionally be met
with in places remote from the metropolis, and more particularly in
the northern counties among some of the wealthy yeomanry. Mr. Douce
considers the practice as "certainly borrowed from the _cœna feralis_
of the Romans," and adds, "in the North this feast is called an _arval_
or _arvil supper_; and the loaves that are sometimes distributed among
the poor, _arval-bread_. Not many years since one of these arvals was
celebrated in a village in Yorkshire at a public-house, the sign of
which was the family arms of a nobleman whose motto is VIRTUS POST
FUNERA VIVIT. The undertaker, who, though a clerk, was no scholar,
requested a gentleman present to explain to him the meaning of these
Latin words, which he readily and facetiously did in the following
manner; _Virtus_, a parish clerk, _vivit_, lives well, _post funera_,
at an _arval_. The latter word is apparently derived from some lost
Teutonic term that indicated a funeral pile on which the body was
burned in times of Paganism."[239:A]

A few observations must still be added on the pleasing, though now
nearly obsolete, practice of carrying ever-greens and garlands at
funerals, and of decorating the grave with flowers. There is something
so strikingly emblematic, so delightfully soothing in these old
rites, that though the prototype be probably heathen, their disuse
is to be regretted. "The carrying of ivy, or laurel, or rosemary, or
some of those ever-greens," says Bourne, "is an emblem of the soul's
immortality. It is as much as to say, that though the body be dead, yet
the soul is ever-green and always in life: it is not like the body, and
those other greens which die and revive again at their proper seasons,
no autumn nor winter can make a change in it, but it is unalterably the
same, perpetually in life, and never dying.

"The Romans, and other heathens upon this occasion, made use of
cypress, which being once cut, will never flourish nor grow any more,
as an emblem of their dying for ever, and being no more in life.
But instead of that, the antient Christians used the things before
mentioned; they laid them under the corps in the grave, to signify,
that they who die in Christ, do not cease to live. For though, as to
the body they die to the world, yet as to their souls, they live to God.

"And as the carrying of these ever-greens is an emblem of the soul's
immortality, so it is also of the resurrection of the body: for as
these herbs are not entirely plucked up, but only cut down, and will,
at the returning season, revive and spring up again; so the body, like
them, is but cut down for a while, and will rise and shoot up again at
the resurrection."[239:B]

The _bay_ and _rosemary_ were the plants usually chosen, the former
as being said to revive from the root, when apparently dead, and the
latter from its supposed virtue in strengthening the memory:

    "There's rosemary, that's for remembrance."[240:A]

Shakspeare has frequently noticed these ever-greens, garlands, and
flowers, as forming a part of the tributary rites of the departed, as
elegant memorials of the dead: at the funeral of Juliet he adopts the
rosemary:—

    "Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary
     On this fair corse, and as the custom is,
     In all her best array bear her to church."[240:B]

_Garlands_ of flowers were formerly either hung up in country-churches,
as a mark of honour and esteem, over the seats of those who had died
virgins, or were remarkable for chastity and fidelity, or were placed
in the form of crowns on the coffins of the deceased, and buried with
them, for the same purpose. Of these crowns and garlands, which were in
frequent use until the commencement of the last century, a very curious
account has been given by a writer in the Gentleman's Magazine.

"In this nation (as well as others)," he observes, "by the abundant
zeal of our ancestors, virginity was held in great estimation; insomuch
that those which died in that state were rewarded, at their deaths,
with a garland or crown on their heads, denoting their triumphant
victory over the lusts of the flesh. Nay, this honour was extended even
to a widow that had enjoyed but one husband (saith Weever in his Fun.
Mon. p. 12.) And, in the year 1733, the present clerk of the parish
church of Bromley in Kent, by his digging a grave in that church-yard,
close to the east end of the chancel wall, dug up one of these crowns,
or garlands, which is most artificially wrought in fillagree work with
gold and silver wire, in resemblance of myrtle (with which plant the
funebrial garlands of the ancients were composed) whose leaves are
fastened to hoops of large wire of iron, now something corroded with
rust, but both the gold and silver remains to this time very little
different from its original splendor. It was also lined with cloth of
silver, a piece of which, together with part of this curious garland, I
keep as a choice relic of antiquity.

"Besides these crowns, the ancients had also their depository garlands,
the use of which were continued even till of late years, (and
perhaps are still retained in many parts of this nation, for my own
knowledge of these matters extends not above twenty or thirty miles
round London,) which garlands at the funerals of the deceased, were
carried solemnly before the corpse by two maids, and afterward hung
up in some conspicuous place within the church, in memorial of the
departed person, and were (at least all that I have seen) made after
the following manner, viz. the lower rim or circlet, was a broad hoop
of wood, whereunto was fixed, at the sides thereof, part of two other
hoops crossing each other at the top, at right angles, which formed the
upper part, being about one third longer than the width; these hoops
were wholly covered with artificial flowers of paper, dyed horn, or
silk, and more or less beauteous, according to the skill and ingenuity
of the performer. In the vacancy of the inside, from the top, hung
white paper, cut in form of gloves, whereon was wrote the deceased's
name, age, &c. together with long slips of various coloured paper, or
ribbons. These were many times intermixed with gilded or painted empty
shells of blown eggs, as farther ornaments; or, it may be, as emblems
of the bubbles or bitterness of this life; whilst other garlands had
only a solitary hour-glass hanging therein, as a more significant
symbol of mortality.

"About forty years ago, these garlands grew much out of repute, and
were thought, by many, as very unbecoming decorations for so sacred a
place as the church; and at the reparation, or new beautifying several
churches, where I have been concerned, I was obliged, by order of
the minister and churchwardens, to take the garlands down, and the
inhabitants were strictly forbidden to hang up any more for the future.
Yet, notwithstanding, several people, unwilling to forsake their
ancient and delightful custom, continued still the making of them, and
they were carried at the funerals, as before, to the grave, and put
therein, upon the coffin, over the face of the dead; this I have seen
done in many places." Bromley in Kent. _Gentleman's Magazine for June
1747._

Shakspeare has alluded to these maiden rites in _Hamlet_, where the
priest, at the interment of Ophelia, says,

    —— "Here she is allow'd her virgin _crants_,
    Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home
    Of bell and burial."[242:A]

The term _crants_, observes Johnson, on the authority of a
correspondent, is the German word for _garlands_, and was probably
retained by us from the Saxons.[242:B]

The _strewments_ mentioned in this passage refer to a pleasing custom,
which is still, we believe, preserved in Wales, of scattering flowers
over the graves of the deceased.[242:C] It is manifestly copied from
the funeral rites of the Greeks and Romans, and was early introduced
into the Christian church; for St. Jerom, in an epistle to his friend
Pammachius on the death of his wife, remarks, "whilst other husbands
strawed violets and roses, and lilies, and purple flowers, upon the
graves of their wives, and comforted themselves with such like offices,
Pammachius bedewed her ashes and venerable bones with the balsam of
alms[242:D];" and Mr. Strutt, in his _Manners and Customs of England_,
tells us, "that of old it was usual to adorn the graves of the deceased
with roses and other flowers (but more especially those of lovers,
round whose tombs they have often planted rose trees): Some traces," he
observes, "of this ancient custom are yet remaining in the church-yard
of Oakley, in Surry, which is full of rose trees planted round the
graves."[243:A]

Many of the dramas of our immortal bard bear testimony to his
partiality for this elegantly affectionate tribute; a practice which
there is reason to suppose was in the country at least not uncommon in
his days: thus Capulet, in _Romeo and Juliet_, observes,

    "Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse;"[243:B]

and the Queen in _Hamlet_ is represented as performing the ceremony at
the grave of Ophelia:

    "_Queen._ Sweets to the sweet: Farewell!
                                     (_Scattering Flowers._)
     I hop'd, thou should'st have been my Hamlet's wife;
     I thought, thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet maid,
     And not have _strew'd thy grave_."[243:C]

It was considered, likewise, as a duty incumbent on the survivors,
annually to plant shrubs and flowers upon, and to tend and keep neat,
the turf which covered the remains of their beloved friends; in
accordance with this usage, Mariana is drawn in _Pericles_ decorating
the tomb of her nurse:

    ————— "I will rob Tellus of her weed,
    To strew thy green with flowers: the yellows, blues,
    The purple violets, and marigolds,
    Shall, as a chaplet, hang upon thy grave,
    While summer days do last;"[243:D]

and Arviragus, in _Cymbeline_, pathetically exclaims,

    —————— "With fairest flowers,
    Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele,
    I'll sweeten thy sad grave: Thou shall not lack
    The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose; nor
    The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor
    The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,
    Out-sweeten'd not thy breath."[244:A]

The only relic which yet exists in this country of a custom so
interesting, is to be found in the practice of protecting the hallowed
mound by twigs of osier, an attention to the mansions of the dead,
which is still observable in most of the country-church-yards in the
south of England.

We have thus advanced in pursuit of our object, namely, _A Survey of
Country Life during the Age of Shakspeare_, as far as a sketch of
its manners and customs, resulting from a brief description of rural
characters, holidays, and festivals, wakes, fairs, weddings, and
burials, will carry us; and we shall now proceed with the picture, by
adding some account of those diversions of our ancestors which could
not with propriety find a place under any of the topics that have been
hitherto noticed; endeavouring in our progress to render the great
dramatic bard the chief illustrator of his own times.


FOOTNOTES:

[209:A] Brand on Bourne's Antiquities, p. 333.

[209:B] Mr. Strutt, in a quotation from an old MS. legend of St. John
the Baptist, preserved in Dugdale's Warwickshire, tells us,—"In
the beginning of holi churche, it was so that the pepul cam to the
chirche with candellys brinnyng, and wold _wake_ and comme with Light
toward the chirche in their devocions, and after they fell to lecherie
and songs, daunces, harping, piping, and also to glotony and sinne,
&c."—Sports and Pastimes, p. 322.

"It appears," says Mr. Brand, "that in antient times the parishioners
brought _rushes_ at the Feast of Dedication, wherewith to strew the
Church, and from that circumstance the Festivity itself has obtained
the name of _Rush-bearing_, which occurs for a Country-Wake in a
Glossary to the Lancashire dialect."—Brand ap. Ellis, vol. i. p. 436.

[210:A] Hilman's Tusser, p. 81.

[211:A] Bourne's Antiquit. Vulg. p. 330.

[211:B] Triumph of Pleasure, p. 23.

[211:C] Chalmers's Poets, vol. iv. p. 378. Poly-Olbion, Song xxvii.

[212:A] Hesperides, p. 300, 301.

[212:B] In Shakspeare's time the business of the milliner was
transacted by men.

[212:C] _Caddisses_,—a kind of narrow worsted galloon.

[212:D] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 345. 347, 348.

[213:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 349.

[213:B] _Pomander_,—a little ball of perfumes worn either in the
pocket or about the neck.

[213:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 375, 376.

[214:A] Ancient British Drama, vol. ii. p. 435, 436. The third edition
of _A Woman Killed With Kindness_, was printed in 4to. 1617.

[215:A] Warton's History of English Poetry, vol. i. p. 279. note.

[215:B] Establishment and Expences of the Houshold of Henry Percy, the
fifth Earl of Northumberland, A. D. 1512. p. 407.

[215:C] Hilman's Tusser, p. 110.

[216:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xi. p. 358.

[218:A] Holinshed's Chronicles, vol. i. p. 414, 415. Edit. of 1807.

[218:B] Moryson's Itinerary, part iii. p. 151. folio. London, 1617.

[218:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. viii. p. 189. note.

[218:D] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. viii. p. 189, 190.

[218:E] Bliss's edition, 1811. p. 37, 38.

[219:A] Earle's Microcosmography, p. 38.

[219:B] Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, 8th edit. p. 191.

[220:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iv. p. 213. Act ii. sc. 2.

[221:A] "Vincent de Beauvais, a writer of the 13th century, in his
_Speculum historiale_, lib. ix. c. 70., has defined _espousals to
be a contract of future marriage_, made either by a simple promise,
by earnest or security given, by a ring, or by an oath." Douce's
Illustrations, vol. i. p. 109.

[221:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. v. p. 395. Act iv. sc. 3.

[221:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. v. p. 403. Act v. sc. 1.

[222:A] Douce's Illustrations, vol. i. p. 113.

[222:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. vi. p. 395.

[222:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. vi. p. 396.

[222:D] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. x. p. 405. Here _assur'd_ is taken
in the sense of _affianced_ or _contracted_. If necessary, many more
instances of betrothing, and troth-plighting, might be brought forward
from our author's dramas.

[223:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 240.

[223:B] Strutt's Manners and Customs, vol. iii. p. 155.

[224:A] History of Jack of Newbury, 4to. chap. ii.

[224:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xviii. p. 291.

[224:C] Ram Alley, or Merry Tricks, by Barry, 1611. Vide Ancient
British Drama, vol. ii.

[224:D] Beaumont and Fletcher's Scornful Lady, 1616.

[224:E] A Faire Quarrel, by Middleton and Rowley, 1617. Besides
rosemary, flowers of various kinds were frequently strewn before the
bride as she passed to church; a custom alluded to in a well-known line
of Shakspeare,

    "Our _Bridal Flowers_ serve for a buried corse:"

and more explicitly depicted in the following passage from one of his
contemporaries:—

    "_Adriana._ Come straw apace, Lord shall I never live
                To walke to Church on flowers? O 'tis fine,
                To see a Bride trip it to Church so lightly,
                As if her new Choppines would scorne to bruise
                A silly flower!"
                         Barry's Ram Alley, or Merry Tricks,
                              act v. sc. 1. 4to. 1611.

[225:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 114, 115, 116. Act iii. sc. 2.

[225:B] Finet's Philoxenis, 1656, p. 11. quoted by Mr. Reed in his
Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 115. note.

[226:A] Folio edit. p. 44. Act iv. sc. 2.

[226:B] _No Wit, no Help like a Womans_, 8vo. 1657. Middleton was
contemporary with Shakspeare, and commenced a dramatic writer in 1602.

[226:C] _Insatiate Countess_, 4to. 1603.

[226:D] Douce's Illustrations, vol. i. p. 199.

[226:E] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iv. p. 459. note, by Steevens.

[226:F] _Midsummer-Night's Dream_, act v. sc. 2. Vide Reed's
Shakspeare, vol. iv. p. 459.

[228:A] _Woorts_; of this word I know not the precise meaning; but
suppose it is meant to imply _plodded_ or _stumbled on_.

[229:A] Nichols's Queen Elizabeth's Progresses, vol. i.—Laneham's
Letter, p. 18, 19, 20.

[229:B] Jonson's Works, fol. edit. of 1640, vol. ii. A Tale of a Tub,
p. 72.—Much of the spirit and costume of the _rural wedding_ of the
sixteenth century continued to survive until within these eighty years.
"I have received," says Mr. Brand, who wrote in 1776, "from those who
have been present at them, the following account of the customs used at
_vulgar Northern Weddings_, about _half a century ago_:—

"The young women in the neighbourhood, with bride-favours (knots of
ribbands) at their breasts, and nosegays in their hands, attended the
Bride on her wedding-day in the morning.—_Fore-Riders_ announced
with shouts the arrival of the Bridegroom; after a kind of breakfast,
at which the _bride-cakes_ were set on and the _barrels broached_,
they walked out towards the church.—The Bride was led by _two young
men_; the Bridegroom by _two young women_: Pipers preceded them, while
the crowd tossed up their hats, shouted and clapped their hands. An
indecent custom prevailed after the ceremony, and that too before the
altar:—Young men strove who could first _unloose_, or rather pluck off
the Bride's garters: Ribbands supplied their place on this occasion;
whosoever was so fortunate as to tear them thus off from her leggs,
bore them about the church in triumph.

"It is still usual for the young men present to _salute_ the _Bride_
immediately after the performing of the marriage service.

"Four, with their horses, were waiting without; they _saluted_ the
Bride at the church gate, and immediately mounting, contended who
should first carry home the good news, and WIN what they call the
KAIL;" i. e. _a smoking prize of spice-broth_, which stood ready
prepared to reward the victor in this singular kind of race.

"Dinner succeeded; to that dancing and supper; after which a _posset_
was made, of which the Bride and Bridegroom were always to taste
first.—The men departed the room till the Bride was undressed by her
_maids_, and put to bed; the Bridegroom in his turn was undressed
by his men, and the ceremony concluded with the well-known rite of
_throwing the stocking_."—Bourne's Antiquitates Vulg. apud Brand, p.
371, 372, 373. edit. 1810.

[230:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xv. p. 197.

[230:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xv. p. 203.

[230:C] Ben Jonson's Works, fol. edit. 1640. vol. ii. p. 6.

[230:D] Holinshed's Chronicles, vol. iii. p. 787. edit. 1808.

[231:A] Capell's Notes and Various Readings on Shakspeare, vol. i.; and
Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xv. p. 198.—L'Estrange, a nephew to Sir Roger
L'Estrange, appears to have been the compiler of these anecdotes. Of
the truth of the story, however, as far as it relates to Shakspeare and
Jonson, there is reason to entertain much doubt.

[231:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xii. p. 343. Act ii. sc. 3.

[232:A] Vide Douce's Illustrations, vol. i. p. 488.; and Reed's
Shakspeare, vol. xii. p. 345.

[232:B] Vide Rationale Divinorum Officiorum: the first edition was
printed in 1459.

[232:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xii. p. 16.

[233:A] Durandi Rational. lib. i. c. 4.

[233:B] For an account of three editions of De Worde's Golden Legende,
see Dibdin's Typographical Antiquit. vol. ii. p. 73.

[233:C] These forms of prayer are transcribed by Bourne in his
Antiquitates Vulgares.—Vide Brand's edit. p. 10. Bishop Taylor died in
1667.

[234:A] Bourne apud Brand, p. 9.

[235:A] Collier's Ecclesiastical History, vol. i. p. 546.

[235:B] Antiquitates Vulgares apud Brand, p. 23.

[235:C] Tour in Scotland.

[237:A] Essays on the Superstitions of the Highlanders of Scotland,
vol. i. p. 184-188.

[237:B] Ancient British Drama, vol. iii. p. 40.

[238:A] Ancient British Drama, vol. iii. p. 36.

[238:B] The Tragique Historie of the Faire Valeria of London, 1598.
Vide Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xviii. p. 43. note.

[239:A] Douce's Illustrations, vol. ii. p. 202, 203.

[239:B] Bourne's Antiquitates Vulg. p. 33, 34.

[240:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xviii. p. 294.

[240:B] Ibid. vol. xx. p. 217, 218.

[242:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xviii. p. 335, 336.

[242:B] Ibid. p. 336. note.

[242:C] See Pratt's Gleanings in Wales, and Mason's Elegy in a
Church-yard in Wales.

[242:D] Bourne's Antiq. apud Brand, p. 45.

[243:A] Anglo Saxon Æra, vol. i. p. 69.

[243:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xx. p. 219.

[243:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xviii. p. 337.

[243:D] Ibid. vol. xxi. p. 297, 298.

[244:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xviii. p. 576.—In Mr. Malkin's
notes on Mason's Elegy, we have the following elegant and pleasing
description of this pathetic custom, as it still exists in Wales:—"It
is a very antient and general practice in Glamorgan," he remarks, "to
plant flowers on the graves; so that many Church-yards have something
like the splendour of a rich and various parterre. Besides this it is
usual to strew the graves with flowers and ever-greens, within the
Church as well as out of it, thrice at least every year, on the same
principle of delicate respect as the stones are whitened.

"No flowers or ever-greens are permitted to be planted on graves but
such as are sweet-scented: the pink and polyanthus, sweet williams,
gilliflowers, and carnations, mignionette, thyme, hyssop, camomile,
rosemary, make up the pious decoration of this consecrated garden.——

"The white rose is always planted on a virgin's tomb. The red rose is
appropriated to the grave of any person distinguished for goodness, and
especially benevolence of character.

"In the Easter week most generally the graves are newly dressed, and
manured with fresh earth, when such flowers or ever-greens as may be
wanted or wished for are planted. In the Whitsuntide Holidays, or
rather the preceding week, the graves are again looked after, weeded,
and other wise dressed, or, if necessary, planted again.—This work the
nearest relations of the deceased always do with their own hands, and
never by servants or hired persons.—

"When a young couple are to be married, their ways to the Church are
strewed with sweet-scented flowers and ever-greens. When a young
unmarried person dies, his or her ways to the grave are also strewed
with sweet flowers and ever-greens; and on such occasions it is the
usual phrase, that those persons are going to their nuptial beds, not
to their graves.—None ever molest the flowers that grow on graves;
for it is deemed a kind of sacrilege to do so. A relation or friend
will occasionally take a pink, if it can be spared, or a sprig of
thyme, from the grave of a beloved or respected person, to wear it in
remembrance; but they never take much, lest they should deface the
growth on the grave.—

"These elegant and highly pathetic customs of South Wales make the
best impression on the mind. What can be more affecting than to see
all the youth of both sexes in a village, and in every village through
which the corpse passes, dressed in their best apparel, and strewing
with sweet-scented flowers the ways along which one of their beloved
neighbours goes to his or her marriage-bed."

             Malkin's Scenery, Antiquities, and Biography of
                     South Wales, 4to. 1804. p. 606.




CHAPTER VIII.

    VIEW OF COUNTRY LIFE DURING THE AGE OF SHAKSPEARE
    CONTINUED—DIVERSIONS.


The attempt to describe all the numerous rural diversions which were
prevalent during the age of Shakspeare, would be, in the highest
degree, superfluous; for the greatest part of them, it is evident,
must remain, with such slight or gradual modification as to require
but little notice. It will be, therefore, our endeavour, in the
course of this chapter, after giving a catalogue of the principal
country-diversions of the era in question, to dwell only upon those
which are now either entirely obsolete, or which have subsequently
undergone such alterations as to render their former state an object of
novelty and curiosity.

This catalogue may be taken, with tolerable accuracy, from Randal Holme
of Chester, and from Robert Burton; the former enumerating the games
and diversions of the sixteenth century, and the latter those of the
prior part of the seventeenth. If to these, we add the notices to be
drawn from Shakspeare, the sketch will, there is reason to suppose,
prove sufficiently extensive.

In the list of Randal Holme will be found the names of some juvenile
sports, which are now perhaps no longer explicable; this poetical
antiquary, however, shall speak for himself.

    "—— They dare challenge for to throw the sledge;
     To jumpe or lepe over ditch or hedge;
     To wrastle, play at stool-balle, or to runne;
     To pitch the barre or to shote offe the gunne;
     To play at loggets, nineholes, or ten pinnes;
     To trye it out at fote balle by the shinnes;
     At ticke tacke, seize noddy, maw, or ruffe;
     Hot-cockles, leape froggè, or blindman's buffe;
     To drinke the halfer pottes, or deale att the whole canne;
     To playe at chesse, or pue, and inke-horènne;
     To daunce the morris, playe at barley breake;
     At alle exploytes a man can thynke or speake;
     Att shove-grote, 'venter poynte, att crosse and pyle;
     Att "Beshrewe him that's last att any style;"
     Att lepynge over a Christmàs bon fyer,
     Or att the "drawynge dame owte o' the myre;"
     At "Shoote cock, Gregory," stoole-ball, and what not:
     Pickè-poynt, top, and scourge to make him hot."[247:A]

Burton, after mentioning _Hawking_, _Hunting_, _Fowling_, and
_Fishing_, says, "many other sports and recreations there be, much in
use, as _ringing_, _holding_, _shooting_, (with the bow,) _keelpins_,
_tronks_, _coits_, _pitching bars_, _hurling_, _wrestling_, _leaping_,
_running_, _fencing_, _mustring_, _swimming_, _wasters_, _foiles_,
_foot-ball_, _balown_, _quintan_, &c., and many such which are the
common recreations of the Country folks."[247:B] He subsequently adds
_bull_ and _bear baiting_ as common to both countrymen and[247:C]
citizens, and then subjoins to the list of rural amusements, _dancing_,
_singing_, _masking_, _mumming_, and _stage-players_.[247:D] For
the ordinary recreations of _Winter_ as well in _the country_ as in
town, he recommends "_cards_, _tables_ and _dice_, _shovelboord_,
_chess-play_, the _philosopher's game_, _small trunks_, _shuttle-cock_,
_balliards_, _musick_, _masks_, _singing_, _dancing_, _ule games_,
_frolicks_, _jests_, _riddles_, _catches_, _purposes_, _questions and
commands_, and _merry tales_."[247:E]

From this statement it will immediately appear, that many of the rural
diversions of this period are those likewise of the present day, and
that no large portion of the catalogue can with propriety call for a
more extended notice.

At the head of those which demand some brief elucidation, we shall
place the _Itinerant Stage_, a _country_ amusement, however, which,
in the days of Elizabeth, was fast degenerating into contempt. The
performance of secular plays by strolling companies of minstrels, had
been much encouraged for two or three centuries, not only by the
vulgar, but by the nobility, into whose castles and halls they were
gladly admitted, and handsomely rewarded. At the commencement of the
sixteenth century, the custom was still common, and Mr. Steevens, as a
proof of it, has furnished us with the following entry from the fifth
Earl of Northumberland's Household Book, which was begun in the year
1512:—


"Rewards to Players.

"Item, to be payd to the said Richard Gowge and Thomas Percy for
rewards to players for playes playd in Chrystinmas by _stranegers_ in
my house after xxd. every play by estimacion somme xxxiijs. iiijd.
Which ys appoynted to be paid to the said Richard Gowge and Thomas
Percy at the said Christynmas in full contentacion of the said reward
ys xxxiijs. iiijd."[248:A]

That these itinerants were still occasionally admitted into the
country-mansions of the great, during the reign of Elizabeth, we have
satisfactory evidence; but it may be sufficient here to remark, that
Elizabeth herself was entertained with an historical play at Kenelworth
Castle, by performers who came for that purpose from Coventry; and that
Shakspeare has favoured us with another instance, by the introduction
of the following scene in his _Taming of the Shrew_, supposed to have
been written in 1594:—

    "_Lord._ Sirrah, go see what trumpet 'tis that sounds:—
                                             Exit _Servant_.
    Belike, some noble gentleman; that means,
    Travelling some journey, to repose him here.—
                                       Re-enter a _Servant_.
    How now? who is it?

      _Serv._           An it please your honour,
    Players that offer service to your lordship.

      _Lord._ Bid them come near:—

    Enter Players.

                                    Now, fellows, you are welcome.

      _1 Play._ We thank your honour.

      _Lord._ Do you intend to stay with me to night?

      _2 Play._ So please your lordship to accept our duty.

      _Lord._ With all my heart.—
    Go, sirrah, take them to the buttery,
    And give them friendly welcome every one:
    Let them want nothing that my house affords."[249:A]

From this passage it may be deduced, that the _itinerant_ players of
this period were held in no higher estimation than menial servants;
an inference which is corroborated by referring to the anonymous play
of _A Taming of a Shrew_, written about 1590, where the entry of the
players is thus marked, "Enter two of the plaiers, _with packs at
their backs_." The abject condition of these _strollers_, Mr. Pope has
attributed, perhaps too hastily, to the stationary performers of this
reign; "the _top_ of the profession," he observes, "were then mere
players, not gentlemen of the stage; they were led into the _buttery_
by the steward, not placed at the lord's table, or the lady's[249:B]
toilette;" a passage on which Mr. Malone has remarked, that Pope "seems
not to have observed, that the players here introduced are _strollers_;
and there is no reason to suppose that our author, Heminge, Burbage,
Condell, &c. who were licensed by King James, were treated in this
manner."[249:C]

On the other hand Mr. Steevens supports the opinion of Pope by
asserting, that "at the period when this comedy (_Taming of a Shrew_)
was written, and for many years after, the profession of a player was
scarcely allowed to be reputable. The imagined dignity," he continues,
"of those who did not belong to itinerant companies, is, therefore,
unworthy consideration. I can as easily believe that the blundering
editors of the first folio were suffered to lean their hands on Queen
Elizabeth's chair of state, as that they were admitted to the table of
the Earl of Leicester, or the toilette of Lady Hunsden. Like Stephen,
in _Every Man in his Humour_, the greatest indulgence our histrionic
leaders could have expected, would have been a trencher and a napkin in
the _buttery_."[250:A]

The inference, however, which Mr. Malone has drawn, appears to have
the authority of Shakspeare himself; for when Hamlet is informed of
the arrival of the players, he exclaims, "How chances it, they travel;
their _residence_, both in _reputation_ and profit, was _better both
ways_[250:B];" a question, the drift of which even Mr. Steevens
explains in the following words. "How chances it they travel?—i. e.
_How happens it that they are become strollers?_—Their residence,
both in reputation and profit, was better both ways—i. e. _To have
remained in a settled theatre was the more honourable as well as the
more lucrative situation_."[250:C] We have every reason, therefore, to
suppose, that the difference between the _stroller_ and the _licensed_
performer was in Shakspeare's time considerable; and that the latter,
although not the companion of lords and countesses, was held in a very
respectable light, if his personal conduct were good, and became the
occasional associate of the first literary characters of the age; while
the former was frequently degraded beneath the rank of a servant, and,
in the statute, indeed, 39 Eliz. ch. 4. he is classed with rogues,
vagabonds, and sturdy beggars.

This depreciation of the character of the _itinerant player_, towards
the close of Elizabeth's reign, soon narrowed his field of action;
the opulent became unwilling to admit into their houses persons thus
legally branded; and the _stroller_ was reduced to the necessity of
exhibiting his talents at wakes and fairs, on temporary scaffolds and
barrel heads; "if he pen for thee once," says Ben Jonson, addressing a
strolling player, "thou shalt not need to travell, with thy pumps full
of gravell, any more, after a _blinde jade and a hamper_, and _stalk
upon boards and barrel-heads_ to an old crackt trumpet."[250:D]

Many country-towns, indeed, at this period, were privileged to hold
fairs by exhibiting a certain number of stage-plays at their annual
fairs. Of these, Manningtree in Essex was one of the most celebrated;
Heywood mentions it as notorious for yearly plays at its fair[251:A];
and that its festivity on these occasions was equally known, is evident
from Shakspeare's comparison of Falstaff to a "roasted Manningtree ox
with a pudding in his belly."[251:B] The histrionic fame of Manningtree
Mr. Malone proves by two quotations from Nashe and Decker; the former
exclaiming in a poem, called _The choosing of Valentines_,

    ——— "Or see a play of strange moralitie,
    Shewen by bachelrie of _Manning-tree_,
    Whereto the countrie franklins flock-meale swarme;"

and the latter observing, in a tract entitled _Seven deadly Sinnes of
London_, 1607, that "Cruelty has got another part to play; it is acted
like the old _morals_ at _Manningtree_."[251:C]

This custom of stage-playing at annual fairs continued to support a few
itinerant _companies_; but in general, after the halls of the nobility
and gentry were shut against them[251:D], they divided into small
parties of three or four, and at length became mere jugglers, jesters,
and _puppet-show_ exhibitors. This last-mentioned amusement, indeed,
and its professors, seem to have been known, in this country, under
the name of _motions_, and _motion-men_, as early as the commencement
of the sixteenth century[252:A]; and the term, indeed, continued to
be thus applied in the time of Jonson, who repeatedly uses it, in his
_Bartholomew Fair_.[252:B] The degradation of the STROLLING companies,
by the statutes of Elizabeth and James, rendered the exhibition of
automaton figures, at this period, common throughout the kingdom. They
are alluded to by Shakspeare under the appellation of _drolleries_;
thus in the _Tempest_, Alonzo, alarmed at the _strange shapes bringing
in the banquet_, exclaims

    "Give us kind keepers, heavens! What were these?"

a question to which Sebastian replies,

    "_A LIVING drollery_,"[252:C]

meaning by this epithet to distinguish them from the wooden puppets,
the performers in the shows called _drolleries_.

A very popular annual diversion was celebrated, during the age of
Shakspeare, and for more than twenty-five years after, on the _Cotswold
Hills_ in Gloucestershire. It has been said that the rural games which
constituted this anniversary, were _founded_ by one Robert Dover on the
accession of James I.;[252:D] but it appears to be ascertained that
Dover was only the _reviver_, with additional splendour, of sports
which had been yearly exhibited, at an early period, on the same spot,
and perhaps only discontinued for a short time before their revival
in 1603. "We may learn from Rudder's History of Glocestershire," says
Mr. Chalmers, "that, in more early times, there was at Cottswold a
customary meeting, every year, at Whitsontide, called an _ale_, or
_Whitson-ale_, which was attended by all the lads, and the lasses, of
the _villegery_, who, annually, chose a Lord and Lady of the _Yule_,
who were the authorized rulers of the _rustic revellers_. There is
in the Church of Cirencester, says Rudder, an ancient monument, in
_basso relievo_, that evinces the antiquity of those games, which
were known to Shakspeare, before the accession of King James. They
were known, also, to Drayton early in that reign: for upon the map
of Glocestershire, which precedes the _fourteenth song_, there is a
representation of a _Whitsun-ale_, with a _may pole_, which last is
inscribed '_Heigh for Cotswold_.'

    "Ascending, next, faire Cotswold's plaines,
     She _revels_ with the _Shepherd's_ swaines."[253:A]

Mr. Strutt also is of opinion that the Cotswold games had a much higher
origin than the time of Dover, and observes that they are evidently
alluded to in the following lines by John Heywood the epigrammatist:

    "He fometh like a bore, the beaste should seeme bolde,
     For he is as fierce as a _lyon of Cotswold_."[253:B]

In confirmation of these statements it may be added, that Mr. Steevens
and Mr. Chalmers have remarked, that in Randolph's poems, 1638, is to
be found "An eclogue on the noble assemblies _revived_ on Cotswold
hills by Mr. Robert Dover;" and in D'Avenant's poems published the same
year, a copy of verses "In celebration of the yearely _preserver_ of
the games at Cotswold."[253:C]

The _Reviver_ of these far-famed games was an enterprising attorney, a
native of Barton on the Heath in Warwickshire, and consequently a near
neighbour to Shakspeare's country-residence. He obtained permission
from King James to be the director of these annual sports, which he
superintended in person for forty years. They were resorted to by
prodigious multitudes of people, and by all the nobility and gentry
for sixty miles round, until "the rascally rebellion," to adopt the
phraseology of Anthony Wood, "was begun by the Presbyterians, which
gave a stop to their proceedings, and spoiled all that was generous and
ingenious elsewhere."[254:A]

They consisted originally, and previous to the direction of
Dover, merely of athletic exercises, such as wrestling, leaping,
cudgel-playing, sword and buckler fighting, pitching the bar, throwing
the sledge, tossing the pike, &c. &c. To these Dover added _coursing_
for the gentlemen and _dancing_ for the ladies; a temporary castle
of boards being erected for the accommodation of the fair sex, and a
silver collar adjudged as a prize for the fleetest greyhound.

To these two eras of the Cotswold Games Shakspeare alludes in the
second part of _King Henry IV._, and in the _Merry Wives of Windsor_.
Justice Shallow refers to the original state of this diversion, when in
the first of these dramas he enumerates among the _swinge-bucklers_,
"Will Squeele, a _Cotsole_ man[254:B];" and to Dover's improvement of
them, when, in the second, he represents Slender asking Page, "How
does your _fallow greyhound_, Sir? I heard say, he was out-run on
Cotsale."[254:C]

Dover, tradition says, was highly delighted with the superintendance of
these Games, and assumed, during his direction of them, a great deal
of state and consequence. "_Captain_ Dover," relates Granger, a title
which courtesy had probably bestowed on this public-spirited attorney,
"had not only the permission of James I. to celebrate the Cotswold
Games, but appeared in the very cloaths which that monarch had formerly
worn[254:D], and with much more dignity in his air and aspect."[254:E]

In 1636, there was published at London a small quarto, entitled,
"_Annalia Dubrensia, upon the yearly Celebration of Mr. Robert Dover's
Olympic Games, upon Cotswold Hills_," a book consisting entirely of
recommendatory verses, written by Jonson, Drayton, Randolph, and many
others, and with a print prefixed of Dover on horseback.

It is probable that, at this period, and for many subsequent years,
there were several places in the kingdom which had Games somewhat
similar to those of Cotswold, though not quite so celebrated; for Heath
says, that a carnival of this kind was kept every year, about the
middle of July, upon Halgaver-moor, near Bodwin in Cornwall; "resorted
to by thousands of people. The sports and pastimes here held were so
well liked," he relates, "by Charles the Second, when he touched here
in his way to Sicily, that he became a brother of the jovial society.
The custom," he adds, "of keeping this Carnival is said to be as old as
the Saxons."[255:A]

Of the four great rural diversions, _Hawking_, _Hunting_, _Fowling_ and
_Fishing_, the first will require the greatest share of our attention,
as it is now nearly, if not altogether extinct, and was, during the
reigns of Elizabeth and James, the most prevalent and fashionable of
all amusements.

To the very commencement, indeed, of the seventeenth century, we may
point, as to the zenith of its popularity and reputation; for although
it had been introduced into this country as early as the middle of the
eighth century[255:B], it was, until the commencement of the sixteenth,
nearly, if not entirely, confined to the highest rank of society.
During the reigns of Elizabeth and James, however, it descended from
the nobility to the gentry and wealthy yeomanry, and no man could then
have the smallest pretension to the character of a gentleman who kept
not a cast of hawks. Of this a ludicrous instance is given us by Ben
Jonson, in his _Every Man in his Humour_:

    "_Master Stephen._ How does my coussin Edward, uncle?

    _Knowell._ O, well cousse, goe in and see: I doubt he be scarce
    stirring yet.

    _Steph._ Uncle, afore I goe in, can you tell me, an' he have
    ere a booke of the sciences of hawking, and hunting? I would
    faine borrow it.

    _Know._ Why, I hope you will not a hawking now, will you?

    _Steph._ No, cousse; but I'll practise against next yere uncle.
    I have bought me a hawke, and a hood, and bells, and all; I
    lacke nothing but a booke to keepe it by.

    _Know._ O, most ridiculous.

    _Steph._ Nay, looke you now, you are angrie, uncle: why
    you know, an' a man have not skill in the hawking, and
    hunting-languages now-a-days, I'll not give a rush for him.
    They are more studied than the Greeke, or the Latine. He is for
    no gallant's company without 'hem.—A fine jest ifaith! Slid a
    gentleman mun show himselfe like a gentleman!"[256:A]

That the character of Master Stephen is not, in this respect,
overcharged, but represents faithfully the fashionable folly of the
age, is evident from many contemporary writers, and especially from
that sensible old author Richard Brathwait, who, speaking of dogs and
hawks, says, "they are to be used only as pleasures and recreations, of
which to speake sparingly were much better, than onely to discourse of
them, _as if our whole reading were in them_. Neither doe I speake this
without just cause; for I have noted this fault in many of our younger
brood of _Gentry_, who either for want of education in learning, or
their owne neglect of learning, have no sooner attained to the strength
of making their fist a pearch for a _hawke_, but by _the helpe of some
bookes of faulconry_, whereby they are instructed in the words of art,
they will run division upon discourse of this pleasure: whereas, if
at any time they be interrupted by occasion of some other conference,
these _High-flyers_ are presently to bee _mewed_ up, for they are taken
from their element."[256:B]

Many of the best books on the Art of Falconry were written, indeed,
as might be expected, during this universal rage for the amusement,
and the _hawking coxcombs_ of the day, adopting their language on all
occasions, became necessarily obtrusive and pedantic in a disgusting
degree. Of these manuals the most popular were written by George
Turberville, Gervase Markham, and Edmund Best.[257:A]

But the most detrimental consequence arising from the universality of
this elegant diversion, was the immense expense that attended it, and
which frequently involved those who were not opulent in utter ruin: a
result not to be wondered at, when we find, that at the commencement of
the seventeenth century, a goss-hawk and a tassel-hawk were not to be
purchased for less than a hundred marks; and that in the reign of James
I., Sir Thomas Monson gave one thousand pounds for a cast of hawks.
Brathwait, in his usual strain of propriety, advises those who are not
possessed of _good estates_, to give up all idea of this diversion, and
exposes its indiscriminate pursuit in the following pleasant manner:—

"This pleasure," observes he, "as it is a princely delight, so it
moveth many to be so dearely enamoured of it, as they will undergoe
any charge, rather than forgoe it: which makes mee recall to mind a
merry tale which I have read, to this effect. Divers men having entered
into discourse, touching the superfluous care (I will not say folly)
of such as kept _dogs_ and _hawkes_ for _hawking_; one _Paulus_ a
_Florentine_ stood up and spake: Not without cause (quoth hee) did
that foole of _Millan_ laugh at these; and being entreated to tell the
tale, hee thus proceeded; upon a time (quoth he) there was a citizen
of _Millan_, a physitian for such as were distracted or lunaticke; who
tooke upon him within a certaine time to cure such as were brought
unto him. And hee cured them after this sort: Hee had a plat of ground
neere his house, and in it a pit of corrupt and stinking water, wherein
he bound naked such as were mad to a stake, some of them knee-deepe,
others to the groin, and some others deeper according to the degree of
their madnesse, where hee so long pined them with water and hunger,
till they seemed sound. Now amongst others, there was one brought, whom
he had put thigh-deepe in water; who after fifteene dayes began to
recover, beseeching the physitian that hee might be taken out of the
water. The physitian taking compassion of him, tooke him out, but with
this condition, that he should not goe out of the roome. Having obeyed
him certaine dayes, he gave him liberty to walke up and downe the
house, but not to passe the out-gate; while the rest of his companions,
which were many, remaining in the water, diligently observed their
physitian's command. Now it chanced, as on a time he stood at the gate,
(for out hee durst not goe, for feare he should returne to the pit)
he beckoned to a yong _gentleman_ to come unto him, who had a _hawke_
and two spaniels, being moved with the novelty thereof; for to his
remembrance before hee fell mad, he had never seene the like. The yong
_gentleman_ being come unto him; Sir, (quoth he) I pray you hear mee a
word or two, and answer mee at your pleasure: What is this you ride on
(quoth he) and how do you imploy him? This is a horse (replied he) and
I keepe him for _hawking_. But what call you that, you carry on your
fist, and how do you use it? This is a _hawke_ (said he) and I use to
flie with it at pluver and partridge. But what (quoth he) are these
which follow you, what doe they, or wherein doe they profit you? These
are dogges (said he) and necessary for _hawking_, to finde and retrieve
my game. And what were these birds worth, for which you provide so
many things, if you should reckon all you take for a whole yeere? Who
answering, hee knew not well, but they were worth a very little, not
above sixe crownes. The man replied; what then may be the charge you
are at with your horse, dogges and hawke? Some fiftie crowns, said
he. Whereat, as one wondering at the folly of the yong _gentleman_:
Away, away Sir, I pray you quickly, and fly hence before our physitian
returne home: for if he finde you here, as one that is maddest man
alive, he will throw you into his pit, there to be cured with others,
that have lost their wits; and more than all others, for he will set
you chin-deepe in the water. Inferring hence, that the use or exercise
of _hawking_, is the greatest folly, unlesse sometimes used by such as
are of good estate, and for recreation sake.

"Neither is this pleasure or recreation herein taxed, but the excessive
and immoderate expence which many are at in maintaining this pleasure.
Who as they should be wary in the expence of their _coine_, so much
more circumspect in their expence of _time_. So as in a word, I could
wish yong _gentlemen_ never to bee so taken with this pleasure, as
to lay aside the dispatch of more serious occasions, for a flight of
feathers in the ayre."[259:A]

The same prudent advice occurs in an author who wrote immediately
subsequent to Brathwait, and who, though a lover of the diversion,
stigmatises the folly of its general adoption. "As for hawking," says
he; "I commend it in some, condemne it in others; in men of qualitie
whose estates will well support it, I commend it as a generous and
noble qualitie; but in men of meane ranke and religious men[259:B], I
condemne it with Blesensis, as an idle and foolish vanitie: for I have
ever thought it a kinde of madnesse for such men, to bestow ten pounds
in feathers, which at one blast might be blowne away, and to buy a
momentary monethly pleasure with the labours and expence of a whole
yeare."[260:A]

It is to be regretted, however, that the use of the gun has superseded,
among the opulent, the pursuit of this far more elegant and picturesque
recreation. As intimately connected, for many centuries, with the
romantic manners and costume of our ancient nobility and gentry, it
now possesses peculiar charms for the poet and the antiquary, and we
look back upon the detail of this pastime, and all its magnificent
establishments, with a portion of that interest which time has
conferred upon the splendid pageantries of chivalry. Of the estimation
in which it was held, and of the pleasure which it produced, in
Shakspeare's time, there are not wanting numerous proofs: he has
himself frequently alluded to it, and the poets Turberville, Gascoign,
and Sydney, have delighted to expatiate on its praises, and to adopt
its technical phraseology. But the most interesting eulogia, the most
striking pictures of this diversion, appear to us to be derived from a
few strokes in Brathwait, Nash, and Massinger; writers who, publishing
shortly after Shakspeare's death, and describing the amusement of their
youthful days, of course delineate the features as they existed in
Shakspeare's age, with as much, if not greater accuracy than the still
earlier contemporaries of the bard.

"Hawking," remarks Brathwait, "is a pleasure for high and mounting
spirits: such as will not stoope to inferiour lures, having their
mindes so farre above, as they scorne to partake with them. It is rare
to consider, how a wilde _bird_ should bee so brought to hand, and so
well managed as to make us such pleasure in the ayre: but most of all
to forgoe her native liberty and feeding, and returne to her former
servitude and diet. But in this, as in the rest, we are taught to
admire the great goodnesse and bounty of God, who hath not only given
us the birds of the aire, with their flesh to feede us, with their
voice to cheere us, but with their flight to delight us."[260:B]

"I have in my youthfull dayes," relates Nash, "beene as glad as ever
I was to come from Schoole, to see a little martin in the dead time of
the yeare, when the winter had put on her whitest coat, and the frosts
had sealed up the brookes and rivers, to make her way through the midst
of a multitude of fowle-mouth'd ravenous crows and kites, which pursued
her with more hydeous cryes and clamours, than did Coll the dog, and
Malkin the maide, the Fox in the Apologue.

    "When the geese for feare flew over the trees,
     And out of their hives came the swarme of bees:"
                        _Chaucer in his Nunes Priests Tale._

and maugre all their oppositions pulled down her prey, bigger than
herselfe, being mounted aloft, steeple-high downe to the ground. And
to heare an accipitrary relate againe, how he went forth in a cleere,
calme, and sun-shine evening, about an houre before the sunne did
usually maske himselfe, unto the river, where finding of a mallard, he
whistled off his faulcon, and how shee flew from him as if shee would
never have turned head againe, yet presently upon a shoote came in,
how then by degrees, by little and little, by flying about and about,
she mounted so high, untill shee had lessened herselfe to the view of
the beholder, to the shape of a pigeon or partridge, and had made the
height of the moone the place of her flight, how presently upon the
landing of the fowle, shee came downe like a stone and enewed it, and
suddenly got up againe, and suddenly upon a second landing came downe
againe, and missing of it, in the downe come recovered it, beyond
expectation, to the admiration of the beholder, at a long; and to heare
him tell a third time, how he went forth early in a winter's morning,
to the woody fields and pastures to fly the cocke, where having by the
little white feather in his tayle discovered him in a brake, he cast of
a tasel gentle, and how he never ceased in his circular motion, untill
he had recovered his place, how suddenly upon the flushing of the cocke
he came downe, and missing of it in the downcome, what working there
was on both sides, how the cocke mounted, as if he would have pierced
the skies; how the hawke flew a contrary way, untill he had made the
winde his friend, how then by degrees he got up, yet never offered to
come in, untill he had got the advantage of the higher ground, how then
he made in, what speed the cocke made to save himselfe, and what hasty
pursuit the hawke made, and how after two long miles flight killed it,
yet in killing of it killed himselfe. These discourses I love to heare,
and can well be content to be an eye-witnesse of the sport, when my
occasions will permit."[262:A]

To this lively and minute detail, which brings the scene immediately
before our eyes, we must be allowed to add the poetical picture of
Massinger, which, as Mr. Gifford has justly observed, "is from the hand
of a great master."

    ————————— "In the afternoon,
    For we will have variety of delights,
    We'll to the field again, no game shall rise
    But we'll be ready for't——
    ————————— for the pye or jay, a sparrow hawk
    Flies from the fist; the crow so near pursued,
    Shall be compell'd to seek protection under
    Our horses bellies; a hearn put from her siege,
    And a pistol shot off in her breech, shall mount
    So high, that, to your view, she'll seem to soar
    Above the middle region of the air:
    A cast of haggard falcons, by me mann'd,
    Eying the prey at first, appear as if
    They did turn tail; but with their labouring wings
    Getting above her, with a thought their pinions
    Clearing the purer element, make in,
    And by turns bind with her[262:B]; the frighted fowl,
    Lying at her defence upon her back,
    With her dreadful beak, awhile defers her death,
    But by degrees forced down, we part the fray,
    And feast upon her.——
    ————————— Then, for an evening flight,
    A tiercel gentle, which I call, my masters,
    As he were sent a messenger to the moon,
    In such a place flies, as he seems to say,
    See me, or see me not! the partridge sprung,
    He makes his stoop; but wanting breath, is forced
    To cancelier[263:A]; then, with such speed as if
    He carried lightning in his wings, he strikes
    The trembling bird, who even in death appears
    Proud to be made his quarry."[263:B]

After these praises and general description of hawking, it will be
proper to mention the various kinds of hawks used for this diversion,
the different modes of exercising it, and a few of the most interesting
particulars relative to the training of the birds.

It will be found, on consulting the _Treatise on Hawking_, by Dame
Juliana Barnes, printed by Winkin De Worde in 1496, the _Gentleman's
Academie_, by Markham, 1595, and the _Jewel for Gentrie_, published in
1614, that during this space of time, the species of hawks employed,
and the several ranks of society to which they were appropriated, had
scarcely, if at all varied. The following catalogue is, therefore,
taken from the ancient Treatyse:

    "An eagle, a bawter (a vulture), a melown; these belong unto an
           Emperor.
     A Gerfalcon: a Tercell of a Gerfalcon are due to a King.
     There is a Falcon gentle, and a Tercel gentle; and these be for a
           Prince.
     There is a Falcon of the rock; and that is for a Duke.
     There is a Falcon peregrine; and that is for an earl.
     Also there is a Bastard; and that hawk is for a baron.
     There is a Sacre and a Sacret; and these ben for a knight.
     There is a Lanare and a Lanrell; and these belong to a squire.
     There is a Merlyon; and that hawk is for a lady.
     There is an Hoby; and that hawk is for a young man.
       And these _ben_ hawks of the _tour_ and ben both _illuryd_ to be
           called and reclaimed.
             And yet there ben more kinds of hawks.
     There is a Goshawk; and that hawk is for a yeoman.
     There is a Tercel; and that is for a poor man.
     There is a Sparehawk; she is an hawk for a priest.
     There is a Muskyte; and he is for an holy-water clerk."[264:A]


To this list the _Jewel for Gentre_ adds

    A Kesterel, for a knave or servant.

Many of these birds were held in such high estimation by our crowned
heads and nobility, that several severe edicts were issued for
the preservation of their eggs. These were mitigated in the reign
of Elizabeth; but still if any person was convicted of taking or
destroying the eggs of the falcon, gos-hawk or laner, he was liable to
suffer imprisonment for three months, and was obliged to find security
for his good behaviour for seven years, or remain confined until he did.

Hawking was divided into two branches, land and water hawking, and
the latter was usually considered as producing the most sport. The
diversion of hawking was pursued either on horseback or on foot: on
the former in the fields and open country; on the latter, in woods,
coverts, and on the banks of rivers. When on foot, the sportsman
had the assistance of a stout pole, for the purpose of leaping over
ditches, rivulets, &c.; a circumstance which we learn from the
chronicle of Hall, where the historian tells us that Henry the Eighth,
pursuing his hawk on foot, in attempting to leap over a ditch of
muddy water with his pole, it broke, and precipitated the monarch
head-foremost into the mud, where, had it not been for the timely
assistance of one of his footmen, named John Moody, he would soon have
been suffocated; "and so," concludes the venerable chronicler, "God of
hys goodnesse preserved him."[264:B]

The game pursued in hawking included a vast variety of birds, many
of which, once fashionable articles of the table, have now ceased to
be objects of the culinary art. Of those which are now obsolete among
epicures may be enumerated, herons, bitterns, swans, cranes, curlews,
sheldrakes, cootes, peacocks; of those still in use, teel, mallard,
geese, ducks, pheasants, quails, partridges, plovers, doves, turtles,
snipes, woodcocks, rooks, larks, starlings, and sparrows.

Hawking, notwithstanding the occasional fatigue and hazard which it
produced, was a favourite diversion among the ladies, who in the
pursuit of it, according to a writer of the seventeenth century, did
not hesitate to assume the male attire and posture. "The [265:A]Bury
ladies," observes he, "that used _hawking_ and hunting, were once in a
great vaine of wearing breeches."[265:B] The same author has preserved
a hawking anecdote of some humour, and which occurred, likewise, at
the same place: "Sir Thomas Jermin," he relates, "going out with
his servants, and brooke hawkes one evening, at Bury, they were no
sooner abroad, but fowle were found, and he called out to one of his
falconers, Off with your jerkin; the fellow being into the wind did
not heare him; at which he stormed, and still cried out, Off with your
jerkin, you knave, off with your jerkin; now it fell out that there
was, at that instant, a plaine townsman of Bury, in a freeze jerkin,
stood betwixt him and his falconer, who seeing Sir Thomas in such a
rage, and thinking he had spoken to him, unbuttoned himself amaine,
threw off his jerkin, and besought his worshippe not to be offended,
for he would off with his doublet too, to give him content."[265:C]

That the _training_ of hawks was a work of labour, difficulty, and
skill, and that the person upon whom the task devolved, was highly
prized, and supported at a great expense, may be readily imagined. The
_Falconer_ was, indeed, an officer of high importance in the household
of the opulent, and his whole time was absorbed in the duties of his
station. That these were various and incessant may be deduced from the
following curious character of a _falconer_, drawn by a satirist of
1615.[266:A]

"A falkoner is the egge of a tame pullett, hatcht up among hawkes
and spaniels. Hee hath in his minority conversed with kestrils and
yong hobbies: but growing up he begins to handle the lure, and look a
fawlcon in the face. All his learning makes him but a new linguist;
for to have studied and practised the termes of Hawke's Dictionary,
is enough to excuse his wit, manners, and humanity. He hath too
many trades to thrive; and yet if hee had fewer, hee would thrive
lesse. Hee need not be envied therefore, for a monopolie, though he
be barber-surgeon, physitian, and apothecary, before he commences
_hawk-leech_; for though he exercise all these, and the art of
bow-strings together, his patients be compelled to pay him no further,
then they be able. Hawkes be his object, that is, his knowledge,
admiration, labour, and all; they be indeed his idoll, or mistresse, be
they male or female: to them he consecrates his amorous ditties, which
be no sooner framed then hallowed; nor should he doubt to overcome the
fairest, seeing he reclaimes such haggards, and courts every one with
a peculiar dialect. That he is truly affected to his sweetheart in her
fether-bed, appeares by the sequele, himselfe being sensible of the
same misery, for they be both mewed up together: but he still chuses
the worst pennance, by chusing rather an ale-house, or a cellar, for
his moulting place than the hawke's mew."[266:B]

The training of Hawks consisted principally in the _manning_, _luring_,
_flying_, and _hooding_ them. Of these, the first and second imply
a perfect familiarity with the man, and a perfect obedience to his
voice and commands, especially that of returning to the fist at the
appointed signal.[267:A] The _flying_ includes the appropriation of
peculiar hawks to peculiar game; thus the _Faulcon gentle_, which,
according to Gervase Markham, is the principal of hawks, and adapted
either for the field or river, will fly at the partridge or the
mallard; the _Gerfaulcon_ will fly at the heron; the _Saker_ at the
crane or bittern; the _Lanner_ at the partridge, pheasant, or chooffe;
the _Barbary Faulcon_ at the partridge only; the _Merlin_ and the
_Hobby_ at the lark, or any small bird; the _Goshawk_ or _Tercel_ at
the partridge, pheasant, or hare; the _Sparrow-hawk_ at the partridge
or blackbird, and the _Musket_ at the bush only.[267:B]

The _hooding_ of hawks, as it embraces many technical terms, which
have been adopted by our poets, and among the rest, by Shakspeare,
will require a more extended explanation, and this we shall give
in the words of Mr. Strutt. "When the hawk," he observes, "was not
flying at her game, she was usually hood-winked, with a cap or hood
provided for that purpose, and fitted to her head; and this hood was
worn abroad, as well as at home. All hawks taken upon '_the fist_,'
the term used for carrying them upon the hand, had straps of leather
called _jesses_[267:C], put about their legs; the jesses were made
sufficiently long, for the knots to appear between the middle and the
little fingers of the hand that held them, so that the _lunes_, or
small thongs of leather, might be fastened to them with two _tyrrits_,
or rings; and the lunes were loosely wound round the little finger;
lastly, their legs were adorned with _bells_, fastened with rings of
leather, each leg having one; and the leathers, to which the bells were
attached, were denominated _bewits_; and to the bewits was added the
_creance_, or long thread, by which the bird in tutoring, was drawn
back, after she had been permitted to fly; and this was called the
_reclaiming_ of the hawk. The bewits, we are informed, were useful
to keep the hawks from _winding when she bated_, that is, when she
fluttered her wings to fly after her game. Respecting the bells,
it is particularly recommended that they should not be too heavy,
to impede the flight of the bird; and that they should be of equal
weight, sonorous, shrill, and musical; not both of one sound, but the
one a semitone below the other[268:A]; they ought not to be broken,
especially in the sounding part, because, in that case, the sound
emitted would be dull and unpleasing. There is, says the Book of St.
Alban's, great choice of sparrow-hawk bells, and they are cheap enough;
but for gos-hawk bells, those made at Milan are called the best;
and, indeed, they are excellent; for they are commonly sounded with
[268:B]silver, and charged for accordingly."[268:C]

Thomas Heywood, in his play, entitled _A Woman killed with Kindness_,
and acted before 1604, has a passage on falconry, four lines of which
have been quoted by Mr. Strutt, as allusive to the toning of the Milan
bells; but as the whole is highly descriptive of the diversion, and
is of no great length, we shall venture to transcribe it, with the
exception of a few lines, entire:

      "_Sir Charles._ So; well cast off; aloft, aloft; well flown.
    O, now she takes her at the _sowse_, and strikes her down
    To th' earth, like a swift thunder clap.—
    Now she hath seized the fowl, and 'gins to plume her,
    _Rebeck_ her not; rather stand still and _check_ her.
    So: seize her _gets_, her _jesses_, and her _bells_;
    Away.

      _Sir Francis._ My hawk kill'd too!

      _Sir Charles._ Aye, but 'twas at the _querre_,
    Not at the _mount_, like mine.

      _Sir Fran._ Judgment, my masters.

      _Cranwell._ Your's miss'd her at the _ferre_.[269:A]

      _Wendoll._ Aye, but our Merlin first had _plumed_ the fowl,
    And twice _renew'd_ her from the river too;
    Her bells, Sir Francis, had not both one weight,
    Nor was one semi-tune above the other:
    Methinks these Milain bells do sound too full,
    And spoil the mounting of your hawk.—

      _Sir Fran._ —— Mine likewise seized a fowl
    Within her talons; and you saw her paws
    Full of the feathers: both her petty _singles_,
    And her _long singles_ griped her more than other;
    The _terrials_ of her legs were stained with blood:
    Not of the fowl only, she did discomfit
    Some of her feathers; but she brake away."[270:A]

To hawking and the language of falconry, Shakspeare, as we have
previously observed, has frequently had recourse, and he has selected
the terms with his wonted propriety and effect; of this five or six
instances will be adequate proof. Othello, in allusion to Desdemona,
exclaims:

    ————— "If I do prove her _haggard_,
    Though that _jesses_ were my dear heart-strings,
    I'd _whistle her off_, and _let her down the wind_,
    To prey at fortune."[270:B]

A _haggard_ is a species of hawk wild and difficult to be reclaimed,
and which, if not well trained, flies indiscriminately at every bird;
a fault to which Shakspeare again refers in his _Twelfth Night_, where
Viola tells the Clown that

    "He must observe their mood on whom he jests—
     And, like the _haggard_, check at every feather
     That comes before his eye."[270:C]

The phrase to _whistle off_ will be best explained by a simile in
Burton, which opens his chapter on Air. "As a long-winged hawk when he
is first _whistled off the fist_, mounts aloft, and for his pleasure
fetcheth many a circuit in the air, still soaring higher and higher,
till he be come to his full pitch, and in the end when the game is
sprung, comes down amain, and _stoops_ upon a sudden."[270:D] To _let a
hawk down the wind_, was to dismiss it as worthless.

Petruchio, soliloquising on the means which he had adopted, in order to
tame his termagant bride, says emphatically,

    "My falcon now is sharp, and passing empty;
     And, till she stoop, she must not be full-gorged,
     For then she never looks upon her lure.
     Another way I have to man my haggard,
     To make her come, and know her keeper's call,
     That is,—to watch her, as we watch these kites,
     That _bate_, and beat, and will not be obedient."[271:A]

To _bate_ in this passage means to _flutter_ or _beat the wings_, as
striving to fly away, and is metaphorically used in the following
address of Juliet to the night:

    ———————— "Come, civil night,——
    Hood my unmann'd blood _bating_ in my cheeks,
    With thy black mantle."[271:B]

The same tragedy furnishes us with another obligation to falconry,
where the love-sick maiden recalls Romeo in these terms:

    "Hist! Romeo, hist!——O, for a falconer's voice
     To lure this tassel-gentle back again."[271:C]

Falstaff's page in the _Merry Wives of Windsor_ is appositely compared
to the _eyas-musket_, an unfledged hawk of the smallest species:

    "_Mrs. Ford._ How now, my _eyas-musket_? What news with you?"[271:D]

_Eyas-musket_, remarks Mr. Steevens, is the same as _infant
Lilliputian_, and he subjoins an illustrative passage from Spenser:

    ———— "youthful gay,
    Like _eyas-hawke_, up mounts into the skies,
    His _newly budded_ pinions to essay."[271:E]

If the commencement of the seventeenth century, saw _Hawking_ the
most splendid and prevalent amusement of the nobility and gentry, the
close had to witness its decline and abolition; it gave way to a more
sure and expeditious, though, perhaps, less interesting mode of killing
game, and the adoption of the gun had, before the year 1700, almost
entirely banished the art of the Falconer.

The costume of the next great amusement of the country, that of
HUNTING, differs at present in few essential points from what it was
in the sixteenth century. The chief variations may be included in the
disuse of killing game in inclosures, and in the adoption of more
speed, and less fatigue and stratagem in the open chace; or in other
words, it is the strength and speed of the fleet blood-horse, and not
of the athletic and active huntsman, or old steady-paced hunter, that
now decide the sport. "In the modern chace," observes Mr Haslewood,
"the lithsomness of youth is no longer excited to pursue the animals.
Attendant footmen are discontinued and forgotten; while the active
and eager rustic with a hunting pole, wont to be foremost, has long
forsaken the field, nor is there a trace of the character known, except
in a country of deep clay, as parts of Sussex. Few years will pass
ere the old steady paced English hunter and the gabbling beagle will
be equally obsolete. All the sport now consists of speed. A hare is
hurried to death by dwarf fox-hounds, and a leash murdered in a shorter
period than a single one could generally struggle for existence.
The hunter boasts a cross of blood, or, in plainer phrase, a racer,
sufficiently professed to render a country sweepstakes doubtful. This
variation is by no means an improvement, and can only advantage the
plethoric citizen, who seeks to combat the somnolency arising from
civic festivals by a short and sudden excess of exercise."[272:A]

The mode of hunting, indeed, in the reigns of Elizabeth and James,
still continued an emblem of, and a fit preparation for, the fatigues
of war; nor was it unusual to consider the toils of the chace as
initiatory to those of the camp. "The old Lord Gray, our English
Achilles," says Peacham, "when hee was Deputie of Ireland, to inure
his sonnes for the warre, would usually in the depth of winter, in
frost, snow, raine, and what weather so ever fell, cause them at
midnight to be raised out of their beds, and carried abroad on hunting
till the next morning; then perhaps come wet and cold home, having
for a breakefast, a browne loafe and a mouldie cheese, or (which is
ten times worse) a dish of Irish butter[273:A];" and Dekkar, in his
praise of hunting, remarks, that "it is a very true picture of warre,
nay, it is a warre in itselfe, for engines are brought into the field,
stratagems are contrived, ambushes are laide, onsets are given, alarams
strucke up, brave encounters are made, fierce assailings are resisted
by strength, by courage, or by policie: the enemie is pursued, and
the pursuers never give over till they have him in execution, then
is a retreate sounded, then are spoiles divided, then come they home
wearied, but yet crowned with honour and victorie. And as in battailes,
there bee several manners of fight; so in the pastime of hunting, there
are several degrees of game. Some hunt the lyon, &c.—others pursue the
long-lived hart, the couragious stag, or the nimble footed deere; these
are the noblest hunters, and they exercise the noblest game: these by
following the chace, get strength of bodie, a free, and undisquieted
minde, magnanimitie of spirit, alacritie of heart, and unwearisomnesse
to breake through the hardest labours: their pleasures are not
insatiable, but are contented to be kept within limits, for these hunt
within parkes inclosed, or within bounded forests. The hunting of the
hare teaches feare to be bold, and puts simplicitie to her shifts, that
she growes cunning and provident; &c."[273:B]

Hunting in inclosures, that is, in parks, chases, and forests, where
the game was inclosed with a fence-work of netting stretched on posts
driven into the ground, appears to have been the custom of this
country from the time of Edward the Second to the middle of the
seventeenth century. The manuscript treatise of William Twici, grand
huntsman to Edward the Second, entitled _Le Art De Venerie, le quel
maistre Guillame Twici venour le roy d'Angleterre fist en son temps per
aprandre Autres_[274:A]; the nearly contemporary manuscript translation
of John Gyfford, with the title of _A book of Venerie, dialogue[274:B]
wise_; the tract called _The Maistre of the Game_[274:C], in manuscript
also, and written by the chief huntsman of Henry the Fourth, for the
instruction of his son, afterwards Henry the Fifth; the _Book of St.
Albans_, the first _printed_ treatise on the subject, and written by
the sister of Lord Berners, when prioress at the nunnery of Sopewell,
about 1481; the tract on the _Noble Art of Venerie_, annexed to
Turberville on Falconrie 1575, and supposed to have been written by
George Gascoigne, and the re-impression of the same in 1611, all
describe the ceremonies and preparations necessary for the pursuit
of this, now obsolete, mode of hunting, which, from its luxury and
effeminacy, forms a perfect contrast to the manly fatigues of the
_open_ chace.

This style of hunting, indeed, exhibited great splendour and pomp,
and was certainly a very imposing spectacle; but the slaughter must
have been easy and great, and the sport therefore proportionally less
interesting. When the king, the great barons, or dignified clergy,
selected this mode of the diversion, in which either bows or greyhounds
were used, the masters of the game and the park-keepers prepared all
things essential for the purpose; and, if it were a royal hunt, the
sheriff of the county furnished stabling for the king's horses, and
carts for the dead game. A number of temporary buildings, covered with
green boughs, to shade the company from the heat of the sun or bad
weather, were erected by the foresters in a proper situation, and on
the morning of the day chosen for the sport, the master of the game and
his officers saw the greyhounds duly placed, and a person appointed to
announce, by the different intonations of his horn the species of game
turned out, so that the company might be prepared for its reception
when it broke cover.

The enclosure being guarded by officers or retainers, placed at equal
distances, to prevent the multitude prematurely rousing the game, the
grand huntsman, as soon as the king, nobility, or gentry had taken
their respective stations, sounded three long mootes or blasts with
the horn, as a signal for the uncoupling of the hart-hounds, when the
game, driven by the manœuvres of the huntsman, passed the lodges where
the company were waiting, and were either shot from their bows,
or individuals, starting from the groupe, pursued the deer with
greyhounds.[275:A]

We find, from the poems of Gascoigne and Turberville, as they appear in
their Book of Hunting of 1575, that every accommodation which beautiful
scenery and epicurean fare could produce, was thought essential to this
branch of the sport. Turberville, describing the scene chosen for the
company to take their stations, says—

     "The place should first be pight, on pleasant gladsome greene,
    Yet under shade of stately trees, where little sunne is seene:
      And neare some fountaine spring, whose chrystall running streames
    May helpe to coole the parching heate, ycaught by Phœbus beames.
      The place appoynted thus, it neyther shall be clad
    With arras nor with tapystry, such paltrie were too bad:
      Ne yet those hote perfumes, whereof proude courtes do smell,
    May once presume in such a place, or paradise to dwell.
      Away with fayned fresh, as broken boughes or leaves,
    Away, away, with forced flowers, ygathered from their greaves:
      This place must of itselfe, afforde such sweet delight,
    And eke such shewe, as better may content the greedie sight;
      Where sundry sortes of hewes, which growe upon the ground,
    May seeme, indeede, such tapystry, as we by arte, have found.
      Where fresh and fragrant flowers, may skorne the courtier's cost,
    Which daubes himselfe with syvet, muske, and many an ointment lost,
      Where sweetest singing byrdes, may make such melodye,
    As Pan, nor yet Apollo's arte, can sounde such harmonye.
      Where breath of westerne windes, may calmely yeld content,
    Where casements neede not opened be, where air is never pent.
      Where shade may serve for shryne, and yet the sunne at hande,
    Where beautie need not quake for colde, ne yet with sunne be tande.
      In fine and to conclude, where pleasure dwels at large,
    Which princes seeke in pallaces, with payne and costly charge.
      Then such a place once founde, the _Butler_ first appeares,—
      Then comes the captaine _Cooke_"—

These gentlemen of the household, it seems, came well provided; the
farmer, with wines and ales "in bottles and in barrels," and the latter
with _colde loynes of veale_, _colde capon_, _beefe and goose_, _pigeon
pyes_, _mutton colde_, _neates tongs poudred well_, _gambones of the
hogge_, _saulsages_ and _savery knackes_.[276:A]

Of the stag-chace in the _open_ country, and of the ceremonies and
costume attending it, at the castellated mansions of the Baron and
opulent Squire, during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, a
tolerably accurate idea may be formed from the following statement,
drawn up from the ancient writers on the subject, and from the works of
the ingenious antiquary Strutt.

The inhabitants of the castle, and the hunters, were usually awakened
very early in the morning by the lively sounding of the bugles,
after which it was not unusual for two or more minstrels to sing
an appropriate roundelay, beneath the windows of the master of the
mansion, accompanied by the deep and mellow chorus of the attending
rangers and falconers. Shakspeare alludes to a song of this kind in his
_Romeo and Juliet_[276:B], which has been preserved entire by Thomas
Ravenscroft[276:C], and commences thus:—

    "The hunt is up, the hunt is up,
     Sing merrily wee, the hunt is up;
     The birds they sing,
     The deere they fling;
                          Hey nony nony-no; &c."

The Yeoman Keepers, with their attendants, called Ragged Robins, to
the number of ten or twelve, next made their appearance, leading the
slow-hounds or brachets, by which the deer were roused. These men were
usually dressed in Kendal green, with bugles and short hangers by their
sides, and quarter-staffs in their hands, and were followed by the
foresters with a number of greyhounds led in leashes for the purpose of
plucking down the game.

This assemblage in the Court of the castle was soon augmented by a
number of _Retainers_, or Yeomen who received a small annual pension
for attendance on these occasions; they wore a livery, with the
cognisance of the house to which they belonged, borne, as a badge of
adherence, on their arms, and each man had a buckler on his shoulder,
and a burnished broad sword hanging from his belt. Shortly afterwards
appeared the pages and squires in hunting garbs on horse-back and on
foot, and armed with spears and long and cross bows; and lastly the
Baron, his friends, and the ladies.

The company thus completed, were conducted by the huntsmen to a
thicket, in which, they knew, by previous observation, that a stag
had been harboured all night. Into this cover the keeper entered,
leading his ban-dog (a blood-hound tied in a leam or band), and as
soon as the stag abandoned it, the greyhounds were slipped upon him;
these, however, after running two or three miles, he usually threw
out, by again entering cover, when the slow-hounds and prickers
were sent in, to drive him from his strength. The poor animal now
traverses the country for several miles, and after using every effort
and manœuvre in vain, exhausted and breathless, his mouth embossed
with foam, and the tears dropping from his eyes, he turns in despair
upon his pursuers, and in this situation the boldest hunter of the
train generally rides in, and, at some risque, dispatches him with a
short hunting-sword. The _treble-mort_ is then sounded, accompanied by
the shouts of the men and the yelping of the dogs, and the huntsman
ceremoniously presents his knife to the master of the chase, in order
that he may take, as it is termed, the _say_ of the deer.[278:A]

The danger which the ancient hunter incurred, on dealing the death
stroke to the stag when he turned to bay, is strikingly exemplified by
an incident in the life of Wilson the historian, during the time he
formed a part of the household of the Earl of Essex, in the reign of
Elizabeth.

"Sir Peter Lee, of Lime, in Cheshire, invited my lord one summer, to
hunt the stagg. And having a great stagg in chace, and many gentlemen
in the pursuit, the stagg took soyle. And divers, whereof I was one,
alighted, and stood with swords drawne, to have a cut at him, at his
coming out of the water. The staggs there, being wonderfully fierce and
dangerous, made us youths more eager to be at him. But he escaped us
all. And it was my misfortune to be hindered of my coming nere him, the
way being sliperie, by a fall; which gave occasion to some, who did not
know mee, to speak as if I had falne for feare. Which being told me, I
left the stagg, and followed the gentleman who first spake it. But I
found him of that cold temper, that it seems his words made an escape
from him; as by his denial and repentance it appeared. But this made
mee more violent in pursuit of the stagg, to recover my reputation.
And I happened to be the only horseman in, when the dogs sett him up
at bay; and approaching nere him on horsebacke, hee broke through
the dogs, and run at mee, and tore my horse's side with his hornes,
close by my thigh. Then I quitted my horse, and grew more cunning
(for the dogs had sette him up againe), stealing behind him with my
sword, and cut his hamstrings; and then got upon his back, and cut his
throate."[280:A]

A still more difficult and gallant feat, however, of this kind,
was performed by John Selwyn, the under-keeper of Queen Elizabeth,
who, one day, animated by the presence of his royal mistress, at a
chase, in her park of Oatlands, pursued the stag with such activity,
that, overtaking it, he sprung from his horse on the animal; when,
after most skilfully maintaining his seat for some time, he drew his
hunting-sword, and, just as he reached the green, plunged it in the
throat of the stag, which immediately dropped down dead at the feet of
Elizabeth; an achievement which is sculptured on his monument in Walton
church, Surrey, where he is represented in the very act of killing the
infuriated beast.[280:B]

The taking the _say_ of, and the _breaking_ up, the deer, were formerly
attended with many ceremonies and superstitions.[280:C] "Touching the
death of a deare, or other wylde beast," says a writer of the sixteenth
century, "yee knowe your selves what ceremonies they use about the
same. Every poore man may cut out an oxe, or a sheepe, whereas such
venison may not be dismembered but of a gentylman; who bareheadded, and
set on knees, with a knife prepared properly to that use, (for every
kynde of knife is not allowable) also with certain jestures, cuttes
a sunder certaine partes of the wild beast, in a certain order very
circumstantly. Which holy misterie, having seen the lyke yet more than
a hundred tymes before. Then (sir) whose happe it bee to eate parte
of the fleshe, marye hee thinkes verily to bee made thereby halfe a
gentilman."[281:A]

After the process of dismemberment, and the selection of choice pieces,
the forester, the keeper, and the hounds had their allotted share, and
superstition granted even a portion to the ominous raven. "There is a
little gristle," relates Turberville, "which is upon the spoone of the
brisket, which we call the raven's bone; and I have seen in some places
a raven so wont and accustomed to it, that she would never fail to
croak and cry for it all the time you were in breaking up of the deer,
and would not depart till she had it."

Of this superstitious observance Jonson has given us a pleasing sketch,
in the most poetical of his works, the Sad Shepherd:—

      "_Marian._ —————— He that undoes him,
    Doth cleave the brisket bone upon the spoon,
    Of which a little gristle grows——you call it—

      _Robin Hood._ The raven's bone.

      _Marian._ —————— Now o'er head sat a raven
    On a sere bough, a grown, great bird and hoarse,
    Who, all the time the deer was breaking up,
    So croaked and cried for it, as all the huntsmen,
    Especially old Scathlocke, thought it ominous!"[281:B]

In an age, when to hawke and to hunt formed the _Gentleman's
Academy_[281:C], the _Falconer_ and the _Huntsman_ were most important
characters; of the former we have already given an outline from
contemporary authority, and of the latter the following extract
delineates a very curious picture, in which the manners, the dress, and
the accoutrements are marked with singular strength and raciness of
touch.

"A huntsman is the lieutenant of dogs, and foe to harvest: he is
frolick in a faire morning fit for his pleasure; and alike rejoyceth
with the Virginians, to see the rising sun: he doth worship it as
they, but worships his game more than they; and is in some things
almost as barbarous. A sluggard he contemnes, and thinks the resting
time might be shortened; which makes him rise with day, observe the
same pace, and prove full as happy, if the day be happy. The names
of foxe, hare, and bucke, be all attracting sillables; sufficient
to furnish fifteene meales with long discourse in the adventures of
each. Foxe, drawes in his exploits done against cubbes, bitch-foxes,
otters and badgers: hare, brings out his encounters, platformes,
engines, fortifications, and night worke done against leveret, cony,
wilde-cat, rabbet, weasell, and pole-cat: then bucke, the captaine of
all, provokes him (not without strong passion) to remember hart, hind,
stagge, doe, pricket, fawne, and fallow deere. He uses a dogged forme
of governement, which might bee (without shame) kept in humanity; and
yet he is unwilling to be governed with the same reason: either by
being satisfied with pleasure, or content with ill fortune. Hee hath
the discipline to marshall dogs, and sutably; when a wise herald would
rather mervaile, how he could distinguish their coates, birth, and
gentry. Hee carries about him in his mouth the very soule of Ovid's
bodies, metamorphosed into trees, rockes and waters; for, when he
pleases, they shall eccho and distinctly answere; and when he pleases,
be extremely silent. There is little danger in him towards the common
wealth; for his worst intelligence comes from shepherds or woodmen;
and that onely threatens the destruction of hares; a well knowne dry
meate. The spring and he are still at variance; in mockage therefore,
and revenge together of that season, _he weares her livery_ in winter.
Little consultations please him best; but the best directions he doth
love and follow, they are his dogs. If hee cannot prevaile therefore,
his lucke must be blamed, for he takes a speedy course. He cannot
be less than a conquerour from the beginning, though he wants the
booty; for he pursues the flight. His manhood is _a crooked sword
with a sawbacke_; but the badge of his generous valour is a home to
give notice. Battery and blowing up, he loves not; to undermine is
his stratageme. His physick teaches him not to drinke sweating; in
amends whereof, he liquors himselfe to a heate, upon coole bloud, if
he delights (at least) to emulate his dog in a hot nose. If a kennel
of hounds passant take away his attention and company from church; do
not blame his devotion; for in them consists the nature of it, and his
knowledge. His frailties are, that he is apt to mistake any dog worth
the stealing, and never take notice of the collar. He dreames of a hare
sitting, a foxe earthed, or the bucke couchant: and if his fancy would
be moderate, his actions might be full of pleasure."[283:A]

Making a natural transition from the huntsman to his hounds, we have
to remark, that one great object, at this period, in the construction
of the kennel, was the modulation and harmony of the vocal powers of
the dog. This was carried to a nicety and perfection little practised
in the present day. Gervase Markham seems to write _con amore_ on
this subject, and has penned directions which partake both of the
picturesque, and of the melody on which he is descanting: thus,
speaking of the production of _loudness of cry_, he says, "if you would
have your kennel for loudness of mouth, you shall not then choose the
hollow deep mouth, but the loud clanging mouth, which spendeth freely
and sharply, and as it were redoubleth in utterance: and if you mix
with them the mouth that roreth, and the mouth that whineth, the cry
will be both the louder and the smarter;—and the more equally you
compound these mouths, haveing as many rorers as spenders, and as many
whiners, as of either of the other, the louder and pleasanter your cry
will be, _especially, if it be in sounding tall woods, or under the
echo of rocks_;" and treating of the _composition_ of notes in the
kennel, he adds, "you shall as nigh as you can, sort their mouths into
three equal parts of musick, that is to say base, counter-tenor and
mean; the base are those mouths which are most deep and solemn, and
are spent out plain and freely, without redoubling: the counter-tenor
are those which are most loud and ringing, whose sharp sounds pass so
swift, that they seem to dole and make division; and the mean are
those which are soft sweet mouths, that though plain, and a little
hollow, yet are spent smooth and freely; yet so distinctly, that a man
may count the notes as they open. Of these three sorts of mouths, if
your kennel be (as near as you can) equally compounded, you shall find
it most perfect and delectable: for though they have not the thunder
and loudness of the great dogs, which may be compared to the high
wind-instruments, yet they will have the tunable sweetness of the best
compounded consorts; and sure a man may find as much art and delight in
a lute as in an organ."[284:A]

Shakspeare, who frequently avails himself of the language, imagery, and
circumstances attendant on this diversion, has particularly noticed,
in a passage of much animation and beauty, the care taken to arrange
the notes of the kennel, and the pleasure derivable from the varied
intonations of the hounds. Theseus addressing Hippolyta, exclaims—

    "My love shall hear the musick of my hounds.—
     Uncouple in the western valley; go:—
     Despatch, I say, and find the forester.—
     We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top,
     And mark the musical confusion
     Of hounds and echo in conjunction.

       _Hip._ —————— Never did I hear
     Such gallant chiding; for, besides the groves,
     The skies, the fountains, every region near
     Seem'd all one mutual cry: I never heard
     So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.

       _The._ My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind,
     So flew'd[284:B], so sanded[284:C]; and their heads are hung
     With ears that sweep away the morning dew;
     Crook-knee'd, and dew-lap'd like Thessalian bulls;
     Slow in pursuit, but _match'd in mouth like bells,
     Each under each_. A cry more tuneable
     Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn."[284:D]

It appears from a scene in _Timon of Athens_, and from a passage in
Laneham's Account of the Queen's Entertainment at Killingworth Castle,
1575, that it was a common thing, at this period, to hunt after dinner,
or in the evening. Timon, having been employed, during the morning, in
hunting, says to Alcibiades—

    "So soon as dinner's done, we'll forth again;"[285:A]

and Elizabeth, twice, during her residence with the Earl of Leicester,
is described as pursuing this exercise in the cool of the evening.
Honest Laneham's narrative of one of these royal chases will amuse the
reader.

"Munday waz hot, and thearfore her Highness kept in till a five a
clok in the eevening: what time it pleazz'd her to ride foorth into
the chace too hunt the Hart of fors; which foound anon, and after
sore chased, and chafed by the hot pursuit of the hooundes, waz
fain of fine fors at last to take soil. Thear to beholl'd the swift
fleeting of the deer afore, with the stately cariage of hiz head in
his swimmyng, spred (for the quantitee) lyke the sail of a ship; the
hoounds harroing after, az had they bin a number of skiphs too the
spoyle of a karvell; the ton no lesse eager in purchaz of his pray,
than waz the other earnest in savegard of hiz life; so az the earning
of the hoounds in continuauns of their crie, the swiftness of the
deer, the running of footmen, the galloping of horsez, the blasting
of hornz, the halloing and hewing of the huntsmen, with the excellent
echoz between whilez from the woods and waters in valliez resounding;
moved pastime delectabl in so hy a degree, az, for ony parson to take
pleazure by moost sensez at onez, in mine opinion, thear can be none
ony wey comparable to this; and special in this place, that of nature
iz foormed so feet for the purpoze; in feith, _Master Martin_, if ye
coold with a wish, I woold ye had bin at it: Wel, the hart waz kild, a
goodly deer."[285:B]

So partial was Her Majesty to this diversion that even in her
seventy-seventh year she still pursued it with avidity; for Rowland
Whyte, one of her courtiers, writing to Sir Robert Sidney on September
12th, 1600, says, "Her majesty is well and excellently disposed to
hunting, for every second day she is on horseback, and continues the
sport long;" and when not disposed to incur the fatigue of joining in
the chase, she was recreated with a sight of the pastime; thus at the
seat of Lord Montecute, in 1591, she saw, after dinner, from a turret,
"sixteen bucks all having fayre lawe, pulled downe with greyhounds in a
laund or lawn."[286:A]

Nor was James the First less passionately addicted to the sport; his
journey from Scotland to England, on his accession to the throne of the
latter kingdom, was frequently protracted by his inability to resist
the temptation of joining in the chase; on his road to Withrington, the
seat of Sir Robert Cary, after a hard ride of thirty-seven miles in
less than four hours, "and by the way for a note," says a contemporary
writer, "the miles according to the northern phrase, are a wey bit
longer, then they be here in the south,—His Majesty having a little
while reposed himselfe after his great journey, found new occasion
to travell further: for, as he was delighting himselfe with the
pleasure of the parke, hee suddenly beheld a number of deere neare the
place: the game being so faire before him hee could not forbeare, but
_according to his wonted manner_, forth he went and slew two of them;"
again, "After his Majesties short repast to Werslop his Majestie rides
forward, but by the way in the parke he was somewhat stayed; for there
appeared a number of huntes-men all in greene; the chiefe of which with
a woodman's speech did welcome him, offering his Majestie to shew him
some game, which he gladly condiscended to see; and with a traine set
he hunted a good space, very much delighted."[286:B] This diversion
from his direct route is repeatedly noticed by the same author, and
proves the strong attachment of the monarch to this amusement, which
he preferred to either hawking or shooting; he divided his time, says
Wellwood, "betwixt his standish, his bottle, and his hunting; the last
had his fair weather, the two former his dull and cloudy[287:A];" an
assertion which with regard to hunting is corroborated by Wilson,
who, recording his visit to his native dominions in 1617, informs us,
that on his return he exhibited the same keen relish for the sport
which he had shown in 1603: "The King, in his return from Scotland,"
he remarks, "made his Progress through the hunting-countries, (his
hounds and hunters meeting him,) _Sherwood-Forest_, _Need-wood_, and
all the _parks_ and _forests_ in his way, were ransacked for his
_recreation_; and every _night_ begat a new _day_ of _delight_."[287:B]
In short, James was so engrossed by his passion for hunting, that he
neglected the most important business to indulge it; and even affected
the garb of a hunter when he ought to have been in that of a king.
Osborne calls him a _Sylvan Prince_, and adds, "I shall leave him
dressed to posterity in the colours I saw him in the next Progress
after his Inauguration, which was as _green_ as the grass he trod on,
with a _feather_ in his _cap_, and a _horn_ instead of a sword by his
side."[287:C]

To these brief notices of hawking and hunting, it may be necessary
to add a very few remarks on the kindred amusements of _fowling_ and
_fishing_, as far as they deviate, either in manner or estimation,
from the practice or opinions of the present day. In the pursuit of
_fowling_, indeed, there is little or no discrepancy between the two
periods, if we make an exception for two instances; and these now
obsolete modes of exercising the art, were termed _horse-stalking_ and
_bird-batting_. The former consisted originally of a horse trained for
the purpose, and so mantled over with trappings as to hide the fowler
completely from the game; a contrivance much improved upon for facility
of usage by substituting a stuffed canvas figure, painted to resemble
a horse grazing; this was so light that the sportsman might move it
easily with one hand, and behind it he could securely take his aim;
to this curious species of deception Shakspeare alludes in _As You
Like It_, where the Duke, speaking of Touchstone, says, "He uses his
folly like a _stalking-horse_, and under the presentation of that, he
shoots his wit[288:A];" and again, in _Much Ado about Nothing_, Claudio
exclaims, "Stalk on, stalk on; the fowl sits."[288:B] It appears from
Drayton, that the fowler shot from _underneath_ his horse, where he
was concealed by the mantle-cloth depending to the ground: thus in the
_Polyolbion_.

    "One _underneath_ his _horse_ to get a shoot doth _stalk_;"[288:C]

and in the _Muses' Elysium_—

    "Then _underneath_ my horse, I _stalk_ my game to strike."[288:D]

Sometimes, instead of a stuffed canvas figure, the form of a horse
painted on a cloth was carried before the sportsman: "Methinks," says a
writer of this period quoted by Mr. Reed, "I behold the cunning fowler,
such as I have knowne in the fenne countries and els-where, that doe
shoot at woodcockes, snipes, and wilde fowle, by sneaking behind a
_painted cloth_ which they carry before them, having _pictured in it
the shape of a horse_; which while the silly fowle gazeth on, it is
knockt down with hale shot, and so put in the fowler's budget."[288:E]

We have reason to suppose that Henry the Eighth often amused himself
in this manner; for in the inventories of his wardrobes, preserved in
the Harleian MS., are to be found frequent allowances of materials
for making "stalking coats, and stalking hose for the use of his
majesty."[289:A]

Of the peculiar mode of netting called _bird-batting_, the following
account has been given by a once popular authority on these
subjects:—"This sport we call in England most commonly bird-batting,
and some call it low-belling; and the use of it is to go with a great
light of cressets, or rags of linen dipped in tallow, which will make
a good light; and you must have a pan or plate made like a lanthorn,
to carry your light in, which must have a great socket to hold the
light, and carry it before you, on your breast, with a bell in your
other hand, and of a great bigness, made in the manner of a cow-bell,
but still larger; and you must ring it always after one order. If you
carry the bell, you must have two companions with nets, one on each
side of you; and what with the bell, and what with the light, the birds
will be so amazed, that when you come near them, they will turn up
their white bellies: your companions shall then lay their nets quietly
upon them, and take them. But you must continue to ring the bell; for,
if the sound shall cease, the other birds, if there be any more near
at hand, will rise up and fly away."[289:B] This method was used to
ensnare wood-cocks, partridges, larks, &c. and it is probable that to a
stratagem of this kind Shakspeare may allude, when he paints Buckingham
exclaiming—

    "The net has fall'n upon me; I shall perish
     Under device and practice."[289:C]

FISHING, as an _art_, has deviated little, in this country, from the
state to which it had attained three centuries ago; but it is a subject
of interest and amusement, to mark the enthusiasm with which, during
the period that we are considering, and anteriorly, this delightful
recreation has been discussed, and the minutiæ to which its literary
patrons have descended.

Of books written on the _Art of Angling_ previous to, and during the
age of Shakspeare, five, independent of subsequent editions, may be
enumerated; and from three of these, the most curious of their kind, we
shall quote a few passages indicative of the warm attachment alluded
to in the preceding paragraph. The earliest printed production on this
subject is _The Treatyse of Fysshynge wyth an Angle_, included, for the
first time, in, what may be termed, the second edition of the _Book of
St. Albans_, namely, _The Treatyses perteynynge to Hawkynge, Huntynge
and Fisshynge with an angle_, printed at Westminster, by Wynkyn De
Worde, 1496. This little tract, which has been attributed, though
perhaps not[290:A] correctly, to Dame Juliana Berners, commences with
giving a decided preference to fishing when compared with hunting,
hawking, and fowling, in the course of which the author observes, that
the Angler, if his sport should fail him, "atte the leest, hath his
holsom walke, and mery at his ease, a swete ayre of the swete savoure
of the meede floures, that makyth him hungry; he hereth the melodyous
armony of fowles; he seeth the yonge swannes, heerons, duckes, cotes,
and many other fowles, wyth theyr brodes; wyche me semyth better than
alle the noyse of houndys, the blastes of hornys, and the scrye of
fowlis, that hunters, fawkeners, and foulers can make. And if the
Angler take fysshe; surely, thenne, is there noo man merier than he is
in his spryte[290:B];" and the book concludes in a singularly pleasing
strain of piety and simplicity. "Ye shall not use this forsayd crafty
dysporte," says this lover of fishing, "for no covetysenes, to the
encreasynge and sparynge of your money oonly; but pryncypally for your
solace, and to cause the helthe of your body, and specyally of your
soule: for whanne ye purpoos to goo on your dysportes in fysshynge,
ye woll not desyre gretly many persons wyth you, whyche myghte lette
you of your game. And thenne ye may serve God, devoutly, in sayenge
affectuously youre custumable prayer; and, thus doynge, ye shall
eschewe and voyde many vices."

Of this impression of the _Book of St. Albans_ by De Worde, numerous
editions were published during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries,
and frequently with new titles, as the "Gentleman's Academie" 1595;
the "Jewell for Gentrie" 1614, and the "Gentleman's Recreation" 1674.
Two small tracts, however, on angling, possessing some originality,
were published by Leonard Mascall, and John Taverner, the former in
1590, and the latter in[291:A]1600; but the most important work on
the subject, after the _Treatyse on Fysshynge_, is a poem written by
one John Dennys, or Davors, with the following title: _The Secrets
of Angling; teaching the choicest Tooles, Baytes, and Seasons for
the taking of any Fish, in Pond or River: practised and familiarly
opened in three Bookes_. By J. D. Esquire. 8vo. Lond. 1613. This is a
production of considerable poetic merit, as will be evident from the
author's eulogium on his art: after reprobating the pastimes of gaming,
wantonness, and drinking, he exclaims—

    "O let me rather on the pleasant brinke
     Of Tyne and Trent possesse some dwelling place,
     Where I may see my quill and corke downe sinke
     With eager bite of Barbell, Bleike, or Dace:
     And on the world and his Creatour thinke,
     While they proud Thais painted sheet embrace,
       And with the fume of strong tobacco's smoke,
       All quaffing round are ready for to choke.

     Let them that list these pastimes then pursue,
     And on their pleasing fancies feed their fill;
     So I the fields and meadows green may view,
     And by the rivers fresh may walke at will,
     Among the dazies and the violets blew:
     Red hyacinth, and yellow daffodill,
       Purple narcissus like the morning rayes,
       Pale ganderglas, and azor culverkayes.

     I count it better pleasure to behold
     The goodly compasse of the lofty skie,
     And in the midst thereof like burning gold,
     The flaming chariot of the world's great eye;
     The watry clouds that in the ayre uprold,
     With sundry kinds of painted colours flie;
       And faire Aurora lifting up her head,
       All blushing rise from old Tithonus bed.

     The hils and mountains raised from the plains,
     The plains extended levell with the ground,
     The ground divided into sundry vains,
     The vains enclos'd with running rivers round,
     The rivers making way through nature's chains,
     With headlong course into the sea profound:
       The surging sea beneath the vallies low,
       The vallies sweet, and lakes that lovely flow.

     The lofty woods, the forests wide and long
     Adorn'd with leaves and branches fresh and green,
     In whose cool brows the birds with chanting song
     Do welcome with their quire the Summer's Queen,
     The meadows fair where Flora's guifts among,
     Are intermixt the verdant grasse between,
       The silver skaled fish that softly swim
       Within the brooks and crystall watry brim.

     All these and many more of his creation,
     That made the heavens, the Angler oft doth see,
     And takes therein no little delectation
     To thinke how strange and wonderfull they bee,
     Framing thereof an inward contemplation,
     To set his thoughts on other fancies free:
       And whiles he looks on these with joyfull eye,
       His minde is wrapt above the starry skie."[293:A]

The poet has entered so minutely into his task, as to give directions
for the colour of the angler's cloaths, which he wishes should be
russet or gray[293:B]; and he opens his third book with a descriptive
catalogue of the moral virtues and qualities of mind necessary to
a lover of the pastime; these, he informs us, are twelve, namely,
_faith_, _hope_, _charity_, _patience_, _humility_, _courage_,
_liberality_, _knowledge_, _placability_, _piety_, _temperance_,
and _memory_; an enumeration sufficiently extensive, it might be
supposed, to damp the enthusiasm of the most eager disciple; yet has
Gervase Markham, notwithstanding, wonderfully augmented the list.
This indefatigable author, in an early edition of his _Countrey
Contentments_[293:C], converted the poetry of Davors into prose, with
the following title: "The whole Art of Angling; as it was written in a
small Treatise in Rime, and now for the better understanding of the
Reader put into prose, and _adorned_ and _inlarged_." The additions
are numerous and entertaining, a specimen of which, under the marginal
notation of _Angler's vertues_, will convey a distinct and curious idea
of the estimation in which this art was held in the reign of James the
First, and of the moral and mental qualifications deemed essential, at
this period, towards its successful attainment.

"Now for the inward qualities of mind, albeit some writers reduce them
to _twelve_ heads, which, indeed, whosoever enjoyeth, cannot chuse but
be very compleat in much perfection, yet I must draw them into many
other branches. The first and most especial whereof is, that a skilful
Angler ought to be a general scholler, and seen in all the liberal
sciences, as a grammarian, to know how either to write or discourse
of his art in true and fitting terms, either without affectation
or rudeness. He should have sweetness of speech, to persuade and
intice others to delight in an exercise so much laudable. He should
have strength of arguments to defend and maintain his profession,
against envy or slander. He should have knowledge in the sun, moon,
and stars, that by their aspects he may guess the seasonableness or
unseasonableness of the weather, the breeding of storms, and from
what coasts the winds are ever delivered. He should be a good knower
of countries, and well used to highwayes, that by taking the readiest
paths to every lake, brook, or river, his journies may be more certain,
and less wearisome. He should have knowledge in proportions of all
sorts, whether circular, square, or diametrical, that when he shall
be questioned of his diurnal progresses, he may give a geographical
description of the angles and channels of rivers, how they fall from
their heads, and what compasses they fetch in their several windings.
He must also have the perfect art of numbring, that in the sounding of
lakes or rivers, he may know how many foot or inches each severally
containeth; and by adding, substracting, or multiplying the same,
he may yield the reason of every river's swift or slow current. He
should not be unskilful in musick, that whensoever either melancholy,
heaviness of his thoughts, or the perturbations of his own fancies,
stirreth up sadness in him, he may remove the same with some godly hymn
or anthem, of which _David_ gives him ample examples.

"He must be of a well settled and constant belief, to enjoy the benefit
of his expectation; for then to despair, it were better never to be put
in practice: and he must ever think where the waters are pleasant, and
any thing likely, that there the Creator of all good things hath stored
up much of plenty, and though your satisfaction be not as ready as your
wishes, yet you must hope still, that with perseverance you shall reap
the fulness of your harvest with contentment: Then he must be full of
love both to his pleasure and to his neighbour: to his pleasure, which
otherwise will be irksome and tedious, and to his neighbour, that he
neither give offence in any particular, nor be guilty of any general
destruction: then he must be exceeding patient, and neither vex nor
excruciate himself with losses or mischances, as in losing the prey
when it is almost in the hand, or by breaking his tools by ignorance
or negligence, but with pleased sufferance amend errors, and think
mischances instructions to better carefulness.

"He must then be full of humble thoughts, not disdaining when occasion
commands to kneel, lye down, or wet his feet or fingers, as oft as
there is any advantage given thereby, unto the gaining the end of his
labour. Then must he be strong and valiant, neither to be amazed with
storms, nor affrighted with thunder, but hold them according to their
natural causes, and the pleasure of the highest: neither must he,
like the fox which preyeth upon lambs, employ all his labour against
the smaller frey; but like the lyon that seizeth elephants, think the
greatest fish which swimmeth, a reward little enough for the pains
which he endureth. Then must he be liberal, and not working only for
his own belly, as if it could never be satisfied; but he must with
much cheerfulness bestow the fruits of his skill amongst his honest
neighbours, who being partners of his gain, will doubly renown his
triumph, and that is ever a pleasing reward to vertue.

"Then must he be prudent, that apprehending the reasons why the fish
will not bite, and all other casual impediments which hinder his sport,
and knowing the remedies for the same, he may direct his labours to be
without troublesomeness.

"Then he must have a moderate contention of the mind to be satisfied
with indifferent things, and not out of any avaritious greediness think
every thing too little, be it never so abundant.

"Then must he be of a thankful nature, praising the author of all
goodness, and shewing a large gratefulness for the least satisfaction.

"Then must he be of a perfect memory, quick and prompt to call into
his mind all the needfull things which are any way in this exercise to
be imployed, lest by omission or by forgetfulness of any, he frustrate
his hopes, and make his labour effectless. Lastly, he must be of a
strong constitution of body, able to endure much fasting, and not of
a gnawing stomach, observing hours, in which if it be unsatisfied, it
troubleth both the mind and body, and loseth that delight which maketh
the pastime only pleasing."[296:A]

It is impossible to read this elaborate catalogue of qualifications
without a smile; for who would suppose that _grammar_, _rhetoric_ and
_logic_, _astronomy_, _geography_, _arithmetic_ and _music_, were
necessary to form an angler: yet we must allow, indeed, even in the
present times, that _hope_, _patience_, and _contentment_ are still
articles of indispensable use to him who would catch fish; for though,
as Shakspeare justly observes,

    "The _pleasant'st angling_ is to see the fish
     Cut with her golden oars the silver stream,
     _And greedily devour the treacherous bait_,"[296:B]

yet are we so frequently disappointed of this latter spectacle, that
the art may be truly considered as a school for the temper, and as
meriting the rational encomium of Sir Henry Wotton, a dear lover of
the angle in the days of Shakspeare, and who has declared that, after
tedious study, angling was "a rest to his mind, a cheerer of his
spirits, a diverter of sadness[297:A], a calmer of unquiet thoughts, a
moderator of passions, a procurer of contentedness;" and "that it begat
habits of peace and patience in those that professed and practised it."
"Indeed, my friend," adds the amiable Walton, "you will find angling to
be like the virtue of humility; which has a calmness of spirit, and a
world of other blessings, attending upon it."[297:B]

A rural diversion of a kind very opposite to that of angling, namely,
HORSE-RACING, may be considered, during the reigns of Elizabeth and
James, if we compare it with the state to which the rage for gambling
has since carried it, as still in its infancy. It was classed, indeed,
with hawking and hunting, as a liberal pastime, and almost generally
pursued for the mere purposes of exercise or pleasure; hence the
moral satirists of the age, the Puritans of the sixteenth century,
have recommended it as a substitute for cards and dice. That it was,
however, even at this period, occasionally practised in the spirit of
the modern turf, will be evident from the authority of Shakspeare, who
says,

      ——————— "I have heard of _riding wagers_,
    Where horses have been nimbler than the sands
    That run i'the clock's behalf;"[297:C]

and Burton, who wrote at the close of the Shakspearean era, mentions
the ruinous consequences of this innovation: "Horse-races," he
observes, "are desports of great men, and good in themselves, though
many gentlemen by such means gallop quite out of their fortunes."[298:A]

To encourage, however, a spirit of emulation, prizes were established
for the swiftest horses, and these were usually either silver bells or
silver cups; from the prevalence of the former, the common term for
horse-races in the time of James I. was _bell-courses_, an amusement
which became very frequent in the reign of this prince, and, though the
value of the prize did not amount to more than eight or ten pounds, and
the riders were for the most part the owners of the horses, attracted a
numerous concourse of spectators.

The estimation in which the breed of _race-horses_ was held, even in
the age of Elizabeth, may be drawn from a passage in one of the satires
of Bishop Hall, first published in 1597:—

    ————————— "Dost thou prize
    Thy brute beasts worth by their dam's qualities?
    Say'st thou this colt shall prove a swift pac'd steed,
    Onely because a Jennet did him breed?
    Or say'st thou this same horse shall win the prize,
    Because his dam was swiftest Trunchifice
    Or Runceval his syre; himself a galloway?
    While like a tireling jade, he lags half way."[298:B]

While on this subject, we may remark, that the _Art of Riding_ was,
during the era we are contemplating, carried to a state of great
perfection;

    "To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus,
     And witch the world with noble horsemanship,"[298:C]

was the pursuit of every eager and aspiring spirit, and various
treatises were written to facilitate the attainment of an
accomplishment at once so useful and so fashionable. Among these, the
pieces of Gervase Markham may be deemed the best; indeed, his earliest
work on the subject, which is dated 1593, claims to be the first ever
written in this country on the art of training _Running-horses_[299:A];
and is supposed also to be the first production of Markham: it went
through many impressions under various titles, and from one of these
termed _Cavelarice_, printed in 1607, I shall select a minutely curious
picture of the "horseman's apparel."

"First, when you begin to learne to ride, you must come to the stable,
in such decent and fit apparel, as is meet for such an exercise, that
is to say, a hat which must sit close and firme upon your heade, with
an indifferent narrow verge or brim, so that in the saults or bounds
of the horse, it may neither through widenesse or unweldinesse fall
from your head, nor with the bredth of the brim fall into your eies,
and impeach your sight, both which are verie grosse errors: About
your neck you shall weare a falling band, and no ruffe, whose depth
or thicknesse, may, either with the winde, or motions of your horse,
ruffell about your face; or, according to the fashion of the Spaniards,
daunce hobby-horse-like about your shoulders, which though in them is
taken for a grace, yet in true judgment it is found an errour. Your
doublet shal be made close and hansome to your bodie, large wasted,
so that you may ever be sure to ride with your points trussed (for to
ride otherwise is most vilde) and in all parts so easye, that it may
not take from you the use of anie part of your bodie. About your waste
you must have ever your girdle and thereon a smal dagger or punniard,
which must be so fast in the sheath that no motion of the horse may
cast it forth, and yet so readie, that upon any occasion you may draw
it. Your hose would be large, rounde, and full, so that they may fill
your saddle, which should it otherwise be emptie and your bodie looke
like a small substance in a great compasse, it were wondrous uncomely.
Your bootes must be cleane, blacke, long, and close to your legge,
comming almost up to your middle thigh, so that they may lie as a
defence betwixt your knee and the tree of your saddle. Your boote-hose
must come some two inches higher then your bootes, being hansomely
tied up with pointes. Your spurres must be strong and flat inward,
bending with a compasse under your ancle: the neck of your spurre must
be long and straight, and rowels thereof longe and sharp, the prickes
thereof not standing thicke together, nor being above five in number.
Upon your handes you must weare a hansome paire of gloves, and in your
right hande you must have a long rodde finely rush-growne, so that the
small ende thereof be hardly so great as a round packe-threed, insomuch
that when you move or shake it, the noyse thereof may be lowde and
sharpe."[300:A]

Having thus noticed the _great rural_ diversions of this period, as
far as they deviate from modern practice, the remainder of the chapter
will be occupied by such minor amusements of the country as may now
justly be considered obsolete; for it must be recollected, that to
enumerate only what is _peculiar_ to the era under consideration, forms
the object of our research. It should, likewise, here be added, that
those amusements which are _equally common_ to both country and town,
will find their place under the latter head, such as cards, dice, the
practice of archery, baiting, &c. &c.

Among the amusements generally prevalent in the country, Burton has
included the _Quintaine_. This was originally a mere martial sport;
and, as Vegetius informs us, familiar to the Romans, from an individual
of which nation, named _Quintus_, it is supposed to have derived its
etymology. During the early feudal ages of modern Europe it continued
to support its military character, was practised by the higher orders
of society, and preceded, and probably gave origin to, tilting, justs,
and tournaments. These, however, as more elegant and splendid in their
costume, gradually superseded it during the prevalence of chivalry;
it then became an exercise for the middle ranks, for burgesses and
citizens, and at length towards the close of the sixteenth century,
degenerated into a mere rustic sport.

It would appear, from comparing Stowe with Shakspeare, that about the
year 1600, the Quintain was made use of under two forms; the most
simple consisting of a post fixed perpendicularly in the ground, on the
top of which was a cross-bar turning upon a pivot or spindle, with a
broad board nailed at one end and a bag of sand suspended at the other;
at the board they ran on horseback with spears or staves, and "hee,"
says Stowe, "that hit not the broad end of the quinten was of all men
laughed to scorne; and hee that hit it full, if he rid not the faster,
had a sound blow in his necke with a bagge full of sand hanged on the
other end."[301:A] A more costly and elaborate machine, resembling the
human form, is alluded to by Shakspeare in _As You Like It_, where
Orlando says,

        ——————— "My better parts
    Are all thrown down; and _that which here stands up,
    Is but a quintain_, a mere lifeless block."[301:B]

In Italy, Germany, and Flanders, a quintain, carved in wood in
imitation of the human form, was, during the sixteenth century, in
common use.[301:C] The figure very generally represented a Saracen,
armed with a shield in one hand, and a sword in the other, and, being
placed on a pivot, the skill of those who attacked it, depended on
shivering the lance to pieces between the eyes of the figure; for if
the weapon deviated to the right or left, and especially if it struck
the shield, the quintain turned round with such velocity as to give
the horseman a violent blow on the back with his sword, a circumstance
which covered the performer with ridicule, and excited the mirth of
the spectators. That such a machine, termed the _shield quintain_, was
used in Ireland during the reign of Richard the Second, we have the
authority of Froissart; it is therefore highly probable, that this
species of the diversion was as common in England, and still lingered
here in the reign of Elizabeth; and that to a quintain of this kind,
representing an armed man, and erected for the purpose of a _military_
exercise, Shakspeare alludes in the passage just quoted.

It must, however, be allowed, that at the commencement of the
seventeenth century, and for several years anterior, the quintain had
almost universally become the plaything of the peasantry, and was
seldom met with but at rural weddings, wakes, or fairs; or under any
other form than that which Stowe has described. No greater proof of
this can be given than the fact, that when Elizabeth was entertained
at Kenelworth Castle, in 1575, with an exact representation of a
_Country Bridale_, a quintain of this construction formed a part of
it. "Marvellous," says Laneham, "were the martial acts that were done
there that day; the bride-groom for pre-eminence had the first course
at the Quintaine, brake his spear treshardiment; but his mare in his
manage did a little so titubate, that much ado had his manhood to sit
in his saddle, and to scape the foil of a fall: With the help of his
hand, yet he recovered himself, and lost not his stirrups (for he had
none to his saddle); had no hurt as it hapt, but only that his girth
burst, and lost his pen and inkhorn that he was ready to weep for; but
his handkerchief, as good hap was, found he safe at his girdle; that
cheered him somewhat, and had good regard it should not be filed. For
though heat and coolness upon sundry occasions made him sometime to
sweat, and sometime rheumatic; yet durst he be bolder to blow his nose
and wipe his face with the flappet of his father's jacket, than with
his mother's muffler: 'tis a goodly matter, when youth is mannerly
brought up, in fatherly love and motherly awe.

"Now, Sir, after the bride-groom had made his course, ran the rest of
the band a while, in some order; but soon after, tag and rag, cut and
long tail; where the specialty of the sport was to see how some for his
slackness had a good bob with the bag; and some for his haste to topple
down right, and come tumbling to the post: Some striving so much at the
first setting out, that it seemed a question between the man and the
beast, whether the course should be made a horseback or a foot: and put
forth with the spurs, then would run his race by us among the thickest
of the throng, that down came they together hand over head: Another,
while he directed his course to the quintain, his jument would carry
him to a mare among the people; so his horse as amorous as himself
adventurous: An other, too, run and miss the quintain with his staff,
and hit the board with his head!

"Many such gay games were there among these riders: who by and by
after, upon a greater courage, left their quintaining, and ran one
at another. There to see the stern countenances, the grim looks, the
couragious attempts, the desperate adventures, the dangerous courses,
the fierce encounters, whereby the buff at the man, and the counterbuff
at the horse, that both sometime came toppling to the ground. By my
troth, _Master Martin_, 'twas a lively pastime; I believe it would have
moved some man to a right merry mood, though it had been told him his
wife lay a dying."[303:A]

This passage presents us with a lively picture of what the _rural
quintain_ was in the days of Elizabeth, an exercise which continued
to amuse our rustic forefathers for more than a century after the
princely festival of Kenelworth. Minshieu, who published his Dictionary
in 1617, the year subsequent to Shakspeare's death, informs us that
"A _quintaine_ or quintelle," was "a game in request at marriages,
when Jac and Tom, Dic, Hob and Will, strive for the gay garland."
Randolph in 1642, alluding in one of his poems to the diversions of the
Spaniards, says

    "Foot-ball with us may be with them balloone;
     As they at _tilts_, so we at _quintaine_ runne;
     And those old pastimes relish best with me,
     That have least art, and most simplicitie;"

Plott in his History of Oxfordshire, first printed in 1677, mentions
the Quintain as the common bridal diversion of the peasantry at
Deddington in that county; "it is now," he remarks, "only in request
at marriages, and set up in the way for young men to ride at as they
carry home the bride, he that breaks the board being counted the best
man[304:A];" and in a satire published about the year 1690, under the
title of _The Essex Champion; or the famous History of Sir Billy of
Billerecay, and his Squire Ricardo_, intended as a ridicule, after the
manner of Cervantes, on the romances then in circulation, the hero,
Sir Billy, is represented as running at a quintain, such as Stowe has
drawn in his Survey, but with the most unfortunate issue, for "taking
his launce in his hand, he rid with all his might at the Quinten, and
hitting the board a full blow, brought the sand-bag about with such
force, as made him measure his length on the ground."[304:B]

Most of the numerous athletic diversions of the country remaining what
they were two centuries ago, cannot, in accordance with our plan,
require any comment or detail; two, however, now, we believe, entirely
obsolete, and which serve to mark the manners of the age, it will be
necessary to introduce. Mercutio, in a contest of pleasantry and banter
with Romeo, exclaims, "Nay, if thy wits run the _wild-goose chace_, I
have done."[304:C]

This barbarous species of horse-race, which has been named from its
resemblance to the flight of _wild-geese_, was a common diversion
among the country-gentlemen of this period; Burton, indeed, calls it
one of "the disports of great men[305:A];" a confession which does no
honour to the age, for this elegant amusement consisted in two horses
starting together, and he who proved the hindmost rider was obliged to
follow the foremost over whatever ground he chose to carry him, that
horse which could distance the other winning the race.

Another sport still more extraordinary and rude, and much in vogue
in the south-western counties, was, one of the numerous games with
the ball, and termed HURLING. Of this there were two kinds, _hurling
to the Goales_ and _hurling to the Country_, and both have been
described with great accuracy by Carew, in his Survey of Cornwall.
The first is little more than a species of hand-ball, but the second,
when represented as the amusement of _gentlemen_, furnishes a curious
picture of the civilisation of the times.

"In _hurling to the country_," says Carew, "two or three, or more
parishes agree to hurl against two or three other parishes. The matches
are usually made by _gentlemen_, and their goales are either those
gentlemen's houses, or some towns or villages three or four miles
asunder, of which either side maketh choice after the nearnesse of
their dwellings; when they meet, there is neyther comparing of numbers
nor matching of men, but a silver ball is cast up, and that company
which can catch and carry it by force or slight to the place assigned,
gaineth the ball and the victory.—Such as see where the ball is played
give notice, crying 'ware east,' 'ware west,' as the same is carried.
The hurlers take their next way over hilles, dales, hedges, ditches;
yea, and thorow bushes, briars, mires, plashes, and rivers whatsoever,
so _as you shall sometimes see twenty or thirty lie tugging together in
the water scrambling and scratching for the ball_."[305:B]

The _domestic_, amusements in the country being nearly, if not
altogether, the same with those which prevailed in the city, we shall,
with one exception, refer the consideration of them to another part
of this work. The pastime for which this distinction is claimed, was
known by the name of SHOVEL-BOARD, or _Shuffle-board_, and was so
universally prevalent throughout the kingdom, during the era of which
we are treating, that there could scarcely be found a nobleman's or
gentleman's house in the country in which this piece of furniture
was not a conspicuous object. The great hall was the place usually
assigned for its station, though in some places, as, for instance, at
Ludlow Castle, a room was appropriated to this purpose, called _The
Shovell-Board Room_.[306:A]

The table necessary for this game, now superseded by the use of
Billiards, was frequently upon a very large and expensive scale. "It
is remarkable," observes Dr. Plott, "that in the hall at Chartley the
shuffle-board table, though ten yards one foot and an inch long, is
made up of about two hundred and sixty pieces, which are generally
about eighteen inches long, some few only excepted, that are scarce
a foot; which, being laid on longer boards for support underneath,
are so accurately joined and glewed together, that no shuffle-board
whatever is freer from rubbs or casting.—There is a joynt also in the
shuffle-board at Madeley Manor exquisitely well done."[306:B]

The mode of playing at Shovel-board is thus described by Mr.
Strutt:—"At one end of the shovel-board there is a line drawn across,
parallel with the edge, and about three or four inches from it; at
four feet distance from this line another is made, over which it is
necessary for the weight to pass when it is thrown by the player,
otherwise the go is not reckoned. The players stand at the end of the
table, opposite to the two marks above mentioned, each of them having
four flat weights of metal, which they shove from them, one at a time,
alternately: and the judgment of the play is, to give sufficient
impetus to the weight to carry it beyond the mark nearest to the edge
of the board, which requires great nicety, for if it be too strongly
impelled, so as to fall from the table, and there is nothing to prevent
it, into a trough placed underneath for its reception, the throw is
not counted; if it hangs over the edge, without falling, three are
reckoned towards the player's game; if it lie between the line and the
edge, without hanging over, it tells for two; if on the line, and not
up to it, but over the first line, it counts for one. The game, when
two play, is generally eleven; but the number is extended when four, or
more, are jointly concerned."[307:A]

It appears from a passage in the _Merry Wives of Windsor_, that, in
Shakspeare's time, the broad shillings of Edward VI. were made use
of at shovel-board instead of the more modern weights. Falstaff is
enquiring of Pistol if he picked master Slender's purse, a query
to which Slender thus replies: "Ay, by these gloves, did he, (or I
would I might never come in mine own great chamber again else,) of
seven groats in mill-sixpences, and two _Edward shovel-boards_, that
cost me two shillings and two pence a-piece of Yead Miller, by these
gloves."[307:B] "That Slender means the broad shilling of one of our
kings," remarks Mr. Malone, "appears from comparing these words with
the corresponding passage in the old quarto: 'Ay by this handkerchief
did he;—two faire shovel-board _shillings_, besides seven groats in
mill-sixpences.'"[307:C]

Mr. Douce is of opinion that the game of shovel-board is not much older
than the reign of Edward VI., and that it is only a variation, on a
larger scale, of what was term'd SHOVE-GROAT, a game invented in the
reign of Henry VIII., and described in the statutes, of his 33d year,
as a _new_ game.[307:D] Shove-groat was also played, as the name
implies, with the coin of the age, namely silver groats, then as large
as our modern shillings, and to this pastime and to the instrument used
in performing it, Shakspeare likewise, and Jonson, allude; the first
in the _Second Part of King Henry IV._, where Falstaff, threatening
Pistol, exclaims, "Quoit him down, Bardolph, like _a Shove-groat
shilling_:"[308:A] the second in _Every Man in his Humour_, where
Knowell, speaking of Brain-worm, says that he has "translated begging
out of the old hackney pace, to a fine easy amble, and made it run
as smooth off the tongue as a _shove-groat shilling_."[308:B] That
the game of _Shovel-board_ is subsequent, in point of time, to the
diversion of _Shove-groat_, is probable from the circumstance noticed
by Mr. Douce, that no coin termed _shovel-groat_ is any where to be
found, and consequently the era of the broad shilling may be deemed
that also of shovel-board. Mr. Strutt supposes the modern game of
_Justice Jervis_ to resemble, in all essential points, the ancient
_Shove-groat_.[308:C]

Between the _juvenile_ sports which were common in the reigns of
Elizabeth and James, and those of the present day, little variation or
discrepancy, worth noticing, can be perceived; they were, under slight
occasional alterations of form and name, equally numerous, trifling, or
mischievous, and Shakspeare has now and then referred to them, for the
purposes of illustration or similitude; he has, in this manner, alluded
to the well-known games of _leap-frog_[308:D]; _handy-dandy_[308:E];
_wildmare_, or _balancing_[308:F]; _flap-dragons_[308:G]; _loggats_,
or _kittle-pins_[308:H]; _country-base_, or _prisoner's bars_[308:I];
_fast and loose_[308:J]; _nine men's morris_, or _five-penny
morris_[308:K]; _cat in a bottle_[308:L]; _figure of eight_[308:M],
&c. &c.; games which, together with those derived from balls, marbles,
hoops, &c. require no description, and which, deviating little in their
progress from age to age, can throw no material light on the costume of
early life. Very few diversions, indeed, peculiar to our youthful days
have become totally obsolete; among these, however, may be mentioned
one, which, from the obscurity resting on it, its peculiarity, and
former popularity, is entitled to some distinction. We allude to the
diversion of BARLEY-BREAKE, of the mode of playing which, Mr. Strutt
confesses himself ignorant, and merely quotes the following lines from
Sidney, as given by Johnson in his Dictionary:

    "By neighbours prais'd, she went abroad thereby,
     At _barley-brake_ her sweet swift feet to try."[309:A]

Barley-breake was, however, among young people, one of the most
popular amusements of the reigns of Elizabeth and James the First, and
continued so until the austere zeal of the Puritans occasioned its
suppression: thus Thomas Randall, in "An Eclogue" on the diversions of
Cotswold Hills, complains that

    "Some melancholy swaines, about have gone,
     To teach all zeale, their owne complection—
     These teach that dauncing is a Jezabell,
     And _Barley-breake_, the ready way to hell."[309:B]

Before this puritanical revolution took place, _barley-breake_ was
a common theme with the amatory bards of the day, and allusions to
it were frequent in their songs, madrigals, and ballets. With one of
these, written about 1600, we shall present the reader, as a pleasing
specimen of the light poetry of the age:—

    "Now is the month of maying,
     When merry lads are playing;
     Each with his bonny lasse,
     Upon the greeny grasse.

     The spring clad all in gladnesse
     Doth laugh at winter's sadnesse;
     And to the bagpipe's sound,
     The nymphs tread out their ground.

     Fye then, why sit wee musing,
     Youth's sweet delight refusing;
     Say daintie Nimphs and speake,
     Shall wee play _barly-breake_."[310:A]

There were two modes of playing at barley-breake, and of these one
was rather more complex than the other. Mr. Gifford, in a note on the
_Virgin-Martyr_ of Massinger, where this game, in its more elaborate
form, is referred to, remarks, that "with respect to the amusement of
barley-break, allusions to it occur repeatedly in our old writers;
and their commentators have piled one parallel passage upon another,
without advancing a single step towards explaining what this celebrated
pastime really was. It was played by six people (three of each sex),
who were coupled by lot. A piece of ground was then chosen, and divided
into three compartments, of which the middle one was called hell. It
was the object of the couple condemned to this division, to catch the
others, who advanced from the two extremities; in which case a change
of situation took place, and hell was filled by the couple who were
excluded by pre-occupation, from the other places. In this "catching,"
however, there was some difficulty, as, by the regulations of the game,
the middle couple were not to separate before they had succeeded,
while the others might break hands whenever they found themselves hard
pressed. When all had been taken in turn, the last couple was said _to
be in hell_, and the game ended."[310:B]

That this description, explanatory of the passage in Massinger,

    "He is at _barley-break_, and the last couple
     Are now in hell,"

is accurate and full, will derive corroboration from a scarce pamphlet
entitled "Barley-breake, or a Warning for Wantons," published in 1607,
and which contains a curious representation of this amusement.

    ——— "On a time the lads and lasses came,
    Entreating Elpin that she[311:A] might goe play;
    He said she should (Euphema was her name)
    And then denyes: yet needs she must away.

    To Barley-breake they roundly then 'gan fall,
    Raimon, Euphema had unto his mate;
    For by a lot he won her from them all;
    Wherefore young Streton doth his fortune hate.

    But yet ere long he ran and caught her out,
    And on the back a gentle fall he gave her;
    It is a fault which jealous eyes spie out,
    A maide to kisse before her jealous father.

    Old Elpin smiles, but yet he frets within,
    Euphema saith, she was unjustly cast.
    She strives, he holds, his hand goes out and in:
    She cries, away! and yet she holds him fast.

    Till sentence given by an other maid,
    That she was caught according to the law;
    The voice whereof this civill quarrell staid,
    And to his mate each lusty lad 'gan draw.

    Euphema now with Streton is in hell,
    (For so the middle roome is alwaies cald)
    He would for ever, if he might, there dwell;
    He holds it blisse with her to be inthrald.

    The other run, and in their running change;
    Streton 'gan catch, and then let goe his hold;
    Euphema like a doe, doth swiftly range,
    Yet taketh none, although full well she could,

    And winkes on Streton, he on her 'gan smile,
    And fame would whisper something in her eare;
    She knew his mind, and bid him use a wile,
    As she ran by him, so that none did heare."[311:B]

The simpler mode of conducting this pastime, as it was practised in
Scotland, has been detailed by Dr. Jamieson, who tells us, that it was
"a game generally played by young people in a corn-yard. One stack is
fixed on as the _dule_, or goal; and one person is appointed to catch
the rest of the company, who run out from the dule. He does not leave
it till they are all out of his sight. Then he sets off to catch them.
Any one who is taken cannot run out again with his former associates,
being accounted a prisoner; but is obliged to assist his captor in
pursuing the rest. When all are taken, the game is finished; and he who
was first taken is bound to act as catcher in the next game."[312:A]
It is evident, from our old poetry, that this style of playing at
barley-breake was also common in England, and especially among the
lower orders in the country.

It may be proper to add, at the close of this chapter, that a species
of public diversion was, during the Elizabethan period, supported by
each parish, for the purpose of innocently employing the peasantry upon
a failure of work from weather or other causes. To this singular though
laudable custom Shakspeare alludes in the _Twelfth Night_, where Sir
Toby says, "He's a coward, and a coystril, that will not drink to my
niece, 'till his brains turn o' the toe like a [312:B]_parish-top_."
"This," says Mr. Steevens, "is one of the customs now laid aside;" and
he adds, in explanation, that "a large top was kept in every village,
to be whipped in frosty weather, that the peasants might be kept
warm by exercise, and out of mischief, while they could not work;" a
diversion to which Fletcher likewise refers in his _Night-Walker_, and
which has given rise to the proverbial expression of _sleeping like a
town-top_.

From this rapid sketch of the diversions of the country, as they
existed in Shakspeare's time, it will be immediately perceived that
not many have become obsolete, and of those which have undergone some
change, the variations have not been such as materially to obscure
their origin or previous constitution. The object of this chapter
being, therefore, only to mark what was peculiar in rural pastime to
the age under consideration, and not to notice what had suffered little
or no modification, its articles, especially if we consider the nature
of the immediately preceding section, (and that nearly all amusements
common to both town and country were referred to a future part,) could
not be either very numerous, or require any very extended elucidation.

What might be necessary in the minute and isolated task of the
commentator, would be tedious and superfluous in a design which
professes, while it gives a distinct and broad outline of the
complexion of the times, to preserve among its parts an unrelaxed
attention to unity and compression.


FOOTNOTES:

[247:A] MS. Harl. Libr., No. 2057, apud Strutt's Customs, &c.

[247:B] Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, 8th edit. fol. 1676. p. 169,
170.

[247:C] Ibid. p. 172.

[247:D] Ibid. p. 174.

[247:E] Ibid. p. 172.

[248:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 22. note 6.

[249:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 21, 22. 25, 26.

[249:B] Pope's Preface to his edition of Shakspeare, vide Reed's
Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 183.

[249:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 25, note 3.

[250:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 26, note.

[250:B] Ibid. vol. xviii. p. 130, 131.

[250:C] Ibid. vol. xviii. p. 131. note 7.

[250:D] Poetaster, 1601, vide Ben Jonson's Works, fol. edit. of 1640,
vol. i. p. 267.

[251:A] Apology for Actors, 1612.

[251:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xi. p. 307.

[251:C] Vide Malone's note in Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xi. p. 307.

[251:D] By the statute of the 39 Eliz. any baron of the realm might
license a company of players; but by the statute of first James I. "it
is declared and enacted, that from thenceforth no authority given,
or to be given or made, by any baron of this realm, or any other
honourable personage of greater degree, unto any interlude players,
minstrels, jugglers, bearward, or any other idle person or persons
whatsoever, using any unlawful games or plays, to play or act, should
be available to free or discharge the said persons, or any of them,
from the pains and punishments of rogues, of vagabonds, and sturdy
beggars, in the said statutes (those of Eliz.) mentioned."

[252:A] A character in _Gammar Gurtons Needle_, says Mr. Strutt,
a comedy supposed to have been written A. D. 1517, declares he
will go "and travel with young Goose, the _motion-man_, for a
puppet-player."[252:E] This reference, however, is inaccurate, for
after a diligent perusal of the comedy in question, no such passage is
to be found.

[252:B] Ben Jonson's Works, fol. edit. 1640, vol. ii. p. 77. act v. sc.
4.

[252:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iv. p. 112.

[252:D] Vide Malone on the Chronological Order of Shakspeare's Plays.
Reed's Shakspeare, vol. 2. p. 304.

[252:E] Strutt's Sports and Pastimes, p. 150, note b.

[253:A] Chalmers's Supplemental Apology, p. 323, note _s_.

[253:B] Strutt's Sports and Pastimes, p. 20.

[253:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ii. p. 304, and Chalmers's Apology, p.
324, note.

[254:A] Athenæ Oxon. vol. ii. p. 812.

[254:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xii. p. 124.

[254:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. v. p. 16.

[254:D] They were given him by Endymion Porter, the King's servant.

[254:E] Biographical History of England, vol. ii. p. 399, 8vo. edit. of
1775.

[255:A] Strutt's Sports and Pastimes, p. 20, and Heath's Description of
Cornwall, 1750.

[255:B] "About the year 750, Winifrid, or Boniface, a native of
England, and archbishop of Mons, acquaints Ethelbald, a king of
Kent, that he has sent him, one hawk, two falcons and two shields.
And Hedilbert, a king of the Mercians, requests the same archbishop
Winifrid to send him two falcons which have been trained to kill
cranes. See Epistol. Winifrid. (Bonifac.) Mogunt. 1605. 1629. And in
Bibl. Patr. tom. vi., and tom. xiii. p. 70."—Warton's Hist. of English
Poetry, vol. ii. p. 221.

[256:A] Jonson's Works, fol. vol. i. p. 6. act i. sc. 1.

[256:B] Brathwait's English Gentleman, 2d edit. 1633. p. 220.

[257:A] "The Booke of Faulconrie, or Hawking, for the onely delight
and pleasure of all Noblemen and Gentlemen: collected out of the best
aucthors, as wel Italians as Frenchmen, and some English practises
withall concernyng Faulconrie, the contentes whereof are to be seene
in the next page folowyng. By Geo. Turbervile, Gentleman. Nocet empta
dolore voluptas. Imprinted at London for Chr. Barker, at the signe of
the Grashoper in Paules Church-yarde, 1575." To this was added, the
"Noble Arte of Venerie or Hunting;" and a re-impression of both, "newly
revived, corrected, and augmented with many additions proper to these
present times," was published by Thomas Purfoot, in 1611.

Gervase Markham published in 1595 the edition of Dame Julyana Barne's
Treatise on Hawking and Hunting, which we have formerly noticed, and
which was first printed by Caxton, and afterwards by Winkin De Worde;
and in 1615, the first edition of his _Country Contentments_, which
contains a treatise on Hawking; a work so popular, that it reached
thirteen or fourteen editions.

Edmund Best, who trained and sold hawks, printed a treatise on Hawks
and Hawking in 1619.

[259:A] Brathwait's English Gentleman, 2d edit. 1633. p. 201-203.

[259:B] Henry Peacham, who remarks of Hawking, that it is a recreation
"very commendable and befitting a Noble or Gentleman to exercise,"
adds, that "by the Canon Law, Hawking was forbidden unto Clergie." The
Compleat Gentleman, 2d. edit. p. 212, 213.

[260:A] Vide Quaternio, or a Fourefold Way to a Happie Life, set forth
in a Dialogue betweene a Countryman and a Citizen, a Divine and a
Lawyer. Per Tho. Nash, Philopolitean, 1633.

[260:B] English Gentleman, p. 200.

[262:A] Quaternio, 1633. It is, perhaps, scarcely necessary to add,
that the writer of this work must not be confounded with Thos. Nash the
author of _Pierce Penniless_, who died before 1606.

[262:B] To _bind with_ is to _tire_ or _seize_.—Gentleman's Recreation.

[263:A] _To cancelier._ "Canceller is when a high-flown hawk in her
stooping, turneth two or three times upon the wing, to recover herself
before she seizeth her prey."—Gentleman's Recreation.

[263:B] Gifford's Massinger, vol. iv. p. 136, 137.—The _Guardian_,
from which this passage is taken, was licensed in October 1633.

[264:A] Dibdin's Typographical Antiquities, vol. ii. p. 57, 58.

[264:B] Hall's Life of Henry VIII. sub an. xvj.

[265:A] Bury St. Edmunds in Suffolk.

[265:B] Anonymous MS., entitled "Merry Passages and Jeasts." Bibl.
Harl. 6395. Art. cccliv.

[265:C] Merry Passages and Jeasts, art. ccxxiii.

[266:A] The Falconer was sometimes denominated the _Ostringer_ or
Sperviter: "they be called Ostringers," says Markham, "which are the
keepers of Goshawkes or Tercelles, and those which keepe Sparrow-hawkes
or Muskets are called _Sperviters_, and those which keepe any other
kinde of hawke being long-winged are termed _Falconers_." Gentleman's
Academie or Booke of S. Alban's, fol. 8.

[266:B] Satyrical Essayes, Characters, &c., by John Stephens, 1615,
16mo. 1st edit.

[267:A] "All hawks," says Markham, "generally are _manned_ after one
manner, that is to say, by watching and keeping them from sleep, by
a continuall carrying them upon your fist, and by a most familiar
stroaking and playing with them, with the wing of a dead fowl, or such
like, and by often gazing and looking them in the face, with a loving
and gentle countenance, and so making them acquainted with the man.

"After your hawks are manned, you shall bring them to the _Lure_[267:D]
by easie degrees, as first, making them jump unto the fist, after fall
upon the lure, then come to the voice, and lastly, to know the voice
and lure so perfectly, that either upon the sound of the one, sight of
the other, she will presently come in, and be most obedient; which may
easily be performed, by giving her reward when she doth your pleasure,
and making her fast when she disobeyeth: short wing'd hawks shall be
called to the fist only, and not to the lure; neither shall you use
unto them the loudnesse and variety of voice, which you do to the long
winged hawks, but only bring them to the fist by chiriping your lips
together, or else by the whistle." Countrey Contentments, 11th edit. p.
30.

[267:B] Country Contentments, p. 29.

[267:C] Though it sometimes appears that the jesses were made of silk.

[267:D] An object stuffed like that kind of bird which the hawk was
designed to pursue. The use of the _lure_ was to tempt him back after
he had flown.—Steevens.

[268:A] "These observations are taken from 'The Boke of Saint Albans;'
a subsequent edition says, 'at least a note under.'"[268:D]

[268:B] "I am told, that silver being mixed with the metal,
when the bells are cast, adds much to the sweetness of the sound; and
hence probably the allusion of Shakspeare, when he says,

    'How silver sweet sound lovers tongues by night.'"

[268:C] Strutt's Sports and Pastimes, p. 28.

[268:D] This subsequent edition, to which Mr. Strutt alludes, is
probably that by Gervase Markham, who tells us under the head of
"Hawkes belles:" "The bells which your hawke shal weare, looke in any
wise that they be not too heavy, whereby they overloade hir, neither
that one be heavier than an other, but both of like weight: looke also,
that they be well sounding and shrill, yet not both of one sound, _but
one at least a note under the other_." He adds "of spar-hawkes belles
there is choice enough, and the charge little, by reason that the store
thereof is great. But for goshawks sometimes belles of Millaine were
supposed to bee the best, and undoubtedly they be excellent, for that
they are sounded with silver, and the price of them is thereafter, but
there be _now_," he observes, "used belles out of the lowe Countries
which are approoved to be _passing good_, for they are principally
_sorted_, they are well sounded, and sweet of ringing, with a pleasant
shrilnesse, and excellently well lasting." Gentleman's Academie, fol.
13.

[269:A] These technical terms may admit of some explanation, from the
following passage in Markham's edition of the Booke of St. Alban's,
1595, where speaking of the fowl being found in a river or pit, he
adds, "if shee (the hawk) nyme or take the further side of the river
or pit from you, then she slaieth the foule at _fere juttie_: but if
she kill it on that side that you are on yourselfe; as many times
it chanceth, then you shall say shee killed the foule at the _jutty
ferry_: if your hawke nime the foule aloft, you shal say she tooke it
_at the mount_. If you see store of mallards separate from the river
and feeding in the fielde, if your hawke flee covertly under hedges,
or close by the ground, by which means she nymeth one of them before
they can rise, you shall say, that foule was killed _at the querre_."
Gentleman's Academie, fol. 12.

[270:A] Ancient British Drama, vol. ii. p. 436.

[270:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xix. p. 387. Act iii. sc. 3.

[270:C] Ibid., vol. v. p. 339. Act iii. sc. 1.

[270:D] Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, fol. 8th edit. p. 152.

[271:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 135. Act iv. sc. 1.

[271:B] Ibid. vol. xx. p. 147. Act iii. sc. 2.

[271:C] Ibid. p. 93. Act ii. sc. 2.

[271:D] Ibid. vol. v. p. 126. Act iii. sc. 3.

[271:E] Fairy Queen, book i. cant. 11. stan. 34. "Eyes, or nias," says
Mr. Douce, "is a term borrowed from the French _niais_, which means
any young bird in the nest, _avis in nido_. It is the first of five
several names by which a falcon is called during its first year."
Illustrations, vol. i. p. 74.

[272:A] Censura Literaria, vol. x. p. 231.

[273:A] Complete Gentleman, 2nd edit., p. 212, 213.

[273:B] Dekkar's Villanies discovered by lanthorne and candle-light,
&c. 1616.

[274:A] Vide Warton's Hist. of English Poetry, vol. ii. p. 221. note.

[274:B] MS. Cotton Library, Vespasianus, B. 12.

[274:C] MS. Digb. 182. Bibl. Bodl. Warton, vol. ii. p. 221. note m.

[275:A] The substance of this account is taken from _The Maistre of the
Game_, written for the use of Prince Henry.

[276:A] Vide Censura Literaria, vol. x. p. 237, 238.

[276:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xx. p. 173. Act iii. sc. 5.

[276:C] In a work entitled "A Briefe Discourse of the true (but
neglected) use of Charact'ring the degrees by their perfection,
imperfection, and diminution, in measurable musicke, against the
common practice and custome of these times. Examples whereof are
exprest in the harmony of 4 voyces, concerning the pleasure of 5 usuall
Recreations. 1. Hunting. 2. Hawking. 3. Dauncing. 4. Drinking. 5.
Enamouring. By Thomas Ravenscroft, Bachelar of Musicke. London, printed
by Edw. Allde for Tho. Adams, 1614. Cum privilegio Regali, 4to."

Puttenham refers to one Gray as the author of this ballad, who was
in good estimation, he says, with King Henry, "and afterwards with
the Duke of Sommerset Protectour, for making certaine merry ballades,
whereof one chiefly was, _The hunte it_ (is) _up_, the hunte is up." P.
12.

Ritson refers to another ballad, as the prototype of Shakspeare's line,
which, he says, is very old, and commences thus:—

    "The hunt is up, the hunt is up,
     And now it is almost day;
     And he that's a bed with another man's wife,
     It's time to get him away."
       Remarks critical and illustrative, &c., 1783, p. 183.

[278:A] Of the language formerly used by the huntsman to his dogs, a
very curious description is given by Markham, in his modernised edition
of the Booke of St. Albans, 1595.

"When the Huntsman," says he, "commeth to the kennell in the morning
to couple up his hounds, and shall _jubet_ once or twice to awake the
dogs: opening the kennell doore, the Huntsman useth some gentle rating,
lest in their hasty comming forth they should hurt one another: to
which the Frenchman useth this worde, _Arere, Arere_, and we, _sost,
ho ho ho ho_, once or twice redoubling the same, coupling them as they
come out of the kennell. And being come into the field, and having
uncoupled, the Frenchman useth, _hors de couple avant avant_, onse or
twise with _soho_ three times together: wee use to _jubet_ once or
twice to the dogges, crying, _a traile a traile, there dogges there_,
and the rather to make the dogs in trailing to hold close together
striking uppon some Brake crie _soho_. And if the hounds have had rest,
and being over lustie, doe beginne to fling away, the Frenchmen use to
crie, _swef ames swef_, redoubling the same, with _Arere ames ho_: nowe
we to the same purpose use to say, _sost ho, heere againe ho_, doubling
the same, sometimes calling them backe againe with _jubet_ or hallow:
poynting with your hunting staffe upon the ground, saying _soho_.

"And if some one of the hounds light upon a pure scent, so that by the
manner of his eager spending you perceive it is very good, yet shall
the same hounds crying, _there, now there_: and to put the rest of the
crie in to him, you shall crie, _ho avant avant, list a Talbot, list
list there_. To which the French man useth, _Oyes a Talbot le vailant
oyes oyes, trove le coward_, in the same manner with little difference.
And if you find by your hounds where a Hare hath beene at relefe, if
it be in the time of greene corne, and if your hounds spend uppon
the troile merily, and make a goodly crie, then shall the Huntsman
blow three motes with his horne, which hee may sundry times use with
discretion, when he seeth the houndes have made away: A double, and
make on towards the seate; now if it be within some field or pasture
where the Hare hath beene at relefe, let the Huntsman cast a ring with
his houndes to finde where she hath gone out, which if the houndes
light uppon, he shall crie, _There boyes there, that tat tat, hoe
hicke, hicke, hicke avant, list to him list_, and if they chance by
their brain sicknesse to overshoote it, he shall call to his hounds,
_ho againe ho_, doubling the same twice. And if undertaking it againe,
and making it good, hee shall cheare his hounds: _there, to him there,
thats he, that tat tat_, blowing a mote. And note, that this word
_soho_ is generally used at the view of any beast of Chase or Venerie:
but indeede the word is properly _saho_, and not _soho_, but for the
better pronuntiation and fulnes of the same we say _soho_ not _saho_.
Now the hounds running in full chase, the Frenchman useth to say, _ho
ho_, or _swef alieu douce alieu_, and wee imitating them say, _There
boies, there avant there, to him there_, which termes are in deede
derived from their language."—Gentleman's Academie, fol. 32, 33. These
appear to be the terms in use at the close of the sixteenth century;
for he afterwards mentions that the "olde and antient Huntsmen had
divers termes" which were not in his time "very needefull."

[280:A] Peck's Desiderata Curiosa, vol. ii. p. 164.

[280:B] Antiquarian Repertory, vol. i. p. 27.

[280:C] To take the _assay_ or _say_, was to draw the knife along
the belly of the deer, in order to ascertain how fat he was, and the
operation was begun at the brisket.

[281:A] Chaloner's Prayze of Follie, 1577. The whole process of
"undoing the Hart," may be seen in Markham's "Gentlemans Academie,"
fol. 35.

[281:B] Jonson apud Whalley, act i. sc. 6.

[281:C] Alluding to the Book of St. Albans, republished, under this
title, in 1595, by Gervase Markham.

[283:A] Satyrical Essayes, &c. by John Stephens, 1615.

[284:A] Countrey Contentments, 1615.—11th edit. 1683, p. 7-9.

[284:B] _Flews_, the large chaps of a hound.

[284:C] _Sanded_, that is, of a sandy colour, the true denotement of a
blood-hound.

[284:D] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iv. p. 449-452, Midsummer-Night's
Dream, act iv. sc. 1.

[285:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xix. p. 60. Act ii. sc. 2.

[285:B] Nichols's Progresses of Elizabeth, vol. i. Laneham's Letter, p.
12, original edition, p. 17, 18.

[286:A] Nichols's Progresses, vol. ii.

[286:B] "The true narration of the Entertainment of his Royall
Majestie, from the time of his departure from Edenbrough, till his
receiving at London; with all or the most special occurrences. Together
with the names of those gentlemen whom his Majestie honoured with
Knighthood." At London printed by Thomas Creede, for Thomas Millington,
1603. 4to.

[287:A] Memoirs, p. 35.

[287:B] Wilson's History of Great Britain, p. 106. fol. London, 1653.

[287:C] Osborn's Works, 8vo. ninth edit. 1689, p. 444.

[288:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. viii. p. 183. Act v. sc. 4.

[288:B] Ibid. vol. vi. p. 68.

[288:C] Chalmers's English Poets, vol. iv. p. 368. Poly-Olbion, song
xxv.

[288:D] Chalmers's English Poets, vol. iv. p. 458. Nymphal vi.

[288:E] New Shreds of the Old Snare, by John Gee, 4to. p. 23. Vide
Reed's Shakspeare, vol. vi. p. 68. note 9.

[289:A] Harleian MS. 2281.

[289:B] Jewel for Gentrie, Lond. 1614.

[289:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xv. p. 24. Henry VIII. act i. sc. 1.

[290:A] Mr. Haslewood, after much research, attributes to the pen of
this ingenious lady only the following portions of De Worde's edit. of
1496:

  1. A small portion of the treatise on Hawking.
  2. The treatise upon Hunting.
  3. A short list of the beasts of chace.
  4. And another short one of beasts and fowls.

The public are much indebted to this elegant antiquary for an admirable
fac-simile reprint of De Worde's rare and interesting volume.

[290:B] Burton has introduced, in his Anatomy of Melancholy, though
without acknowledgment, the very words of this quotation.—Vide p. 169.
8th edit.

[291:A] The titles of these works are—"A Booke of Fishing with Hooke
and Line, and of all other Instruments thereunto belonginge, made by
L. M. 4to. Lond. 1590:" the 4th edit. of Mascall's Book, was reprinted
in 1606—"Certain Experiments concerning Fish and Fruit, practised
by John Taverner, Gentleman, and by him published for the benefit of
others." 4to. London (printed for Wm. Ponsonby) 1600.—It would appear,
from a note in Walton's Complete Angler, that there was an impression
of Taverner's book of the same date with a different title, namely,
"Approved experiments touching Fish and Fruit, to be regarded by the
lovers of Angling."—Vide Bagster's edit. 1808. Life of Walton, p. 14.
note.

A third was designated "The Pleasures of Princes, or Good Men's
Recreations: containing a Discourse of the general Art of Fishing
with the Angle, or otherwise: and of all the hidden Secrets belonging
thereunto. 4to. Lond. 1614."

[293:A] This beautiful encomium has been quoted in Walton's Complete
Angler, with many alterations, and some of them much for the worse; for
instance, the very opening of the quotation is thus given:—

    "Let me live harmlessly; and near the brink
       Of Trent or Avon _have_ a dwelling-place—

and the conclusion of the fourth stanza:—

    "The raging sea, beneath the vallies low,
     Where lakes, and rills, and rivulets _do_ flow."
                                     Bagster's edit. p. 123.

[293:B] Gervase Markham, in his _Art of Angling_, not only recommends
the same colours, but adds a caution which marks the rural dress of the
day: "Let your apparel," says he, "be close to your body, without any
_new fashioned flashes, or hanging sleeves, waving loose, like sails
about you_." P. 59.

[293:C] The first edition of the Countrey Contentments, 1615, does
not possess the _Art of Angling_; it probably appeared in the second,
a year or two after; for the work was so popular that it rapidly ran
through several impressions: the fifth is dated 1633.

[296:A] Countrey Contentments, 11th edit. p. 59-62.

[296:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. vi. p. 78. Much Ado about Nothing, act
iii. sc 1.

[297:A] To this effect, likewise, Col. Venables gives a decided
testimony; for in the preface to his "Experienc'd Angler," first
published in 1662, he declares, "if example (which is the best proof)
may sway any thing, I know no sort of men less subject to melancholy
than anglers, many have cast off other recreations and embraced it,
but I never knew any angler wholly cast off (though occasions might
interrupt) their affections to their beloved recreation;" and he adds,
"if this art may prove a noble brave rest to my mind, 'tis all the
satisfaction I covet."

[297:B] Walton's Complete Angler apud Bagster, p. 122.—"Let me take
this opportunity," says Mr. Bowles, "of recommending the amiable and
venerable Isaac Walton's Complete Angler; a work the most singular
of its kind, breathing the very spirit of contentment, of quiet, and
unaffected philanthropy, and interspersed with some beautiful relics of
poetry, old songs, and ballads." Bowles's Pope, vol. i. p. 135.

[297:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xviii. p. 512. Cymbeline, act iii. sc.
2.

[298:A] Anatomy of Melancholy, p. 170. part ii. sat. 2. Mem. iv.

[298:B] Chalmers's English Poets, vol. v. p. 275. book iv. satire 3.

[298:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xi. p. 381. Henry IV. part i. act iv.
sc. 1.

[299:A] The title is as follows: "A Discource of Horsemanshippe:
wherein the breeding and ryding of Horses for service, in a breefe
manner is more methodically sette downe then hath been heretofore, &c.
Also the manner to chuse, trayne, ryde and dyet, both Hunting-horses
and _Running-horses_: with all the secretes thereto belonging
discovered. _An arte never hearetofore written by any author._
Bramo assai, poco spero, nulla chiegio." At London. Printed by John
Charlewood for Richard Smith, 1593, 4to. Dedicated "To the Right
Worshipfull, and his singular good father, Ma. Rob. Markham, of Cotham,
in the County of Nottingham, Esq. by Jervis Markham. Licensed 29
January, 1592-3." Vide Herbert, v. 2. 1102.

[300:A] Cavelarice, or the arte and knowledge belonging to the
Horse-ryder, 1607. Book ii. chap. 24.

[301:A] Survey of London, 4to. 1618, p. 145.

[301:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. viii. p. 29.

[301:C] Vide Pluvinel sur l'exercise de monter a cheval, part iii. p.
177. et Traite des Tournois, Joustes, &c. par Claude Fran. Menestrier,
p. 264.

[303:A] Nichols's Progresses of Queen Elizabeth, vol. i. and of
Laneham's Letter, p. 30-32.

[304:A] Natural Hist. of Oxfordshire, p. 200.

[304:B] Censura Literaria, vol. viii. p. 233, 234.

[304:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xx. p. 111. Act ii. sc. 4.

[305:A] Anatomy of Melancholy, 8th edit. p. 170.

[305:B] Carew's Survey of Cornwall, 1602, book i. p. 74.

[306:A] Vide Todd's Milton, 2d. edit. vol. vi. p. 192.

[306:B] Natural History of Staffordshire, p. 383.

[307:A] Sports and Pastimes, p. 264.

[307:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. v. p. 22.

[307:C] Ibid. vol. v. p. 23. note 2.

[307:D] Douce's Illustrations of Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 454, 455.

[308:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xii. p. 96.

[308:B] Whalley's Works of Ben Jonson, vol. i.

[308:C] Vide Sports and Pastimes, p. 267. edit. of 1810.

[308:D] Henry V., act v. sc. 2.

[308:E] Lear, act iv. sc. 6.

[308:F] Second Part of Henry IV., act ii. sc. 4.

[308:G] Love's Labour Lost, act v. sc. 1. and Second Part of Henry IV.,
act ii. sc. 4.

[308:H] Hamlet, act v. sc. 1.

[308:I] Cymbeline, act v. sc, 3.

[308:J] Anthony and Cleopatra, act iv. sc. 10.

[308:K] Midsummer-Night's Dream, act ii. sc. 2.

[308:L] Much Ado about Nothing, act i. sc. 1.

[308:M] Midsummer-Night's Dream, act ii. sc. 2.

[309:A] Sports and Pastimes, p. 338.

[309:B] Annalia Dubrensia, 1636, c. iii.

[310:A] Cantus of Thomas Morley, the first booke of ballets to five
voyces.

[310:B] Massinger's Works, by Gifford, vol. i. p. 104.

[311:A] His daughter.

[311:B] "Barley-breake, or a Warning for Wantons. Written by W. N.,
Gent. Printed at London by Simon Stafford, dwelling in the Cloth-fayre,
neere the Red Lyon, 1607. 4to. 16 leaves." Vide British Bibliographer,
vol. i. p. 65.—This poem has been attributed, notwithstanding the
initials, to Nicholas Breton.

[312:A] Jamieson's Etymological Dictionary of the Scottish Language,
1808.

[312:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. v. p. 248.




CHAPTER IX.

    VIEW OF COUNTRY LIFE DURING THE AGE OF SHAKSPEARE,
    CONTINUED—AN ACCOUNT OF SOME OF ITS _SUPERSTITIONS_.


The popular creed, during the age of Shakspeare, was perhaps more
extended and systematised than in any preceding or subsequent period
of our history. For this effect we are indebted, in a great measure,
to the credulity and superstition of James the First, the publication
of whose Demonology rendered a profession in the belief of sorcery and
witchcraft a matter of fashion and even of interest; for a ready way to
the favour of this monarch was an implicit assumption of his opinions,
theological and metaphysical, as well as political.

It must not be inferred, however, that at the commencement of the
seventeenth century, the human mind was unwilling or unprepared
to shake off the load which had oppressed it for ages. Among the
enlightened classes of society, now rapidly extending throughout the
kingdom, the reception of these doctrines was rather the effect of
court example than of settled conviction; but as the vernacular bards,
and especially the dramatic, who ever hold unbounded influence over the
multitude, thought proper, and certainly, in a poetical light, with
great effect, to adopt the dogmata and machinery of James, the reign of
superstition was, for a time, not only upheld, but extended among the
inferior orders of the people.

"Every goblin of ignorance," observes Warton, speaking of this period,
"did not vanish at the first glimmerings of the morning of science.
Reason suffered a few demons still to linger, which she chose to
retain in her service under the guidance of poetry. Men believed, or
were willing to believe, that spirits were yet hovering around, who
brought with them _airs from heaven, or blasts from hell_, that the
ghost was duely released from his prison of torment at the sound of
the curfew, and that fairies imprinted mysterious circles on the turf
by moon-light. Much of this credulity was even consecrated by the name
of science and profound speculation. Prospero had not yet _broken and
buried his staff_, nor _drowned his book deeper than did ever plummet
sound_. It was now that the alchymist, and the judicial astrologer,
conducted his occult operations by the potent intercourse of some
preternatural being, who came obsequious to his call, and was bound to
accomplish his severest services, under certain conditions, and for a
limited duration of time. It was actually one of the pretended feats
of these fantastic philosophers, to evoke the queen of the Fairies in
the solitude of a gloomy grove, who, preceded by a sudden rustling of
the leaves, appeared in robes of transcendent lustre. The Shakspeare of
a more instructed and polished age would not have given us a magician
darkening the sun at noon, the sabbath of the witches, and the cauldron
of incantation."[315:A]

The history of the popular mythology, therefore, of this era, at a
time when it was cherished by the throne, and adopted, in its fullest
extent, by the greatest poetical genius which ever existed, must
necessarily occupy a large share of our attention. So extensive,
indeed, is the subject, and so full of interest and curiosity, that to
exhaust it in this division of the work, would be to encroach upon that
symmetry of plan, that relative proportion which we wish to preserve.
The four great subjects, therefore, of _Fairies_, _Witchcraft_,
_Magic_, and _Apparitions_, will be deferred to the Second Part, and
annexed as Dissertations to our remarks on the _Midsummer-Night's
Dream_, _Macbeth_, the _Tempest_, and _Hamlet_.

As a consequent of this decision, the present chapter, after noticing,
in a _general_ way, the various credulities of the country, will dwell,
at some length, on those periods of the year which have been peculiarly
devoted to superstitious rites and observances, and include the residue
of the subject under the heads of _omens_, _charms_, _sympathies_,
_cures_, and _miscellaneous superstitions_.

It is from the _Winter-Night's Conversation_ of the lower orders of the
people that we may derive, in any age, the most authentic catalogue of
its superstitions. This fearful pleasure of children and uneducated
persons, and the eager curiosity which attends it, have been faithfully
painted by Shakspeare:—

      "_Hermione._         Pray you sit by us,
    And tell's a tale.

      _Mamillius._     Merry, or sad, shall't be?

      _Her._ As merry as you will.

      _Mam._                       A sad tale's best for winter:
    I have one of sprites and goblins.

      _Her._                           Let's have that, sir.
    Come on, sit down:—Come on, and do your best
    To fright me with your sprites: you're powerful at it.

      _Mam._ There was a man,——

      _Her._                      Nay, come, sit down; then on.

      _Mam._ Dwelt by a church-yard;—I will tell it softly;
    Yon crickets shall not hear it.

      _Her._                Come on then,
    And give't in mine ear."[316:A]

For the particulars forming the subject-matter of these tales, and
for their effect on the hearers, we must have recourse to writers
contemporary with the bard, whose object it was to censure or detail
these legendary wonders. Thus Lavaterus, who wrote a book _De
Spectris_, in 1570, which was translated into English in 1572, remarks
that "if when men sit at the table, mention be made of spirits and
elves, many times wemen and children are so afrayde that they dare
scarce go out of dores alone, least they should meete wyth some evyl
thing: and if they chaunce to heare any kinde of noise, by and by they
thinke there are some spirits behynde them:" and again in a subsequent
page, "simple foolish men—imagine that there be certayne elves or
fairies of the earth, and tell many straunge and marvellous tales of
them, which they have heard of their grandmothers and mothers, howe
they have appeared unto those of the house, have done service, have
rocked the cradell, and (which is a signe of good luck) do continually
tary in the house."[317:A] He has the good sense, however, to reprobate
the then general custom, a practice which has more or less prevailed
even to our own times, of frightening children by stories and assumed
appearances of this kind. "It is a common custome," he observes, "in
many places, that at a certaine of time the yeare, one with a nette
or visarde on his face maketh Children afrayde, to the ende that ever
after they should laboure and be obediente to their Parentes: afterward
they tel them that those which they saw, were Bugs, Witches, and
Hagges, which thing they verily believe, and are commonly miserablie
afrayde. How be it, it is not expedient so to terrifie Children. For
sometimes through great feare they fall into dangerous diseases, and
in the nyght crye out, when they are fast asleep. Salomon teacheth us
to chasten children with the rod, and so to make them stand in awe: he
doth not say, we must beare them in hande they shall be devoured of
Bugges, Hags of the night, and such lyke monsters."[317:B] But it is to
Reginald Scot that we are indebted for the most curious and extensive
enumeration of these fables which haunted our progenitors from the
cradle to the grave. "In our childhood," says he, "our mother's maids
have so terrified us with an _ouglie divell_ having hornes on his head,
fier in his mouth, and a taile in his breech, eies like a bason, fanges
like a dog, clawes like a beare, a skin like a Niger, and a voice
roaring like a lion, whereby we start and are afraid when we heare one
crie Bough: and they have so fraid us with _bull-beggers_, _spirits_,
_witches_, _urchens_, _elves_, _hags_, _fairies_, _satyrs_, _pans_,
_faunes_, _syrens_, _kit with the can'sticke_, _tritons_, _centaurs_,
_dwarfes_, _giants_, _imps_, _calcars_, _conjurors_, _nymphes_,
_changlings_, _Incubus_, _Robin good-fellowe_, the _spoorne_, the
_mare_, the _man in the oke_, the _hell-waine,_ the _fierdrake_, the
_puckle Tom thombe_, _hob gobblin_, _Tom tumbler_, _boneless_, and such
other bugs, that we are afraid of our own shadowes: in so much as some
never feare the divell, but in a darke night; and then a polled sheepe
is a perillous beast, and manie times is taken for our father's soule,
speciallie in a churchyard, where a right hardie man heretofore scant
durst passe by night, but his haire would stand upright."[318:A]

That this mode of passing away the time, "the long solitary winter
nights," was as much in vogue in 1617 as in 1570 and 1580, is apparent
from Burton, who reckons among the _ordinary recreations_ of _winter_,
tales of _giants_, _dwarfs_, _witches_, _fayries_, _goblins_, and
_friers_.[318:B]

The predilection which existed, during this period of our annals
for the marvellous, the terrible, and romantic, especially among
the peasantry, has been noticed by several of our best writers.
Addison, in reference to the genius of Shakspeare for the wild and
wonderful in poetry, remarks, that "our forefathers loved to astonish
themselves with the apprehensions of witchcraft, prodigies, charms,
and inchantments. There was not a village in England that had not a
ghost in it; the churchyards were all haunted; every large common had
a circle of fairies belonging to it; and there was scarce a shepherd
to be met with who had not seen a spirit[318:C];" and Mr. Grose, after
enumerating several popular superstitions, extends the subject in a
very entertaining manner. "In former times," says he, "these notions
were so prevalent, that it was deemed little less than atheism to doubt
them; and in many instances the terrors caused by them embittered the
lives of a great number of persons of all ages; by degrees almost
shutting them out of their own houses, and deterring them from going
from one village to another after sun-set. The room in which the head
of a family had died, was for a long time untenanted; particularly if
they died without a will, or were supposed to have entertained any
particular religious opinions. But if any disconsolate old maiden,
or love-crossed bachelor, happened to dispatch themselves in their
garters, the room where the deed was perpetrated was rendered for ever
after uninhabitable, and not unfrequently was nailed up. If a drunken
farmer, returning from market, fell from Old Dobbin and broke his
neck,—or a carter, under the same predicament, tumbled from his cart
or waggon, and was killed by it,—that spot was ever after haunted and
impassable: in short, there was scarcely a bye-lane or cross-way but
had its ghost, who appeared in the shape of a headless cow or horse; or
clothed all in white, glared with its saucer eyes over a gate or stile.
Ghosts of superior rank, when they appeared abroad, rode in coaches
drawn by six headless horses, and driven by a headless coachman and
postilions. Almost every ancient manor-house was haunted by some one
at least of its former masters or mistresses, where, besides divers
other noises, that of telling money was distinctly heard: and as for
the churchyards, the number of ghosts that walked there, according to
the village computation, almost equalled the living parishioners: to
pass them at night, was an achievement not to be attempted by any one
in the parish, the sextons excepted; who perhaps being particularly
privileged, to make use of the common expression, never saw any thing
worse than themselves."[319:A]

Of these superstitions, as forming the subject of _a country
conversation in a winter's evening_, a very interesting detail has been
given by Mr. Bourne; the picture was drawn about a hundred years ago;
but, though even then partially applicable, may be considered as a
faithful general representation of the two preceding centuries.

"Nothing is commoner in _Country Places_," says this historian of
credulity, "than for a whole family in a _Winter's Evening_, to sit
round the fire, and tell stories of _apparitions_ and _ghosts_. Some of
them have seen spirits in the shapes of cows, and dogs and horses; and
some have seen even the devil himself, with a cloven foot.

"Another part of this conversation generally turns upon _Fairies_.
These, they tell you, have frequently been heard and seen; nay that
there are some still living who were stolen away by them, and confined
seven years. According to the description they give of them, who
pretend to have seen them, they are in the shape of men, exceeding
little: They are always clad in green, and frequent the woods and
fields; when they make cakes (which is a work they have been often
heard at) they are very noisy; and when they have done, they are full
of mirth and pastime. But generally they dance in Moon-light when
mortals are asleep, and not capable of seeing them, as may be observed
on the following morn; their dancing places being very distinguishable.
For as they dance hand in hand, and so make a _circle_ in their dance,
so next day there will be seen _rings_ and _circles_ on the grass.

"Another tradition they hold, and which is often talked of, is, that
there are particular places allotted to spirits to walk in. Thence it
was that formerly, such frequent reports were abroad of this and that
particular place being haunted by a spirit, and that the common people
say now and then, such a place is dangerous to be passed through at
night, because a spirit walks there. Nay, they'll further tell you,
that some spirits have lamented the hardness of their condition, in
being obliged to walk in cold and uncomfortable places, and have
therefore desired the person who was so hardy as to speak to them, to
gift them with a warmer walk, by some well grown _hedge_, or in some
_shady vale_, where they might be shelter'd from the rain and wind.

"The last topick of this conversation I shall take notice of, shall be
the tales of _haunted_ houses. And indeed it is not to be wondered at,
that this is never omitted. For formerly almost every place had a house
of this kind. If a house was seated on some melancholy place, or built
in some old romantic manner; or if any particular accident had happened
in it, such as murder, sudden death, or the like, to be sure that house
had a mark set on it, and was afterwards esteemed the habitation of a
ghost. In talking upon this point, they generally show the occasion of
the house's being _haunted_, the merry pranks of the spirit, and how it
was laid. Stories of this kind are infinite, and there are few villages
which have not either had such an house in it, or near it."[321:A]

The quotations which we have now given from writers contemporary with,
and subsequent to, Shakspeare, will point out, in a _general_ way, the
prevalent superstitions of the _country_ at this period, and the topics
which were usually discussed round the fire-side of the cottage or
manorial hall, when the blast blew keen on a December's night, and the
faggot's blaze was seen, by fits, illumining the rafter'd roof.

The progress of science, of literature, and rational theology, has,
in a very great degree, dissipated these illusions; but there still
lingers, in hamlets remote from general intercourse, a somewhat similar
spirit of credulity, where the legend of unearthly agency is yet
listened to with eager curiosity and fond belief. These vestiges of
superstitions which were once universally prevalent, have been seized
upon with avidity by many modern poets, and form some of the most
striking passages in their works. More particularly the ghostly and
traditionary lore of the cotter's winter-night, has been a favourite
subject with them. Thus Thomson tells us, that

    ————— "the village rouzes up the fire,
    While well attested, and as well believed,
    Heard solemn, goes the goblin-story round;
    Till superstitious horror creeps o'er all:"[321:B]

and Akenside, still more poetically, that

    —————————— "by night
    The village-matron round the blazing hearth
    Suspends the infant-audience with her tales,
    Breathing astonishment! of witching rhymes,
    And evil spirits; of the death-bed call
    Of him who robb'd the widow, and devour'd
    The orphan's portion; of unquiet souls
    Risen from the grave to ease the heavy guilt
    Of deeds in life conceal'd; of shapes that walk
    At dead of night, and clank their chains, and wave
    The torch of hell around the murderer's bed.
    At every solemn pause the crowd recoil,
    Gazing each other speechless, and congeal'd
    With shivering sighs: till eager for th' event,
    Around the beldame all erect they hang,
    Each trembling heart with grateful terrors quell'd."[322:A]

The lamented Kirke White has also happily introduced a similar picture;
having described the day-revels of a Whitsuntide wake, he adds,

    ——————————— "then at eve
    Commence the harmless rites and auguries;
    And many a tale of ancient days goes round.
    They tell of wizard seer, whose potent spells
    Could hold in dreadful thrall the labouring moon,
    Or draw the fix'd stars from their eminence,
    And still the midnight tempest.—Then anon,
    Tell of uncharnel'd spectres, seen to glide
    Along the lone wood's unfrequented path,
    Startling the nighted traveller; while the sound
    Of undistinguished murmurs, heard to come
    From the dark centre of the deep'ning glen,
    Struck on his frozen ear:"[322:B]

and lastly Mr. Scott, in his highly interesting poem entitled Rokeby,
speaking of the tales of superstition, adds,

    "When Christmas logs blaze high and wide,
     Such wonders speed the festal tide,
     While Curiosity and Fear,
     Pleasure and pain, sit crouching near,
     Till childhood's cheek no longer glows,
     And village-maidens lose the rose.
     The thrilling interest rises higher,
     The circle closes nigh and nigher,
     And shuddering glance is cast behind,
     As louder moans the wintery wind."
                                           Cant. ii. st. 10.

After this brief outline of the common superstitions of the country, as
they existed in the days of Shakspeare, and as they still linger among
us, we shall proceed, in conformity with our plan, to notice those
Days which have been peculiarly devoted to superstitious rites and
observances.

In entering upon this subject, however, it will be necessary to remark,
that as several of these days are still kept by the vulgar in the
same manner, and with the same spirit of credulity which subsisted
in the reign of Elizabeth, it would be superfluous to enter at large
into a detail of their ceremonies, and that to mark the coincidence
of usage, occurring at these periods, will be nearly all that can be
deemed requisite. Thus on _St. Paul's Day_, on _Candlemas Day_, and
on _St. Swithin's Day_, the prognosticators of weather still find as
much employment, and as much credit as ever.[323:A] _St. Mark's Day_
is still beheld with dread, as fixing the destinies of life and death,
and _Childermas_ still keeps in countenance the doctrine of lucky and
unlucky days.

A similarity nearly equal may be observed with regard to the rites
of lovers on ST. VALENTINE'S DAY. The tradition, that birds choosing
their mates on this day, occasioned the custom of drawing valentines,
has been the opinion of our poets from Chaucer to the present hour.
Shakspeare alludes to it in the following passage:

    "Good-morrow friends. Saint Valentine is past;
     _Begin these wood-birds but to couple now_?"[324:A]

The ceremony of this day, however, has been attributed to various
sources beside the rural tradition just mentioned. The legend itself
of St. Valentine, a presbyter of the church, who was beheaded under
the Emperor Claudius, we are assured by Mr. Brand, contains nothing
which could give rise to the custom; but it has been supposed by some
to have originated from an observance peculiar to carnival time, which
occurred about this very period. It was usual, on this occasion, for
vast numbers of knights to visit the different courts of Europe, where
they entertained the ladies with pageantry and tournaments. Each lady,
at these magnificent feasts, selected a knight, who engaged to serve
her for a whole year, and to perform whatever she chose to command. One
of the never-failing consequences of this engagement, was an injunction
to employ his muse in the celebration of his mistress.

Menage, in his Etymological Dictionary, has accounted for the term
_Valentine_, by stating that Madame Royale, daughter of Henry the
Fourth of France, having built a palace near Turin, which, in honour
of the Saint, then in high esteem, she called _the Valentine_, at the
first entertainment which she gave in it, was pleased to order that the
ladies should receive their lovers _for the year_ by lots, reserving to
herself the privilege of being independent of chance, and of _choosing_
her own partner. At the various balls which this gallant princess
gave, during the year, it was directed that each lady should receive
a nosegay from her lover, and that, at every tournament, the knight's
trappings for his horse should be furnished by his allotted mistress,
with this proviso, that the prize obtained should be hers. This custom,
says Menage, occasioned the parties to be called _Valentines_.

Mr. Brand, in his observations on Bourne's Antiquities, thinks, that
the usages of this day are the remains of an antient superstition in
the Church of Rome, of choosing _patrons_ for the year ensuing, at
this season; "and that, because ghosts were thought to walk on the
night of this day, or about this time[325:A];" but Mr. Douce, with
more probability, considers them as a relic of paganism. "It was the
practice in ancient Rome," he observes, "during a great part of the
month of February, to celebrate the _Lupercalia_, which were feasts in
honour of Pan and Juno, whence the latter deity was named _februata_,
_februalis_, and _februlla_. On this occasion, amidst a variety of
ceremonies, the names of young women were put into a box, from which
they were drawn by the men as chance directed. The pastors of the early
Christian church, who by every possible means endeavoured to eradicate
the vestiges of Pagan superstitions, and chiefly by some commutation
of their forms, substituted, in the present instance, the names of
particular saints instead of those of the women: and as the festival
of the _Lupercalia_ had commenced about the middle of February, they
appear to have chosen Saint Valentine's day for celebrating the new
feast, because it occurred nearly at the same time. This is, in part,
the opinion of a learned and rational compiler of the lives of the
saints, the Reverend Alban Butler. It should seem, however, that it
was utterly impossible to extirpate altogether any ceremony to which
the common people had been much accustomed; a fact which it were easy
to prove in tracing the origin of various other popular superstitions:
and accordingly the outline of the ancient ceremonies was preserved,
but modified by some adaptation to the Christian system. It is
reasonable to suppose that the above practice of choosing mates would
gradually become reciprocal in the sexes; and that all persons so
chosen would be called _Valentines_, from the day on which the ceremony
took place."[326:A]

The modes of ascertaining the _Valentine_ for the ensuing year, were
nearly the same in Shakspeare's age as at the present period; they
consisted either in drawing lots on Valentine-eve, or in considering
the first person whom you met early on the following morning, as the
destined object. In the former case the names of a certain number
of one sex, were, by an equal number of the other, put into a vase;
and then every one drew a name; which for the time was termed their
_Valentine_, and was considered as predictive of their future fortune
in the nuptial state; in the second there was usually some little
contrivance adopted, in order that the favoured object, when such
existed, might be the first seen. To this custom Shakspeare refers,
when he represents Ophelia, in her distraction, singing,

    "Good morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's day,
       All in the morning betime,
     And I a maid at your window,
       To be your Valentine."[326:B]

The practice of addressing verses, and sending presents, to the person
chosen, has been continued from the days of James I., in which the
gifts of Valentines have been noticed by Moresin[327:A], to modern
times; and we may add a trait, not now observed, perhaps, on the
authority of an old English ballad, in which the lasses are directed to
pray _cross-legged_ to Saint _Valentine_, for good luck.[327:B]

It was a usage of the sixteenth century, in its object laudable
and useful, for the inhabitants of towns and villages, during the
summer-season, to meet after sunset, in the streets, and for the
wealthier sort to recreate themselves and their poorer friends with
banquets and bonefires. Of this custom Stowe has left us a pleasing
account:—"In the moneths of June, and July," he relates, "on the
Vigiles of festivall dayes, and on the same festivall dayes in the
evenings, after the sun-setting, there were usually made bonefires
in the streets, every man bestowing wood or labour towards them. The
wealthier sort also before their dores, neere to the said bonefires,
would set out tables on the vigiles, furnished with sweet bread,
and good drink, and on the festivall dayes with meates and drinks
plentifully, whereunto they would invite their neighbours and
passengers also to sit, and be merry with them in great familiarity,
praysing God for his benefits bestowed on them. These were called
bonefires, as well of amity amongst neighbours, that beeing before at
controversie, were there by the labour of others reconciled, and made
of bitter enemies, loving friends; as also for the virtue that a great
fire hath, to purge the infection of the ayre."[328:A] These rites
were, however, more particularly practised on MIDSUMMER-EVE, the Vigil
of Saint John the Baptist, a period of the year to which our ancestors
paid singular attention, and combined with it several superstitious
observances. "On the Vigill of Saint John Baptist," continues Stowe,
"every man's dore beeing shadowed with greene Birch, long Fennell,
Saint John's Wort, Orpin, white Lillies, and such like, garnished upon
with Garlands of beautifull flowers, had also Lamps of glasse, with
Oyle burning in them all the night, some hung out branches of yron
curiously wrought, containing hundreds of Lamps lighted at once, which
made a goodly shew."[328:B]

Of some of the superstitions connected with this Eve, Barnabe Googe
has left us an account in his translation of Neogeorgius, which was
published, and dedicated to Queen Elizabeth, in 1570:—

    "Then doth the joyfull feast of John the Baptist take his turne,
     When bonfires great, with lofty flame, in every towne doe burne,
     And young men round about with maydes doe daunce in every street,
     With garlands wrought of mother-wort, or else of vervaine sweet,
     And many other flowers faire, with violets in their hands;
     Where as they all doe fondly thinke that whosoever stands,
     And thorow the flowers behold the flame, his eyes shall feele no
         paine.
     When thus till night they daunced have, they throgh the fire amaine
     With striving mindes doe run, and all their herbs they cast
         therein;
     And then, with words devout and prayers, they solemnly begin,
     Desiring God that all their illes may there confounded be;
     Whereby they thinke, through all that yeare, from agues to be
         free."[328:C]

This _Midsummer-Eve Fire_ and the rites attending it, appear to be
reliques of pagan worship, for Gebelin in his _Allegories Orientales_
observes, that at the moment of the Summer Solstice the ancients, from
the most remote antiquity, were accustomed to light fires, in honour of
the New Year, which they believed to have originally commenced in fire.
These fires or Feux de joie were accompanied with vows and sacrifices
for plenty and prosperity, and with dances and leaping over the
flames, "each on his departure snatching a firebrand of greater or less
magnitude, whilst the rest was scattered to the wind, in order that it
might disperse every evil as it dispersed the ashes."[329:A]

Many other superstitions, however, than those mentioned by Googe,
were practised on this mysterious eve. To one of the most important
Shakspeare alludes in the _First Part of King Henry the Fourth_,
where Gadshill says of himself and company, "We have the receipt of
_fern-seed_, we walk _invisible_."[329:B] Jonson and Fletcher have also
ascribed the same wonderful property to this plant, the first in his
_New Inn_.

    —————— "I had
    No medicine, Sir, to go invisible,
    No _fern-seed_ in my pocket;"[329:C]

the second in the _Fair Maid of the Inn_,—

    ————— "had you Gyges' ring,
    Or the _herb_ that gives invisibility?"[329:D]

It was the belief of our credulous ancestors, that the _fern-seed_
became visible only on St. John's Eve, and at the precise moment of
the birth of the Saint; that it was under the peculiar protection of
the Queen of Faery, and that on this awful night, the most tremendous
conflicts took place, for its possession, between sorcerers and
spirits; for

    "The wond'rous one-night seeding ferne,"

as Browne calls it[330:A], was conceived not only to confer
_invisibility at pleasure_, on those who succeeded in procuring it, but
it was also esteemed of sovereign potency in the fabrication of charms
and incantations. Those, therefore, who were addicted to the arts
of magic, and possessed sufficient courage for the enterprise, were
believed to watch in solitude during this solemn period, in order that
they might seize the seed on the instant of its appearance.

The achievement, however, was accompanied with great danger; for if the
adventurer were not protected by spells of mighty power, he was exposed
to the assaults of demons and spirits, who envied him the possession
of the plant, and who generally took care that he should lose either
his life or his labour in the attempt. "A person who went to gather it,
reported that the spirits whisked by his ears, and sometimes struck his
hat, and other parts of his body; and at length, when he thought he had
got a good quantity of it, and secured it in papers and a box, when he
came home, he found both empty."[330:B]

Another superstition, of a nature highly impressive and terrible,
consists in the idea that any person fasting on _Midsummer-Eve_, and
sitting in the church-porch, will at midnight see the spirits of those
who are to die in the parish during that year, approach and knock at
the church door, precisely in the order of time in which they are
doomed to depart. It is related, by the author of _Pandemonium_, that
one of the company of watchers, on this night, having fallen into a
profound sleep, his ghost or spirit, whilst he lay in this state, was
seen by the rest of his companions, knocking at the church-door.[330:C]

Of these wild traditions of the "olden time" Collins has made a most
striking use in his Ode to Fear:—

    "Ne'er be I found, by thee o'eraw'd,
     In that thrice-hallow'd eve, abroad,
     When ghosts, as cottage-maids believe,
     Their pebbled beds permitted leave;
     And goblins haunt, from fire, or fen,
     Or mine, or flood, the walks of men!"

The observance of _Midsummer-Eve_ by rejoicings, spells, and charms,
has continued until within these fifty years, especially in Cornwall,
in the North of England, and in Scotland. Bourne, in 1725, tells us,
that "on the Eve of St. John Baptist, commonly called _Midsummer-Eve_,
it is usual in the most of country places, and also here and there in
towns and cities, for both old and young to meet together, and be merry
over a large fire, which is made in the open street. Over this they
frequently leap and play at various games, such as running, wrestling,
dancing, &c. But this is generally the exercise of the younger sort;
for the old ones, for the most part, sit by as spectators, and
enjoy themselves and their bottle. And thus they spend their time
till mid-night, and sometimes till cock-crow[331:A];" and Borlase,
in his History of Cornwall, about thirty years later, states, that
"the Cornish make bonefires in every village on the Eve of St. John
Baptist's and St. Peter's Days."[331:B]

It was a common superstition in the days of Shakspeare, and for two
centuries preceding him, that the future husband or wife might be
discovered on this Eve or on St. Agnes' night, by due fasting and by
certain ceremonies; thus, if a maiden, fasting on _Midsummer-Eve_, laid
a clean cloth at midnight, with bread, cheese, and ale, and sate down,
with the street door open, the person whom she is fated to marry will
enter the room, fill the glass, drink to her, bow and retire.[332:A]
A similar effect, as to the visionary appearance of the destined
bridegroom, was supposed to follow the sowing of hempseed on this
night, either in the field or church-yard. Mr. Strutt, depicting the
manners of the fifteenth century, has given this latter superstition,
from the mouth of an imaginary witch, in the following rhymes:—

    "Around the church see that you go,
       With kirtle white and girdle blue,
     At midnight thrice, and hempseed sow;
       Calling upon your lover true,
                 Thus shalt thou say;
       These seeds I sow: swift let them grow,
     Till he, who must my husband be,
       Shall follow me and mow:"[332:B]

a charm which appears to have been in vogue even in the time of Gay,
who, in his Shepherd's Week, makes Hobnelia say,—

    "At _eve_ last _midsummer_ no sleep I sought,
     But to the field a bag of hempseed brought;
     I scatter'd round the seed on every side,
     And three times in a trembling accent cried,
     "This hempseed with my virgin hand I sow,
     Who shall my true-love be, the crop shall mow."
     I straight look'd back, and if my eyes speak truth,
     With his keen scythe behind me came the youth."
                                         The Spell, line 27.

Another mode, which prevailed in the 16th and 17th centuries, of
procuring similar information on this festival, through the medium of
dreams, consisted in digging for what was called the plantain coal;
the search was to commence exactly at noon, and the material, when
found, to be placed on the pillow at night. Of a wild-goose expedition
of this kind Aubrey reports himself to have been a spectator. "The last
summer," says he, "on the day of St. John Baptist, 1694, I accidentally
was walking in the pasture behind Montague-house: it was twelve
o'clock. I saw there about two or three and twenty young women, most
of them well habited, on their knees, very busy, as if they had been
weeding. I could not presently learn what the matter was; at last, a
young man told me that they were looking for a coal under the root of
a plantain, to put under their heads that night, and they should dream
who would be their husbands: it was to be found that day and hour."
He adds, "the women have several magical secrets handed down to them
by tradition for this purpose, as, on St. Agnes' night, 21st January,
take a row of pins, and pull out every one one after another, saying a
paternoster, or 'our father,' sticking a pin in your sleeve, and you
will dream of him or her you shall marry[333:A];" spells to which Ben
Jonson alludes, when he says,—

    ——— "On sweet St. Agnes' night
    Please you with the promis'd sight;
    Some of husbands, some of lovers,
    Which an empty dream discovers."[333:B]

That it was the custom, in Elizabeth's and James's days, to tell tales
or perform plays and masques on Christmas-Eve, on Twelfth Night, and
on _Midsummer-Eve_, may be drawn from the dramas of Shakspeare, and
the masques of Jonson. The _Midsummer-Night's Dream_ of the former,
appears to have been so called, because its exhibition was to take
place on that night, for the _time of action_ of the piece itself, is
the vigil of May-Day, as is that of the _Winter's Tale_ the period of
sheep-shearing. It is probable also, as Mr. Steevens has observed, that
Shakspeare might have been influenced in his choice of the fanciful
machinery of this play, by the recollection of the proverb attached to
the season, and which he has himself introduced in the _Twelfth-Night_,
where Olivia remarks of Malvolio's apparent distraction, that it "is
a very _Midsummer madness_[334:A];" an adage founded on the common
opinion, that the brain, being heated by the intensity of the sun's
rays, was more susceptible of those flights of imagination which border
on insanity, than at any other period of the year.

The next season distinguished by any very remarkable tincture of the
popular creed, is Michaelmas, or the Feast of ST. MICHAEL AND ALL
ANGELS. When ever this day comes, says Bourne, "it brings into the
minds of the people, that old opinion of _Tutelar Angels_, that every
man has his _Guardian Angel_; that is one particular angel who attends
him from his coming in, till his going out of life, who guides him
through the troubles of the world, and strives as much as he can, to
bring him to heaven."[334:B]

That the doctrine of the ministry of angels, and their occasional
interference with the affairs of man, is an _old opinion_, cannot
be denied. It pervades the whole of the Old and New Testaments, and
appears to have been an article of the patriarchal creed; for from the
Book of Job, perhaps the oldest which exists, may be drawn not only
the doctrine of the ministration of angels, but that of their division
into certain distinct orders, such as angels, intercessors, destroyers,
&c.[334:C] With this general information we ought to have been content:
but superstition has been busy in promulgating hierarchies, the
offspring of its own heated imagination; in minutely ascertaining the
numbers and offices of angels in heaven and on earth; and in naming
and appropriating certain of them as the guardians and protectors of
kingdoms, cities, families, and individuals. The mythologies of Persia,
Arabia, and Greece, abound with these arbitrary arrangements; Hesiod
declares that the angels appointed to watch over the earth, amount
exactly to thirty-thousand[335:A]; and Plato divides the world of
spirits good and bad into nine classes, in which he has been followed
by some of the philosophising Christians. The angelic hierarchy of
Dionysius, however, is the one usually adopted; he professes to
interfere only with good spirits, and divides his angels, perhaps in
imitation of Plato, into nine orders; the first he terms _seraphim_,
the second _cherubim_, the third _thrones_, the fourth _dominations_,
the fifth _virtues_, the sixth _powers_, the seventh _principalities_,
the eighth _archangels_, and the ninth _angels_.[335:B] Not content
with this he goes still farther, and has assigned to every country, and
almost to every person of eminence, a peculiar angel, thus to Adam he
gives _Razael_; to Abraham, _Zakiel_; to Isaiah, _Raphael_; to Jacob,
_Peliel_; to Moses, _Metraton_, &c., speaking, as Calvin observes, not
as if by report, but as though he had slipped down from heaven, and
told of the things which he had seen there.[335:C]

Of this systematic hierarchy the greater portion formed, during the age
of Shakspeare, and for nearly a century afterwards, an important part
of the popular creed, as may be ascertained from an inspection of Scot
on Witchcraft in 1584, Heywood's _Hierarchie of the Blessed Angells,
their Names, Orders, and Offices_, in 1635, and from Burton's Anatomie
of Melancholy, which, though first published in 1617, continued to
re-appear in frequent editions until the close of the seventeenth
century.

The doctrine of _Guardian Angels_, as appropriated to individuals,
more especially appears to have been entertained by Shakspeare and
his contemporaries; an idea pleasing to the human mind, though,
in the opinion of the most acute theologians, not warranted by
Scripture; where only the general ministry of angels is recorded; and,
accordingly, the collect of the day, in our admirable Liturgy, merely
refers to, and prays for, such general interference in our behalf.

The assignment of a good angel, or of a good and bad angel to every
individual, as soon as created, is supported by the English Lavaterus
in 1572, and recorded as the general object of belief, by the rational
Scot, in his interesting discourse on spirits.

"Saint Herome in his Commentaries," says Lavaterus, "and other fathers
do conclude, that God doth assigne unto every soule assoone as he
createth him his peculiar Angell, which taketh care of him. But whether
that every one of the elect have hys proper angell, or many angells
be appoynted unto him, it is not expresly sette foorth, yet this is
most sure and certayne, that God hath given his angells in charge to
have regard and care over us. Daniel witnesseth in his tenth chapter,
that angells have also charge of kingdomes, by whom God keepeth and
protecteth them, and hindreth the wicked counsels of the devill. It
may be proved by many places of the Scripture, that all Christian men
have not only one angell, but also many, whome God imployeth to their
service. In the 34 psalm it is sayde, the angell of the Lorde pitcheth
his tentes rounde about them whiche feare the Lorde, and helpeth them:
which ought not to be doubted but that it is also at this daye, albeit
we see them not. We reade that they appearing in sundrye shapes, have
admonished menne, have comforted them, defended them, delivered them
from daunger, and also punished the wicked. Touching this matter, there
are plentiful examples, whiche are not needefull to be repeated in
this place. Somtimes they have eyther appeared in sleep, or in manner
of visions, and sometimes they have perfourmed their office, by some
internall operations: as when a man's mynde foresheweth him, that a
thing shall so happen, and after it happeneth so in deede, which thyng
I suppose is doone by God, through the minesterie of angells. Angells
for the most part take upon them the shapes of men, wherein they
appeare."[337:A]

"Monsieur Bodin, M. Mal. and manie other papists," observes Scot, who
gives us his opinion on the nature of angels, "gather upon the seventh
of Daniel, that there are just ten millians of angels in heaven. Manie
saie that angels are not by nature, but by office. Finallie, it were
infinite to shew the absurd and curious collections hereabout. I for
my part thinke with Calvine, that angels are creatures of God; though
Moses spake nothing of their creation, who onelie applied himselfe to
the capacitie of the common people, reciting nothing but things seene.
And I saie further with him, that they are heavenlie spirits, whose
ministration and service God useth: and in that respect are called
angels. I saie yet againe with him, that it is verie certaine, that
they have no shape at all; for they are spirits, who never have anie:
and finallie, I saie with him, that the Scriptures, for the capacitie
of our wit, dooth not in vaine paint out angels unto us with wings;
bicause we should conceive, that they are readie swiftlie to succour
us. And certeinlie all the sounder divines doo conceive and give out,
that both the names and also the number of angels are set downe in
the Scripture by the Holie-ghost, in termes to make us understand the
greatnesse and the manner of their messages; which (I saie) are either
expounded by the number of angels, or signified by their names.

"Furthermore, the schoole doctors affirme, that foure of the superior
orders of angels never take anie forme or shape of bodies, neither are
sent of anie arrand at anie time. As for archangels, they are sent
onlie about great and secret matters; and angels are common hacknies
about everie trifle; and that these can take what shape or bodie they
list: marie they never take the forme of women or children. Item, they
saie that angels take most terrible shapes: for _Gabriel_ appeared to
_Marie_, when he saluted hir, _facie rutilante, veste coruscante,
ingressu mirabili, aspectu terribili_, &c.: that is, with a bright
countenance, shining attire, wonderfull gesture, and a dredfull visage,
&c. _It hath beene long, and continueth yet a constant opinion, not
onlie among the papists; but among others also, that everie man hath
assigned him, at the time of his nativitie, a good angell and a
bad._ For the which there is no reason in nature, nor authoritie in
Scripture. For not one angell, but all the angels are said to rejoise
more of one convert, than of ninetie and nine just. Neither did one
onlie angel conveie Lazarus into Abraham's bosome. And therefore I
conclude with Calvine, that he which referreth to one angel, the care
that God hath to everie one of us, dooth himselfe great wrong."[338:A]

That Shakspeare embraced the doctrine common in his age, which assigns
to every individual, at his birth, a good and bad angel, an idea highly
poetical in itself, and therefore acceptable to a fervid imagination,
is evident from the following remarkable passages:

    "There is a good angel about him—but the devil out-bids him
        too."[338:B]

    "You follow the young prince up and down like his ill angel."[338:C]

    "Thy daemon, that's thy spirit which keeps thee, is
     Noble, courageous, high, unmatchable,
     Where Cæsar's is not; but near him, thy angel
     Becomes a Fear, as being o'erpowered——
       ———————— I say again, thy spirit
     Is all afraid to govern thee near him;
     But, he away, 'tis noble;"[338:D]

and in Macbeth the same imagery is repeated—

    —————— "near him,
    My genius is rebuk'd; as, it is said,
    Mark Antony's was by Cæsar's."[338:E]

These lines from _Antony and Cleopatra_ and _Macbeth_, which are
founded on a passage in North's Plutarch, where the soothsayer says to
Antony, "thy Demon, (that is to say, the good angell and spirit that
keepeth thee) is affraied of his," sufficiently prove that the Roman
Catholic doctrine of a good and evil angel is _immediately_ drawn from
the belief of Pagan antiquity in the agency of good and evil genii, a
dogma to which we know their greatest philosophers were addicted, as is
apparent from the Demon of Socrates.

Of the general, and as it may be termed, the patriarchal, doctrine of
the ministry of angels, no poet has made so admirable an use as Milton,
who tells us, in his Paradise Lost, that

    "Millions of spiritual creatures walk the earth
     Unseen, both when we wake, and when we sleep,
     All these, with ceaseless praise, his works behold,
     Both day and night. How often, from the steep
     Of echoing hill or thicket, have we heard
     Celestial voices, through the midnight air,
     Sole or responsive to each other's note,
     Singing their great Creator! oft, in bands,
     While they keep watch; or, nightly walking round,
     With heavenly touch of instrumental sounds,
     In full harmonic number join'd; their songs
     Divide the night, and lift our thoughts to heaven."[339:A]

We must be permitted to observe, in this place, that Dr. Horsley
has, with great propriety, drawn a marked distinction between
the full-formed hierarchy of fanciful theologians, and the
Scripture-account of angelic agency; while he reprobates the one, he
supports the other; "those," says he, "who broached this doctrine (of
an hierarchy of angels governing this world) could tell us exactly
how many orders there are, and how many angels in each order; that
the different orders have their different departments in government
assigned to them; some, constantly attending in the presence of
God, form his cabinet council; others are his provincial governors;
every kingdom in the world having its appointed guardian angel, to
whose management it is intrusted: others again are supposed to have
the charge and custody of individuals. This system is, in truth,
nothing better than Pagan polytheism." He then subsequently and most
judiciously gives us the following summary of Biblical information on
the subject: "that the holy angels," he remarks, "are often employed
by God in his government of this sublunary world, is indeed clearly to
be proved by holy writ: that they have powers over the matter of the
universe analogous to the powers over it which men possess, greater
in extent, but still limited, is a thing which might reasonably be
supposed, if it were not declared: but it seems to be confirmed by many
passages of holy writ, from which it seems also evident that they are
occasionally, for certain specific purposes, commissioned to exercise
those powers to a prescribed extent. That the evil angels possessed,
before the fall, the like powers, which they are still occasionally
permitted to exercise for the punishment of wicked nations, seems
also evident. That they have a power over the human sensory (which is
part of the material universe), which they are occasionally permitted
to exercise, by means of which they may inflict diseases, suggest
evil thoughts, and be the instruments of temptations, must also be
admitted."[340:A]

We shall conclude these observations on St. Michael's Day by adding,
that in both the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, it was the custom
of landlords to invite their tenants on this day, and to dine them in
their great halls on _Geese_; birds which were then only kept by the
gentry, and therefore esteemed a great delicacy. We must consequently
set aside the tradition which attributes the introduction of this bird
on the festival of St. Michael to Queen Elizabeth; the tale avers,
that, being on her road to Tilbury Fort, she dined on Michaelmas Day
1588, at Sir Neville Umfreville's seat, near that place, and that
the knight, recollecting her partiality for high-seasoned food, had
taken care to procure for her a savoury goose, after eating heartily
of which she called for a _half-pint bumper of Burgundy_, and had
scarcely drank it off to the destruction of the _Spanish Armada_, when
she received the news of that joyful event; delighted with the speedy
accomplishment of her toast, she is said to have annually commemorated
this day with a goose, and that, of course, the example was followed
by the Court and through the kingdom at large. The custom, however,
must be referred to a preceding age, in which it will be found that the
nobility and gentry had usually this delicious bird at their tables,
both on St. Michael's and St. Martin's Day.[341:A]

We now approach another remarkably superstitious period of the year,
the observance of which took place on the 31st of October, being the
_Vigil of All Saints' Day_, and has been therefore commonly termed
ALL HALLOW EVE. In the North of England, and in Scotland, this was
formerly a night of rejoicing and of the most mysterious rites and
ceremonies. As beyond the Tweed the harvest was seldom completely
got in before the close of October, _Halloween_ became a kind of
Harvest-home-feast; thus, Mr. Shaw informs us, in his History of the
Province of Moray, that "a solemnity was kept, on the Eve of the first
of November, as a thanksgiving for the safe Ingathering of the produce
of the fields. This I am told, but have not seen it, is observed in
Buchan, and other countries, by having _Hallow-Eve Fires_ kindled on
some rising ground."[341:B] In England Hallow-eve has been generally
called _Nut-crack Night_, from one of the numerous spells usually
had recourse to at this season; and in Shakspeare it is alluded to
under the customary appellation of _Hallowmas_, where Speed tells
Valentine in the _Two Gentlemen of Verona_, that he knows him to be
in love, because he has learnt "to speak puling, like a beggar at
Hallowmas[341:C];" a simile which refers to a relique of the Roman
Catholic Festival of _All Souls Day_ on the 2d of November, when
prayers were offered up for the repose of the souls of the departed;
it being the custom, in Shakspeare's time, and is still, we believe,
observed in some parts of the North, for the poor on _All-Saints-Day_
to go _a souling_, as they term it, and in a plaintive or _puling_
voice to petition for _soul-cakes_. "In various parts of England,"
remarks Brady, "the remembrance of monastic customs is still preserved
by giving oaten cakes to the poor neighbours, conformably to what
was once the general usage, particularly in Lancashire, Yorkshire,
Herefordshire, &c. when, by way of expressing gratitude, the receivers
of this liberality offered the following homely benediction:

    "God have your _saul_,
     Bones and all;"

bearing more the appearance, in these enlightened days, of rustic
scoff, than of thankfulness."[342:A]

What has rendered All-Hallow-Eve, however, a period of mysterious
dread, is the tradition, that on this night the host of evil spirits,
witches, wizards, &c. are executing their baneful errands, and that the
fairy court holds a grand annual procession, during which, those who
have been carried off by the fairies may be recovered, provided the
attempt be made within a year and a day from the abstraction of the
person stolen. That this achievement, which was attended with great
peril, could only be performed on Hallow-Eve, and that this night was
esteemed the anniversary of the elfin tribe, may be established on the
evidence of our northern poets. Montgomery, in his _Flyting against
Polwart_, published about 1584, thus mentions the procession:

    "In the hinder end of harvest, on All-hallow een,
       When our _gude neighbours_ dois ride, if I read right,
     Some buckled on a bunewand, and some on a been,
       Ay trottand in troups from the twilight;
     Some saidled a she-ape, all grathed into green,
       Some hobland on a hemp stalk, hovard to the hight,
     The king of Pharie and his court, with the elf queen,
       With many elfish incubus was ridand that night;"[343:A]

and in the ballad called _Young Tamlane_, whose antiquity is
ascertained from being noticed in the _Complaynt of Scotland_, the
chief incident of the story is the recovery of Tamlane from the power
of the fairies on this holy eve:—

    "This night is Hallowe'en, Janet;
       The morn is Hallowday;
     And, gin ye dare your true love win,
       Ye have nae time to stay.

     The night it is good Hallowein,
       When fairy folk will ride;
     And they, that wad their true love win,
       At Miles Cross they maun bide."[343:B]

It is still recorded by tradition, relates Mr. Scott, that "the wife of
a farmer in Lothian having been carried off by the fairies, she, during
the year of probation, repeatedly appeared on Sunday, in the midst of
her children, combing their hair. On one of these occasions she was
accosted by her husband; when she related to him the unfortunate event
which had separated them, instructed him by what means he might win
her, and exhorted him to exert all his courage, since her temporal and
eternal happiness depended on the success of his attempt. The farmer,
who ardently loved his wife, set out on Hallowe'en, and, in the midst
of a plot of furze, waited impatiently for the procession of the
fairies. At the ringing of the fairy bridles, and the wild unearthly
sound which accompanied the cavalcade, his heart failed him, and he
suffered the ghostly train to pass by without interruption. When the
last had rode past, the whole troop vanished, with loud shouts of
laughter and exultation; among which he plainly discovered the voice
of his wife, lamenting that he had lost her for ever."[344:A]

Numerous have been the ceremonies, spells, and charms, which formerly
distinguished All-Hallow-Eve. In England, except in a few remote
places in the North, they have ceased to be observed for the last
half century; but in the West of Scotland they are still retained
with a kind of religious veneration, as is sufficiently proved by
the inimitable poem of Burns, entitled _Halloween_, which, in a vein
of exquisite poetry and genuine humour, minutely details the various
superstitions, which have been practised on this night from time
immemorial. Of these, as including all which prevailed in England, and
which were, in a great degree, common to both countries, in the time of
Shakspeare, we shall give a few sketches, nearly in the words of Burns,
as annexed in the notes to his poem, merely observing that one of the
spells, that of sowing hemp-seed, is omitted, as having been already
described among the rites of Midsummer-Eve.

The _first_ ceremony of Hallow-Eve consisted in the lads and lasses
pulling each a _stock_, or plant of kail. They were to go out, hand
in hand, with eyes shut, and to pull the first they met with. Its
being big or little, straight or crooked, was prophetic of the size
and shape of the grand object of all their spells—the husband or
wife. If any _yird_, or earth, stuck to the root, that was considered
as the _tocher_, or fortune; and the taste of the _custoc_, that is,
the heart of the stem, was deemed indicative of the natural temper
and disposition. Lastly, the stems, or, to give them their ordinary
appellation, the runts, were placed somewhere above the head of the
door; and the Christian names of the people whom chance brought into
the house, were, according to the priority of placing the _runts_, the
names in question.

In the _second_, the lasses were to go to the barn-yard, and pull each,
at three several times, a stalk of oats. If the third stalk wanted the
_top-pickle_, that is, the grain at the top of the stalk, the party in
question would come to the marriage-bed any thing but a maid.

The _third_ depended on the burning of nuts, and was a favourite
charm both in England and Scotland. A lad and lass were named to each
particular nut, as they laid them in the fire, and accordingly as they
burnt quietly together, or started from beside each other, the course
and issue of the courtship were to be determined.

In the _fourth_, success could only be obtained by strictly adhering
to the following directions. Steal out, all alone, to the _kiln_, and,
darkling, throw into the _pot_, a clue of blue yarn; wind it in a new
clue off the old one: and, towards the latter end, something will hold
the thread; demand, who holds it? and an answer will be returned from
the kiln-pot, by naming the christian and sirname of your future spouse.

To perform the _fifth_, you were to take a candle, and go alone to a
looking-glass; you were then to eat an apple before it, combing your
hair all the time; when the face of your conjugal companion, _to be_,
will be seen in the glass, as if peeping over your shoulder.

The _sixth_ was likewise a solitary charm, in which it was necessary
to go _alone_ and _unperceived_ to the _barn_, and open both doors,
taking them off the hinges, if possible, least the _being_, about to
appear, should shut the doors, and do you some mischief. Then you
were to take the machine used in winnowing the corn, and go through
all the attitudes of letting down the grain against the wind; and on
the third repetition of this ceremony, an apparition would be seen
passing through the barn, in at the windy door, and out at the other,
having both the figure of your future companion for life, and also the
appearance or retinue, marking the employment or station in life.

To secure an effective result from the _seventh_, you were ordered to
take an opportunity of going, unnoticed, to a _Bear-stack_, and fathom
it three times round; when during the last fathom of the last time, you
would be sure to catch in your arms the appearance of your destined
yoke-fellow.

In order to carry the _eighth_ into execution, one or more were
injoined to seek a south running spring or rivulet, where "three lairds
lands meet," and to dip into it the left shirt-sleeve. You were then
to go to bed in sight of a fire, and to hang the wet sleeve before it
to dry; it was necessary, however, to lie awake, when at midnight, an
apparition, having the exact figure of the future husband or wife,
would come, and turn the sleeve, as if to dry the other side of
it.[346:A]

For the due performance of the _ninth_, you were directed to take three
dishes; to put clean water in one, foul water in another, and to leave
the third empty: you were then to blindfold a person, and lead him to
the hearth where the dishes were ranged, ordering him to dip the left
hand; when, if this happened to be in the clean water, it was a sign
that the future conjugal mate would come to the bar of matrimony a
maid; if in the foul, a widow; if in the empty dish, it foretold, with
equal certainty, no marriage at all. This ceremony was to be repeated
three times, and every time the arrangement of the dishes was to be
altered.[347:A]

Such are the various superstitions which were formerly observed at
peculiar periods of the year, and which still maintain a certain
portion of credit among the peasantry of Scotland and the North of
England. To the catalogue of Saints thus loaded with the rites of
popular credulity, may be added one whose celebrity seems to be
entirely founded on the casual notice of Shakspeare. In his Tragedy
of _King Lear_, Edgar introduces _St. Withold_ as an opponent, and
a protector against the assaults, of that formidable Incubus, the
Night-mare:—

    "Saint Withold footed thrice the wold;
     He met the Night-mare, and her nine-fold;
               Bid her alight,
               And her troth plight,
     And, aroint thee, witch, aroint thee!"[347:B]

Warburton informs us, that this agency of the Saint is taken from a
story of him in his legend, and that he was thence invoked as the
patron saint against the distemper, called the night-mare; but Mr.
Tyrwhitt declares, that he could not find this adventure in the
common legends of St. Vitalis, whom he supposes to be synonymous with
St. Withold. It is probable that Shakspeare took the hint, for the
ascription of this achievement to Withold, from Scot's Discoverie
of Witchcraft, where a similar power is attributed to St. George.
That writer, after mentioning that there are magical cures for the
night-mare, gives the following as an example:—

    "St. George, S. George, our ladies knight,
     He walkt by daie, so did he by night:
     Untill such time as he hir found,
     He hir beat and he hir bound.
     Untill hir troth she to him plight,
     She would not come to hir (him) that night:"[348:A]

a form which is quoted nearly verbatim, and professedly as a
night-spell, in the _Monsieur Thomas_ of Fletcher.[348:B] It should be
observed, that the influence over _incubi_ ascribed by our poet to St.
Withold, has been subsequently given to other Calendarian saints, and
especially to that dreaded personage St. Swithin, who is indebted to
Mr. Colman, in his alteration of _Lear_, for the transference of this
singular power.

The mass of popular credulity, indeed, is so enormous, that, limited,
as we are in this chapter, to the consideration of only a portion of
the subject, it is still difficult, from the number and variety of the
materials, to present a sketch which shall be sufficiently distinct
and perspicuous. It is highly interesting, however, to observe to what
striking poetical purposes Shakspeare has converted these imbecillities
of mind, these workings of fear and ignorance; how by his management
almost every article which he has selected from the mass of vulgar
delusion, assumes a capability of impressing the strongest and most
cultivated mind with grateful terror or sublime emotion. No branch,
for instance, of the popular creed has been more extended, or more
burdened with folly, than the belief in OMENS, and yet what noble
imagery has not the poet drawn forth from this accumulation of
fear-struck fancy and childish apprehension.

With the view of placing the detail of this vast groupe in a clearer
light, it will be necessary to ascertain, what were the principal
_omens_ most accredited in the days of Shakspeare, and after giving a
catalogue of those most worthy of notice, to exhibit a few pictures
by the poet as founded on some of the most remarkable articles in the
enumeration, and afterwards to fill up the outline with additional
circumstances from other resources.

How prone the subjects of Elizabeth were to pry into futurity,
through the medium of _omens_, _auguries_, and _prognostications_,
may be learnt from the following passage in Scot, taken from his
chapter on the "common peoples fond and superstitious collections
and observations." "Amongst us," says he, "there be manie wemen and
effeminat men (manie papists alwaies, as by their superstition may
appeere) that make great divinations upon the shedding of salt,
wine, &c. and for the observation of daies, and houres use as great
witchcraft as in anie thing. For if one chance to take a fall from a
horse, either in a slipperie or stumbling waie, he will note the daie
and houre, and count that time unlucky for a journie. Otherwise, he
that receiveth a mischance, wil consider whether he met not a cat, or a
hare, when he went first out of his doores in the morning; or stumbled
not at the threshold at his going out; or put not on his shirt the
wrong side outwards; or his left shoo on his right foote.

"Many will go to bed againe, if the neeze before their shooes be on
their feet; some will hold fast their left thombe in their right hand
when they hickot; or else will hold their chinne with their right hand
whiles a gospell is soong. It is thought verie ill lucke of some, that
a child, or anie other living creature, should passe betweene two
friends as they walke together; for they say it portendeth a division
of freendship.—The like follie is to be imputed unto them, that
observe (as true or probable) old verses, wherein can be no reasonable
cause of such effects: which are brought to passe onlie by God's power,
and at his pleasure. Of this sort be these that follow:

    "Remember on S. Vincent's daie,
     If that the sunne his beames displaie.—

     If Paule th' apostles daie be cleare,
     It dooth foreshew a luckie yeare.—

     If Maries purifieng daie,
     Be cleare and bright with sunnie raie,
     Then frost and cold shall be much more,
     After the feast than was before, &c."[350:A]

In the almanacks of Elizabeth's and James's reigns, it was customary,
not only to mark the days supposed to have an influence over the
weather, but to distinguish, likewise, those considered as lucky
or unlucky for making bargains, or transacting business on; and,
accordingly, Webster represents a character in one of his plays
declaring—

    "By the almanack, I think
     To choose good days and shun the critical;"[351:A]

and Shakspeare, referring to the same custom and the same doctrine,
makes Constance in _King John_ exclaim,—

    "What hath this day deserv'd? What hath it done;
     That it in golden letters should be set,
     Among the high tides, in the kalendar?
     Nay rather —————————————
       —— if it must stand still, let wives with child
     Pray, that their burdens may not fall this day,
     Lest that their hopes prodigiously be cross'd:
     But (except) on this day, let seamen fear no wreck;
     No bargains break, that are not this day made:
     This day, all things begun come to an ill end;
     Yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood change!"[351:B]

But of omens predictive of good and bad fortune, or of the common
events in life, the catalogue may be said to have no termination, and
we must refer the reader, for this degrading display of human weakness
and folly, to the Vulgar Errors of Browne, and to the Commentaries of
Brand on Bourne's Antiquities, confining the subject to that class
of the ominous which has been deemed portentive of the great, the
dreadful, and the strange, and which, being surrounded by a certain
degree of dignity and awe, is consequently best adapted to the genius
of poetry.

That danger, death, or preternatural occurrences should be preceded
by warnings or intimations, would appear comformable to the idea of a
superintending providence, and therefore faith in such omens has been
indulged in, by almost every nation, especially in the infancy of its
civilisation. The most usual monitions of this kind are, _Lamentings
heard in the air_; _shakings and tremblings of the earth_; _sudden
gloom at noon-day_; _the appearance of meteors_; _the shooting of
stars_; _eclipses of the sun and moon_; _the moon of a bloody hue_;
_the shrieking of owls_; _the croaking of ravens_; _the shrilling
of crickets_; _the night-howling of dogs_; _the clicking of the
death-watch_; _the chattering of pies_; _the wild neighing of horses,
their running wild and eating each other_; _the cries of fairies_; _the
gibbering of ghosts_; _the withering of bay-trees_; _showers of blood_;
_blood dropping thrice from the nose_; _horrid dreams_; _demoniacal
voices_; _ghastly apparitions_; _winding sheets_; _corpse-candles_;
_night-fires_, and _strange and fearful noises_. Of the greater part of
this tremendous list Shakspeare has availed himself; introducing them
as the precursors of murder, sudden death, disasters, and superhuman
events. Thus, previous to the assassination of Julius Cæsar, he tells
us, that—

    "In the most high and palmy state of Rome,
     A little ere the mightiest Julius fell,
     The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted dead
     Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets—
     —Stars with trains of fire and dews of blood 'appear'd,'
     Disasters in the sun; and the moist star,
     Upon whose influence Neptune's empire stands,
     Was sick almost to dooms-day with eclipse:"[352:A]

and again, as predictive of the same event, he adds, in another place—

      —————— "There is one within,
    Besides the things that we have heard and seen,
    Recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch.
    A lioness hath whelped in the streets;
    And graves have yawn'd and yielded up their dead:
    Fierce fiery warriors fight upon the clouds,
    In ranks, and squadrons, and right form of war,
    Which drizzled blood upon the capitol:
    The noise of battle hurtled in the air,
    Horses do neigh, and dying men did groan;
    And ghosts did shriek and squeal about the streets."[352:B]

The circumstances which are related as preceding and accompanying the
murder of Duncan are, perhaps, still more awful and impressive. "The
night," says Lennox,

    —————— "has been unruly: where we lay,
    Our chimneys were blown down: and, as they say,
    Lamentings heard i' the air; strange screams of death;
    And prophecying, with accents terrible,
    Of dire combustion, and confus'd events,
    New hatch'd to the woeful time. The obscure bird
    Clamour'd the livelong night: some say, the earth
    Was feverous, and did shake.

      _Macb._                    'Twas a rough night."

      "_Old M._ Threescore and ten I can remember well:
    Within the volume of which time, I have seen
    Hours dreadful, and things strange; but this sore night
    Hath trifled former knowings.

      _Rosse._                    Ah, good father,
    Thou see'st the heavens, as troubled with man's act,
    Threaten his bloody stage: by the clock, 'tis day,
    And yet dark night strangles the travelling lamp:
    Is it night's predominance, or the day's shame,
    That darkness does the face of earth intomb,
    When living light should kiss it?

      _Old M._                        'Tis unnatural,
    Even like the deed that's done. On Tuesday last,
    A falcon, tow'ring in her pride of place,
    Was by a mousing owl hawk'd at, and kill'd.

      _Rosse._ And Duncan's horses, (a thing most strange and certain,)
    Beauteous and swift, the minions of their race,
    Turn'd wild in nature, broke their stalls, flung out,
    Contending 'gainst obedience, as they would make
    War with mankind.

      _Old M._        'Tis said, they eat each other.

      _Posse._ Thy did so; to the amazement of mine eyes,
    That look'd upon't."[353:A]

In the play of _King Richard II._ also, the poet has with great taste
and skill selected the following prodigies, as forerunners of the death
or fall of kings:—

    "'Tis thought, the king is dead; we will not stay.
     The bay-trees in our country are all wither'd,
     And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven;
     The pale-fac'd moon looks bloody on the earth,
     And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful change;
     Rich men look sad, and ruffians dance and leap,—
     The one, in fear to lose what they enjoy,
     The other, to enjoy by rage and war:
     These signs forerun the death or fall of kings."[354:A]

Omens of the same portentous kind are said to have attended the births
of Owen Glendower and Richard III., and Shakspeare has accordingly
availed himself of the tradition in a manner equally poetical and
striking; the former says of himself,—

      ———————— "At my nativity,
    The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes,
    Of burning cressets; and, at my birth,
    The frame and huge foundation of the earth
    Shak'd like a coward:——
    The goats ran from the mountains, and the herds
    Were strangely clamorous to the frighted fields:"[354:B]

and Henry VI., in his interview with Richard in the Tower, reproaching
the tyrant for his cruelties, tells him, as indicative of his future
deeds, that

    "The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign;
     The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time;
     Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down trees;
     The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top,
     And chattering pies in dismal discords sung."[354:C]

_Dreams_, considered as prognostics of good or evil, are frequently
introduced by Shakspeare.

    "My dreams will sure prove ominous to day,"

exclaims Andromache[355:A]; while Romeo declares,

    "My dreams presage some joyful news at hand."[355:B]

But it is chiefly as precursors of misfortune that the poet has availed
himself of their supposed influence as omens of future fate. There are
few passages in his dramas more terrific than the dreams of Richard the
Third and Clarence; the latter, especially, is replete with the most
fearful imagery, and makes the blood run chill with horror.

_Dæmoniacal voices and shrieks, or monitory intimations and
appearances_ from the tutelary genius of a family, were likewise
imagined to precede the deaths of important individuals; a superstition
to which Shakspeare alludes in the following lines from his _Troilus
and Cressida_:

      "_Troil._ Hark! you are call'd: Some say, the Genius so
    Cries, _Come!_ to him that instantly must die."[355:C]

This superstition was formerly very prevalent in England, and still
prevails in several districts of Ireland, and in the more remote
parts of the Highlands of Scotland. Howell tells us, that he saw
at a lapidary's in 1632, a monumental stone, prepared for four
persons of the name of Oxenham, before the death of each of whom,
the inscription stated a white bird to have appeared and fluttered
around the bed, while the patient was in the last agony[355:D]; and
Glanville, remarks Mr. Scott, mentions one family, the members of
which received this solemn sign by music, the sound of which floated
from the family-residence, and seemed to die in a neighbouring[355:E]
wood. It is related, that several of the great Highland families are
accustomed to receive intimations of approaching fate by domestic
spirits or tutelary genii, who sometimes assume the form of a bird or
of a bloody spectre of a tall woman dressed in white, shrieking wildly
round the house. Thus, observes Mr. Pennant, the family of Rothmurcas
had the _Bodach-an-dun_, or the Ghost of the Hill; the Kinchardines,
the _Spectre of the Bloody Hand_; Gartinley house was haunted by
_Bodach-Gartin_; and Tullock Gorms by _Maug-Moulach_, or _the Girl
with the Hairy Left Hand_. In certain places, he says, the death of
the people is supposed to be foretold by the cries of _Benshi_, or the
_Fairy's Wife_, uttered along the very path where the _funeral_ is to
pass; and it has been added by others, that when the Benshi becomes
visible, she appears in the shape of an old woman, with a blue mantle
and streaming hair.

Of this omen, and of another of a similar kind, Mr. Scott has made
his usual poetical use in the _Lady of the Lake_, where he relates of
Brian, the lone Seer of the Desert, that

    "Late had he heard in prophet's dream,
     The fatal Ben-Shie's boding scream,
     Sounds, too, had come in midnight blast,
     Of charging steeds, careering fast
     Along Benharrow's shingly side,
     Where mortal horseman ne'er might ride."

This last passage, he informs us, "is still believed to announce death
to the ancient Highland family of M'Lean of Lochbuy. The spirit of an
ancestor slain in battle, is heard to gallop along a stony bank, and
then to ride thrice around the family-residence, ringing his fairy
bridle, and thus intimating the approaching calamity."[356:A]

That the apparition of the Benshie, and the whole train of spectral
and dæmoniacal warnings, were in full force in Ireland, during
the seventeenth century, we have numerous proofs; the former was
commonly called the _Shrieking Woman_, and of the latter a most
remarkable instance is given by Mr. Scott, from the MS. Memoirs of
the accomplished Lady Fanshaw. "Her husband, Sir Richard, and she,
chanced, during their abode in Ireland, to visit a friend, the head of
a sept, who resided in his ancient baronial castle, surrounded with
a moat. At midnight, she was awakened by a ghastly and supernatural
scream, and looking out of bed, beheld, by the moon-light, a female
face and part of the form, hovering at the window. The distance from
the ground, as well as the circumstance of the moat, excluded the
possibility that what she beheld was of this world. The face was that
of a young and rather handsome woman, but pale, and the hair, which was
reddish, loose and dishevelled. The dress, which Lady Fanshaw's terror
did not prevent her remarking accurately, was that of the ancient
Irish. This apparition continued to exhibit itself for some time,
and then vanished with two shrieks similar to that which had first
excited Lady Fanshaw's attention. In the morning, with infinite terror,
she communicated to her host what she had witnessed, and found him
prepared not only to credit, but to account for the apparition. 'A near
relation of my family,' said he, 'expired last night in this castle.
We disguised our certain expectation of the event from you, lest it
should throw a cloud over the cheerful reception which was your due.
Now, before such an event happens in this family and castle, the female
spectre whom you have seen always is visible. She is believed to be the
spirit of a woman of inferior rank, whom one of my ancestors degraded
himself by marrying, and whom afterwards, to expiate the dishonour done
to his family, he caused to be drowned in the castle moat.'"[357:A]

Another set of omens predictive of disaster, supernatural agency, and
death, was drawn from the appearances of lights, tapers, and fires.
When a flame was seen by night resting on the tops of soldiers' lances,
or playing and leaping by fits among the masts and sails of a ship, it
was deemed the presage of misfortune; of defeat in battle in the one
instance, and of destruction by tempest in the other. As the forerunner
of a storm, Shakspeare has introduced it in his _Tempest_, where Ariel
says,—

      —————— "Sometimes I'd divide
    And burn in many places; on the top-mast,
    The yards and bowsprit, would I flame distinctly,
    Then meet and join."[358:A]

It was also conceived, that the presence of unearthly beings, ghosts,
spirits, and demons, was instantly announced by an alteration in
the tint of the lights which happened to be burning; a very popular
notion, which the poet adopts in his _Richard the Third_, the tyrant
exclaiming, as he awakens,

    "_The lights burn blue_—it is now dead midnight;
    Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh.——
    Methought, the souls of all that I had murder'd,
    Came to my tent."[358:B]

But, the chief superstition annexed to this branch of omens,
was founded on the idea, that lights and fires, commonly called
_corpse-candles_ and _tomb-fires_, preceded deaths and funerals; an
article of belief which was equally prevalent among the Celtic and
Teutonic nations; and was cherished therefore with the same credulity
in Scotland, Ireland, and Wales, as in Scandinavia, Germany, and
England. In this island, during the sixteenth century, it was generally
credited by the common people, that when a person was about to die, a
pale flame would frequently appear at the window of the room in which
he was laid, and, after pausing there for a moment, would glide towards
the church-yard, minutely tracing the path where the future funeral was
to pass, and glowing brightly, for a time, on the spot where the body
was to be interred. Sometimes, however, instead of lights, a procession
was seen by the dim light of the moon: "there have bin seene some in
the night," says the English Lavaterus, "when the moone shin'd, going
solemnlie with the corps, according to the custome of the people, or
standing before the dores, as if some bodie were to be caried to the
church to burying."[359:A] In Northumberland the fancied appearance of
the corpse-light was termed seeing the _Waff_ (the blast or spirit) of
the person whose death was to take place.

In Wales this superstition was formerly so general, especially in
the counties of Cardigan, Caermarthen, and Pembroke, that scarcely
any individual was supposed to die without the previous signal of
a corpse-candle. Mr. Davis, a Welshman, in a letter to Mr. Baxter,
observes, that "they are called candles, from their resemblance, not of
the body of the candle, but the fire; because that fire doth as much
resemble material candle-lights, as eggs do eggs: saving that in their
journey, these candles are sometimes visible, and sometimes disappear;
especially if any one comes near to them, or in the way to meet them.
On these occasions they vanish, but presently appear again behind the
observer, and hold on their course. If a little candle is seen, of a
pale or bluish colour, then follows the corpse, either of an abortive,
or some infant; if a large one, then the corpse of some one come to
age. If there be seen two, three, or more, of different sizes,—some
big, some small,—then shall so many corpses pass together, and of such
ages or degrees. If two candles come from different places, and be seen
to meet, the corpses will do the same; and if any of these candles be
seen to turn aside, through some bye-path leading to the church, the
following corpse will be found to take exactly the same way."[359:B]

Among the Highlanders of Scotland, likewise, the same species of omen
was so implicitly credited, that it has continued in force even to the
present day. Of this Mrs. Grant has given us, in one of her ingenious
essays, a most remarkable instance, and on the authority, too, of a
very pious and sensible clergyman, who was accustomed, she says, "to go
forth and meditate at even; and this solitary walk he always directed
to his churchyard, which was situated in a shaded spot, on the banks of
a river. There, in a dusky October evening, he took his wonted path,
and lingered, leaning on the churchyard-wall, till it became twilight,
when he saw two small lights rise from a spot within, where there was
no stone, nor memorial of any kind. He observed the course these lights
took, and saw them cross the river, and stop at an opposite hamlet.
Presently they returned, accompanied by a larger light, which moved on
between them, till they arrived at the place from which the first two
set out, when all the three seemed to sink into the earth together.

"The good man went into the churchyard, and threw a few stones on
the spot where the lights disappeared. Next morning he walked out
early, called for the sexton, and shewed him the place, asking if he
remembered who was buried there. The man said, that many years ago, he
remembered burying in that spot, two young children, belonging to a
blacksmith on the opposite side of the river, who was now a very old
man. The pastor returned, and was scarce sat down to breakfast, when a
message came to hurry him to come over to pray with the smith, who had
been suddenly taken ill, and who died next day."[360:A]

_Fiery and meteorous exhalations_, shooting through the lower regions
of the air, and sinking into the ground, were also deemed predictive
of death. The individual was pointed out by these fires either falling
on his lands or garden, or by gleaming with a lurid light over the
family burying-place. Appearances of this kind were called _tomb-fires_
by the Scandinavians, and _tan-we_ by the Welsh, who believed that no
freeholder died without a meteor having been seen to sparkle and vanish
on his estate. In fact, as Shakspeare has expressed it, there could
happen

    "No natural exhalations in the sky:"

but were considered as

    ———————— "prodigies, and signs,
    Abortives, presages, and tongues of heaven."[361:A]

The idea that _sudden and fearful noises_ are frequently heard before
death takes place, and are indications of such an event, was very
common at the period of which we are writing, both on the continent and
in this country. "It happeneth many times," says the English Lavaterus,
"that when men lye sicke of some deadly disease, there is something
heard going in the chamber, like as the sicke men were wonte, when they
were in good health: yea and the sicke parties themselves, do many
times heare the same, and by and by gesse what wil come to passe. And
divers times it commeth to passe, that when some of our acquaintaunce
or friends lye a dying, albeit they are many miles off, yet there are
some great stirrings or noises heard. Sometimes we think that the house
will fall on our heads, or that some massie and waightie thing falleth
downe throughout all the house, rendring and making a disordered noise:
and shortlie within few monthes after, we understande that those things
happened, the very same houre that our friends departed in. There be
some men of whose stocke none doth dye, but that they observe and marke
some signes and tokens going before: as that they heare the dores and
windowes open and shut, that some thing runneth up the staires, or
walketh up and downe the house, or doth some one or other such like
thing.

"There was a certain parishe priest, a very honest and godly man, whom
I knewe well, who in the plague time, could tell before hand, when any
of his parishe should dye. For in the night time he heard a noise over
his bed, like as if one had throwne downe a sacke full of corne from
his shoulders: which when he heard he would say: Nowe an other biddeth
me farewell. After it was day, he used to inquire who died that night,
or who was taken with the plague, to the end he might comfort and
strengthen them, according to the duty of a good pastour.

"In Abbeys, the Monks, servaunts or any other falling sicke, many have
heard in the night, preparation of chests for them, in such sorte as
the coffin makers did afterwards prepare in deede.

"In some country villages, when one is at death's dore, many times
there are some heard in the evening, or in the night, digging a grave
in the Churcheyarde, and the same the next day is so found digged, as
these men did heare before."[362:A]

The next class of superstitions which we shall notice in this chapter,
is that depending on CHARMS and SPELLS, a fertile source of knavery and
credulity, and which has been chiefly exercised, in our poet's time
and since, by old women. Of this occupation, and its attendant folly
and imposition, the bard has given us a sketch, in his _Merry Wives
of Windsor_, in the person of the _Old Woman of Brentford_, who is
declared by _Ford_ to be "a witch, a quean, an old cozening quean!—We
are simple men; we do not know what's brought to pass under the
profession of _fortune-telling_. She works by _charms_, by _spells_, by
the figure, and such daubery as this is; beyond our element: we know
nothing."[362:B]

That women of this description, or as Scot has delineated them, in one
instance, indeed, deviating from the _portly_ form of Shakspeare's
cunning Dame, "_leane_, hollow-eied, old, beetle browed women[362:C],"
were, as dealers in charms, spells and amulets, a very numerous
tribe, in the days of Elizabeth and James, we have every reason to
believe, from contemporary evidence; but it appears that the trade of
_fortune-telling_ was then, as now, chiefly exercised by the wandering
horde of _gipsies_, to whose name and characteristic knavery, our great
poet alludes, in _Antony and Cleopatra_, where the Roman complains that
Cleopatra,

    "Like a right _gipsy_, hath, _at fast and loose_,
     Beguil'd him to the very heart of loss."[362:D]

Of this wily people, of the juggle referred to in these lines, and
of their profession of fortune-telling, Scot thus speaks in his
thirteenth book:—"The AEGYPTIANS juggling witchcraft or sortilegie
standeth much in _fast or loose_, whereof though I have written
somewhat generallie already (p. 197), yet having such opportunitie I
will here shew some of their particular feats; not treating of their
common tricks which is so tedious, nor of their _fortune-telling_ which
is so impious; and yet both of them meere cousenages."[363:A] He then
describes two games of _fast and loose_; one with a handkerchief, and
the other with whip cords and beads; but as these much resemble the
modern trick of _pricking at the belt or girdle_, explained by Sir J.
Hawkins, in a note on the passage just quoted from our poet, it will
not be necessary to notice them further in this place.

To _palmistry_, indeed, or the _art of Divination by the lines of the
hand_, Shakspeare has allotted a great part of the second scene, in the
first act, of _Antony and Cleopatra_, no doubt induced to this by the
topographical situation of the opening characters, the play commencing
at Alexandria in Egypt.

He has also occasionally adverted in other dramas to the multitude
of _charms_, _spells_, and _periapts_ which were in use in his time;
and he makes La Pucelle, in accordance with the necromantic powers
attributed to her, solemnly invoke their assistance—

    "Now help, ye charming spells, and periapts;"[363:B]

but as, to adopt the expression of Scot, he who "should go about to
recite all charmes, would take an infinite worke in hand[363:C],"
we shall confine ourselves to an enumeration, from this scarce and
curious writer, of the evils and the powers, against, and for,
which, these charms, were sought; and shall then add a few specimens
of their nature, force, and composition. It appears that they were
eagerly enquired after in the first place against burning, drowning,
pestilence, sword, and famine, against thieves, spirits, witches,
and diseases, and of the last class, especially against the venom of
serpents, scorpions and other reptiles, the epilepsy, the king's evil,
and the bite of a mad dog; and in the second, to enable the wearer to
release a woman in travail, to conjure a thorn out of any member, or a
bone out of the throat, to open all locks and doors, to know what is
said and done behind our backs, to endure the severest tortures without
shrinking, &c. &c.

One of the most efficacious of these charms, was a periapt or tablet,
called an _Agnus Dei_. This, which was ordered to be constantly worn
round the neck, consisted of a little cake, having the impression of
a lamb carrying a flag on one side, and Christ's head on the other;
and in the centre a concavity sufficiently large to contain the first
chapter of St. John's Gospel, written on fine paper, in a very small
character. It was a spell potent to protect the wearer against thunder
and lightning, fire and water, sin, pestilence, and the perils of
childbirth.[364:A]

A charm against shot, or a waistcoat of proof, was thus to be
obtained:—"On Christmas daie at night, a thread must be sponne of
flax, by a little virgine girle, in the name of the divell: and it
must be by hir woven, and also wrought with the needle. In the brest
or forepart thereof must be made with needle worke two heads; on the
head at the right side must be a hat, and a long beard; the left
head must have on a crowne, and it must be so horrible, that it maie
resemble Belzebub, and on each side of the wastcote must be made a
crosse."[364:B]

That some of these spells, however, were not carried into execution
with quite so much ease, as the two we have just transcribed, will be
evident from the directions annexed to the following, entitled a _charm
for one possessed_: "The possessed bodie must go upon his or hir knees
to the church, how farre soever it be off from their lodging; and so
must creepe without going out of the waie, being the common high waie,
in that sort, how fowle and durtie soever the same be; or whatsoever
lie in the waie, not shunning anie thing whatsoever, untill he come to
the church, where he must heare masse devoutlie, and then followeth
recoverie."[365:A]

It appears, notwithstanding, that, even among the old women of
the sixteenth century, there could be found some who, while they
profited by, could, at the same time, despise, the credulity of their
neighbours. "An old woman," says Scot, "that healed all diseases of
cattell (for the which she never tooke any reward but a penie and a
loafe) being seriouslie examined by what words she brought these things
to passe, confessed that after she had touched the sicke creature, she
alwaies departed immediatlie; saieng:

    "My loafe in my lap,
       my penie in my pursse;
     Thou art never the better,
       and I am never the wursse."[365:B]

The same author, after relating the terrible curse or charm of St.
Adelbert against thieves, facetiously adds,—"But I will answer this
cruell cursse with another cursse farre more mild and civill, performed
by as honest a man (I dare saie) as he that made the other.—

"So it was, that a certeine sir JOHN, with some of his companie, once
went abroad a jetting, and in a moone light evening robbed a millers
weire, and stole all his éeles. The poore miller made his mone to sir
John himselfe, who willed him to be quiet; for he would so cursse
the theefe, and all his confederates, with bell, booke and candell,
that they should have small joy of their fish. And therefore the
next sundaie, sir John got him to the pulpit, with his surplisse on
his backe, and his stole about his necke, and pronounced these words
following in the audience of the people.

    All you that have stolne the miller's eeles,
      _Laudate Dominum de cœlis_,
    And all they that have consented thereto,
      _Benedicamus Domino_.

So (saith he) there is sauce for your éeles my maisters."[366:A]

A third portion of the popular creed may be considered as including the
various kinds of superstitious CURES, PREVENTATIVES, and SYMPATHIES;
a species of credulity which has suffered little diminution even in
the present day; for, though the materials selected for the purpose
be different, the folly and the fraud are the same. Instead of animal
magnetism and metallic tractors, the public faith, in the days of
Shakspeare, rested, with implicit confidence, on the virtues supposed
to be inherent in bones, precious stones, sympathetic signs, powders,
&c.; and the poet, accordingly, has occasionally introduced imagery
founded on these imaginary qualities. Thus, in the _Merchant of
Venice_, the high value which Shylock places on his _turquoise_ ring,
was derived from this source, the turquoise or Turkey-stone, being
considered as inestimable for its properties of indicating the health
of the wearer by the increase or decrease of its colour, and for its
protective power in shielding him from enmity and peril. That this
was the cause of Shylock's deep regret for the loss of his ring, will
appear probable from the more direct intimations of his contemporaries,
Jonson and Drayton; the former, in his Sejanus, remarking of two
parasites, that they would,

    "—— true, as turkoise in the dear lord's ring,
     Look well or ill with him."[366:B]

and the latter declaring, that

    "The turkesse,——who haps to wear,
       Is often kept from peril."[366:C]

A more distinct allusion to the sanative virtue of precious stones, is
to be found in the celebrated simile in _As You Like It_:

    "Sweet are the uses of adversity;
     Which, like the toad, ugly and venomous,
     Wears yet a precious jewel in his head."[367:A]

This stone or jewel was supposed to secure the possessor from the
effects of poison, and to be, likewise, a sovereign remedy for the
stone.

These important effects are ascribed to it by numerous writers
of Shakspeare's time,—by Gesner[367:B]; by Batman[367:C]; by
Maplett[367:D]; by Fenton[367:E]; by Lupton[367:F]; by Topsell,
and, subsequently, by Fuller.[367:G] It even formed, very early
indeed, a part of medical treatment; for Lloyd, in his _Treasure of
helth_, recommends its exhibition for the stone, and orders it, after
having been _stampt_, to be "geven to the pacyent to drinke in warme
wine."[367:H]

To the _Bezoar_ stone also was attributed great potency in expelling
the plague and other pestilential diseases; and Gesner has given it
an origin even more marvellous than the cures for which it has been
celebrated; "when the hart is sick," says he, "and hath eaten many
serpents for his recoverie, he is brought unto so great a heate, that
he hasteth to the water, and there covereth his body unto the very
eares and eyes, at which time distilleth many teares from which the
(Bezoar) stone is gendered."[367:I]

The _Belemnites_ or hag-stones, perforated flints hung up at the bed's
head, to prevent the night-mare, or in stables to secure the horses
from being hag-ridden, and their manes elf-knotted, were, at this
period, in common use. To one of the superstitious evils against which
it was held as a protective, Shakspeare alludes, in his _Romeo and
Juliet_, where Mercutio exclaims—

      ———— "This is that very Mab
    _That plats the manes of horses in the night_."[368:A]

"It was believed," remarks Mr. Douce, commenting on this passage, "that
certain malignant spirits whose delight was to wander in groves and
pleasant places, assumed occasionally the likenesses of women clothed
in white; that in this character they sometimes haunted stables in the
night-time, carrying in their hands tapers of wax, which they dropped
on the horses' manes, thereby plaiting them in inextricable knots, to
the great annoyance of the poor animals and vexation of their masters.
These hags are mentioned in the works of William of Auvergne, bishop
of Paris in the thirteenth century. There is a very uncommon old print
by Hans Burgmair relating to this subject. A witch enters the stable
with a lighted torch; and, previously to the operation of entangling
the horse's mane, practises her enchantments on the groom, who is lying
asleep on his back, and apparently influenced by the night-mare."[368:B]

The most copious account of the preservative and curative virtues
which credulity has ascribed to precious stones, is to be drawn from
the pages of Reginald Scot, who appears faithfully and minutely to
have recorded the superstitions of his day. "An Agat (they saie) hath
vertue against the biting of scorpions or serpents. It is written (but
I will not stand to it) that it maketh a man eloquent, and procureth
the favour of princes; yea, that the fume thereof dooth turn awaie
tempests. Alectorius is a stone about the bignesse of a beane, as
cleere as the christall, taken out of a cocks bellie which hath been
gelt or made a capon foure yeares. If it be held in ones mouth, it
assuageth thirst, it maketh the husband to love the wife, and the
bearer invincible:——Chelidonius is a stone taken out of a swallowe,
which cureth melancholie: howbeit, some authors saie, it is the hearbe
whereby the swallowes recover the sight of their yoong, even if
their eies be picked out with an instrument. Geranites is taken out
of a crane, and Draconites out of a dragon. But it is to be noted,
that such stones must be taken out of the bellies of the serpents,
beasts, or birds, (wherein they are) whiles they live: otherwise, they
vanish awaie with the life, and so they reteine the vertues of those
starres under which they are. Amethysus maketh a droonken man sober,
and refresheth the wit. The corall preserveth such as beare it from
fascination or bewitching, and in this respect they are hanged about
children's necks. But from whence that superstition is derived, and who
invented the lie, I knowe not: but I see how redie the people are to
give credit thereunto, by the multitude of coralls that waie emploied.
Heliotropius stancheth bloud, driveth awaie poisons, preserveth health:
yea, and some write that it provoketh raine, and darkeneth the sunne,
suffering not him that beareth it to be abused. Hyacinthus dooth all
that the other dooth, and also preserveth from lightening. Dinothera
hanged about the necke, collar, or yoke of any creature, tameth it
presentlie. A Topase healeth the lunatike person of his passion of
lunacie. Aitites, if it be shaken, soundeth as if there were a little
stone in the bellie thereof: it is good for the falling sicknesse, and
to prevent untimelie birth. Chalcedonius maketh the bearer luckie in
lawe, quickeneth the power of the bodie, and is of force also against
the illusions of the divell, and phantasticall cogitations arising of
melancholie. Corneolus mitigateth the heate of the mind, and qualifieth
malice, it stancheth bloudie fluxes. Iris helpeth a woman to speedie
deliverance, and maketh rainebowes to appeere. A Saphire preserveth
the members, and maketh them livelie, and helpeth agues and gowts, and
suffereth not the bearer to be afraid: it hath vertue against venome,
and staieth bleeding at the nose, being often put thereto. A Smarag is
good for the eiesight, and maketh one rich and eloquent. Mephis (as
Aaron and Hermes report out of Albertus Magnus) being broken into
powder, and droonke with water, maketh insensibilitie of torture.
Heereby you may understand, that as God hath bestowed upon these
stones, and such other like bodies, most excellent and woonderfull
vertues: so according to the abundance of humane superstitions and
follies; manie ascribe unto them either more virtues, or others than
they have."[370:A]

This passage has been closely imitated by Drayton, in the ninth Nymphal
of his Muse's Elysium[370:B]; he has made, however, some additions to
the catalogue, one of which we have already noticed, and another will
be shortly quoted.

Virtues of a kind equally miraculous were attributed to bones and
horns; thus Scot tells us, that a bone taken out of a carp's head
staunches blood; that the bone in a hare's foot mitigates the cramp,
and that the unicorn's horn is inestimable[370:C]; and were we to
enumerate the wonders performed by herbs, we might fill a volume. Many
of them, indeed, were considered of such potency as to render the
persons who rightly used them, either invisible or invulnerable, and,
therefore, to those who were engaged to fight a legal duel, an oath was
administered, purporting "that they had ne charme, ne herbe of vertue"
about them.

Several diseases were held to be incurable, by ordinary means; such as
wens, warts, the king's evil, agues, rickets, and ruptures; and the
remedies which were adopted present a most deplorable instance of human
folly. Tumours were to be dispelled by stroking them nine times with a
dead man's hand, and the evil by the royal touch, a miraculous power
supposed to have been first exercised by Edward the Confessor, and to
have been since hereditary in the royal line, at least to the period of
the decease of Queen Anne. Of the discharge of this important function
by the Confessor, and of its regal descent, our poet has left us a
pretty accurate description:—

      "_Malcolm._ ——— Comes the king forth, I pray you?

      _Doctor._ Ay, Sir: there are a crew of wretched souls,
    That stay his cure: their malady convinces
    The great assay of art; but, at his touch,
    Such sanctity hath heaven given his hand,
    They presently amend.

      _Macduff._ What's the disease he means?

      _Mal._                 'Tis call'd the evil:
    A most miraculous work in this good king;
    Which often, since my here-remain in England,
    I have seen him do. How he solicits heaven,
    Himself best knows; but strangely-visited people,
    All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye,
    The mere despair of surgery, he cures;
    Hanging a golden stamp[371:A] about their necks,
    Put on with holy prayers: and 'tis spoken,
    To the succeeding royalty he leaves
    The healing benediction."[371:B]

That Shakspeare had frequently witnessed Queen Elizabeth's exercise
of this extraordinary gift, is very probable; for it appears from
Laneham, that even on her visits to her nobility, she was in the habit
of exerting this sanative power. In his _Account of the Entertainment
at Kenelworth Castle_, he records "by her highness accustomed mercy and
charitee, nyne cured of the peynful and dangerous diseaz called the
King's Evil, for that kings and queens of this realm without oother
medsin (than by touching and prayer) only doo it."[371:C]

Most of the superstitious cures for warts and agues remain as articles
of popular credulity; but the mode of removing ruptures and the
rickets which prevailed at this period, and for some centuries before,
is now nearly, if not altogether extinct. A young tree was split
longitudinally, and the diseased child, being stripped naked, was
passed, with the head foremost, thrice through the fissure. The wounded
tree was then drawn together with a cord so as to unite it perfectly,
and as the tree healed, the child was to acquire health and strength.
The same result followed if the child crept through a stone perforated
by some operation of Nature; of stones of this kind there are some
instances in Cornwall, and Mr. Borlase tells us, in his History of that
County, that there was one of this description in the parish of Marden,
which had a perforation through it fourteen inches in diameter, and was
celebrated for its cures on those who ventured, under these complaints,
to travel through its healing aperture.

The doctrine of _sympathetic_ indications and cures was very prevalent
during the era of Elizabeth and James, and is repeatedly insisted upon
by the writers of that age. One of the most generally credited of
these was, that a murdered body bled upon the touch or approach of the
murderer; an idea which has not only been adopted by our elder bards as
poetically striking, but has been adduced, as a truth, by some of our
very grave writers in prose. Among the Dramatists it will be sufficient
to produce Shakspeare, who represents the corpse of Henry the Sixth as
bleeding on the approach of the Tyrant Richard:—

    "O, gentlemen, see, see! dead Henry's wounds
     Open their congeal'd mouths, and bleed afresh!
     Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity;
     For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood
     From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells;
     Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural,
     Provokes this deluge most unnatural:"[372:A]

and Drayton seems to have been a firm believer in the same
preternatural effect; for he informs us in his forty sixth _Idea_, that,

    "In making trial of a murther wrought,
     If the vile actors of the heinous deed,
     Near the dead body happily be brought,
     Oft't hath been prov'd the breathless corps will bleed."[373:A]

Of the prose authorities, besides Lupton, and Sir Kenelm Digby
mentioned in the notes of the Variorum Edition of our author,
Lavaterus, Reginald Scot, and King James may be quoted, as reposing
an implicit faith in the miracle. The _first_ of these writers tells
us, in his English dress, of 1572, that "some men beeing slayne by
theeves, when the theeves come to the dead body, by and by there
gusheth out freshe blood, or else there is declaration by other tokens,
that the theefe is there present;" and he then adds, "touching these
and other such marvellous things there might be many histories and
testimonies alleaged. But whosoever readeth this booke, may call
to their remembraunce, that they have scene these and suche like
things themselves, or that they have heard them of their freends
and acquaintaunce and of such as deserve sufficient credit."[373:B]
The _second_, in 1584, justifying what he terms common experience,
says, "I have heard by credible report, and I have read many grave
authors constantlie affirme, that the wound of a man murthered
reneweth bleeding; at the presence of a deere freend, or of a mortall
enimie[373:C];" and the third, in 1603, asserts, that "in a secret
murther, if the dead carkasse bee at any time thereafter handled by
the murtherer, it will gush out of bloud, as if the bloud were crying
to the heaven for revenge of the murtherer, God having appointed that
secret supernaturall signe, for triall of that secret unnaturall
crime."[373:D]

The influence of sympathy or _affection_ as it was termed, at the
period of which we are writing, over the passions and feelings of the
human mind, is curiously, though correctly exemplified by the poet, in
the character of Shylock, who tells the Duke—

    "Some men there are, love not a gaping pig;
     Some, that are mad, if they behold a cat;
     And others, when the bag-pipe sings i' the nose,
     Cannot contain their urine; for _affection_,
     Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood
     Of what it likes and loaths."[374:A]

Another sympathy mentioned by Shakspeare, but of a nature wholly
superstitious, relates to the Mandrake, a vegetable, the root of which
was supposed to be endued with animal life, and to shriek so horribly
when drawn out of the ground, as to occasion madness, and even death,
in those who made the attempt:—

      —————— "What with loathsome smells,
    And shrieks like mandrakes torn out of the earth,
    That living mortals, hearing them, run mad;
    O! if I wake, shall I not be distraught?"[374:B]

exclaims Juliet; and Suffolk, in King Henry the Sixth, declares that
every joint of his body should curse and ban his enemies,

    "Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan."[374:C]

To avoid these dreadful effects, it was the custom of those who
collected this root, to compel some animal to be the instrument of
extraction, and consequently the object of punishment. "They doe
affyrme," says Bulleine, "that this herbe (the Mandragora) commeth of
the seede of some convicted dead men: and also without the death of
some lyvinge thinge it cannot be drawnen out of the earth to man's use.
Therefore they did tye some dogge or other lyving beast unto the roote
thereof wyth a corde, and digged the earth in compasse round about, and
in the meane tyme stopp'd their own eares for feare of the terrible
shriek and cry of this Mandrack. In whych cry it doth not only dye
itselfe, but the feare thereof kylleth the dogge or beast which pulleth
it out of the earth."[374:D]

One of the most fantastic sympathies which yet lingers in the
popular creed, is founded on the idea that when a person is seized
with a sudden shivering, some one is walking over his future grave.
"Probably," remarks Mr. Grose, "all persons are not subject to this
sensation; otherwise the inhabitants of those parishes, whose burial
grounds lie in the common foot-path, would live in one continual fit of
shaking."[375:A]

Of all the modes of sympathetic credulity, however, none was more
prevalent in the reign of James the First, than that which pretended
to the cure of wounds and diseases; no stronger proof, indeed, can be
given of the credulity of that age, than that Bacon was a believer
in the sympathetic cure of warts[375:B], and, with James and his
court, in the efficacy of Sir Kenelm Digby's sympathetic powder. To
this far-famed medicine, the secret of which King James obtained from
Sir Kenelm, it is said, by the Knight himself, in his Discourse on
Sympathy, that Mr. James Howel, the well-known author of the Letters,
was indebted for a cure, when his hand was severely wounded in
endeavouring to part two of his friends engaged in a duel. The King,
out of regard to Howel, sent him his own surgeon; but a gangrene being
apprehended, from the violence of the inflammation, the sufferer was
induced to apply to Sir Kenelm, of whose mode of treatment he had heard
the most wonderful accounts.

"I asked him," relates Digby, "for any thing that had the blood upon
it; so he presently sent for his garter, wherewith his hand was first
bound; and as I called for a bason of water, as if I would wash my
hands, I took a handfull of powder of vitriol, which I had in my study,
and presently dissolved it. As soon as the bloody garter was brought
me, I put it within the bason, observing in the interim, what Mr. Howel
did, who stood talking with a gentleman in a corner of my chamber,
not regarding at all what I was doing; but he started suddenly as if
he had found some strange alteration in himself. I asked him what he
ailed? 'I know not what ailes me; but I finde that I feel no more pain.
Methinks that a pleasing kinde of freshnesse, as it were a wet cold
napkin, did spread over my hand, which hath taken away the inflammation
that tormented me before.' I reply'd, 'Since then that you feel already
so good effect of my medicament, I advise you to cast away all your
playsters; only keep the wound clean, and in a moderate temper betwixt
heat and cold.' This was presently reported to the Duke of Buckingham,
and a little after to the king, who were both very curious to know the
circumstance of the businesse, which was, that after dinner I took the
garter out of the water, and put it to dry before a great fire. It was
scarce dry, but Mr. Howel's servant came running that his master felt
as much burning as ever he had done, if not more: for the heat was such
as if his hand were twixt coles of fire. I answered, although that had
happened at present, yet he should find ease in a short time; for I
knew the reason of this new accident, and would provide accordingly;
for his master should be free from that inflammation, it may be before
he could possibly return to him: but in case he found no ease, I wished
him to come presently back again; if not, he might forbear coming.
Thereupon he went; and at the instant I did put again the garter into
the water, thereupon he found his master without any pain at all. To
be brief, there was no sense of pain afterward; but within five or six
dayes the wounds were cicatrized, and entirely healed."[376:A]

To this marvellous cure, which may in truth be attributed to the
dismission of the plasters, we may add that a similar sanative and
sympathetic power was conceived to subsist between the wounds and the
instrument which inflicted them. Thus anointing the weapon with a
salve, or stroking it in a peculiar manner, had an immediate effect
on the wounded person. "They can remedie," says Scot, "anie stranger,
and him that is absent, with that _verie sword_ wherewith they are
wounded. Yea, and that which is beyond all admiration, if they stroke
the sworde upwards with their fingers, the partie shall feele no paine:
whereas if they drawe their finger downewards thereupon, the partie
wounded shall feele intollerable paine."[377:A]

Independent of the superstitions which we have thus classed under
distinct heads, there remain several to be noticed, not clearly
referrible to any part of the above arrangement; but which cannot with
propriety be omitted. These may, therefore, be collected under the term
MISCELLANEOUS, which will be found to include many curious particulars,
in no slight degree illustrative of the subject under consideration.

In the _Tempest_, towards the close of the fourth act, the poet
represents Prospero and Ariel setting on spirits, in the shape of
hounds, to hunt Stephano and Trinculo, while, at the same time, a noise
of hunters is heard.[377:B] This species of diabolical or spectral
chase was a popular article of belief, and is mentioned or alluded to
in many of the numerous books which were written, during this period,
on devils and spectres. Lavaterus, treating of the various modes in
which spirits act, says, "heereunto belongeth those things which are
reported touching the _chasing or hunting of Divels_, and also of the
daunces of dead men, which are of sundrie sortes. I have heard of
some which have avouched, that they have seene them[377:C];" and in a
translation from the French of Peter de Loier's _Treatise of Spectres_,
published in 1605, a chase of this kind is mentioned under the
appellation of _Arthur's Chace_, "which many," observes this writer,
"believe to be in France, and think that it is a kennel of black dogs,
followed by unknown huntsmen, with an exceeding great sound of horns,
as if it was a very hunting of some wild beast."[377:D]

Of a chase of this supernatural description, Boccacio, in the
fourteenth century, made an admirable use in his terrific tale of
Theodore and Honoria; a narrative which has received new charms and
additional horrors from the masterly imitation of Dryden; and in our
own days the same impressive superstition has been productive of a like
effect in the spirited ballad of Burger.

The hell-hounds of Shakspeare appear to be sufficiently formidable;
for, not merely commissioned to hunt their victims, they are ordered,
likewise, as goblins, to

    ———————— "grind their joints
    With dry convulsions; shorten up their sinews
    With aged cramps; and more pinch-spotted make them,
    Than pard, or cat o'mountain.
                    Hark, (_exclaims Ariel_) they roar.

      _Prospero._ Let them be hunted soundly."[378:A]

The punishments which our poet has assigned to sinners in the infernal
regions, are most probably founded on the fictions of the monks, who,
not content with the infliction of mere fire as a source of torment,
condemn the damned to suffer the alternations of heat and cold; to
experience the cravings of extreme hunger and thirst, and to be driven
by whirlwinds through the immensity of space. In correspondence with
these legendary horrors, are the descriptions attributed to Claudio in
_Measure for Measure_, and to the Ghost in _Hamlet_:—

      "_Claudio._ Ay, but to die, and go we know not where;
    To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot:
    This sensible warm motion to become
    A kneaded clod; and the delighted spirit
    To _bathe in fiery floods_, or to reside,
    _In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice_;
    To be _imprison'd in the viewless winds,
    And blown with restless violence round about
    The pendent world_; or to be worse than worst
    Of those, that lawless and uncertain thoughts
    Imagine howling!—'tis too horrible!"[379:A]

      ————— "I am thy father's spirit;
    Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night;
    And, for the day, _confined to fast in fires_,
    Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature,
    Are burnt and purg'd away."[379:B]

Imagery somewhat similar to this may be found in the vulgar Latin
version of Job xxiv. 19.[379:C], and in the Inferno and Purgatorio of
Dante[379:D]; but Shakspeare had sufficient authorities in his own
language. An old homily, quoted by Dr. Farmer, speaking of the pains
of hell, says "the fyrste is fyre that ever brenneth, and never gyveth
lighte; the seconde is passying cold, that yf a greate hylle of fyre
were cast therein, it shold torne to yce[379:E];" and Chaucer, in his
_Assemblie of Foules_, describing the situation of souls in hell,
declares that

      —— "breakers of the lawe, sothe to saine,
    And lickerous folke, after that they been dede
    _Shall whirle about the world_, alway in paine
    Till many a world be passed."[379:F]

The same doctrine is taught in that once popular and curious old work
_The Shepherd's Calendar_, which so frequently issued from the presses
of Wynkyn De Worde, Pynson, and Julian Notary. Among the torments of
the damned, the first enumerated

      ——— "is fire so hote to rekenne
    That no manere of thynge may slekenne,
    The secunde is colde as seith some
    That no hete of fire may over come;"

and Lazarus, describing the punishment of the ENVIOUS, says,—"I have
seen in hell a flood frozen as ice, wherein the _envious_ men and women
were plunged unto the navel; and then suddenly came over them a right
cold and a great wind, that grieved and pained them right sore, and
when they would evite and eschew the wonderful blasts of the wind,
they plunged into water with great shouts and cries, lamentable to
hear[380:A];" and again in the eighteenth chapter of the same work, it
is related, as the reward of them that keep the ten commandments of the
Devil, that

      —— "a _great froste_ in a water rounes
    And after a _bytter wynde_ comes
    Whiche gothe through the soules with yre."

In the _Songes and Sonnets_, also, by Lord Surrey, and others, which
were first published in 1557, the pains of hell are depicted as
partaking of the like vicissitude:—

    "The soules that lacked grace
     Which lye in bitter paine,
     Are not in suche a place,
     As foolish folke do faine;

     Tormented all with _fyre_,
     And boyle in leade againe—

     Then cast in _frozen pites_,
     To _freze_ there certein howres."[380:B]

Hunger and thirst, as forming part of the sufferings of the damned,
are alluded to by Chaucer in his Parson's Tale[381:A], and by Nash in
one of his numerous pamphlets: "Whether," says he, speaking of hell,
"it be a place of horror, stench, and darkness, where men see _meat,
but can get none, and are ever thirsty_."[381:B]

Heywood in his _Hierarchie of Angels_[381:C], and Milton in his
_Paradise Lost_, have adopted Claudio's description of the infernal
abode with regard to the interchange of heat and cold; the picture
which the latter has drawn completely fills up the outline of
Shakspeare:—

    "Beyond —— a frozen continent
    Lies dark and wild, beat with perpetual storms
    Of whirlwind and dire hail——
    Thither by harpy-footed furies hal'd,
    At certain revolutions, all the damn'd
    Are brought; and feel by turns the bitter change
    Of fierce extremes, extremes by change more fierce,
    From beds of raging fire, to starve in ice
    Their soft ethereal warmth, and there to pine
    Immovable, infix'd, and frozen round,
    Periods of time, thence hurried back to fire."[381:D]

The Platonic doctrine or superstition relative to the harmony of the
spheres, and of the human soul, was a favourite embellishment, both
in prose and poetry, during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.
Spenser, Shakspeare, Hooker, Milton, have all adopted it as a mode of
illustration, and it forms, in the works of our great Dramatist, one of
his most splendid and beautiful passages:

    "How sweet the moon-light sleeps upon this bank!
     Here will we sit, and let the sounds of musick
     Creep in our ears; soft stillness, and the night,
     Become the touches of sweet harmony.
     Sit, Jessica: Look, how the floor of heaven
     Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold;
     _There's not the smallest orb, which thou behold'st,
     But in his motion like an angel sings,
     Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubins:
     Such harmony is in immortal souls;
     But, whilst this muddy vesture of decay
     Doth grossly close it in, we cannot hear it_."[382:A]

The opinion of Plato, as expressed in the tenth book of his
_Republic_[382:B] and in his _Timæus_, represents the music of the
spheres as so rapid, sweet, and variously inflected, as to exceed all
power in the human ear to measure its proportions, and consequently
it is not to be heard of man, while resident in this fleshly mould.
The same species of harmony is averred by Hooker[382:C] and Shakspeare
to reside in the human soul; but, says the latter, "whilst this muddy
vesture of decay doth grossly close this musick in, we cannot hear
it:" that is, whilst the soul is immured in the body, it is neither
conscious of its own harmony, nor of that existing in the spheres; but
no sooner shall it be freed from this incumbrance, and become a _pure
spirit_, than it shall be sensible both to its _own concord of sweet
sounds_, and to that _diapason_ or concentus which is addressed by the
nine muses or syrens to the Supreme Being,

    "That undisturbed song of _pure concent_,
     Aye sung before the sapphire-colour'd throne,
     To _Him_ that sits thereon."[382:D]

Of the various superstitions relative to the _Moon_, which prevailed in
the days of Shakspeare, a few are still retained. The most common is
that founded on the idea of a human creature being imprisoned in this
beautiful planet. The culprit was generally supposed to be the sinner
recorded in Numbers, chap. xv. v. 32., who was found gathering sticks
upon the sabbath day; a crime to which Chaucer has added the iniquity
of theft; for he describes this singular inhabitant as

    "Bearing a bush of thornes on his backe,
     Which for his _theft_ might clime no ner the heven."[383:A]

The Italians, however, appropriate this luminary for the residence of
Cain, and one of their early poets even speaks of the planet under the
term of _Caino e le spine_.[383:B] Shakspeare, with his usual attention
to propriety of character, attributes a belief in this superstition to
the monster Caliban:

      "_Calib._ Hast thou not dropped from heaven?

      _Steph._ Out o'the moon, I do assure thee: I was the man in the
          moon, when time was.

      _Cal._ I have seen thee in her, and I do adore thee;
    My mistress shewed me thee, thy dog and bush."[383:C]

The influence of the moon over diseases bodily and intellectual; its
virtue in all magical rites; its appearances as predictive of evil
and good, and its power over the weather and over many of the minor
concerns of life, such as the gathering of herbs, the killing of
animals for the table, &c. &c. were much more firmly and universally
accredited in the sixteenth century than at present; although we must
admit, that traces of all these credulities may still be found; and
that in medical science, the doctrine of lunar influence still, and to
a certain extent, perhaps with probability, exists.

Shakspeare addresses the moon as the "sovereign mistress of true
melancholy[383:D];" tells us, that when "she comes more near to the
earth than she was wont," she "makes men mad[383:E];" and that, when
she is "pale in her anger—rheumatic diseases do abound."[384:A] He
tells us, also, through the medium of Hecate, that

    "Upon the corner of the moon
     There hangs a vaporous drop profound"

of power to compel the obedience of infernal spirits[384:B]; and that
its eclipses[384:C], its sanguine colour[384:D], and its apparent
multiplication[384:E], are certain prognostics of disaster.

To kill hogs, to collect herbs, and to sow seed, when the moon was
increasing, was deemed a most essential observance; the bacon was
better, the plants more effective, and the crops more abundant in
consequence of this attention. Implicit confidence was also placed
in the new moon as a prognosticator of the weather, according to its
position, or the curvature of its horns; and it was hailed by blessings
and supplications; the women especially, both in England and Scotland,
were accustomed to curtesy to the new moon, and on the first night of
its appearance the unmarried part of the sex would frequently, sitting
astride on a gate or stile, invoke its influence in the following
curious terms:—

    "All hail to the Moon, all hail to thee,
     I prithee good Moon declare to me,
     This night who my husband shall be."

The credulity of the country was particularly directed at this period,
including the close of the sixteenth century, and the beginning of the
seventeenth century, towards the numerous relations of the existence
of MONSTERS of various kinds; and Shakspeare, who more than any other
poet, availed himself of the superstitious follies of his time, hath
repeatedly both introduced, and satirized, these objects, as articles
of, and exciters of the popular belief. His Caliban, a monster of his
own creation, and, poetically considered, one of the most striking
products of his imagination, will be noticed at length in another
place, and we shall here confine ourselves to his description of the
monsters which, as objects of historical record, had lately become the
theme of credulous wonder, and general speculation.

Othello, in his speech before the senators, familiarly alludes to

    —— "the Cannibals that each other eat,
    The _Anthropophagi, and men whose heads
    Do grow beneath their shoulders_:"[385:A]

and Gonzaga, in the _Tempest_, exclaims:

    "Who would believe that there were mountaineers,
     _Dewlapp'd like bulls, whose throats had hanging at them
     Wallets of flesh_? or that there were such _men,
     Whose heads stood in their breasts_."[385:B]

These monsters, and many others, which had been described in the
editions of Maundeville's Travels, published by Wynkyn De Worde
and Pynson in 1499-1503, &c. were revived, with fresh claims to
belief, by the voyagers and natural historians of the poet's age.
In 1581, Professor Batman printed his "Doome, warning all men to
the judgemente," in which not only the _Anthropophagi, who eat
man's flesh_, are mentioned, but various other races, such as the
_Œthiopes_ with four eyes, the _Hippopodes_, with their nether parts
like horses, the _Arimaspi_ with one eye in the forehead, &c. &c., and
to these he adds "men called _Monopoli_, who _have no head, but a face
in their breaste_."[385:C] In 1596 these marvels were corroborated by
Sir Walter Ralegh's _Discoverie of Guiana_[385:D], an empire, which, he
affirms, was productive of a similar generation; and Hackluyt, in 1598,
tells us that, "on that branch which is called Caora, are a nation of
a people _whose heades appeare not above their shoulders_: they are
reported to have their eyes in their shoulders, and their mouthes in
the middle of their breasts."

With the mere English scholar, classical authority was given to these
tales by Philemon Holland's Translation of Pliny's Natural History in
1601, where are the following descriptions both of the _Anthropophagi_
and of the men _whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders_:—"The
Anthropophagi or eaters of man's flesh whom we have placed about the
North pole, tenne daies journey by land above the river Borysthenes,
use to drinke out of the sculs of men's heads, and to weare the
scalpes, haire and all, in steed of mandellions or stomachers before
their breasts."[386:A] "The Blemmyi, by report, have no heads, but
mouth and eies both in their breast[386:B];" and again, "beyond these
westward, some there bee without heads standing upon their neckes, who
carrie eies in their shoulders."[386:C]

It is, also, very probable that the attention of Shakspeare was
still further drawn to these headless monsters by the labours of the
engraver; for in Este's edition of Maundeville's Travels, an attempt
is made to delineate one of these deformities, who is represented with
the eyes, nose, and mouth situated on the breast and stomach; and in a
translation of Ralegh's Guiana into Latin, by Hulse, in 1599, a similar
plate is given.[386:D]

That our author viewed this partiality in the public mind for wonders
and strange spectacles, with a smile of contempt, and was willing to
seize an opportunity for ridiculing the mania, appears evident from a
passage in his _Tempest_, where Trinculo, discovering Caliban extended
on the ground, supposes him to be a species of fish, and observes,
"Were I in England now (as once I was) and had but this _fish_
painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver:
there would this monster make a man; any strange beast there makes a
man: when they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will
lay out ten to see a dead Indian."[387:A]

_Wild Indians_, _curious fishes_, and _crocodiles_, seem to have been
singularly numerous in London at this epoch, having been brought
thither by several of our enterprising navigators; and by those who
crowded from every part of the country to view them, many superstitious
marvels were connected with their natural history. Of _three_ or
_four savages_ which Frobisher took in his first voyage, one, we are
told, "for very choler and disdain bit his tong in twaine within
his mouth: notwithstanding he died not thereof, but lived untill he
came in Englande, and then he died of colde, which he had taken at
sea[387:B];" the survivors, there is every reason to suppose, were
exhibited; for in the year 1577, there was entered on the books of the
Stationers' Company, "A description of the portrayture and shape of
those strange kinde of people which the worthie Mr. Martin Fourbosier
brought into England in Ao 1576[387:C];" and Mr. Chalmers relates,
that "Lord Southampton, and Sir Francis Gorges, engaging in voyages of
discovery, sent out, in 1611, two vessels under the command of Harlie,
and Nicolas, who sailed along the New England coast, where they were
sometimes well, and often ill, received, by the natives; and returned
to England, in the same year, with _five savages_, on board. In 1614,
Captain Smith carried out to New England one of those savages, named
_Tantum_; Captains Harlie and Hopson transported, in the same year, two
others of those savages, called _Epenow_, and _Manawet_; one of those
savages adventured to the European continent; and the _fifth Indian_,
of whom no account is given, we may easily suppose died in London, and
was exhibited for a show."[387:D]

We learn from a publication of Churchyard's in 1578, that Frobisher's
crew found a "_straunge fish_ dead, that had been caste from the
sea on the shore, who had a boane in his head like an Unicorne,
which they brought awaye, and presented to our Prince, when thei
came home[388:A];" and from the Stationers' Books, that, in 1604, an
account was printed "of a monstrous _fish_, that appeared in the form
of a woman from her waist upward, seene in the sea."[388:B] That the
credulity of the public in Elizabeth's days was remarkably great in
swallowing the most marvellous details in natural history, is proved
by a curious scene in the "City Match" of Jasper Mayne, which, though
first acted in 1639, refers to the age of Elizabeth, as to a period
fertile in these wondrous exhibitions. A set of knaves are described
as _hanging out the picture of a strange fish_, which they affirm is
the _fifth_ they have shown; and the following dialogue takes place
relative to the inscription on the place which included the monster:—

      "_Holland._ Pray, can you read that? Sir, I warrant
    That tells where it was caught, and what fish 'tis.

      _Plotwell._ _Within this place is to be seen,
    A wonderous fish. God save——the Queen._

      _Hol._ Amen! She is my customer, and I
    Have sold her bone-lace often.

      _Bright._ Why the Queen? 'Tis writ the King.

      _Plot._ That was to make the rhime.

      _Bright._ 'Slid, thou did'st read it as twere some picture of
    An _Elizabeth-fish_."[388:C]

A boy is then introduced, who sings a song upon the fish, commencing
with these lines:

    "We show no monstrous _crocodile_,
     Nor any prodigy of Nile;"[389:A]

which again alludes to the monster-loving propensities of good Queen
Bess's subjects; for Batman in his work upon Bartholome, published in
1582, says,—"Of late years there hath been brought into England, the
cases or skinnes of such _crocodiles_, to be seene, and much money
given for the sight thereof; the policy of strangers," he adds, in
the spirit of Shakspeare, "laugh at our folly, either that we are too
wealthy, or else that we know not how to bestow our money[389:B];" and
Bullokar, in his _English Expositor_ of 1616, confirms the charge by
telling us, that a dead _crocodile_, "but in perfect forme," and nine
feet long, had lately been exhibited in London, a fact to which he
annexes the following tradition:—"It is written," he remarks, "that
he will weep over a man's head when he hath devoured the body, and
then he will eat up the head too. Wherefore—crocodiles tears signifie
such tears as are fained, and spent only with intent to deceive or doe
harme."[389:C] Of this superstition Shakspeare has made a poetical use
in two of his dramas: Margaret in _Henry VI._ Part 2. complains that
Gloucester beguiles the king,

    —————— "as the mournful crocodile
    With sorrow snares relenting passengers:"[389:D]

and Othello, execrating the supposed duplicity of Desdemona, exclaims,

    "If that the earth could teem with woman's tears,
     Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile."[389:E]

Many superstitions relative to the DYING, existed at this time, among
all ranks of people, and a few of these have been preserved by our
poet. One of the most general was built on the belief, that Satan, or
some of his infernal host, watched the death-bed of every individual,
and, if impenitence or irreligion appeared, immediately took possession
of the soul. The death-scene of Cardinal Beaufort is an admirable
exemplification of this appalling idea; Henry is appealing to the
Almighty in behalf of the agonised sinner, and utters the following
pious petition:—

    "O thou eternal Mover of the heavens,
     Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch!
     O, beat away the busy meddling fiend
     That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul,
     And from his bosom purge this black despair!"[390:A]

The powerful delineation of this scene from the pencil of Sir Joshua
Reynolds, in which the "meddling fiend" is personified in all his
terrors, must be considered in strict accordance with the credulity of
the age; for "in an ancient manuscript book of devotions," relates Mr.
Douce, "written in the reign of Henry VI., there is a prayer addressed
to Saint George, with the following very singular passage: 'Judge
for me whan the moste hedyous and damnable dragons of helle shall be
redy to take my poore soule and engloute it in to theyr infernall
belyes'[390:B];" and the books on demonology and spirits, written in
the reigns of Elizabeth and James, clearly prove that this relic of
popish superstition was still a portion of the popular creed.

Another singular conception was, that it was necessary in the agonies
of death, to

    "Pluck—men's pillows from below their heads,"[390:C]

in order that they might die the easier; a practice founded on the
ridiculous supposition that, if pigeons' feathers formed a part of the
materials of the pillow, it was impossible the sufferer should expire
but in great misery, and that he would probably continue to struggle
for a prodigious length of time in exquisite torture.

It was common at this period, and the practice, indeed, continued
until the middle of the last century, to consider WELLS and FOUNTAINS
as peculiarly sacred and holy, and to visit them as a species of
pilgrimage, or for the healing virtues which superstition had fondly
attributed to them. Many of these wells, which had been much frequented
in London, during the days of Fitzstephen, were closed, or neglected,
when Stowe wrote[391:A]; but in the _country_ the habit of resorting
to such springs, and for purposes similar to those which existed in
papal times, was generally preserved. Bourne, who published in 1725,
speaks in language peculiarly descriptive of this superstitious regard
for wells and fountains, not only as it was observed in ancient times,
but at the period in which he lived. "In the dark ages of popery,"
he says, "it was a custom, if any _well_ had an awful situation, and
was seated in some lonely melancholy vale; if its water was clear and
limpid, and beautifully margin'd with the tender grass; or if it was
look'd upon, as having a medicinal quality; to gift it to some _Saint_,
and honour it with his name. Hence it is that we have at this day wells
and fountains called, some _St. John's, St. Mary Magdalen's, St. Mary's
Well, &c._

"To these kind of wells, the common people are accustomed to go, on a
summer's evening, to refresh themselves with a walk after the toil of
the day, to drink the water of the fountain, and enjoy the pleasing
prospect of shade and stream.

"Now this custom (though, _at this time of day_, very commendable, and
harmless, and innocent) seems to be the remains of that superstitious
practice of the Papists, of paying adoration to wells and fountains;
for they imagined there was some holiness and sanctity in them, and so
worshipped them."[392:A]

It was in the north especially, where Mr. Bourne resided, that wells
of this description were most frequently to be found, possessing the
advantages of a romantic situation, and preserved with care through
the influence of the traditionary legends of the neighbouring village;
for these retreats were supposed to be the haunts of fairies and good
spirits who were accustomed to meet

    —————— "in dale, forest, or mead,
    By paved fountain, or by rushy brook."[392:B]

At these wells offerings were frequently made, either owing to the
conceived sanctity of the place, or from gratitude for imagined
benefit received through the waters of the spring; and as those who
had recourse to these fountains were usually of the lower class,
small pieces of money were given, or even _rags_ suspended on the
trees or bushes which overhung the stream; whence these fountains
in many places obtained the name of _Rag-wells_. One thus termed is
mentioned, by Mr. Brand, as still exhibiting these tributary shreds at
the village of Benton near Newcastle; Mr. Pennant records two at Spey
and Drachaldy in Scotland; and Mr. Shaw tells us, that in the province
of Moray _pilgrimages to wells_ are not yet obsolete.[393:A] In many
places in the North, indeed, there are wells still remaining which were
manifestly intended for the refreshment of the way-worn traveller, and
are yet held in veneration. We have seen some of these with ladles of
brass affixed to the stone-work by a chain, a convenience probably as
ancient as the Anglo-Saxon era.

Several traditions of a peculiarly superstitious hue, have been
cherished in this country with regard to the _bird-tribe_, and most of
them have been introduced by our great poet as accessory either to the
terrible, or the pathetic. The ominous croaking of the raven and the
crow have been already mentioned, and we shall therefore, under the
present head, merely advert to a few additional notices relative to the
_owl_ and the _ruddock_, the former the supposed herald of horror and
disaster, the latter the romantic minister of charity and pity.

To the fearful bodings of the clamorous owl, which we have already
introduced when treating of omens, may now be added a superstition
which formerly rendered this unlucky bird the peculiar dread of mothers
and nurses. It was firmly believed, that the screech-owl was in the
habit of destroying infants by sucking out their blood and breath as
they laid in the cradle. "Lamiæ," observes Lavaterus, "are things that
make children afrayde. Lamiæ are also called _Striges_. _Striges_ (as
they saye) are unluckie-birds, whiche sucke out the blood of infants
lying in their cradles. And hereof some men will have witches take
their name, who also are called [393:B]_Volaticæ_." This credulity
relative to the Strix or screech-owl may be traced to Ovid[394:A], and
is alluded to by Shakspeare in the following lines:—

    "We talk of goblins, _owls_, and elvish sprites;
     If we obey them not, this will ensue,
     They'll _suck out breath_, and pinch us black and blue."[394:B]

Another strange legend in the history of the owl is put into the mouth
of the hapless Ophelia:—

    "Well, God 'ield you! They say the owl was a baker's daughter;"[394:C]

a metamorphosis of which Mr. Douce has given us the origin; he tells
us that it is yet a common story among the vulgar in Gloucestershire,
and is thus related:—"Our Saviour went into a baker's shop where they
were baking, and asked for some bread to eat. The mistress of the shop
immediately put a piece of dough into the oven to bake for him; but
was reprimanded by her daughter, who insisting that the piece of dough
was too large, reduced it to a very small size. The dough, however,
immediately afterwards began to swell, and presently became of a
most enormous size. Whereupon the baker's daughter cried out 'Heugh,
heugh, heugh,' which owl-like noise, probably induced our Saviour for
her wickedness to transform her into that bird." He adds that this
story was often related to children, in order to deter them from such
illiberal behaviour to poor people.[394:D]

The partiality shown to the _ruddock_ or _red-breast_ seems to have
been founded on the popular ballad of _The Children in the Wood_, and
the play of _Cymbeline_. The charitable office, however, which these
productions have ascribed to _Robin_, has an earlier origin than their
date; for in Thomas Johnson's _Cornucopia_, 4to. 1596, it is related
that "the robin redbrest if he find a man or woman dead, will cover all
his face with mosse, and some thinke that if the body should remaine
unburied that he would cover the whole body also."[395:A] It is highly
probable that this anecdote might give birth to the burial of the
babes, whom no one heeded,

    "Till _Robin-red-breast_ painfully
       Did _cover them with leaves_;"

for, according to Dr. Percy[395:B], this pathetic narrative was built
upon a play published by Rob. Yarrington in 1601. It is likewise
possible that the same passage occasioned the beautiful lines in the
play of _Cymbeline_, performed about 1606, where Arviragus, mourning
over Imogen, exclaims—

    —————— "With fairest flowers,
    Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele,
    I'll sweeten thy sad grave: Thou shalt not lack
    The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose; nor
    The azur'd hare-bell, like thy veins; no, nor
    The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander,
    Out-sweeten'd not thy breath: the _ruddock_ would,
    With charitable bill—bring thee _all this_;
    Yea, and furr'd _moss_ besides, when flowers are none,
    To winter-ground thy corse."[395:C]

These interesting pictures of the red-breast would alone be sufficient
to create an affectionate feeling for him; the attachment however has
been ever since kept alive by delineations of a similar kind. In our
author's time Drayton, Webster, and Dekker, have all alluded to this
pleasing tradition: the first in his _Owl_ 1604—

    "Cov'ring with moss the deads unclosed eye,
     The little _red-breast_ teacheth charitie;"[395:D]

the second in his Tragedy, called _The White Devil, or Vittoria
Corombona_, 1612—

    "Call for the _robin red-breast_ and the wren,
     Since o'er shady groves they hover,
     And with leaves and flowers do cover
     The friendless bodies of unburied men;"[396:A]

and the third in one of his pamphlets printed in 1616—"They that
cheere up a prisoner but with their sight, are _Robin red-breasts_ that
bring strawes in their bils to cover a dead man in extremitie."[396:B]

Some wonderful properties relative to an imaginary gem, called a
_carbuncle_, formed likewise a part of the popular creed. It was
supposed to be the most transparent of all the precious stones, and
to possess a native intrinsic lustre so powerful as to illuminate the
atmosphere to a considerable distance around it. It was, therefore,
very appositely adopted by the writers of romance, as an ornament
and source of light for their subterranean palaces, and almost all
our elder poets have gifted it with a similar brilliancy; thus
Chaucer, in his _Romaunt of the Rose_[396:C]; Gower, in his _Confessio
Amantis_[396:D]; Lydgate, in his _Description of King Priam's
Palace_[396:E]; and Stephen Hawes, in his _Pastime of Pleasure_[396:F],
have all celebrated it as a kind of second sun, and the most valuable
of earthly products. Chaucer, more particularly, mentions it as so
clear and bright,—

    "That al so sone as it was night,
     Men mightin sene to go for nede
     A mile, or two in length and brede,
     Such light ysprange out of that stone."

That this fiction was credited in the days of Elizabeth and James, may
be conceded, not only from the familiar allusions of the poets, but
from the philosophic writers on the superstitions of the age. To the
_unborrowed_ light of the carbuncle, Shakspeare has referred in _King
Henry the Eighth_, where the Princess Elizabeth is prophetically termed,

    —————— "a gem
    To lighten all this isle;"[397:A]

and in Titus Andronicus, (if that play can be deemed his,) upon the
discovery of Bassianus slaughtered in a pit;

    "_Martius._ Upon his bloody finger he doth wear
                A precious ring, that lightens all the hole,
                ——like a taper in some monument;"[397:B]

He also mentions this "rich jewel" by way of comparison in
Coriolanus[397:C]; appropriates it as an ornament to the wheels of
Phœbus's chariot in Cymbeline[397:D]; and in the Player's speech in
Hamlet, the eyes of Pyrrhus are said to be "like carbuncles."[397:E]

Drayton describes this fabled stone with nearly as much precision as
Chaucer; he calls it

    "——— that admired, mighty stone,
    The _carbuncle_ that's named;
    Which from it such a flaming light
    And radiancy ejecteth,
    That in the very darkest night
    The eye to it directeth."[397:F]

A modern poet, remarkable for his powers of imagination, has
beautifully, and very happily availed himself of these marvellous
attributes, in describing the magnificent palace of Shedad, a passage
which we shall transcribe, as it leads to an illustrative extract from
a writer of Shakspeare's age:

          "Here self-suspended hangs in air,
    As its pure substance loathed material touch,
              The living carbuncle;
              Sun of the lofty dome,
    Darkness has no dominion o'er its beams;
    Intense it glows, an ever-flowing tide
    Of glory, like the day-flood in its source."

"I have no where seen," says Mr. Southey in a note on these lines, "so
circumstantial an account of its (the carbuncle's) wonderful properties
as in a passage of Thuanus, quoted by Stephanius in his notes to
Saxo-Grammaticus.

"Whilst the King was at Bologna, a stone, wonderful in its species and
nature, was brought to him from the East Indies, by a man unknown, who
appeared by his manners to be a Barbarian. It sparkled as though all
burning, with an incredible splendour; flashing radiance, and shooting
on every side its beams, it filled the surrounding air to a great
distance with a light scarcely by any eyes endurable. In this also
it was wonderful, that being most impatient of the earth, if it was
confined, it would force its way, and immediately fly aloft; neither
could it be contained by any art of man in a narrow place, but appeared
only to love those of ample extent. It was of the utmost purity,
stained by no soil nor spot. Certain shape it had none, for its figure
was inconstant, and momentarily changing, and though at a distance it
was beautiful to the eye, it would not suffer itself to be handled
with impunity, but hurt those who obstinately struggled with it, as
many persons before many spectators experienced. If by chance any part
of it was broken off, for it was not very hard, it became nothing
less."[398:A]

An account equally minute, and in terms nearly similar, occurs in
Scot's Discoverie of Witchcraft, 1584, and both were probably taken
from the same source, the writings of Fernel or Fernelius. This
physician died in 1558; and his description, as copied by Scot,
contributed, no doubt, to prolong the public credulity in this kingdom;
though the English philosopher attempts to explain the phenomenon by
supposing that actual flame was concentrated and burning in the centre
of the gem.

"Johannes Fernelius writeth of a strange stone latelie brought out
of India, which hath in it such a marvellous brightnes, puritie and
shining, that therewith the aire round about is so lightned and
cleared, that one may see to read thereby in the darknes of night. It
will not be conteined in a close roome, but requireth an open and free
place. It would not willingly rest or staie here belowe on the earth,
but alwaies laboureth to ascend up into the aire. If one presse it
downe with his hand, it resisteth, and striveth verie sharplie. It is
beautifull to behold, without either spot or blemish, and yet verie
unpleasant to taste or feele. If any part thereof be taken awaie, it
is never a whit diminished, the forme thereof being inconstant, and at
everie moment mutable."[399:A]

The carbuncle was believed to be an animal substance generated in
the body of a serpent, to possess a sexual distinction, the males
having a star-formed burning nucleus, while the females dispersed
their brilliancy on all sides in a formless blaze; and, like other
transparent gems, to have the power of expelling evil spirits.

While on the subject of superstitious notions relative to luminous
bodies, we may remark, that in the age of Shakspeare, the wandering
lights, termed _Will-o-wisp_ and _Jack-o-Lantern_, were supposed by the
common people to be occasioned by demons and malignant fairies, with
the view of leading the benighted traveller to his destruction. "Many
tymes," says Lavaterus, "candles and small fiers appeare in the night,
and seeme to run up and downe;—those fiers some time seeme to come
togither, and by and by to be severed and run abroade, and at the last
to vanish clean away. Somtime these fiers go alone in the night season,
and put such as see them, as they travel by night, in great fear. But
these things, and many suche lyke, have their natural causes: _and
yet I will not denye, but that many tymes Dyvels delude men in this
manner_."[400:A]

Stephano, in the _Tempest_, attributes this phenomenon to the agency
of a mischievous fairy: "Monster, your fairy, which, you say, is a
harmless fairy, has done little better than _played the Jack with
us_."[400:B]

Various causes have been assigned for the appearance of the _ignis
fatuus_; modern chemistry asserts it to be occasioned by hydrogen gas,
evolving from decaying vegetables, and the decomposition of pyritic
coal; and when seen hovering on the surface of burial grounds, to
originate from the same gas in a higher state of volatility, through
the agency of phosphoric impregnation.

The _partial_ view which we have now taken of the superstitions of
the country, as they existed in the age of Shakspeare, will, in part,
demonstrate how great was the credulity subsisting at this period; how
well calculated were many of these popular delusions for the purposes
of the dramatic writer, and how copiously and skilfully have these been
moulded and employed by the great poet of our stage. A considerable
portion also of the manners, customs, and diversions of the country,
which had been necessarily omitted in the preceding chapters, will be
found included in this sketch of a part of the popular creed, and will
contribute to heighten the effect of a picture, which can only receive
its completion through the mutual aid of various subsequent departments
of the present work.


FOOTNOTES:

[315:A] Warton's History of English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 496.

[316:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 255, 256. Winter's Tale, act ii.
sc. 1.

[317:A] "Of Ghostes and spirites walking by nyght, and of strange
noyses, crackes, and sundry forewarnynges, whiche commonly happen
before the death of menne, great slaughters, and alterations of
kyngdomes. One Booke, Written by Lewes Lavaterus of Tigurine. And
translated into Englyshe by R. H." Printed at London by Henry
Benneyman, for Richard Watkyns, 1572. Vide p. 14. and 49.

[317:B] Lavaterus, p. 21.

[318:A] Scot's Discoverie of Witchcraft, 1580, p. 152, 153.

[318:B] Vide Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, p. 172.

[318:C] Spectator, No. 419., vol. vi. p. 118. of Sharpe's edition. See
also Nos. 12. 110. and 117.

[319:A] Grose's Provincial Glossary, p. 242, 243.

[321:A] Bourne's Antiquities of the Common People apud Brand, p. 113,
118, 119, 120, 122, 123.

[321:B] Seasons, Winter, line 617.

[322:A] Pleasures of Imagination, book i.

[322:B] The Remains of Henry Kirke White, vol. i. p. 311.

[323:A] Gay, in his Trivia, notices, at some length, the prognostications
attendant on these days, and which equally apply to ancient and to
modern times:—

    "All superstition from thy breast repel;
     Let cred'lous boys and prattling nurses tell
     How if the _Festival of Paul_ be _clear_,
     _Plenty_ from lib'ral horn shall strow the _year_:
     When the dark skies dissolve in _snow_ and _rain_,
     The lab'ring _kind_ shall _yoke_ the _steer_ in _vain_;
     But if the threat'ning _winds_ in tempest roar,
     Then _war_ shall bathe her wasteful sword in gore.
     How if, on _Swithen_'s feast the welkin lours,
     And ev'ry penthouse streams with hasty show'rs,
     _Twice twenty days_ shall clouds their fleeces drain,
     And wash the pavements with _incessant rain_:
     Let no such vulgar tales debase thy mind,
     Nor _Paul_, nor _Swithin_, rule the _clouds_ and _wind_."

[324:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iv. p. 453. Midsummer-Night's Dream,
act iv. sc. 1. Buchanan also beautifully records the same traditionary
imagery:

    "Festa Valentino rediit lux——
     Quisque sibi sociam jam legit ales avem.
     Inde sibi dominam per sortes quærere in annum
     Mansit ab antiquis mos repetitus avis;
     Quisque legit dominam, quam casto observet amore,
     Quam nitidis sertis obsequioque colat:
     Mittere cui possit blandi munuscula Veris."

[325:A] Bourne's Antiquities apud Brand, p. 253.

[326:A] Douce's Illustrations of Shakspeare, vol. ii. p. 252, 253.

[326:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xviii. p. 281. Mr. Gay has more
distinctly recorded this ceremony in the following lines:—

    "Last Valentine, the day when birds of kind
     Their paramours with mutual chirpings find;
     I early rose, just at the break of day,
     Before the sun had chas'd the stars away;
     Afield I went, amid the morning dew,
     To milk my kine (for so should housewives do),
     _Thee First_ I spied, and _the first swain we see_
     In spite of fortune _shall our true Love be_."

[327:A] "Et vere ad Valentini festum à viris habent fœminæ; munera, et
alio temporis viris dantur." Moresini Deprav. Relig. 160.

[327:B] Douce's Illustrations of Shakspeare, vol. ii. p. 258.—"I have
found unquestionable authority," remarks Mr. Brand, "to evince that the
custom of chusing Valentines was a sport practised in the houses of the
gentry in England as early as the year 1476." Brand apud Ellis, vol. i.
p. 48.

The authority alluded to by Mr. Brand, is a letter, in Fenn's Paston
Letters, vol. ii. p. 211., dated February 1476.

[328:A] Survey of London, 1618, p. 159.

[328:B] Ibid.

[328:C] Vide Strutt's Sports and Pastimes, p. 317.

[329:A] "L'origine de ce feu que tant de nations conservent encore, et
qui se perd dans l'antiquité, est très simple. C'etoit un feu de joie
allumé au moment où l'année commençoit; car la première de toutes les
Annes, la plus ancienne donc on ait quelque connoissance, s'ouvroit au
mois de Juin.—

"Ces feux-de-joie étoient accompagnés en même tems de Vœux et de
sacrifices pour la prospérité de peuples et des biens de la terre: on
dansoit aussi autour de ce feu; car ya-t-il quelque fête sans danse? et
les plus agiles santoient par dessus. En se retirant, chacun empartoit
un tison plus ou moins grand, et le reste étoit jetté au vent, afin
qu'il emportât tout malheur comme il emportoit ces cendres." Hist.
d'Hercule, p. 203.

[329:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xi. p. 249. act ii. sc. 3.

[329:C] Jonson's Works, act i. sc. 6.

[329:D] Beaumont and Fletcher's Works apud Colman.

[330:A] Chalmers's English Poets, vol. vi. p. 281. Britannia's
Pastorals, book ii. song 2.

[330:B] Grose's Provincial Glossary, p. 299.

[330:C] Ibid. p. 285.

[331:A] Bourne's Antiquities, p. 301.

[331:B] Stowe also mentions, that bonefires and rejoicings were
observed on the Eve of St. Peter and Paul the Apostles; he gives
likewise a curious account of the _Marching Watches_ which had been
regularly kept on Midsummer-Eve, time out of mind, by the citizens of
London and other large towns; but these had ceased before the age of
Shakspeare, the last having been appointed by Sir John Gresham, in
1548, though an attempt was made to procure their revival, by John
Montgomery in 1585, who published a book on the subject, dedicated to
Sir Thos. Pullison, then Lord Mayor; this offer however did not succeed.

[332:A] Grose's Provincial Glossary, p. 285.

[332:B] Queenhoo-Hall, vol. i. p. 136.

[333:A] Aubrey's Miscellanies, p. 103.

[333:B] Jonson's Works, fol. edit. vol. i.

[334:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. v. p. 359. act iii. sc. 4.

[334:B] Bourne's Antiquities, p. 320, 321.

[334:C] Vide Job, chap. xxxiii. v. 22, 23.

[335:A] Opera et Dies, vol. i. 246.

[335:B] Dionys. in Cælest. Hierarch. cap. ix. x.

[335:C] Calv. Lib. Instit. I. c. xiv. It is worthy of remark, that
Reginald Scot, from whose _Discoverie of Witchcraft_, p. 500., this
account of the hierarchy of Dionysius is taken, has brought forward
a passage from his kinsman Edward Deering, which broaches the same
doctrine as that held by Bishop Horsley in the last sermon which
he ever wrote. "If you read Deering," says Scot, "upon the first
chapter to the Hebrues, you shall see this matter (the angelic theory
of Dionysius) notablie handled; where he saith, _that whensoever
archangell is mentioned in the Scriptures it signifieth our saviour
Christ, and no creature_." p. 501.—Now in the sermon alluded to by
Horsley, the text of which is Dan. iv. 17., he affirms, that the term
"Michael," or "Michael the Archangel," wherever it occurs, is nothing
more than a name for our Saviour. Vide Sermons, vol. ii. p. 376.

[337:A] Of Ghostes and Spirites walking by nyght; p. 160, 161.

[338:A] Scot's Discoverie of Witchcraft, p. 505, 506.

[338:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xii. p. 109. Henry IV. Part ii. act ii.
sc. 4.

[338:C] Ibid. vol. xii. p. 36. Henry IV. Part ii. act i. sc. 2.

[338:D] Ibid. vol. xvii. p. 94, 95. Antony and Cleopatra, act ii. sc. 3.

[338:E] Ibid. vol. x. p. 149.

[339:A] Book iv. line 677.

[340:A] Sermons, vol. ii. p. 412. 415, 416.

[341:A] Vide Brady's Clavis Calendaria, vol. ii. p. 180.

[341:B] Brand's Appendix to Bourne's Antiquities, p. 382.

[341:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iv. p. 205. act ii. sc. 1.

[342:A] Clavis Calendaria, vol. ii. p. 229.

[343:A] Scott's Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, vol. ii. p. 221.

[343:B] Ibid. vol. ii. p. 238.

[344:A] Scott's Minstrelsy, vol. ii. p. 221, 222.

[346:A] The powers of description which Burns has evinced in one of the
stanzas, while relating the effects of this spell, are truly great:—

    "A wanton widow Leezie was
       As canty as a kittlen;
     But och! that night, among the shaws,
       She got a fearfu' settlin!
     She thro' the whins, an' by the cairn,
       An' owre the hill gaed scrievin,
     Where three lairds lands met at a burn,
       To dip her left sark-sleeve in,
                                Was bent that night.

     _Whyles owre a linn the burnie plays
       As thro' the glen it wimpl't;
     Whyles round a rocky scar it strays;
       Whyles in a wiel it dimpl't;
     Whyles glitter'd to the nightly rays,
       Wi' bickering, dancing dazzle;
     Whyles cookit underneath the braes,
       Below the spreading hazle,
                                Unseen that night._

     Among the brachens, on the brae,
       Between her an' the moon,
     The deil, or else an outler quey,
       Gat up an' gae a croon:
     Poor Leezie's heart maist lap the hool;
       Near lav'rock-height she jumpit,
     But mist a fit, an' in the pool,
       Out-owre the lugs she plumpit,
                                Wi' a plunge that night."

[347:A] Burns's Works, Currie's edit. vol. iii. p. 126. et seq.

[347:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xvii. p. 472-474.

[348:A] Scot's Discoverie of Witchcraft, p. 87.

[348:B] See Beaumont and Fletcher apud Colman.

It would appear from the passage just quoted from Shakspeare, that he
considered St. Withold as commanding this _female_ incubus to alight
from those _she_ was riding and tormenting; but Fuseli and Darwin, in
their delineations, appear to have mounted a _male_ fiend, or incubus,
on _her_ back, who descending from his steed, sate on the breasts of
those whom _he_ had selected for his victims. The personifications
of the painter and the modern poet are forcibly drawn and highly
terrific:—

    "So on his NIGHTMARE through the evening fog
     Flits the squab Fiend o'er fen, and lake, and bog;
     Seeks some love-wilder'd Maid with sleep oppress'd,
     Alights, and grinning sits upon her breast.
     —— Such as of late amid the murky sky
     Was mark'd by FUSELI'S poetic eye;
     Whose daring tints, with SHAKSPEARE'S happiest grace,
     Gave to the airy phantom form and place—
     Back o'er her pillow sinks her blushing head,
     Her snow-white limbs hang helpless from the bed;
     While with quick sighs, and suffocative breath,
     Her interrupted heart-pulse swims in death.
     —— Then shrieks of captur'd towns, and widow's tears,
     Pale lovers stretch'd upon their blood-stain'd biers,
     The headlong precipice that thwarts her flight,
     The trackless desert, the cold starless night,
     And stern-eye'd Murderer with his knife behind,
     In dread succession agonize her mind.
     O'er her fair limbs convulsive tremors fleet,
     Start in her hands, and struggle in her feet;
     In vain to scream with quivering lips she tries,
     And strains in palsy'd lids her tremulous eyes:
     In vain she _wills_ to run, fly, swim, walk, creep;
     The WILL presides not in the bower of SLEEP.
     —— On her fair bosom sits the Demon-Ape
     Erect, and balances his bloated shape;
     Rolls in their marble orbs his Gorgon-eyes,
     And drinks with leathern ears her tender cries."
                      Botanic Garden, 4to. edit. p. 101-103.

[350:A] Scot's Discoverie of Witchcraft, p. 203-205.

[351:A] The Dutchesse of Malfy, act iii. sc. 3. Vide Ancient British
Drama, vol. iii. p. 526.

[351:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. x. p. 418, 419.

[352:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xviii. p. 16. Hamlet, act i. sc. 1.

[352:B] Ibid. vol. xvi. p. 315. Julius Cæsar, act ii. sc. 2.

[353:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. x. p. 127. Macbeth, act ii. sc. 3.

[354:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xi. p. 82, 83. Act ii. sc. 4.

[354:B] Ibid. vol. xi. p. 317. First Part of King Henry IV. act iii.
sc. 1.

[354:C] Ibid. vol. xiv. p. 202, 203. Third Part of King Henry VI. act
v. sc. 6.

[355:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xv. p. 448. Troilus and Cressida, act
v. sc. 3.

[355:B] Ibid. vol. xx. p. 225. Act v. sc. 1.

[355:C] Ibid. vol. xv. p. 395. Act iv. sc. 4.

[355:D] Familiar Letters, edit. 1726. p. 247.

[355:E] Lady of the Lake, p. 348.

[356:A] Lady of the Lake, p. 106. 347.

[357:A] Lady of the Lake, p. 348.

[358:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iv. p. 28. Act i. sc. 2.

[358:B] Ibid. vol. xiv. p. 506. Act v. sc. 3.

[359:A] Of Ghostes and Spirites, 1572. p. 79.

[359:B] Vide Grose's Provincial Glossary, article Popular
Superstitions, p. 282, 283.

[360:A] Grant's Essays on the Superstitions of the Highlanders of
Scotland, vol. i. p. 259-261.

[361:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. x. p. 459.

[362:A] Of Ghostes and Spirites, p. 77-79.

[362:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. v. p. 169. Act iv. sc. 2.

[362:C] Discoverie of Witchcraft, p. 279.

[362:D] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xvii. p. 230. Act iv. sc. 10.

[363:A] Discoverie of Witchcraft, p. 336.

[363:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xiii. p. 152. First Part of King Henry
VI. act v. sc. 3.

[363:C] Discoverie of Witchcraft, p. 279.

[364:A] Scot's Discoverie of Witchcraft, p. 230. 270.

[364:B] Discoverie of Witchcraft, p. 231.

[365:A] Scot's Discoverie of Witchcraft, p. 247.

[365:B] Ibid. p. 245.

[366:A] Scot's Discoverie of Witchcraft, p. 265, 266.

[366:B] See Whalley's Works of Ben Jonson.

[366:C] Chalmers's Poets, vol. iv. p. 465.

[367:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. viii. p. 41. Act ii. sc. 1.

[367:B] De Quadrup. Ovip., p. 65.

[367:C] Batman uppon Bartholome his booke De proprietatibus rerum,
1582, fol. article Botrax.

[367:D] A Green Forest, or a Natural History, 1567.

[367:E] Secrete Wonders of Nature, 4to. 1569.

[367:F] First Book of Notable Things, 4to.

[367:G] Topsell's History of Serpents, 1608. fol., p. 188. and Fuller's
Church History, p. 151.

[367:H] Printed by Copland, but without date, 12mo.

[367:I] Quoted by Batman on Bartholome, L. xviii. c. 30.

[368:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xx. p. 59. Act i. sc. 4.

[368:B] Illustrations of Shakspeare, vol. ii. p. 180, 181.

[370:A] Discoverie of Witchcraft, p. 293-295.

[370:B] Chalmers's English Poets, vol. iv. p. 465.

[370:C] Discoverie of Witchcraft, p. 305.

[371:A] This _golden stamp_ was the coin called an angel, from the
figure which it bore, and was worth ten shillings.

[371:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. x. p. 242, 243. Macbeth, act iv. sc. 3.

[371:C] Nichols's Progresses of Queen Elizabeth, vol. i.: and Scot,
speaking of the pretensions of the French monarchs to cure the evil,
observes of Elizabeth's practice, that "if the French king use it no
woorsse than our Princesse doth, God will not be offended thereat: for
hir majestie onelie useth godlie and divine praier, with some almes,
and referreth the cure to God and to the physician," p. 304., a report
which reflects great credit on her majesty's judgment and good sense.

[372:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xiv. p. 285. Richard the Third, act i.
sc. 2.

[373:A] Chalmers's English Poets, vol. iv. p. 405.

[373:B] Of Ghostes and Spirites walking by nyght, p. 80.

[373:C] Discoverie of Witchcraft, p. 303.

[373:D] The Workes of the Most High and Mighty Prince James, fol. edit.
1616. p. 136. The Dæmonologie was first printed at Edinburgh in 1597,
and next in London, 1603, 4to.

[374:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. vii. p. 344. Merchant of Venice, act
iv. sc. 1.

[374:B] Ibid. vol. xx. p. 208. Romeo and Juliet, act iv. sc. 3.

[374:C] Ibid. vol. xiii. p. 297. Act iii. sc. 2.

[374:D] Bulwarke of Defence against Sickness, fol. 1579, p. 41.

[375:A] Grose's Provincial Glossary, p. 291.

[375:B] Vide Bacon's Natural History, Century x. No. 997, 998.

[376:A] Digby's Discourse upon the Sympathetic Powder, p. 6.

[377:A] Discoverie of Witchcraft, p. 280.

[377:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iv. p. 146.

[377:C] Of Ghostes and Spirites walking by nyght, p. 96.

[377:D] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iv. p. 146. note 3.

[378:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iv. p. 147.

[379:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. vi. p. 303-305.

[379:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xviii. p. 78.

[379:C] "Ad nimium calorem transeat ab aquis nivium." In the paraphrase
on Genesis, by Cedmon the Saxon poet, the same imagery may be found.

Of this venerable poet and monk, who flourished in the seventh century,
Mr. Turner has given us a very interesting account, together with a
version of some parts of his paraphrase. One of these is a picture of
the infernal regions, in which he says,—

    "There comes at last
     the eastern wind,
     the _cold frost_
     mingling with the fires."
                         Hist. of the Anglo-Saxons, 2d edit.
                         4to. 1807, vol. ii. p. 309. et seq.

[379:D] Infer. c. iii. 86. Purgat. c. iii. 31.

[379:E] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. vi. p. 305, note 9.

[379:F] Chalmers's English Poets, vol. i. p. 330.

[380:A] Dibdin's Typographical Antiquities, vol. ii. p. 534. 598.

[380:B] Chalmers's English Poets, vol. ii. p. 424.

[381:A] Chalmers's English Poets, vol. i. p. 149.—"The mesere of helle
shalbe in defaute of mete and drink. For God sayth thus by Moyses: They
shal be wasted with honger, &c."

[381:B] Pierce Penniless, his Supplication to the Devil, 1595.

[381:C] Folio, 1635. p. 345.

[381:D] Paradise Lost, book ii. l. 587, et seq.

[382:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. vii. p. 374.

[382:B] Εκ πασῶν δε, &c. De Republ. lib. x. p. 520, Lugd. 1590. Vide
Todd's Milton, vol. vii. p. 53.

[382:C] "Such, notwithstanding, is the force there of (musical
harmony), and so pleasing effects it hath in that very part of man
which is most divine, that some have been thereby induced to think,
that the soul itself by nature is or hath in it harmony."—Fifth Book
of Ecclesiastical Polity, published singly in 1597.

[382:D] Todd's Milton, vol. vii. p. 53.

[383:A] Chalmers's English Poets, vol. i. p. 296. col. 1.

[383:B] Dante's Inferno, cant. xx.

[383:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iv. p. 89, 90.

[383:D] Ibid. vol. xvii. p. 222. Antony and Cleopatra, act iv. sc. 9.

[383:E] Ibid. vol. xix. p. 409. Othello, act v. sc. 2.

[384:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iv. p. 361. Midsummer-Night's Dream,
act ii. sc. 2.

[384:B] Ibid. vol. x. p. 194. Macbeth, act iii. sc. 5.

[384:C] Ibid. vol. xvii. p. 195. 342. Lear, act i. sc. 2.; vol. xix. p.
499. Othello, act v. sc. 2.

[384:D] Ibid. vol. xi. p. 83. Richard the Second, act ii. sc. 4.

[384:E] Ibid. vol. x. p. 480. K. John, act iv. sc. 2.

[385:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xix. p. 271.

[385:B] Ibid. vol. iv. p. 114.

[385:C] Doome, p. 389.

[385:D] The Discoverie of the Large, Rich, and Beautiful Empire of
Guiana, with a relation of the Great and Golden Citie of Manoa, which
the Spaniards call El Dorado. Performed in 1595, by Sir W. Ralegh.
Imprinted at London by Rob. Robinson, 1596.

[386:A] The Historie of the World. Commonly called, The Natural
Historie of C. Plinius Secundus. Translated into English by Philemon
Holland, Doctor in Physicke. London, printed by Adam Islip. 1601. vol.
i. p. 154. book vii. chap. 2.

[386:B] Holland's Pliny, vol. i. p. 96. book v. chap. 8.

[386:C] Ibid. p. 156.

[386:D] The title of this work is, _Brevis et admiranda Descriptio
Regni Gvianæ, auri abundantissimi, in America_. It is accompanied by a
map, engraved by _Hondius_, on which are drawn men hunting, with their
heads beneath their shoulders.

[387:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iv. p. 83. Act i. sc. 2.

[387:B] Frobisher's _First Voyage for the Discoverie of Cataya_. 4to.
1578.

[387:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iv. p. 83, note 9.

[387:D] Chalmers's Apology, p. 586.

[388:A] Prayse and Reporte of Maister Martyne Forboisher's Voyage to
Meta Incognita, &c. bl. l. 12mo. 1578. Vide Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iv.
p. 83. note 7.

[388:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iv. p. 83. note 7.—The existence of
_mermaids_ has, within these few years, been asserted by numerous
testimonies; some of which are so clear, minute, and respectable,
as to stagger the most sceptical. It is not only possible, but from
the evidence alluded to it appears indeed somewhat probable, that a
creature partially resembling the human form exists in the ocean, and
occasionally, though rarely, approaches so near the shore as to become
an object of wonder and superstitious horror. The sea round the Isle
of Man was formerly reputed to abound in these monsters, which were
conceived to be of two kinds, the one malignant, the other benevolent
and kind.

[388:C] Ancient British Drama, vol. ii. p. 377, 378.

[389:A] Ancient British Drama, vol. ii. p. 379.

[389:B] Batman upon Bartholome, p. 359.

[389:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xix. p. 449. note 5.

[389:D] Ibid. vol. xiii. p. 268. Act iii. sc. 1.

[389:E] Ibid. vol. xix. p. 449.

[390:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xiii. p. 306. Act iii. sc. 3.

[390:B] Douce's Illustrations of Shakspeare, vol. ii. p. 20.

[390:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xix. p. 135. Timon of Athens, act iv.
sc. 3.

[391:A] Stowe's Survey of London, p. 18. edit. of 1618.

[392:A] Bourne's Antiquities apud Brand, p. 90.

[392:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iv. p. 356.—A fountain of this
hallowed and mysterious nature, has been described by Mr. Southey in
language most graphically and beautifully descriptive:—

    "There is a fountain in the forest call'd
     The fountain of the Fairies; when a child,
     With most delightful wonder I have heard
     Tales of the Elfin tribe that on its banks
     Hold midnight revelry. An ancient oak,
     The goodliest of the forest, grows beside,
     Alone it stands, upon a green grass plat,
     By the woods bounded like some little isle.
     It ever hath been deem'd their favourite tree,
     They love to lie and rock upon its leaves,
     And bask them in the moon-shine. Many a time
     Hath the woodman shown his boy where the dark round
     On the green-sward beneath its boughs, bewrays
     Their nightly dance, and bade him spare the tree.
     Fancy had cast a spell upon the place
     And made it holy; and the villagers
     Would say that never evil thing approached
     Unpunished there. The strange and fearful pleasure
     That fill'd me by that solitary spring,
     Ceas'd not in riper years; and now it woke
     Deeper delight, and more mysterious awe."
                          Joan of Arc, vol. i. b. i. p. 126.

[393:A] Bourne's Antiquities apud Brand, p. 94, 95.

[393:B] Of Ghostes and Spirites walking by nyght, p. 6.

[394:A] Fast. lib. vi.

[394:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xx. p. 383, 384. Comedy of Errors, act
ii. sc. 2.

[394:C] Hamlet, act 4. sc. 5.

[394:D] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xviii. p. 280. note 3.

[395:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xviii. p. 577. note 5.

[395:B] Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 171. 4to. edit.

[395:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xviii. p. 576.

[395:D] Chalmers's English Poets, vol. iv. p. 408.

[396:A] Ancient British Drama, vol. iii. p. 41.

[396:B] Villanies discovered by lanthorn and candle light, chap.
xv.—For some modern tributes to the supposed charity of this domestic
little bird, I refer my readers to the first volume of Literary Hours,
3d. edit. p. 65. et seq.

[396:C] Chalmers's English Poets, vol. i. p. 179.

[396:D] Ibid. vol. ii. p. 177.

[396:E] Description of King Priam's Palace, lib. ii.

[396:F] Vide Warton's Hist. of English Poetry, vol. ii. p. 229.

[397:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xv. p. 84. Act ii. sc. 3.

[397:B] Ibid. vol. xxi. p. 56.

[397:C] Ibid. vol. xvi. p. 39. Act i. sc. 4.

[397:D] Ibid. vol. xviii. p. 632. Act v. sc. 5.

[397:E] Ibid. vol. xviii. p. 151. Act ii. sc. 2.

[397:F] Chalmers's English Poets, vol. iv. p. 465.

[398:A] Thalaba the Destroyer, vol. i. p. 39-41. edit. 1801.

[399:A] Discoverie of Witchcraft, p. 306.

[400:A] Of Ghostes and Spirites walking by nyght, p. 51.

[400:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iv. p. 142, 143. Act iv. sc. 1.




CHAPTER X.

    BIOGRAPHY OF SHAKSPEARE RESUMED—HIS
    IRREGULARITIES—DEER-STEALING IN SIR THOMAS LUCY'S
    PARK—ACCOUNT OF THE LUCY FAMILY—DAISY-HILL, THE KEEPER'S
    LODGE, WHERE SHAKSPEARE WAS CONFINED ON THE CHARGE OF STEALING
    DEER—SHAKSPEARE'S REVENGE—BALLAD ON LUCY—SEVERE PROSECUTION
    OF SIR THOMAS—NEVER FORGOTTEN BY SHAKSPEARE—THIS CAUSE,
    AND PROBABLY ALSO DEBT, AS HIS FATHER WAS NOW IN REDUCED
    CIRCUMSTANCES, INDUCED HIM TO LEAVE THE COUNTRY FOR LONDON
    ABOUT 1586—REMARKS ON THIS REMOVAL.


After the slight sketch of rural life which we have just given; of its
manners, customs, diversions, and superstitions, as they existed during
the latter part of the sixteenth century, we shall now proceed with the
biographical narrative of our author, resuming it from the close of the
fourth chapter.

To regulate the workings of an ardent imagination, and to control the
effervescence of the passions in early life, experience has uniformly
taught us to consider as a task of great difficulty; and seldom,
indeed, capable of being achieved without the advice and direction of
those, who, under the guidance of similar admonition, have successfully
borne up against the numerous temptations to which human frailty is
subjected. That Shakspeare possessed powers of fancy greatly beyond
the common lot of humanity, and that with these is almost constantly
connected a correspondent fervency of temperament and passion, will not
probably be denied; and if it be recollected that the poet became the
arbitrator of his own conduct at the early age of eighteen, not much
wonder will be excited, although he was a married man, and a father, if
we have to record some juvenile irregularities. Tradition affirms, and
the report has been repeated by Mr. Rowe, that he had the misfortune,
shortly after his settlement in Stratford, to form an intimacy with
some young men of thoughtless and dissipated character, who, among
other illegalities, had been in the habit of deer-stealing, and by
whom, more than once, he was induced, under the idea of a frolic, to
join in their reprehensible practice.

The scene of depredation when Shakspeare and his companions were
detected, was Fulbroke Park, at that time belonging to Sir Thomas
Lucy, Knight. This gentleman, who has obtained celebrity principally,
if not solely, as the prosecutor of Shakspeare, was descended from a
family, whose pedigree has been deduced, by Dugdale, from the reign of
Richard the First; the name of Lucy, however, was not assumed by his
ancestors until the thirty-fourth of Henry the Third. Sir Thomas, in
the first year of the reign of Queen Elizabeth, built a noble mansion
at Charlcott, near Stratford, but on the opposite side of the Avon;
this edifice, which still exists, is constructed of brick with stone
coins, and though somewhat modernized, still preserves, as a whole, its
ancient Gothic character, especially the grand front, which exhibits
pretty accurately its pristine state. Fuller has recorded Sir Thomas as
sheriff for the county of Warwickshire in the tenth year of Elizabeth,
and informs us, that his armorial bearings were Gul. Crusulee Or, 3
Picks (or Lucies) Hauriant Ar.[402:A]

That the rich woods, sequestered lawns, and romantic recesses of
Fulbroke Park, would very frequently attract the footsteps of our
youthful bard, independent of any lure which the capture of its game
might afford, we may justly surmise; and still more confidently may
we affirm, that his meditations or diversions in this forest laid the
foundation of a part of the beautiful scenery which occurs in _As You
Like It_. The woodland pictures in this delightful play are faithful
transcripts of what he had felt and seen in those secluded haunts,
particularly the description of the wounded deer, the pathos and
accuracy of which are no doubt referrible to the actual contemplation
of such an incident, in the shades of Fulbroke; they strikingly prove,
indeed, that the habits of the chase, though fostered in the morn of
youth, had not, even in respect to the objects of their sport, in
the smallest degree impaired the native tenderness and humanity of
the poet. The expressions of pity, in fact, for the sufferings of a
persecuted animal were never uttered in words more impressive than what
the ensuing dialogue exhibits:

      "_Duke._ Come, shall we go and kill us venison?
    And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools,—
    Being native burghers of this desert city,—
    Should, in their own confines, with forked head
    Have their round haunches gor'd.

      _Lord._            Indeed, my lord,
    The melancholy Jaques grieves at that;
    And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp
    Than doth your brother that hath banish'd you.
    To-day, my lord of Amiens, and myself,
    Did steal behind him, as he lay along
    Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out
    Upon the brook that brawls along this wood:
    To the which place a poor sequester'd stag,
    That from the hunter's aim had ta'en a hurt,
    Did come to languish; and, indeed, my lord,
    The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans,
    That their discharge did stretch his leathern coat
    Almost to bursting; and the big round tears
    Cours'd one another down his innocent nose
    In piteous chase: and thus the hairy fool,
    Much marked of the melancholy Jaques,
    Stood on the extremest verge of the swift brook,
    Augmenting it with tears."[403:A]

The detection of Shakspeare in his adventurous amusement, was followed,
it is said, by confinement for a short time in the keeper's lodge,
until the charge had been substantiated against him. A farm-house in
the park, situated on a spot called Daisy Hill, is still pointed out as
the very building which sheltered the delinquent on this unfortunate
occasion.[403:B]

That Sir Thomas had reason to complain of this violation of his
property, and was warranted in taking proper steps to prevent its
recurrence, who will deny? and yet it appears from tradition, that
a reprimand and public exposure of his conduct constituted all the
punishment that was at _first_ inflicted on the offender. Here the
matter would have rested, had not the irritable feelings of our young
bard, inflamed by the disgrace which he had suffered, induced him to
attempt a retaliation on the magistrate. He had recourse to his talents
for satire, and the ballad which he produced for this purpose was
probably his earliest effort as a writer.

Of this pasquinade, which the poet took care should be affixed to
Sir Thomas's park-gates, and extensively circulated through his
neighbourhood, three stanzas have been brought forward as genuine
fragments. The preservation of the whole would certainly have been
a most entertaining curiosity; but even the authenticity of what is
said to have been preserved, becomes a subject of interest, when we
recollect, that the fate and fortunes of our author hinged upon the
consequences of this juvenile production.

The first of these fragments, which is the opening stanza, rests upon
testimony of considerable weight and respectability; upon the authority
of a Mr. Thomas Jones, who was born about 1613 and resided at Tarbick,
a village in Worcestershire, eighteen miles from Stratford, where
he died, aged upwards of ninety, in 1703. He is considered by Mr.
Malone, as the grandson of a Mr. Thomas Jones, who dwelt in Stratford
during the period that Shakspeare was an inhabitant of it, and who had
four sons between the years 1581 and 1590, one of whom, settling at
Tarbick, became the father of the preserver of the fragment.[404:A]
This venerable old man could remember having heard from several very
aged people at Stratford the whole history of the poet's transgression,
and could repeat the first stanza of the ballad which he had written
in ridicule of Sir Thomas. A friend of his to whom he was one day
repeating this stanza, which was the whole that he could recollect,
had the precaution to take a copy of it from his recitation, and
the grandson of the person thus favoured, a Mr. Wilkes, presented a
transcript of it to Mr. Oldys and Mr. Capell. Among the collections
for a _Life of Shakspeare_ left by the former of these gentlemen, this
stanza was found, "faithfully transcribed," says its possessor, "from
the copy which his (Mr. Jones's) relation very courteously communicated
to me[405:A];" and of Mr. Oldys's veracity it is important to add, that
Mr. Steevens considered it as unimpeachable, remarking, at the same
time, that "it is not very probable that a ballad should be forged,
from which an undiscovered wag could derive no triumph over antiquarian
credulity."[405:B] It must be confessed that neither the wit nor the
poetry of these lines, which we are about to communicate, deserve much
praise, and that the greater part of the point, if it can be termed
such, depends upon provincial pronunciation; for in a note on the copy
which Mr. Capell possessed, it is said, that "the people of those
parts pronounce _lowsie_ like Lucy[405:C]:" but let us listen to the
commencement of this once important libel:—

    "A parliamente member, a justice of peace,
     At home a poor scare-crowe, at London an asse,
     If lowsie is Lucy, as some volke miscalle it,
     Then Lucy is lowsie whatever befall it:
         He thinks himself greate,
         Yet an asse in his state
     We allowe by his ears but with asses to mate.
     If Lucy is lowsie, as some volke miscalle it,
     Sing lowsie Lucy, whatever befall it."

Upon the next fragment of this composition, including two stanzas,
an equal degree of confidence cannot be reposed; for it occurs in a
manuscript _History of the Stage_, written between the years 1727
and 1730, in which many falsehoods have been detected; but still the
internal evidence is such as to render its genuineness far from
improbable. The narrative of its acquisition informs us, that "the
learned Mr. Joshua Barnes, late Greek Professor of the University of
Cambridge, baiting about forty years ago at an inn in Stratford, and
hearing an old woman singing part of the above said song, such was his
respect for Mr. Shakspeare's genius, that he gave her a new gown for
the two following stanzas in it; and could she have said it all, he
would (as he often said in company, when any discourse has casually
arose about him) have given her ten guineas:

    "Sir Thomas was too covetous
       To covet so much _deer_,
     When horns enough upon his head,
       Most plainly did appear.

     Had not his Worship one _deer_ left?
       What then? He had a wife
     Took pains enough to find him horns
       Should last him during life."[406:A]

The quibble upon the word _deer_ in these lines strongly tends to
authenticate them as a genuine production of our bard; for he has
in more places than one of his dramas amused himself with a similar
jingle: thus in the _First Part of Henry the Sixth_, allowing this play
to have issued from his pen, Talbot, encouraging his forces, exclaims

    "Sell every man his life as _dear_ as mine,
     And they shall find _dear deer_ of us my friends;"[406:B]

and again in the _First Part of King Henry the Fourth_, the Prince,
lamenting over Falstaff, says

    "Death hath not struck so fat a _deer_ to-day,
     Though many _dearer_, in this bloody fray."[406:C]

Mr. Whiter, who first applied these corroborating passages to the
subject before us, adds, "With respect to the verses in question, I
cannot but observe that, however suspicious their external evidence
may appear, they contain within themselves some very striking features
of authenticity; and may, I think, be readily conceived to have
proceeded from the pen of our young Bard, before he was removed from
the little circle of his native place, when his powers, unformed and
unpractised, were roused only by resentment to a Country Justice, and
destined merely to delight the rustic companions of his deer-stealing
adventure.—As an additional evidence to the quibble on the word
_deer_, which appears to be intended in these verses, we may observe
that there is no topic, to which our author so delights to allude, as
the Horns of the Cuckold.—Let me be permitted to remark in general,
that the anecdotes, which have been delivered down to us respecting
our poet, appear to me neither improbable, nor, when duly examined,
inconsistent with each other: even those, which seem least allied to
probability, contain in my opinion the _adumbrata_, if not _expressa
signa veritatis_."[407:A]

Whatever might be the merits of this ballad as a poetical composition,
its effect as a satire was severely felt; nor can we greatly blame the
conduct of Sir Thomas Lucy, if we consider, on the one hand, the lenity
which was at first shown to the young offender, and, on the other, the
publicity which was industriously given to this provoking libel; for
it is recorded by Mr. Jones of Tarbick, that it was the placarding
of this piece of sarcasm "which exasperated the knight to apply to a
lawyer at Warwick to proceed against[407:B] him." More magnanimity, it
must be confessed, would have been displayed by altogether neglecting
this splenetic retaliation; but still the provocation was sufficiently
bitter to excite the resentment of a man who might not be entitled
to the appellations so liberally bestowed on Sir Thomas by one of
the poet's commentators of "vain, weak, and vindictive[407:C]." The
protection of property and character, provided the means resorted to
for security be proportioned to the offence, can neither be deemed
foolish nor oppressive, and that the bounds of moderation were exceeded
in this instance, we have no sufficient grounds for asserting. Of
the character of the magistrate nothing certain has transpired; but
if we may be allowed to form an opinion of his temper and abilities,
from the only trait which can be considered as indicatory, we must
pronounce them to have been neither despicable nor unamiable. In the
church at Charlcott there are still remaining several monuments of the
Lucy family, among which is one to the memory of Sir Thomas and his
lady; the effigies of the knight affords a very pleasing idea of his
countenance, but is unaccompanied by date or inscription; over his
wife, however, who reposes by his side, at the age of sixty-three, is a
very striking encomium _written by himself_, the conclusion of which is
attested in the following emphatic terms; after much apparently sincere
eulogy, he adds, that she was, "when all is spoken that can be said, a
woman so furnished and garnished with vertue as not to be bettered, and
hardly to be equalled by any. As she lived most vertuously, so she dyed
most godly. _Set down by him_ that best did know what hath been written
to be true. THOMAS LUCY."

This may very justly be considered, we think, as a proof, not only
of the conjugal happiness of our knight, but of his possession of
an intellect far from contemptible; yet is it very possible that
resentment, even in a mind of still superior order, should for a time
excite undue warmth and animosity, especially under the lash of satire;
and we are the more willing to believe this to have been the case in
the present instance, both from the known benevolence of the poet's
character, and from the pertinacity with which he continued to remember
the injury; for it is generally agreed that the opening scene of the
_Merry Wives of Windsor_ is intended to ridicule Sir Thomas, under the
character of Justice Shallow. Now the representation of this comedy
in its new-modelled and enlarged state, certainly did not take place
until after the accession of King James, and as the prosecutor of our
bard died on the 18th of August, 1600, it is not probable that the
resentment of the poet would have survived the death of Sir Thomas,
had not the severity of the magistrate been originally pushed too far.

This dialogue also between Shallow, Slender, and Sir Hugh Evans, serves
strongly to confirm the authenticity of the commencing stanza of the
ballad; for the Welsh parson plays upon the word _luce_ in the same
manner as that fragment has done upon the sir-name _Lucy_. Justice
Shallow, it should likewise be remembered, is complaining of Falstaff
for beating his men, _killing his deer_, and breaking open his lodge,
and he threatens that "if he were twenty Sir John Falstaffs, he shall
not abuse Robert Shallow, esquire," to which Slender adds,—"In the
county of Gloster, justice of peace, and _coram_.

    "_Shal._ Ay, cousin Slender, and _Cust-alorum_.

    _Slen._ Ay, and _ratolorum_ too, and a gentleman born, master
    parson; who writes himself _armigero_; in any bill, warrant,
    quittance, or obligation, _armigero_.

    _Shal._ Ay, that we do; and have done any time these three
    hundred years.

    _Slen._ All his successors, gone before him, have done't; and
    all his ancestors, that come after him, may: they may give the
    dozen white luces in their coat.

    _Shal._ It is an old coat.

    _Evans._ The dozen white _louses_ do become an old coat well;
    it agrees well, passant: it is a familiar beast to man, and
    signifies—love.

    _Shal._ The luce is the fresh fish; the salt fish is an old
    coat.

    _Slen._ I may quarter, coz?

    _Shal._ You may, by marrying.

    _Evans._ It is marring, indeed, if he quarter it.

    _Shal._ Not a whit.

    _Evans._ Yes, py'r-lady; if he has a quarter of your coat,
    there is but three skirts for yourself, in my simple
    conjectures; but this all one: if Sir John Falstaff have
    committed disparagements unto you, I am of the church, and
    will be glad to do my benevolence, to make atonements and
    compromises between you.

    _Shal._ The Council shall hear it; it is a riot."[409:A]

Though the portrait thus given of Sir Thomas Lucy (in the person of
Shallow) represent him as _weak_ and _vain_, yet we must recollect that
it is still drawn in the spirit of retaliation and satire, and was most
undoubtedly meant for a caricature.

It appears then more than probable, indeed from the testimony of Mr.
Jones it appears to be the fact, that the prosecution, which, there is
little doubt, had been threatened on the detection of the trespass, was
only carried into execution in consequence of the _poetical_ assault on
the part of our author, who, possibly, thought nothing serious could
occur from such a mode of revenge.

The circumstances, therefore, of the prosecution being threatened in
the first instance, and taking place in the second, might occasion the
report which Mr. Rowe has inserted in his Life of Shakspeare, where,
speaking of the ballad as his first essay in poetry, he adds, "it is
said to have been so very bitter, that it _redoubled_ the prosecution
against him to that degree, that he was obliged to leave his business
and family in Warwickshire, for some time, and shelter himself in
London."[410:A]

That Shakspeare left Stratford for London, about the year 1586 or 1587,
and that the prosecution commenced by Sir Thomas Lucy contributed to
this change of situation, are events which we may with safety admit;
but that the libel was the _sole_ cause of the removal appears not very
probable; and we are inclined to believe with Mr. Chalmers, that debt
added wings to his flight. "While other boys," remarks this ingenious
controversialist, "are only snivelling at school, and thinking nothing
of life, Shakspeare entered the world, with little but his love to
make him happy, and little but his genius to prevent the intrusion of
misery. An increasing family, and pressing wants, obliged him to look
beyond the limits of Stratford, for subsistence, and for fame. He felt,
doubtless, emotions of genius, and he saw, certainly, persons, who had
not better pretensions, than his own, rising to eminence in a higher
scene. By these motives was he probably induced to remove to London, in
the period, between the years 1585, and 1588; chased from his home, by
the terriers of the law, for debt, rather than for deer-stealing, or
for libelling."[410:B]

The probability of this having been the case, will be much heightened,
when we recollect, that between the years 1579 and 1586 the father
of Shakspeare had fallen into distressed circumstances; that during
the first of these periods, he had been excused paying a weekly
contribution of 4_d._, and that during the latter he was under the
necessity of resigning his office as alderman, not being able to defray
the expense of attendance at the common halls; facts, which while they
ascertain his impoverished state, at the same time prove his utter
inability to assist his son, now burdened with a family, and anxiously
looking round for the means of its support.

For the adoption of the year 1586 or 1587, as the era of our author's
emigration to town, several powerful, and almost convincing, arguments
may be given, and these it will be necessary here to state.

It is well ascertained that Shakspeare married in the year 1582, and
Mr. Rowe has affirmed that "in this kind of settlement he continued
_for some time_, till an extravagance (the deer-stealing frolic) that
he was guilty of, forced him both out of his country, and that way of
living which he had taken up."[411:A] Now that this _settlement for
some time_ was the period which elapsed between the years 1582 and
1586, will almost certainly appear, when we recollect the domestic
events which occurred during its progress; that, according to
tradition, he had embraced his father's business, on entering into
the marriage-state; and that the family of the poet in short was
increased in this interval, by the birth of three children, baptized
at Stratford; Susanna, May 26th, 1583, and Hamnet and Judith, Feb. 2d,
1584-5.

That the removal was not likely to have taken place later than 1587,
will be generally admitted, when we advert to the commencement of his
literary labours. The issue of research has rendered it highly probable
that our bard was a corrector and improver of old plays for the stage
in 1589; it has discovered from evidence amounting almost to certainty,
that he was a writer for the theatre on a plan of greater originality
in 1591, and that, even so early as 1592, he was noticed as a dramatic
poet of some celebrity. Now, if we compare these facts, which will be
noticed more fully hereafter, with the poet's own assertion, that the
_Venus and Adonis_ was "_the first heir of his invention_[412:A]," it
will go far to prove, that this poem, which is not a short one, and
is elaborated with great care, must have been composed between his
departure from Stratford, and his commencement as a writer for the
stage, (that is between the years 1586 and 1589;) for while there is
no ground to surmise that it was written on the banks of the Avon,
there is sufficient evidence to assert that it was finished, though not
published before he was known to fame.

It is impossible to contemplate the flight of Shakspeare from
his family and native town, without pausing to reflect upon the
consequences which followed that event; consequences most singularly
propitious, not only to the intellectual character of his country in
particular, but to the excitation and progress of genius throughout the
world. Had not poverty and prosecution united in driving Shakspeare
from his humble occupation in Warwickshire, how many matchless lessons
of wisdom and morality, how many unparalleled displays of wit and
imagination, of pathos and sublimity, had been buried in oblivion;
pictures of emotion, of character, of passion, more profound than mere
philosophy had ever conceived, more impressive than poetry had ever
yet embodied; strains which shall now sound through distant posterity
with increasing energy and interest, and which shall powerfully and
beneficially continue to influence and to mould both national and
individual feeling.


FOOTNOTES:

[402:A] Fuller's Worthies, part iii. p. 132. The Luce or Pike is very
abundant in this part of the Avon, and there may still be seen in the
kitchen of Charlecot-house, the representation of a pike, weighing
forty pounds, a native of this stream, and caught in the year 1640.

[403:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. viii. p. 42, 43. Act ii. sc. 1.

[403:B] Ireland's Views on the Avon, p. 154.

[404:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 128. note 1.

[405:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 62. note.

[405:B] Ibid. p. 62.

[405:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 63.

[406:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 63.

[406:B] Ibid. vol. xiii. p. 127. Act iv. sc. 2.

[406:C] Ibid. vol. xi. p. 426. Act v. sc. 4.

[407:A] Whiter's Specimen of a Commentary on Shakspeare, p. 94, 95.

[407:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 62.

[407:C] Ibid.

[409:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. v. p. 7. et seq.

[410:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 63.

[410:B] Chalmers's Apology, p. 47, 48.

[411:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 61.

[412:A] Vide Dedication of the Poem to the Earl of Southampton.




PART II.

_SHAKSPEARE IN LONDON._




CHAPTER I.

    SHAKSPEARE'S ARRIVAL IN LONDON ABOUT THE YEAR 1586, WHEN
    TWENTY-TWO YEARS OF AGE—LEAVES HIS FAMILY AT STRATFORD,
    VISITING THEM OCCASIONALLY—HIS INTRODUCTION TO THE STAGE—HIS
    MERITS AS AN ACTOR.


No era in the annals of Literary History ever perhaps occurred
of greater importance, than that which witnessed the entrance of
Shakspeare into the metropolis of his native country; a position
which will readily be granted, if we consider the total revolution
which this event produced in the Literature of the Stage, and the
vast influence which, through the medium of the most popular branch
of our poetry, it has subsequently exerted on the minds, manners,
and taste of our countrymen. Friendless, persecuted, poor, about the
early age of twenty-two, was the greatest poet which the world has
ever seen, compelled to desert his home, his wife, his children, to
seek employment from the hands of strangers. Rich, however, in talent,
beyond all the sons of men, blessed with a cheerful disposition, an
active mind, and a heart conscious of integrity, soon did the clouds
which overspread his youth break away, and unveil a character which has
ever since been the delight, the pride, the boast of England.

We have assigned some strong reasons, at the close of the last chapter,
for placing the epoch of Shakspeare's arrival in London, about 1586 or
1587; and we shall now bring forward some presumptive proofs that he
not only left his wife and family at Stratford on his first visit to
the capital, but that his native town continued to be their settled
residence during his life.

Mr. Rowe has affirmed upon a tradition which we have no claim to
dispute, that he "was obliged to _leave_ his _family_ for some
time;" a fact in the highest degree probable from the causes which
led to his removal; for it is not to be supposed, situated as he
then was, that he would be willing to render his wife and children
the companions and partakers of the disasters and disappointments
which it was probable he had to encounter. Tradition further says,
as preserved in the manuscripts of Aubrey, that "he was wont to go
to his native country once a yeare[414:A];" and Mr. Oldys, in his
collections for a life of our author, repeats this report with an
additional circumstance, remarking, "if tradition may be trusted,
Shakspeare often baited at the Crown Inn or Tavern in Oxford, in his
journey to and from London."[414:B] It is true that these traditions,
if insulated from other circumstances, might merely prove that he
visited the place of his birth annually, without necessarily inferring
that his family was also resident there; but if we consult the
parish-register of Stratford, their testimony will indeed be strong,
and powerfully confirm the deduction; for it appears on that record
that, merely including his children, there is a succession of baptisms,
marriages, and deaths in his family at Stratford, from the year 1583
to 1616.[414:C] This evidence, so satisfactory in itself, will be
strengthened when we recollect that the poet in his mortgage, dated
the 10th of March, 1612-13, is described as William Shakspeare of
_Stratford-upon-Avon_, gentleman; and that by his contemporaries he
was frequently stiled the _Sweet Swan of Avon_, designations which,
when combined with the testimony already adduced, must be considered as
implying the family-residence of the poet.[415:A]

It was this concatenation of circumstances which induced Mr. Chalmers,
than whom a more indefatigable enquirer with regard to our author has
not existed, to conclude that Shakspeare had no "fixed residence in
the metropolis," nor "ever considered London, as his home[415:B];" but
had "resolved that his wife and family should remain through life"
at Stratford, "though he himself made frequent excursions to London,
the scene of his profit, and the theatre of his fame[415:C];" adding,
in a note, that the evidence from the parish-register of Stratford
had compelled even _scepticism_ to admit his position to be _very
probable_.[415:D]

While discussing this subject in his first Apology, he has introduced
a novel and most curious fact, for the purpose of guarding the
reader against an apparently opposing, but too hasty inference. "If
documents," he observes, "be produced to prove, that _one_ Shakspeare,
a player, resided in St. Saviour's parish, Southwark, at the end of the
sixteenth, or the beginning of the seventeenth, century, this evidence
will not be conclusive proof of the settled residence of Shakspeare:
For, it is a fact, as new, as it is curious, that his brother Edmond,
who was baptized on the 3d of May, 1580, became a _player_ at _the
Globe_; lived in St. Saviour's; and was buried in _the church_ of
that parish: the entry in the register being without a blur; '1607
December 31, (was buried) _Edmond Shakespeare_, a _player_, in the
church;' there can be no dispute about the date, or the name, or the
_profession_. It is remarkable, that the parish-clerk, who scarcely
ever mentions any other distinction of the deceased, than a _man_, or a
_woman_, should, by I know not what inspiration, have recorded Edmond
Shakespeare, as a _player_. There were, consequently, two Shakspeares
on the stage, during the same period; as there were two Burbadges, who
were also brothers, and who acted on the same theatre."[416:A]

Upon the whole, we may with considerable confidence and safety
conclude, that the _family-residence_ of Shakspeare was _always_ at
Stratford; that he himself originally went _alone_ to London, and
that he spent the greater part of every year there _alone_, annually,
however, and probably for some months, returning to the bosom of his
family, and that this alternation continued until he finally left the
capital.

Having disposed of this question, another, even still more doubtful,
immediately follows, with regard to the employment and mode of life
which the poet was compelled to adopt on reaching the metropolis. Mr.
Rowe, recording the consequences of the prosecution in Warwickshire,
observes,—"It is at _this time_, and upon _this accident_, that he
is said to have made his _first acquaintance in the play-house_. He
was received into the company then in being, at first in a _very mean
rank_."[416:B]

From this passage we may in the first place infer, that Shakspeare
_immediately_ on his arrival in town, applied to the theatre for
support; an expedient to which there is reason to suppose he was
induced, by a previous connection or acquaintance with one or more of
the performers. It appears, indeed, from the researches of Mr. Malone,
that the probability of his being known, even while at Stratford,
to Heminge, Burbadge, and Thomas Greene, all of them celebrated
comedians of their day, is very considerable. "I suspect," remarks
this acute commentator, "that both he (namely, John Heminge,) and
Burbadge were Shakspeare's countrymen, and that Heminge was born at
Shottery, a village in Warwickshire, at a very small distance from
Stratford-upon-Avon; where Shakspeare found his wife. I find two
families of this name settled in that town early in the reign of Queen
Elizabeth. Elizabeth, the daughter of _John Heming_ of Shottery, was
baptized at Stratford-upon-Avon, March 12. 1567. This John might have
been the father of the actor, though I have found no entry relative
to his baptism: for he was probably born before the year 1558, when
the Register commenced. In the village of Shottery also lived _Richard
Hemyng_, who had a son christened by the name of John, March 7. 1570.
Of the Burbadge family the only notice I have found, is, an entry in
the Register of the parish of Stratford, October 12. 1565, on which
day Philip Green was married in that town to Ursula _Burbadge_, who
might have been sister to James Burbadge, the father of the actor,
whose marriage I suppose to have taken place about that time. If this
conjecture be well founded, our poet, we see, had an easy introduction
to the theatre."[417:A]

The same remark which concludes this paragraph is repeated by the
commentator when speaking of _Thomas Greene_, whom he terms, a
_celebrated comedian_, the _townsman_ of Shakspeare, and perhaps
his _relation_.[417:B] The celebrity of Greene as an actor is fully
ascertained by an address to the reader, prefixed by Thomas Heywood
to his edition of John Cook's _Greens Tu Quoque; or, The City
Gallant_; "as for Maister Greene," says Heywood, "all that I will
speak of him (and that without flattery) is this (if I were worthy
to censure) there was not an actor of his nature, in his time, of
better ability in performance of what he undertook, more applauded
by the audience, of greater grace at the court, or of more general
love in the city[418:A];" but the townsmanship and affinity rest only
on the inference to be drawn from an entry in the parish-register of
Stratford, and from some lines quoted by Chetwood from the comedy of
the _Two Maids of Moreclack_, which represent Greene speaking in the
character of a clown, and declaring

    "I pratled poesie in my nurse's arms,
     And, born, where late our swan of Avon sung,
     In Avon's streams we both of us have lav'd,
     And both came out together."[418:B]

As these lines are not, however, in the play from which they are
pretended to have been taken; as they appear to be a parody on a
passage in Milton's Lycidas, and as Chetwood has been detected in
falsifying and forging many of his dates, little credit can be attached
to their evidence, and we must solely depend upon the import of the
register, which records that _Thomas Greene, ALIAS SHAKSPERE, was
buried there, March 6th, 1589_.[418:C] If this Thomas were the father
of the actor, and the probability of this being the case cannot be
denied, and may even have led to the attempted imposition of Chetwood,
the affinity, as well as the townsmanship, will be established.[418:D]

It seems, therefore, neither rash nor inconsequent to believe,
in failure of more direct evidence, that the channel through
which Shakspeare, immediately on his arrival in town, procured an
introduction to the stage, was first opened by his relationship to
Greene, who possessing, as we have seen, great merit and influence
as an actor, could easily insure him a connection at the theatre,
and would naturally recommend him to his countryman Heminge, who was
then about thirty years of age, and had already acquired considerable
reputation as a performer.[418:E]

Mr. Rowe's _second_ assertion that he was received into the company,
then in being, at first in a _very mean rank_, has given rise to some
reports relative to the nature of his early employment at the theatre,
which are equally inconsistent and degrading. It has been related
that his first office was that of _Call-boy_, or attendant on the
prompter, and that his business was to give notice to the performers
when their different entries on the stage were required.[419:A]
Another tradition, which places him in a still meaner occupation,
is said to have been transmitted through the medium of Sir William
Davenant to Mr. Betterton, who communicated it to Mr. Rowe, and this
gentleman to Mr. Pope, by whom, according to Dr. Johnson, it was
related in the following terms:—"In the time of Elizabeth, coaches
being yet uncommon, and hired coaches not at all in use, those who
were too proud, too tender, or too idle to walk, went on horseback
to any distant business or diversion. Many came on horseback to the
play, and when Shakspeare fled to London from the terror of a criminal
prosecution, his first expedient was to wait at the door of the
play-house, and hold the horses of those that had no servants, that
they might be ready again after the performance. In this office he
became so conspicuous for his care and readiness, that in a short time
every man as he alighted called for Will. Shakspeare, and scarcely any
other waiter was trusted with a horse while Will. Shakspeare could be
had. This was the first dawn of better fortune. Shakspeare, finding
more horses put into his hand than he could hold, hired boys to wait
under his inspection, who, when Will. Shakspeare was summoned, were
immediately to present themselves, _I am Shakspeare's boy, Sir_. In
time, Shakspeare found higher employment: but as long as the practice
of riding to the playhouse continued, the waiters that held the horses
retained the appellation of _Shakspeare's boys_."[419:B]

Of this curious anecdote it should not be forgotten, that it made
its _first_ appearance in Cibber's Lives of the Poets[419:C]; and
that if it were known to Mr. Rowe, it is evident he thought it so
little entitled to credit that he chose not to risque its insertion
in his life of the poet. In short, if we reflect for a moment that
Shakspeare, though he fled from Stratford to avoid the severity of a
prosecution, could not be destitute either of money or friends, as the
necessity for that flight was occasioned by an imprudent ebullition
of wit, and not by any serious delinquency; that the father of his
wife was a yeoman both of respectability and property; that his own
parent, though impoverished, was still in business; and that he had, in
all likelihood, a ready admission to the stage through the influence
of persons of leading weight in its concerns; we cannot, without
doing the utmost violence to probability, conceive that, under these
circumstances, and in the twenty-third year of his age, he would submit
to the degrading employment of either a _horse-holder_ at the door of a
theatre, or of a _call-boy_ within its walls.

Setting aside, therefore, these idle tales, we may reasonably conclude
that by the phrase _a very mean rank_, Mr. Rowe meant to imply, that
his first engagement as an _actor_ was in the performance of characters
of the lowest class. That his fellow-comedians were ushered into the
dramatic world in a similar way, and rose to higher occupancy by
gradation, the history of the stage will sufficiently prove: Richard
Burbadge, for instance, who began his career nearly at the same time
with our author, and who subsequently became the greatest tragedian
of his age, had, in the year 1589, appeared in no character more
important than that of _a Messenger_.[420:A] If this were the case with
a performer of such acknowledged merit, we may readily acquiesce in the
supposition that the parts first given to Shakspeare were equally as
insignificant; and as readily allow that an actor thus circumstanced
might very properly be said to have been admitted into the company _at
first in a very mean rank_.

As Shakspeare's _immediate_ employment, therefore, on his arrival in
town, appears to have been that of an _actor_, it cannot be deemed
irrelevant if we should here enquire into his merits and success in
this department.

Two traditions, of a contradictory complexion, have reached us relative
to Shakspeare's powers as an actor; one on the authority of Mr. Aubrey,
and the other on that of Mr. Rowe. In the manuscript papers of the
first of these gentlemen, we are told that our author, "being inclined
naturally to poetry and acting, came to London,—and was an actor at
one of the play-houses, and _did act exceedingly well_[421:A];" but, in
the life of the poet by the second, it is added, after mentioning his
admission to the theatre in an inferior rank, that "his admirable wit,
and the natural turn of it to the stage, soon distinguished him, _if
not as an extraordinary actor_, yet as an excellent writer. His name is
printed, as the custom was in those times, amongst those of the other
players, before some old plays, but without any particular account of
what sort of parts he used to play; and though I have enquired, I could
never meet with any further account of him this way, than _that the top
of his performance was the Ghost in his own Hamlet_."[421:B]

Of descriptions thus opposed, a preference only can be given as founded
on other evidence; and it happens that subsequent enquiry has enabled
us to consider Mr. Aubrey's account as approximating nearest to the
truth.

Contemporary authority, it is evident, would decide the question, and
happily the researches of Mr. Malone have furnished us with a testimony
of this kind. In the year 1592, Henry Chettle, a dramatic writer,
published a posthumous work of Robert Greene's, under the title of
"Greene's Groatsworth of Wit, bought with a Million of Repentance,"
in which the author speaks harshly of Marlowe, and still more so of
Shakspeare, who was then rising into fame. Both these poets were
justly offended, and Chettle, who was of course implicated in their
displeasure, printed, in the December of the same year, a pamphlet,
entitled _Kind Harts Dreame_, to which is prefixed an address _to
the Gentlemen Readers_, apologizing, in the following terms, for the
offence which he had given:

"About three months since died M. Robert Greene, leaving many papers
in sundry booksellers' hands, among others his _Groatsworth of Wit_,
in which a letter written to divers play-makers is offensively by
one or two of them taken; and because on the dead they cannot be
re-avenged, they wilfully forge in their conceites a living author: and
after tossing it to and fro, no remedy but it must light on me. How I
have, all the time of my conversing in printing, hindered the bitter
inveighing against schollers, it hath been very well known; and how in
that I dealt, I can sufficiently prove. With _neither_ of them that
take offence was I acquainted, and with one of them ('Marlowe') I care
not if I never be. The other ('Shakspeare'), whom at that time I did
not so much spare, as since I wish I had, for that as I have moderated
the hate of living writers, and might have used my own discretion,
(especially in such a case, the author being dead,) that I did not,
I am as sorry as if the original fault had been my fault; because
_myselfe have seene his demeanour no less civil than he EXCELLENT IN
THE QUALITIE HE PROFESSES. Besides, divers of worship have reported his
uprightness of dealing, which argues his honestie, and his facetious
grace in writing, that approves his art._ For the first, whose learning
I reverence, and at the perusing of Greene's booke, strooke out what
then in conscience I thought he in some displeasure writ; or had it
been true, yet to publish it was intollerable; him I would wish to use
me no worse than I deserve."[422:A]

This curious passage clearly evinces that our author was deemed
EXCELLENT as an actor, (for the phrase _the qualitie he professes_
peculiarly denoted at that time the profession of a player,) in the
year 1592, only five or six years, at most, after he had entered on
the stage; and consequently that the information which Aubrey had
received was correct, while that obtained by Rowe must be considered as
unfounded.

So well instructed, indeed, was Shakspeare in the duties and qualities
of an _actor_, that it appears from Downes' book, entitled _Roscius
Anglicanus_, that he undertook to teach and perfect John Lowin in the
character of King Henry the Eighth, and Joseph Taylor in that of Hamlet.

Of his competency for this task, several parts of his dramatic works
might be brought forward as sufficient proof. Independent of his
celebrated instructions to the player in Hamlet, which would alone
ascertain his intimate knowledge of the histrionic art, his conception
of the powers necessary to form the accomplished tragedian, may be
drawn from part of a dialogue which occurs between _Richard the Third_
and _Buckingham_:—

      "_Glo._ Come, cousin, _can'st thou quake and change thy colour?
    Murther thy breath in middle of a word?
    And then again begin, and stop again,
    As if thou wert distraught, and mad with terror?_

      _Buck._ Tut, I can counterfeit the _deep tragedian_;
    Speak, and look big, and _pry on every side,
    Tremble and start at wagging of a straw,
    Intending deep suspicion: ghastly looks
    Are at my service, like enforced smiles_."[423:A]

It would be highly interesting to be able to point out what were the
characters which Shakspeare performed, either in his own plays, or
in those of other writers; but the information which we have on this
subject is, unfortunately, very scanty. Mr. Rowe has mentioned, as the
sole result of his enquiries, that the _Ghost_ in _Hamlet_ was his
_chef d'oeuvre_. That this part, however, in the opinion of the poet,
required some skill and management in the execution, is evident from
the expressions attributed to Hamlet, who exclaims, on the appearance
of the Royal spectre, during the interview between himself and his
mother,—

    —————— "Look you how pale he glares!
    His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to stones,
    Would make them capable. Do not _look upon me_,
    Lest with _this piteous action_, you convert
    My stern effects;"[424:A]

a description, which, there is reason to suppose, the author would
not have ventured to introduce, unless he had been conscious of the
possession of powers capable of doing justice to his own delineation.

Another tradition, preserved by Mr. Oldys, and communicated to him,
as Mr. Malone thinks[424:B], by Mr. Thomas Jones of Tarbick, in
Worcestershire, whom we have formerly mentioned, imports, as corrected
by the commentator just mentioned, that a _relation_ of the poet's,
then in advanced age, but who in his youth had been in the habit of
visiting London for the purpose of seeing him act in some of his own
plays, told Mr. Jones[424:C], that he had a faint recollection "of
having once seen him act a part in one of his own comedies, wherein
being to personate a decrepit old man, he wore a long beard, and
appeared so weak and drooping and unable to walk, that he was forced
to be supported and carried by another person to a table, at which he
was seated among some company, who were eating, and one of them sung
a song."[424:D] That this part was the character of _Adam_, in _As
You Like It_, there can be no doubt, and if we add, that, from the
arrangement of the names of the actors and of the persons of the drama,
prefixed to Ben Jonson's play of _Every Man in his Humour_, first acted
in 1598, there is reason to imagine that he performed the part of Old
Knowell in that comedy, we may be warranted probably in drawing the
conclusion, that the representation of aged characters was peculiarly
his forte.

It appears also, from the first four lines of a small poem, written
by John Davies, about the year 1611, and inscribed, _To our English
Terence, Mr. William Shakespeare_, that our bard had been accustomed to
perform _kingly parts_;

    "Some say, good Will, which I in sport do sing,
       Hadst thou not play'd some _kingly parts_ in sport,
     Thou hadst been a companion for a king,
       And been a king among the meaner sort;"[425:A]

a passage which leads us to infer, that several of the regal characters
in his own plays, perhaps the parts of King Henry the Eighth, King
Henry the Sixth, and King Henry the Fourth, may have been appropriated
to him, as adapted to the general estimate of his powers in acting.

From the notices thus collected, it will be perceived, that Shakspeare
attempted not the performance of characters of the first rank; but
that in the representation of those of a second-rate order, to which
he modestly confined his exertions, he was deemed _excellent_. We
have just grounds also for concluding that of the _theory_ of acting
in its very highest departments, he was a complete master; and though
not competent to carry his own precepts into perfect execution, he
was a consummate judge of the attainments and deficiencies of his
fellow-comedians, and was accordingly employed to instruct them in his
own conception of the parts which they were destined to perform.

It may be considered, indeed, as a most fortunate circumstance for the
lovers of dramatic poetry, that our author, in point of execution,
did not attain to the loftiest summit of his profession. He would, in
that case, it is very probable, have either sate down content with the
high reputation accruing to him from this source, or would have found
little time for the labours of composition, and consequently we should
have been in a great degree, if not altogether, deprived of what now
constitute the noblest efforts of human genius.


FOOTNOTES:

[414:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iii. p. 214.

[414:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 124.—Antony Wood, it appears,
was the original author of this anecdote, for he tells us in his
Athenæ, that John Davenant, who kept the Crown, was "an admirer and
lover of plays and play-makers, especially Shakspeare, _who frequented
his house in his journies between Warwickshire and London_." Ath. Oxon.
vol. ii. p. 292.

[414:C] The Register informs us,—

1st. That his daughter Susanna was baptized there on the 26th May 1583.

2d. That Hamnet and Judith, his twin-son and daughter, were baptized
there the 2d of February 1584.

3d. That his son Hamnet was buried there, on the 11th of August 1596.

4th. That his daughter Susanna was there married to John Hall, on the
5th of June 1607.

5th. That his daughter Judith was there married to Thomas Queeny, on
the 10th of February 1615/16.—Vide Chalmers's Apology, p. 247.

[415:A] Ben Jonson, in his Poem to the Memory of Shakspeare, calls him
"Sweet Swan of Avon;" and Joseph Taylor, who represented the part of
Hamlet in 1596, in the Dedication which he and his fellow-players wrote
for Beaumont and Fletcher's Works, in 1647, speaks of "the flowing
compositions of the then expired _sweet swan of Avon_, Shakspeare."

[415:B] Chalmers's Apology, p. 247.

[415:C] Chalmers's Supplemental Apology, p. 227.

[415:D] Ibid. p. 227. note _d_.

[416:A] Chalmers's Apology, p. 423. note _a_.

[416:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 63.

[417:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iii. p. 233.

[417:B] Ibid. vol. ii. p. 230.

[418:A] Ancient British Drama, vol. ii. p. 539.

[418:B] British Theatre, p. 9.

[418:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ii. p. 230. note 1.

[418:D] Vide Malone's Inquiry, p. 94.

[418:E] Mr. Chalmers, speaking of Heminges, says—"There is reason to
believe, that he was, originally, a _Warwickshire lad_; a shire, which
has produced so many players and poets; the Burbadges; the Shakspeares;
the Greens; and the Harts." Apology, p. 435, 436.

[419:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 63. note 2.

[419:B] Ibid. p. 120.

[419:C] Lives of the Poets, vol. i. p. 130.

[420:A] Chalmers's Supplemental Apology, p. 158. note _n_.

[421:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iii. p. 213.

[421:B] Ibid. vol. i. p. 64.

[422:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ii. p. 237, 238.

[423:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xiv. p. 403, 404. Act iii. sc. 5.

[424:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xviii. p. 249, 250. Act iii. sc. 4.

[424:B] Ibid. vol. i. p. 128. note 1.

[424:C] "Mr. Jones's informer," observes Mr. Malone, "might have been
Mr. Richard Quincy, who lived in London, and died at Stratford in 1656,
at the age of 69; or Mr. Thomas Quincy, our poet's son-in-law, who
lived, I believe, till 1663, and was twenty-seven years old when his
father-in-law died; or some one of the family of Hathaway. Mr. Thomas
Hathaway, I believe Shakspeare's brother-in-law, died at Stratford in
1654-5, at the age of 85."—Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 128. note 1.

[424:D] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 129, 130.

[425:A] The Scourge of Folly, by John Davies of Hereford, no date.




CHAPTER II.

    SHAKSPEARE COMMENCES A WRITER OF POETRY, PROBABLY ABOUT
    THE YEAR 1587, BY THE COMPOSITION OF HIS VENUS AND
    ADONIS—HISTORICAL OUTLINE OF POLITE LITERATURE DURING THE AGE
    OF SHAKSPEARE.


As the first object of Shakspeare must necessarily have been, from the
confined nature of his circumstances, to procure employment, it is
highly reasonable to conclude that he at first contented himself with
the diligent discharge of those duties which fell to his share as an
actor of inferior rank. That these, however, were calculated to absorb,
for any length of time, a mind so active, ample, and creative, cannot
for a moment be credited; and, indeed, we are warranted, by every fair
inference, to assert, that, no sooner did he consider his situation at
the theatre of Blackfriars as tolerably secured, than he immediately
directed his powers to the cultivation of his favourite art—that of
poetry.

Of his inclination to this elegant branch of literature, we have
an early proof, in the mode of retaliation which he adopted, in
consequence of his prosecution by Sir Thomas Lucy; and that the Venus
and Adonis, "the first heir of his invention," as he terms it, was
commenced, not long subsequent to this period, and shortly after his
arrival in town, a little enquiry will induce us to consider as an
almost established fact.

It has, indeed, been surmised, by a very intelligent critic, that
this poem may have been written while its author "felt the powerful
incentive of love," and consequently "before he had sallied from
Stratford;" "certainly," he adds, "before he was known to [426:A]fame."
The first suggestion we may dismiss as a _mere_ supposition; the second
must be acknowledged as founded on truth.

All the commentators agree in fixing on the year 1591, as the
LATEST period for our author's commencement as a _dramatic poet_: for
this obvious reason, that both Greene and Chettle have mentioned him as
a writer of plays in 1592, and in such a manner, likewise, as proves
that he was _even then_ possessed of some degree of _notoriety_, the
latter mentioning his "_facetious grace in writing_," and the former,
after calling him, "_an upstart crow beautified with our feathers_,"
and parodying a line from the Third Part of King Henry VI., concludes
by telling us, that he "_is in his own conceit the only SHAKE-SCENE
in the country_;" circumstances which have naturally induced the most
sagacious critics on our bard to infer, that, thus early to have
excited so much envy as this railing accusation evinces, he must
without doubt have been a corrector and improver of plays anterior to
1590, and very probably in 1589.

Now, though the first edition of the Venus and Adonis was not
_published_ until 1593, yet the author's positive declaration, that it
was "_the first heir of his invention_," necessarily implies that its
_composition_ had taken place prior to any poetical attempts for the
stage; and as we have seen, that his arrival in town could not have
occurred before 1586; that he was then immediately employed as an actor
in a very inferior rank; and that his earliest efforts as a dramatic
poet may be attributed to the year 1589 or 1590, it will follow, as a
legitimate deduction, if we allow the space of a twelvemonth for his
settlement at the theatre, that the composition of this poem, "the
first heir of his invention," must be given to the interval elapsing
between the years 1587 and 1590, a period not too extended, the nature
of his other engagements being considered, for the completion of a poem
very nearly amounting to twelve hundred lines.

Having thus conducted Shakspeare to his entrance on the career of
authorship and fame, it will now be necessary, in conformity with our
plan, to take a general and cursory survey of LITERATURE, as it
existed in the reigns of Elizabeth and James. The remainder of this
chapter will therefore be devoted to a broad outline on this subject,
reserving, however, the topics of Romance and Miscellaneous Poetry,
for distinct and immediately subsequent consideration, as these will
form an apposite prelude to an estimate of the patronage which our
author enjoyed, to a critique on his poems, and to critical notices
of contemporary _miscellaneous_ poets, enquiries which, while they
embrace, in one view, the merits of Shakspeare as a _miscellaneous_
poet, are, at the same time, in their preliminary and collateral
branches, in some degree preparatory to his introduction as a
_dramatic_ writer; preparatory also to a sketch of the manners,
customs, and diversions of the metropolis, during his age, and to a
discussion of his transcendent powers as the bard of fancy and of
nature.

The literary period of which we are proceeding to give a slight
sketch, may be justly considered as the most splendid in our annals;
for in what equal portion of our history can we bring forward three
such mighty names as _Spenser_, _Bacon_, and _Shakspeare_, each, in
their respective departments, remaining without a rival. As the field,
however, is so ample that even to do justice to an outline will require
much attention to arrangement, it will be necessary to distribute
what we have to offer, in this stage of our work, under the heads of
_Bibliography_, _Philology_, _Criticism_, _History_, General, Local,
and Personal, and _Miscellaneous Literature_; premising that as we
confine ourselves, in the strictest sense, to _elegant_ literature,
or what has been termed the _Belles Lettres_, science, theology, and
politics, will, of course, be excluded.

Literature, which had for some centuries been confined to ecclesiastics
and scholars by profession, was, at the commencement of Elizabeth's
reign, thrown open to the higher classes of general society. The
example was given by the Queen herself; and the nobility, the superior
orders of the gentry, and even their wives and daughters, became
enthusiasts in the cause of letters. The novelty which attended these
studies, the eager desire to possess what had been so long studiously
and jealously concealed, and the curiosity to explore and rifle the
treasures of the Greek and Roman world, which mystery and imagination
had swelled into the marvellous, contributed to excite an absolute
passion for study, and for books. The court, the ducal castle, and
the baronial hall, were suddenly converted into academies, and could
boast of splendid libraries, as well as of splendid tapestries. In the
first of these, according to Ascham, might be seen the Queen reading
"more _Greeke_ every day, than some prebendarie of this church doth
read _Latin_ in a whole week[429:A]," and while she was translating
Isocrates or Seneca, it may be easily conceived that her maids of
honour found it convenient to praise and to adopt the disposition of
her time. In the second, observes Warton, the daughter of a duchess was
taught not only to distil strong waters, but to construe Greek[429:B];
and in the third, every young lady who aspired to be fashionable was
compelled, in imitation of the greater world, to exhibit similar marks
of erudition.

If such were the studious manners of the ladies, it will readily be
credited, that an equal, if not a greater attachment to literature
existed in the other sex; in short, an intimacy with Greek, Latin,
and Italian, was deemed essential to the character of the nobleman
and the courtier; and learning was thus rendered a passport to
promotion and rank. That this is not an exaggerated statement, but
founded on contemporary authority, will be evident from a passage
in Harrison's Description of England, where, after delineating the
court, he adds,—"This further is not to be omitted, to the singular
commendation of both sorts and sexes of our courtiers here in England,
that there are verie few of them, which have not the use and skill
of sundrie speaches, beside an excellent veine of writing before
time not regarded.—Trulie it is a rare thing with us now, to heare
of a courtier which hath but his owne language. And to saie how many
gentlewomen and ladies there are, that beside sound knowledge of the
Greeke and Latine toongs, are thereto no lesse skilfull in the Spanish,
Italian, and French, or in some one of them, it resteth not in me:
sith I am persuaded, that as the noblemen and gentlemen do surmount
in this behalfe, so these come verie little or nothing at all behind
them for their parts, which industrie God continue, and accomplish
that which otherwise is wanting!" Again, a few lines below, he remarks
of the ladies of the court, that some of them employ themselves "in
continuall reading either of the holie scriptures, or histories of our
owne or forren nations about us, and diverse in writing volumes of
their owne, or translating of other mens into our English and Latine
toongs[430:A];" employments which now appear to us very extraordinary
as the daily occupations of a court, but were, then, the natural result
of that ardent love of letters, which had somewhat suddenly been
diffused through the higher classes.

Were we, however, to conclude, that the same erudite taste pervaded the
bulk of the people, or even the middle orders of society, we should
be grossly mistaken. Literature, though cultivated with enthusiasm in
the metropolis, was confined even there to persons of high rank, or to
those who were subservient to their education and amusement. In the
country, to read and write were still esteemed rare accomplishments,
and among the rural gentry of not the first degree, little difference,
in point of literary information, was perceptible between the master
and his menial attendant. Of this several of the plays of Shakspeare
and Jonson will afford evidence, especially the comedies of the _Merry
Wives of Windsor_, and _Every Man in his Humour_, to which a striking
proof may be added from Burton, who wrote just at the close of the
Shaksperian [430:B]period; and, in treating of study, as a cause of
melancholy, says, "I may not deny, but that we have a sprinkling of
our Gentry, here, and there one, excellently well learned;—but they
are but few in respect of the multitude, the major part (and some
again excepted, that are indifferent) are wholly bent for Hawks and
Hounds, and carried away many times with intemperate lust, gaming, and
drinking. If they read a book at any time, 'tis an English Chronicle,
Sir Huon of Bordeaux, Amadis de Gaul, &c. a play-book, or some pamphlet
of News, and that at such seasons only, when they cannot stir abroad,
to drive away time, their sole discourse is dogs, hawks, horses, and
what News? If some one have been a traveller in Italy, or as far as the
Emperour's Court, wintered in Orleance, and can court his mistris in
broken French, wear his clothes neatly in the newest fashion, sing some
choice out-landish tunes, discourse of lords, ladies, towns, palaces,
and cities, he is compleat and to be admired: otherwise he and they
are much at one; _no difference betwixt the master and the man_, but
worshipful titles: wink and choose betwixt him that sits down (clothes
excepted) and him that holds the trencher behind him."[431:A]

It is to the court, therefore, and its attendants, to the nobility,
higher gentry, and their preceptors, that we are to look for that
ardent love of books and learning which so remarkably distinguished
the reigns of Elizabeth and James, and which was destined, in another
century, to descend into, and illuminate the larger masses of our
population. Nothing, indeed, can more forcibly paint Elizabeth's
passion for books and learning, than a passage in Harrison's unadorned
but faithful description of her court:—"Finallie," says that
interesting pourtrayer of ancient manners, "to avoid idlenesse, and
prevent sundrie transgressions, otherwise likelie to be committed and
doone, such order is taken, that everie office hath either a bible, or
the booke of the acts and monuments of the church of England, or both,
beside some histories and chronicles lieing therein, for the exercise
of such as come into the same: _whereby the stranger that entereth into
the court of England upon the sudden, shall rather imagine himselfe to
come into some publike schoole of the universities, where manie give
eare to one that readeth, than into a princes palace, if you conferre
the same with those of other nations_. Would to God all honorable
personages would take example of hir graces godlie dealing in this
behalfe, and shew their conformitie unto these hir so good beginnings!
which if they would, then should manie grievous offenses (wherewith
God is highlie displeased) be cut off and restrained, which now doo
reigne exceedinglie, in most noble and gentlemen's houses, whereof
they see no paterne within hir graces gates."[432:A] Well might Mr.
Dibdin apostrophize this learned Queen in the following picturesque
and characteristic terms:—"All hail to the sovereign, who, bred up
in severe habits of reading and meditation, loved books and scholars
to the very bottom of her heart! I consider ELIZABETH as a royal
bibliomaniac of transcendant fame!—I see her, in imagination, wearing
her favorite little _Volume of Prayers_[432:B], the composition of
Queen Catharine Parr, and Lady Tirwit, 'bound in solid gold, and
hanging by a gold chain at her side,' at her morning and evening
devotions—afterwards, as she became firmly seated upon her throne,
taking an interest in the embellishments of the _Prayer Book_[432:C],
which goes under her own name; and then indulging her strong
bibliomaniacal appetites in fostering the institution for the erecting
of _a Library, and an Academy for the study of Antiquities and
History_."[432:D]

The example of Elizabeth, whose taste for books had been fostered
under the tuition of Ascham, was speedily followed by some of the first
characters in the kingdom; but by none with more ardent zeal then by
Archbishop Parker, who was such an indefatigable admirer and collector
of curious and precious books, and of every thing that appertained
to them, that, according to Strype, he kept constantly in his house
"drawers of pictures, wood-cutters, painters, limners, writers, and
book-binders,—one of these was _Lylye_, an excellent writer, that
could counterfeit any antique writing. Him the archbishop customarily
used to make old books compleat."[433:A] No expense, in short, was
spared, by this amiable and accomplished divine, in procuring the most
rare and valuable articles; his library was daily increased through
the medium of numerous agents, whom he employed, both at home and
abroad, and among these was Batman the author of the _Doome_ and the
commentator _uppon Bartholome_, who, we are told, purchased for him not
less than 6700 books "in the space of no more than four years."[433:B]

To Parker succeeded the still more celebrated names of _Sir Robert
Cotton_ and _Sir Thomas Bodley_, men to whom the nation is indebted
for two of the most extensive and valuable of its public libraries.
The enthusiasm which animated these illustrious characters in their
bibliographical researches is almost incredible, and what gives an
imperishable interest to their biography is, that their morals were as
pure as their literary zeal was glowing.

Sir Thomas Bodley was singularly fortunate in the selection of _Dr.
Thomas James_ for the keeper of his library, whom Camden terms _vir
eruditus, et vere_ φιλόβιβλος[433:C], and of whom Fuller says, that
"on serious consideration one will conclude the Library made for _him_,
and _him_ for it, like _tallies_ they so fitted one another. Some men
live like mothes in libraries, not being better for the books, but the
books the worse for them, which they only soile with their fingers. Not
so Dr. James, who made use of books for his own and the publique good.
He knew the age of a manuscript, by looking upon the face thereof, and
by the form of the character could conclude the time wherein it was
written."[434:A]

Among the lovers and collectors of curious books, during the reign of
Elizabeth, may be mentioned Dr. JOHN DEE, notorious for his magical and
astrological lore, and who, according to his own account, possessed a
library of "four thousand volumes, printed and unprinted, bound and
unbound, valued at 2000_l._," beside numerous boxes and cases of very
rare evidences Irish and Welsh[434:B]; and _Captain Cox of Coventry_,
whose boudoir of romances and ballads we shall have occasion to notice,
at some length, in the succeeding chapter.

It is remarkable that the two sovereigns included in the era of
Shakspeare, should have felt an equally unbounded inclination to study
and to books. So attached was James to bibliothecal delights, that
when he visited the Bodleian Library in 1605, he is said by Burton
to have exclaimed on his departure, "_if it were so that I must be a
prisoner, if I might have my wish, I would desire to have no other
prison than this library, and to be chained together with so many
good authors_."[434:C] Burton himself was one of the most inveterate
bibliomaniacs of his day; Hearne tells us that he was a collector of
"ancient popular little pieces," which, together with a multitude of
books of the best kind, he gave to the Bodleian Library.[434:D] In the
preface to his curious folio, he speaks of his eyes aking with reading,
and his fingers with turning the leaves[434:E]; and in the body of
his work, under the article of study, he expatiates, in the highest
strain of enthusiasm, on the luxury of possessing numerous books: "we
have thousands of authors of all sorts," he observes; "many great
libraries full well furnished, like so many dishes of meat, served out
for several palates: and he is a very block that is affected with
none of them.—I could even live and dye with—and take more delight,
true content of mind in them, than thou hast in all thy wealth and
sport, how rich soever thou art.——Nicholas Gerbelius, that good old
man, was so much ravished with a few Greek authors restored to light,
with hope and desire of enjoying the rest, that he exclaims forthwith,
Arabibus atque Indis omnibus erimus ditiores, We shall be richer than
all the Arabick or Indian Princes; of such esteem they were with him,
in comparable worth and value."—He then adopts the emphatic language
of _Heinsius_: "_I no sooner come into the Library, but I bolt the door
to me, excluding lust, ambition, avarice, and all such vices, whose
nurse is idleness, their mother Ignorance, and Melancholy herself,
and in the very lap of eternity, amongst so many divine souls, I take
my seat, with so lofty a spirit and sweet content, that I pity all
our great ones, and rich men that know not this happiness._ I am not
ignorant in the mean time," he adds, "notwithstanding this which I have
said, how barbarously and basely for the most part our _ruder Gentry_
esteem of libraries and books, how they neglect and contemn so great a
treasure, so inestimable a benefit.—For my part I pity these men,—how
much, on the other side, are all we bound that are scholars, to those
munificent _Ptolomies_, bountiful _Mæcenates_, heroical patrons, divine
spirits,—_qui nobis hæc otia fecerunt, Namque erit ille mihi semper
Deus_—that have provided for us so many well furnished libraries
as well in our publick Academies in most cities, as in our private
Colledges? How shall I remember _Sir Thomas Bodley_, amongst the
rest, _Otho Nicholson_, and the right reverend _John Williams_ Lord
Bishop of _Lincolne_, (with many other pious acts) who besides that
at _St. John's_ College in _Cambridge_, that in _Westminster_, is now
likewise in _Fieri_ with a Library at _Lincolne_ (a noble president
for all corporate towns and cities to imitate) _O quam te memorem (vir
illustrissime) quibus elogiis?_"[435:A]

The passion for letters and for books, which was thus diffused among
the higher classes, necessarily occasioned much attention to be paid
to the preservation and decoration of libraries, the volumes of which,
however, were not arranged on the shelves in the manner that we are now
accustomed to see them. The _leaves_, and not the back, were placed
in front, in order to exhibit the _silk strings_ or _golden clasps_
which united the sides of the cover. Thus Bishop Earl, describing the
character of a young gentleman of the University, says,—"His study
has commonly handsome shelves, his books neat silk strings, _which he
shews to his father's man, and is loth to unty or take down for fear of
misplacing_."[436:A]

To the most costly of these embellishments, the _golden clasps_,
Shakspeare has referred, both in a metaphorical and literal sense.
In the _Twelfth Night_ the Duke, addressing the supposed Cesario,
exclaims—

    ————————— "I have _unclasp'd_
    To thee the _book_ even of my secret soul;"[436:B]

and in _Romeo and Juliet_, Lady Capulet observes,

    "That book in many's eyes doth share the glory,
     That in _gold clasps_ locks in the golden story."[436:C]

It appears, indeed, that the art of ornamenting the exterior of books
was carried, at this period, to a lavish extent, jewels, as well as
gold, being employed to enhance their splendour. Let us listen to the
directions of the judicious Peacham, on this head, a contemporary
authority, who has thought it not unnecessary to subjoin the best mode
of keeping books, and the best scite for a library. "Have a care," says
he, "of keeping your bookes handsome, and well bound, not casting away
over much in their gilding or stringing for ostentation sake, like the
prayer-bookes of girles and gallants, which are carried to Church but
for their out-sides. Yet for your owne use spare them not for noting
or interlining (if they be printed) for it is not likely you meane to
be a gainer by them, when you have done with them: neither suffer them
through negligence to mold and be moath-eaten, or want their strings or
covers.—Suffer them not to lye neglected, who must make you regarded;
and goe in torn coates, who must apparell your mind with the ornaments
of knowledge, above the roabes and riches of the most magnificent
Princes.

"To avoyde the inconvenience of moathes and moldinesse, let your study
be placed, and your windowes open if it may be, towards the East,
for where it looketh South or West, the aire being ever subject to
moisture, moathes are bred and darkishnesse encreased, whereby your
maps and pictures will quickly become pale, loosing their life and
colours, or rotting upon their cloath, or paper, decay past all helpe
and recovery."[437:A]

The interior, also, as well as the exterior, of books, had acquired a
high degree of richness and finishing during the era of which we are
treating. The black-letter, Roman, and Italic, types were, in general,
clear, sharp, and strong, and though the splendid art of illumination
had ceased to be practised, in the sixteenth century, in consequence
of the establishment of printing, the loss was compensated for, by
more correct ornamental capital initials, cut with great taste and
spirit on wood and copper, and by engraved _borders_ and _title-pages_.
Portraits were also frequently introduced in the initials, especially
by the celebrated printers Jugge, and Day, the latter of whom,
patronised by Archbishop Parker, became in his turn the patron of Fox
the martyrologist, in the first edition of whose book, 1563, and in
Day's edition of Dee's _General and Rare Memorials pertayning to the
perfecte Arte of Navigation_, folio, 1577, may be found an admirable
specimen of this style of decoration, the capital initial C including
a portrait of Elizabeth sitting in state, and attended by three of her
ministers.[437:B] A similar mode of costly ornamenture issued from the
presses of Grafton, Whitchurch, Bill, and Barker, and perhaps in no
period of _our_ annals has this species of decorative typography been
carried to a higher state of perfection. Some very grotesque ornaments,
it is true, and some degree of affectation were occasionally exhibited
in title-pages, and to one of the latter class, very common in this
age, Shakspeare alludes in the _Second Part of King Henry IV._, where
Northumberland, describing the approach of a messenger, says,

    —— "This man's brow, like to a title-leaf,
    Foretells the nature of a tragick volume;"[438:A]

imagery drawn from the custom of printing elegiac poems with the
title-page, and every intermediate leaf, entirely black; but, upon the
whole, valuable books, and especially the Bible, had more splendid and
minutely ornamental finishing bestowed upon their pages, than has since
occurred, in this country, until towards the close of the eighteenth
century.

It had been fortunate, if _accuracy_ in typography had kept pace with
the taste for decoration; but this, with few exceptions, may be said
never to have been the case, and about the termination of Elizabeth's
reign, the era of total incorrectness, as Mr. Steevens remarks,
commenced, when "works of all kinds appeared with the disadvantage
of more than their natural and inherent imperfections[438:B];" an
assertion sufficiently borne out by the state in which the dramatic
poetry of this period was published. It may be added that the
Black-letter continued to be the prevailing type during the days of
Elizabeth, but seems to have nearly deserted the English press before
the demise of her successor.

Of what extent was the Library of Shakspeare, and of what its chief
treasures consisted, can now only be the subject of conjecture. That
he was a lover and collector of books more particularly within the
pale of his own language, and in the range of elegant literature, is
sufficiently evidenced by his own works. A _Bibliotheca Shakspeariana_
may, in fact, be drawn, from the industry of his commentators, who
have sought for, and quoted, almost every book to which he has been
directly or remotely indebted. The disquisitions indeed into which
we are about to enter will pretty accurately point out the species
of books which principally ornamented his shelves, and may preclude
any other remark here, than that the chief wealth of his collection
consisted of Historic, Romantic, and Poetic Literature, in all their
various branches.

_Philological_ or grammatical literature, as applied to the English
language, appears to have made little progress until after the middle
of the sixteenth century. We are told by Roger Ascham in 1544, the
period of the publication of his Toxophilus, that "as for the Latine or
Greeke tongue, everye thinge is so excellentlye done in them, that none
can do better; in the _Englishe_ tongue, contrary, everye thinge in a
maner so meanlye both for the matter and handelinge, that no man can
do worse. For therein the least learned, for the most part, have bene
alwayes most readye to write."[439:A] The Toxophilus of this useful
and engaging writer, was written in his native tongue, with the view
of presenting the public with a specimen of a purer and more correct
_English_ style than that to which they had hitherto been accustomed;
and with the hope of calling the attention of the learned, from the
exclusive study of the Greek and Latin, to the cultivation of their
vernacular language. The result which he contemplated was attained,
and, from the period of this publication, the shackles of Latinity were
broken, and composition in _English_ prose became an object of eager
and successful attention.

Previous to the exertions of Ascham, very few writers can be mentioned
as affording any model for English style. If we except the Translation
of Froissart by Bourchier, Lord Berners, in 1523, and the History
of Richard III. by Sir Thomas More, certainly compositions of great
merit, we shall find it difficult to produce an author of much value
for his vernacular prose. On the contrary, very soon after the
appearance of the Toxophilus, we find harmony and beauty in English
style emphatically praised and enjoined. Thus, in _THE ARTE OF
RHETORIKE for the use of all suche as are studious of Eloquence, sette
forthe in Englishe by THOMAS WILSON_, 1553, we are informed that
many now aspired to write English elegantly. "When we have learned,"
remarks this critic, "usuall and accustomable wordes to set forthe
our meanynge, we ought to joyne them together in apte order, that the
eare maie delite in hearynge the harmonie. I knowe some Englishemen,
that in this poinct have suche a gift in the Englishe as fewe in Latin
have the like; and therefore delite the Wise and Learned so muche
with their pleasaunte composition, that many rejoyce when thei maie
heare suche, and thinke muche learnyng is gotte when thei maie talke
with them."[440:A] The _Treatise_ of Wilson powerfully assisted the
cause which Ascham had been advocating; it displays much sagacity
and good sense, and greatly contributed to clear the language from
the affectation consequent on the introduction of foreign words and
idiom. The licentiousness, in this respect, was carried, indeed,
at this time, to such a height, that those who affected more than
ordinary refinement, either in conversation or writing, so Italianated
or Latinized their English, as to be scarcely intelligible to the
common people. Wilson severely satirizes this absurd practice. "Some,"
says he, "seke so farre for outlandishe Englishe, that they forget
altogether their mother's language. And I dare sweare this, if some of
their mothers were alive, thei were not able to tel what thei saie: and
yet these fine Englishe clerkes wil saie thei speake in their mother
tongue, if a man should charge them for counterfeityng the kinges
Englishe.—He that cometh lately out of Fraunce, will talke Frenche
Englishe, and never blushe at the matter. Another choppes in with
Englishe Italianated, and applieth the Italian phraise to our Englishe
speakyng.—The unlearned or folishe phantasticall, that smelles but
of learnyng (suche fellowes as have seene learned men in their daies)
will so Latine their tongues, that the simple cannot but wonder at
their talke, and thinke surely thei speake by some revelacion. I know
them, that thinke Rhetorike to stande wholie upon darke wordes; and he
that can catche an ynkehorne terme by the taile, hym thei compt to be
a fine Englishman and a good rhetorician." He then adds a specimen of
this style from a letter "devised by a Lincolneshire man for a voide
benefice," addressed to the Lord Chancellor:—"Ponderyng, expendyng,
and revolutyng with myself, your ingent affabilitie, and ingenious
capacitie, for mundane affaires, I cannot but celebrate and extoll
your magnificall dexteritie above all other. For how could you have
adapted suche illustrate prerogative, and dominiall superioritie, if
the fecunditie of your ingenie had not been so fertile and wonderfull
pregnaunt, &c."[441:A] That the same species of pedantry continued
to prevail in 1589, we have the testimony of Puttenham, who, in his
chapter _Of Language_, observes that "we finde in our English writers
many wordes and speaches amendable, and ye shall see in some many
_inkhorne_ termes so ill affected brought in by men of learning as
preachers and schoole-masters: and many straunge termes of other
languages by Secretaries and Marchaunts and travailours, and many darke
wordes and not usual nor well sounding, though they be dayly spok in
Court."[441:B]

Before Puttenham, however, had published, another and a still more
dangerous mode of corruption had infected English composition. In
1581, John Lilly, a dramatic poet, published a Romance in two parts,
of which the first is entitled, _Euphues_, The Anatomy of Wit, and
the second, _Euphues and his England_. This production is a tissue
of antithesis and alliteration, and therefore justly entitled to the
appellation of _affected_; but we cannot with Berkenhout consider
it as a most _contemptible piece of nonsense_.[441:C] The moral is
uniformly good; the vices and follies of the day are attacked with
much force and keenness; there is in it much display of the manners
of the times, and though, as a composition, it is very meretricious,
and sometimes absurd in point of ornament, yet the construction of
its sentences is frequently turned with peculiar neatness and spirit,
though with much monotony of cadence. William Webbe, no mean judge,
speaking of those who had attained a good grace and sweet vein in
eloquence, adds,—"among whom I think there is none that will gainsay
but Master John Lilly hath deserved most high commendations, as he who
hath stepped one step farther therein than any since he first began the
witty discourse of his EUPHUES, whose works surely in respect of his
singular eloquence and brave composition of apt words and sentences,
let the learned examine, and make a tryal thereof through all parts
of rhetoric in fit phrases, in pithy sentences, in gallant tropes, in
flowing speech, in plain sense; and surely in my judgment I think he
will yield him that verdict, which Quintilian giveth of both the best
orators, Demosthenes and Tully; that from the one nothing may be taken
away, and to the other nothing may be added[442:A];" an encomium that
was repeated by Nash[442:B], Lodge[442:C], and Meres[442:D], but which
should be contrasted with the sounder opinion of Drayton, who, in his
Epistle of Poets and Poesy, mentioning the noble Sidney,

    "That heroe for numbers and for prose,"

observes that he

    ——— "thoroughly pac'd our language as to show
    The plenteous English hand in hand might go
    With Greek and Latin, and did first reduce
    Our tongue from _Lilly_'s writing then in use;
    Talking of stones, stars, plants, of fishes, flies,
    Playing with words, and idle similies,
    As th' English apes, and very zanies be
    Of every thing, that they do hear and see,
    So imitating his ridiculous tricks,
    They speak and write, all like mere lunatics."[443:A]

Yet the most correct description of the merits and defects of this
once celebrated author has been given by Oldys, in his Librarian, who
remarks that "Lilly was a man of great reading, good memory, ready
faculty of application, and uncommon eloquence; but he ran into a vast
excess of allusion; in sentence and conformity of style he seldom
speaks directly to the purpose, but is continually carried away by
one odd allusion or simile or other (out of natural history, that
is yet fabulous and not true in nature), and that still overborne
by more, thick upon the back of one another; and through an eternal
affectation of sententiousness keeps to such a formal measure of his
periods as soon grows tiresome; and so, by confining himself to shape
his sense so frequently into one artificial cadence, however ingenious
or harmonious, abridges that variety which the style should be admired
for."[443:B]

So greatly was the style of _Euphues_ admired in the court of
Elizabeth, and, indeed, throughout the kingdom, that it became a
proof of refined manners to adopt its phraseology. Edward Blount, who
republished six of Lilly's plays, in 1632, under the title of _Sixe
Court Comedies_, declares that "Our nation are in his debt for a new
English which hee taught them. _Euphues_ and his _England_," he adds,
"began first that language. All our ladies were then his scollers; and
that beautie in court who could not parley Euphuesme, was as little
regarded as shee which now there speakes not French;" a representation
certainly not exaggerated; for Ben Jonson, describing, a fashionable
lady, makes her address her gallant in the following terms:—"O
master Brisk, (as it is in _Euphues_) _hard is the choice when one is
compell'd, either by silence to die with grief, or by speaking, to live
with shame_:" upon which Mr. Whalley observes, that the court ladies in
Elizabeth's time had all the phrases of _Euphues by heart_.[443:C]

Scarcely had corruption from this source ceased to violate the purity
and propriety of our language, when the fashion of interlarding
composition with a perpetual series of Latin quotations commenced; a
custom which continued until the close of the reign of James, and gave
to the style of this period a complexion the most heterogeneous and
absurd, being, in fact, composed of two languages, half Latin and half
English. Of this barbarous and pedantic habit, the works of Bishop
Andrews afford the most flagrant instance; an example which, we have
reason to regret, was followed too closely by Robert Burton, who, when
he trusts to his native tongue, has written in a style at once simple
and impressive.

These affectations, arising from the use of _inkhorn terms_, of
_antithesis_, _alliteration_, arbitrary orthography, and the _perpetual
intermixture of Latin phraseology_, have been deservedly and powerfully
ridiculed by Sir Philip Sidney and Shakspeare; by the former under the
character of _Rombus_, a village schoolmaster, in a masque presented
to Her Majesty in Wansted Garden, and by the latter in the person of
HOLOFERNES in _Love's Labour's Lost_. The satire of Sir Philip is
supported with humour; Her Majesty is supposed to have parted, by her
presence, a violent contest between two shepherds for the affection
of the Lady of the May, on which event _Rombus_ comes forward with a
learned oration.

"Now the thunder-thumping _Jove_ transfused his dotes into your
excellent formositie, which have with your resplendent beames thus
segregated the enmity of these rurall animals; I am _Potentissima
Domina_, a Schoole-master, that is to say, a Pedagogue, one not a
little versed in the disciplinating of the juvenall frie, wherin (to my
laud I say it) I use such geometrical proportions, as neither wanted
mansuetude nor correction, for so it is described.

    "_Parcare subjectos, et debellire superbos._"

"Yet hath not the pulchritude of my vertues protected me from the
contaminating hands of these Plebeians; for coming _solummodo_, to have
parted their sanguinolent fray, they yeelded me no more reverence,
than if I had been some _Pecorius Asinus_. I, even I, that am, who am
I? _Dixi verbus sapiento satum est._ But what said that Troian _Æneas_,
when he sojourned in the surging sulkes of the sandiferous seas, _Hæc
olim memonasse juvebit_. Well, well, _ad propositos revertebo_, the
puritie of the verity is that a certaine _Pulchra puella profecto_,
elected and constituted by the integrated determination of all this
topographicall region as the soveraigne Ladie of this Dame Maies month,
hath beene _quodammodo_ hunted, as you would say, pursued by two, a
brace, a couple, a cast of young men, to whom the crafty coward _Cupid_
had _inquam_ delivered his dire-dolorous dart;" here the May-Lady
interfering calls him a tedious fool, and dismisses him; upon which in
anger he exclaims,—

"_O Tempori, O Moribus!_ in profession a childe, in dignitie a woman,
in yeares a Ladie, in _cæteris_ a maide, should thus turpifie the
reputation of my doctrine, with the superscription of a foole, _O
Tempori, O Moribus!_"[445:A]

The Schoolmaster of Shakspeare appears, from the researches of
Warburton and Dr. Farmer, to have been intended as a satire upon John
Florio, whose _First Fruits_, or Dialogues in Italian and English, were
published in 1578, his _Second_ in 1591, and his "_Worlde of Wordes_"
in 1598. He was ludicrously pedantic, dogmatic, and assuming, and gave
the first affront to the dramatic poets of his day, by affirming that
"the plaies that they plaie in England, are neither _right comedies_,
nor _right tragedies_; but representations of _histories_ without
any decorum."[445:B] The character of _Holofernes_, however, while
it caricatures the peculiar folly and ostentation of Florio, holds
up to ridicule, at the same time, the general pedantry and literary
affectations of the age; and amongst these very particularly the absurd
innovations which Lilly had introduced. Sir Nathaniel, praising the
specimen of alliteration which Holofernes exhibits in his "extemporal
epitaph," calls it "a rare talent;" upon which the schoolmaster
comments on the compliment in a manner which pretty accurately
describes the fantastic genius of the author of Euphues:—"This is a
gift that I have, simple, simple; _a foolish extravagant spirit, full
of forms, figures, shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, motions,
revolutions_: these are begot in the ventricle of memory, nourished in
the womb of _pia mater_; and deliver'd upon the mellowing of occasion;"
and subsequently in a strain of good sense not very common from the
mouth of this imperious pedant, he still more definitely points out
the foppery of Lilly both in style and pronunciation,—"He is too
picked," he remarks, "too spruce, too affected, too odd, as it were,
too peregrinate, as I may call it.—He draweth out the thread of his
verbosity finer than the staple of his argument. I abhor such fanatical
phantasms, such insociable and point devise companions; such rackers
of orthography, as to speak, dout, fine, when he should say, doubt;
det, when he should pronounce, debt; d, e, b, t; not d, e, t: he
clepeth a calf, cauf; half, hauf; neighbour, _vocatur_ nebour; neigh,
abbreviated, ne: This is abhominable, (which he would call abominable,)
it insinuateth me of insanie; _Ne intelligis domine?_ to make frantick,
lunatick."[446:A]

Yet, notwithstanding these various attempts, all tending to corrupt the
purity of our language, and originating from the pedantic taste of the
age, and from a love of novelty and over-refinement, English style more
rapidly improved during the reigns of Elizabeth and James, than has
been the case in any previous, or subsequent period of our annals. To
establish this assertion, we have only to appeal to the great writers
of this era, and among these, it will be sufficient to mention the
names of _Ralegh_, _Hooker_, _Bacon_ and _Daniel_, masters of a style,
at once vigorous, perspicuous, and often richly modulated. If to this
brief catalogue, though adequate to our purpose, we add the prose of
_Ascham_, _Sidney_, _Southwell_, _Knolles_, _Hakewell_, and _Peacham_,
still omitting many authors of much merit, it may justly be affirmed,
that no specimens of excellence in dignified and serious composition
could be wanting as exemplars. That the good sense of the age was aware
of the value of these writers, in point of style, though surrounded
by innovations supported by rank and fashion, may be concluded from
the admonitions of Peacham, who in his chapter "Of stile, in speaking
and writing," not only describes the style which ought to be adopted,
but enumerates the authors who have afforded the best examples of
it for the student. "Let your style," he admirably observes, "bee
furnished with solid matter, and compact of the best, choice, and most
familiar words; taking heed of speaking, or writing such words, as men
shall rather admire than understand.—Flowing at one and the selfe
same height, neither taken in and knit up too short, that, like rich
hangings of Arras or Tapistry, thereby lose their grace and beautie,
as Themistocles was wont to say: nor suffered to spread so farre, like
soft Musicke in an open field, whose delicious sweetnesse vanisheth,
and is lost in the ayre.

"To helpe yourselfe herein, make choice of those authors in prose, who
speake the best and purest English. I would commend unto you (though
from more antiquity) the Life of _Richard_ the third, written by _Sir
Thomas Moore_; the _Arcadia_ of the noble _Sir Philip Sidney_, whom Du
Bartas makes one of the foure columnes of our language; the _Essayes_,
and other peeces of the excellent master of eloquence, my Lord of _S.
Albanes_, who possesseth not onely eloquence, but all good learning,
as hereditary both by father and mother. You have then _M. Hooker_,
his _Policy_: _Henry_ the fourth, well written by _S. John Heyward_;
that first part of our English Kings, by _M. Samuel Daniel_. There are
many others I know, but these will tast you best, as proceeding from no
vulgar judgment."[447:A]

With regard to the state of colloquial language during this epoch, it
may safely be asserted, that a reference to the works of Shakspeare
will best acquaint us with the "diction of common life," with the tone
of conversation which prevailed both in the higher and lower ranks
of society; for the dialogue of his most perfect comedies is, by many
degrees, more easy, lively, and perspicuous, than that of any other
contemporary dramatic writer.

It is by no means, however, our wish to infer, from what has been
said in praise of the prose writers of this period, that they are to
be considered as perfect models in the nineteenth century; on the
contrary, it must be confessed, that the best of them exhibit abundant
proofs of quaintness and prolixity, of verbal pedantry and inverted
phraseology; and though the language, through their influence, made
unparalleled strides, and fully unfolded its copiousness, energy, and
strength, it remained greatly deficient in correctness and polish, in
selection of words, and harmony of arrangement.[448:A]

These defects, especially the two latter, are to be attributed, in
a great measure, to philological studies being almost exclusively
confined to the learned languages, a subject of complaint with a few
individuals, who lamented the neglect which this classical enthusiasm
entailed on their native tongue. Thus Arthur Golding, in some verses
prefixed to Baret's Alviarie, after observing that

    ———————— "all good inditers find
    Our Inglishe tung driven almost out of kind,
        Dismembred, hacked, maymed, rent and torne,
        Defaced, patched, mard, and made a skorne,"

adds with great truth and good sense,

    "No doubt but men should shortly find there is
     As perfect order, as firm certeintie,
     As grounded rules to trie out things amisse,
     As much sweete grace, as great varietie
     Of wordes and phrazes, as good quantitie
         For verse or proze in Inglish every waie,
         As any comen language hath this daie.

     _And were wée given as well to like our owne,
     And for to clense it from the noisome wéede
     Of affectation which hath overgrowne
     Ungraciously the good and native séede,
     As for to borrowe where wée have no néede:
         It would pricke néere the learned tungs in strength,
         Perchance, and match mée some of them at length._"[449:A]

The ardour for classical acquisition was, at this time, indeed, so
prevalent among the learned and the great, that the mythology as well
as the diction of the ancients became fashionable. The amusements,
and even the furniture of the opulent, their shows, and masques, the
hangings and the tapestries of their houses, and their very cookery,
assumed an erudite, and what would now be termed, a pedantic cast.
"Every thing," says Warton, speaking of this era, "was tinctured
with ancient history and mythology.—When the Queen paraded through
a country town, almost every pageant was a pantheon. When she paid
a visit at the house of any of her nobility, at entering the hall
she was saluted by the Penates, and conducted to her privy-chamber
by Mercury. Even the pastry-cooks were expert mythologists. At
dinner, select transformations of Ovid's metamorphoses were exhibited
in confectionary: and the splendid iceing of an immense historic
plumb-cake, was embossed with a delicious basso-relievo of the
destruction of Troy. In the afternoon, when she condescended to walk
in the garden, the lake was covered with Tritons and Nereids: the
pages of the family were converted into Wood-nymphs, who peeped from
every bower: and the footmen gamboled over the lawns in the figure of
Satyrs."[449:B]

In the course of a few years the same taste descended to the inferior
orders of society, owing to the numerous versions which rapidly
appeared of the best writers of Greece and Rome. The rich catalogue of
translations to which Shakspeare had access, may be estimated from the
very accurate list which is inserted in the Variorum editions of the
poet, and before the death of James the First, not a single classic, we
believe, of any value, remained unfamiliarized to the English reader.

The height which classical learning had attained about the year 1570,
may be estimated from the testimony of Ascham, a most consummate judge,
who, quoting Cicero's assertion with regard to Britain, that "there is
not one scruple of silver in that whole isle; or any one that knoweth
either learnyng or letter[450:A]," thus apostrophizes the Roman Orator:

"But now, master _Cicero_, blessed be God, and his sonne Jesus Christ,
whom you never knew, except it were as it pleased him to lighten
you by some shadow; as covertlie in one place ye confesse, saying,
_Veritatis tantum umbram consectamur_[450:B], as your master Plato did
before you: blessed be God, I say, that sixten hundred yeare after you
were dead and gone, it may trewly be sayd, that for silver, there is
more comlie plate in one citie of _Englande_, than is in four of the
proudest cities in all _Italie_, and take _Rome_ for one of them: and
for learning, beside the knowledge of all learned tonges and liberal
sciences, even your owne bookes, Cicero, be as well read, and your
excellent eloquence is as well liked and loved, and as trewly folowed
in _Englande_ at this day, as it is now, or ever was since your own
tyme, in any place of Italie, either at Arpinum, where you was borne,
or els at Rome, where you was brought up. And a little to brag with
you, Cicero, where you yourselfe, by your leave, halted in some point
of learning in your own tongue, many in Englande at this day go
streight up, both in trewe skill, and right doing therein."[450:C]

Nor can this progress in the learned languages be considered as
surprising, when we recollect the vast encouragement given to these
studies, not only by the nobility but by the Queen herself; who was,
in fact, a most laborious and erudite author, who wrote a Commentary on
Plato, translated from the Greek two of the Orations of Isocrates, a
play of Euripides, the Hiero of Xenophon, and Plutarch de Curiositate;
from the Latin, Sallust de Bello Jugurthino, Horace de Arte Poetica,
Boethius de Consolatione Philosophiæ, a long chorus from the Hercules
Œtæus of Seneca, one of Cicero's epistles, and another of Seneca's;
who wrote many Latin letters, many English original works, both in
prose and poetry, and who spoke five languages with facility.[451:A]
The British Solomon, it is well known, was equally zealous and
industrious in the cause of learning, and both not only patronized
individuals, but founded and endowed public seminaries; Elizabeth was
the founder of Westminster-School, and of Jesus-College, Oxford, and
to James the University of Edinburgh owes its existence. This laudable
spirit was not confined to regal munificence; in 1584, Emanuel-College,
Cambridge, rose on the site of the Dominican convent of Black Friars,
through the exertions of Sir Walter Mildmay; and in 1594, Sidney-Sussex
College, in the same University, sprung from the patronage of the
Dowager of Thomas Radcliffe, Earl of Sussex.

Of the _modern_ languages cultivated at this period, the _Italian_ took
the lead, and became so fashionable at the court of Elizabeth, and
among all who had pretensions to refinement, that it almost rivalled
the _classical mania_ of the day. The Queen spoke it with great purity,
and among those who professed to teach it, Florio, whom we have
formerly mentioned as the object of Shakspeare's satire, was the most
eminent. He was pensioned by Lord Southampton, and on the accession of
James, was appointed reader of the Italian language to Queen Anne, with
a stipend of 100_l._ a-year.[451:B] So popular were the writers of this
fascinating country, that the English language was absolutely inundated
with versions of the Italian poets and novellists, a consequence of
which Roger Ascham bitterly complains; for, lamenting the diffusion of
Italian licentiousness, he exclaims,—"These be the inchantmentes of
Circe, brought out of _Italie_, to marre men's maners in _Englande_;
much by example of ill life, but more by precepts of fond books, of
late translated out of _Italian_ into _Englishe_ sold in every shop
in London:—there be moe of these ungratious bookes set out in printe
within these few monethes, than have been sene in _Englande_ many score
yeares before.—Then they have in more reverence the triumphes of
_Petrarche_, than the Genesis of _Moses_; they make more account of a
tale in _Boccace_, than a storie of the Bible."[452:A]

It must be allowed, we think, that the censure of Ascham partakes too
much of puritanic sourness; for these "ungratious bookes" we find to
have been the great classics of Italy, Petrarca, Boccacio, &c. writers
who, though occasionally romantic in their incidents, and gross in
their imagery, yet presented many just views of life and manners,
and many rich examples of harmonious style and fervid imagination.
They contributed also very powerfully by the variety and fertility of
their fictions, to stimulate the poets of our country, and especially
the dramatic, who have been indebted to this source more than to any
other for the ground-work of their plots. It is, indeed, sufficiently
honourable to Italian literature, that we shall find our unrivalled
Shakspeare occasionally indebted to it for the hints which awakened his
muse.

We are not to conclude, however, that the labours of our translators
were confined to the poetry and romance of Italy, and that its moral,
historical, and didactic compositions were utterly neglected. This was
so far from being the case, that most of the esteemed productions in
these departments were as speedily naturalized as those of the lighter
class; and among them we may mention two works which must have had no
inconsiderable influence in polishing and refining the manners of our
countrymen. In 1576, Robert Peterson, of Lincolne's-Inn, translated
the _Galateo_ of John de la Casa, a system of politeness to which
Chesterfield has been much indebted[453:A]; and in 1588, Thomas Hobby
published a version of the _Cortigiano_ of Baldassar Castiglione, a
work in equal estimation as a manuel of elegance, and termed by the
Italians "the Golden Book."[453:B]

The philological attainments of this age, with respect to Greek, Latin,
and English, will be placed in a still more compendiously clear light,
by a mere enumeration of those who greatly excelled in rendering
their acquisition more systematic and correct. Both Greek and English
literature were early indebted to the labours of Sir _Thomas Smith_,
who was appointed public lecturer at Cambridge on the first of these
languages, the study of which he much facilitated by a new method of
accentuation and pronunciation; publishing at the same time an improved
system of orthography for his native tongue. These useful works were
printed together in 4to. in 1568, under the titles of _De recta et
emendata linguæ Græcæ pronunciatione_, and _De recta et emendata linguæ
Anglicæ scriptione_.

Another equally eminent Grecian philologer appeared at the same
time, in the person of Sir _Henry Savile_, who was Greek preceptor
to Elizabeth, warden of Merton-College, and provost of Eton. He was
editor of the works of Chrysostom, with notes, in 8 vols. folio, 1613,
the most elaborate Greek production which had hitherto issued from
an English press: of Xenophon's Cyropædia, and of the _Steliteutici_
of Nazianzen. He translated also into English, as early as 1581, the
first four books of the History of Tacitus, and his Life of Agricola,
accompanied by very valuable annotations, which were afterwards
published in a Latin version, by Gruter, at Amsterdam.

To his able assistant, also, in editing the works of Chrysostom, the
_Rev. John Boys_, much gratitude is due for his enthusiasm in the
cause of Grecian lore. So attached was he to this study, that during
his fellowship of St. John's College, Cambridge, he voluntarily gave a
Greek lecture every morning in his own room at four o'clock; and, what
affords a still more striking picture of the learned enthusiasm of the
times, it is recorded that this very early prelection was regularly
attended by nearly all the fellows of his college!

Latin Literature appears to have been cultivated with greater purity
and success in the prior than in the latter portion of Elizabeth's
reign. It is scarcely necessary to mention the great names of _George
Buchanan_ and _Walter Haddon_, who divided the attention of the
classical world, and drew from Elizabeth the following terse expression
on their comparative merits:—_Buchananum omnibus antepono; Haddonum
nemini postpono._[454:A]

Nor can we fail to recollect the truly admirable production of
_Ascham_, the "Schole Master; or plaine and perfite Way of teaching
Children, to understand, write, and speake, the _Latin_ Tonge:" than
which a more interesting and judicious treatise has not appeared upon
the subject in any language.

Among the most eminent Latin philologers who witnessed the close of the
sixteenth century, may be mentioned the name of _Edward Grant_, Master
of Westminster-School, who was celebrated for his Latin poetry, and
who published, in 1577, _Oratio de vita et obitu Rogeri Aschami, ac
dictionis elegantia, cum adhortatione ad adolescentulos_. He died in
1601.

With Grant should be classed the master of the free-school of Taunton
in Somersetshire, _John Bond_, who subsequently practised as a
physician, and died in 1612. He published, in 1606, some valuable
commentaries, in the Latin language, on the poems of Horace, and, in
1614, on the Six Satires of Persius.

Roman literature, however, in this country was under yet higher
obligations to _John Rider_, than to either of the preceding
philologers; this learned prelate being the compiler of the first
dictionary in our language, in which the English is placed before the
Latin. It is entitled _A Dictionary Engl. and Latin, and Latin and
English_. Oxon. 1589. 4to. Rider was promoted to the See of Killaloe in
1612, and died in 1632.

In our observations on the state of the _English_ language we have
noticed the labours of _Ascham_ and _Wilson_ as pre-eminently conducive
to its improvement; the first of these writers having published two
excellent models for English composition, and the second having
presented us with a valuable treatise on rhetoric. To these should
be added the efforts of _Richard Mulcaster_, first master of the
Merchant-Taylors School, who, in 1581, published his "Positions,
wherein those primitive circumstances be examined which are necessarie
for the training up of Children, either for skill in theire Booke or
Health in their Bodie;" a work which was followed, in the subsequent
year, by "The first Part of the _Elementarie_, which entreateth chefely
of the right Writing of the English Tung."

The _Positions_ and the _Elementarie_ of Mulcaster, though inferior in
literary merit to the Scholemaster of Ascham, contributed materially to
the progress of English philology, as they contain many valuable and
acute observations on our language.

It appears, from the assertion of _William Bullokar_, an able
co-operator in the work of education, that he was the author of
the _first_ English Grammar. In 1586 he printed his "Bref grammar
for English," which is likewise entitled in fol. 1. "W. Bullokar's
abbreviation of his Grammar for English extracted out of his Grammar at
larg for the spedi parcing of English spech, and the eazier coming to
the knowledge of grammar for other langages;" and Warton adds, in his
account of Bullokar's writings, that among Tanner's books was found "a
copy of his _bref grammar_ above mentioned, interpolated and corrected
with the author's own hand, as it appears, for a new impression. In
one of these manuscript insertions, he calls this, 'the first grammar
for Englishe that ever waz, except my _grammar at large_.'"[456:A]

It is not exactly ascertained in what year the Grammar of _Ben Jonson_
was written, as it did not appear until after his death; but it may be
safely affirmed that to this production of the once celebrated rival
and contemporary of Shakspeare, the English language has been more
indebted than to the labours certainly of any previous, and we may
almost add, of any subsequent, grammarian, Lowth's and Murray's even
not excepted.

The next branch of our present subject embraces the department of
CRITICISM, which was cultivated in this period to a great extent, and
we are sorry to add not seldom with uncommon bitterness and malignity.
Numerous are the writers who complain of the very severe and sarcastic
tone in which the critics of the age indulged; but one instance or
two will be sufficient to prove both the frequency and asperity of
the art. Robert Armin, in his Address _Ad Lectorem hic et ubique_,
prefixed to _The Italian Taylor and his Boy_, says, speaking of his
pen, "I wander with it now in a strange time of taxation, wherein every
pen and inck-horne Boy will throw up his cap at the hornes of the
Moone in censure, although his wit hang there, not returning unlesse
monthly in the wane: such is our ticklish age, and the itching braine
of abon̄dance[456:B];" and in the _Troia Britannica_ of Thomas Heywood,
the author, saluting his various readers under the titles of the
Courteous, the Criticke, and the Scornefull, tells the latter, "I am
not so unexperienced in the envy of this Age, but that I knowe I shall
encounter most sharpe, and severe Censurers, such as continually carpe
at other mens labours, and superficially perusing them, with a kind of
negligence and skorne, quote them by the way, Thus: This is an error,
that was too much streacht, this too slightly neglected, heere many
things might have been added, there it might have been better followed:
this superfluous, that ridiculous. These indeed knowing no other
meanes to have themselves opinioned in the ranke of understanders, but
by calumniating other mens industries."[457:A]

If such proved the strain of general, we need not be surprised if
controversial, criticism assumed a still more tremendous aspect.
Between the Puritans, in the reign of Elizabeth, who carried on their
warfare under the fictitious appellative of _Martin Mar-prelate_, and
the members of the episcopal church, a torrent of libels broke forth,
which inundated the country with a deluge of distorted ridicule and
rancorous abuse. Nor were the quarrels of literary men conducted with
less ferocity, though perhaps with more wit. The republic of letters
was, indeed, infested for near twenty years, from the year 1580 to
1600, with a set of Town-wits, who, void of all moral principle or
decent restraint, employed their pens in lashing to death, with
indiscriminate rage, the objects of their envy or their spleen. Of
this description were those noted characters, Christopher Marlow,
Robert Greene, Thomas Decker, and Thomas Nash; men possessed of
genius, learning, and unquestioned ability, as poets, satirists, and
critics; but excessively debauched in their manners, intemperate in
their passions, and heedless of what they inflicted. The treatment
which Gabriel Harvey, the bosom-friend of Spenser and Sidney, received
from the scurrilous criticism of Greene and Nash, was, though not
altogether unprovoked, beyond all measure gross, cruel, and vindictive.
The literature and the moral character of Harvey were highly
respectable; but he was vain, credulous, affected, and pedantic; he
published a collection of panegyrics on himself; he turned astrologer
and almanack-maker, he was perfectly _Italianated_ in his dress and
manner, in his style he was pompously elaborate, and he boasted himself
the inventor and introducer of English Hexameters.[458:A] These
foibles, together with the obscurity of his parentage, his father
being a rope-maker at Saffron-Walden, in Essex, a circumstance of
which he had the folly to be ashamed, furnished to his adversaries
an inexhaustible fund of ridicule and wit; and had these legitimate
ingredients been unmingled with personal invective and brutal sarcasm,
Gabriel, who was no mean railer himself, had not been sinned against;
but the malignity of Greene and Nash was unbounded; and Harvey, who
was morbidly irritable and bled at every pore, catching a portion of
their spirit, the controversy became so outrageously virulent, that the
prelates of Canterbury and London, Whitgift and Bancroft, interfering,
issued an order, "that all Nashe's books and Dr. Harveys bookes be
taken wheresoever they may be found, and that none of the said bookes
be ever printed hereafter;" an injunction which has rendered most of
the pamphlets on this literary quarrel extremely scarce, particularly
Harvey's "Four Letters And Certaine Sonnets. Especially touching Robert
Greene and other Poets by him abused. Imprinted by John Wolfe 1592;"
a very curious work, which we shall have occasion to quote hereafter;
and Nash's "Have with you to Saffron-Walden, or Gabriel Harvey's hunt
is up," 1596, which includes a humorous but unmerciful representation
of Gabriel's life and character, the bitter satirist exulting in the
idea that he had brought on his adversary, by the poignancy of his
invectives, the effects of premature old age. "I have brought him
low," he exclaims, "and shrewly broken him; look on his head, and you
shall find a gray haire for everie line I have writ against him; and
you shall have all his beard white too by the time he hath read over
this booke."[459:A]

How great a nuisance this bevy of lampooning critics was considered,
and to what a height their shameless effrontery was carried, may be
learnt from a passage in a pamphlet by Dr. Lodge, a contemporary
physician of great learning and good sense, who, though he terms
Nash, and perhaps very justly, "the true English Aretine," has drawn
a picture which applies to him as accurately as to any individual of
the class; "a fellow," to adopt the words of an old play with respect
to this very man, "that carried the deadly stocke in his pen, whose
muze was armed with a jag tooth, and his pen possest with Hercules
furyes."[459:B] "You shall know him" (the envious critic), says Lodge,
"by this; he is a foule lubber, his tongue tipt with lying, his heart
steeled against charity; he walks, for the most part, in black, under
colour of gravity, and _looks as pale as y{e} wizard of the ghost
which cried so miserably at y{e} theater, like an oister wife, Hamlet
revenge_: he is full of infamy and slander, insomuch as if he ease not
his stomach in detracting somewhat or some man before noontide, he fals
into a fever that holds him while supper time; he is alwaies devising
of epigrams or scoffes and grumbles, necromances continually, although
nothing crosse him, he never laughs but at other men's harms, briefly
in being a tyrant over men's fames; he is a very Titius (as Virgil
saith) to his owne thoughtes.

    "Titiique vultus inter
     Qui semper lacerat comestque mentem.

"The mischiefe is, that by grave demeanour and newes bearing, he
hath got some credite with the greater sort, and manie fowles there
bee, that because he can pen prettilee, hold it gospell whatever he
writes or speakes, his custome is to preferre a foole to credite,
to despight a wise man, and no poet lives by him that hath not a
flout of him. Let him spie a man of wit in a taverne, he is a hare
brained quareller. Let a scholler write, Tush (saith he) I like not
these common fellowes; let him write well, he hath stolen it out of
some note booke; let him translate, tut it is not of his owne; let
him be named for preferment, he is insufficient because poore; no
man shall rise in his world, except to feed his envy; no man can
continue in his friendship who hateth all men." He then adds the
following judicious advice, predicting what would be the consequence of
neglecting to pursue it:—"Divine wits for many things as sufficient
as all antiquity (I speake it not on slight surmise, but considerate
judgment) to you belongs the death that doth nourish this poison; to
you the paine that endure the reproofe. LILLY, the famous for facility
in discourse; SPENCER, best read in ancient poetry; DANIEL, choice
in word and invention; DRAITON, diligent and formall; TH. NASH, true
English Aretine. All you unnamed professors, or friends of poetry (but
by me inwardly honoured) knit your industries in private to unite your
fames in publicke; let the strong stay up the weake, and the weake
march under conduct of the strong; and all so imbattle yourselfes, that
hate of vertue may not imbase you. But if besotted with foolish vain
glory, emulation and contempt, you fall to neglect one another, _Quod
Deus omen avertat_, doubtless it will be as infamous a thing shortly to
present any book whatsoever learned to any Mæcenas in England, as it is
to be headsman in any free city in Germanie."[460:A]

Turning, however, from this abuse of critical and satiric talent, let
us direct our attention exclusively to those productions of the art
which are distinguished as well by moderation and urbanity, as by
learning and acumen.

It is worthy of remark that in _English_ literature, during this
era, nearly all the professed critical treatises, if we except those
of Wilson and Ascham, were employed on the subject of poetry. We
shall confine ourselves, therefore, to a chronological enumeration,
accompanied by a few observations, of these interesting pieces. The
first, in the order of time, is a production of _George Gascoigne_ the
poet, and was published at the close of the second edition of "The
Posies of George Gascoigne Esquire, Corrected, perfected, and augmented
by the Authour, 1575. _Tam Marti, quam Mercurio._ Imprinted at London
by H. Bynneman for Richard Smith." It is entitled, "Certayne notes of
Instruction concerning the making of verse or ryme in English, written
at the request of Master Edovardo Donati;" and was again printed in
"The whole workes of George Gascoign Esquyre: newlye compyled into one
volume," small 4to. b. l. 1587. This little tract is more didactic than
critical; but contains several judicious directions, and some sensible
remarks.

Ten years after, appeared a treatise on "Scottis Poesie," from the
pen of King James the First, when only eighteen years of age. This
learned monarch commenced his career of authorship with "The Essayes
of a Premise, in the Divine art of Poesie. Imprinted at Edinburgh,
by Thomas Vautroullier, 1585, 4to. Cum privilegio Regali." The fifth
article in this miscellany includes the criticism in question, under
the title of "Ane schort Treatise, containing some reulis and cautelis
to be observit and eschewit in Scottis poesie." This is a production
highly curious, as well for its manner as matter; for, not content with
mere precept, the royal critic has given us copious specimens of the
several kinds of verse then in use. The eighth chapter of this short
treatise is devoted to this purpose, detailing rules and examples, 1st,
For _lang histories_. 2dly, For _heroic acts_. 3dly, For _heich and
grave subjects_. 4thly, For _tragic matters_. 5thly, For _flyting or
invectives_. 6thly, For _Sonnet verse_. 7thly, For _Matters of love_;
and 8thly, For _Tenfoot verse_.

Under the fifth head is given as an _exemplar_ of the _Rouncefalles_,
or _Tumbling_ verse, the lines formerly quoted from the _Flyting_
of _Montgomery_ as illustrative of a superstition peculiar to
Allhallow-Eve; and under the seventh, on "love materis," is introduced
as an example of "cuttit and broken verse, quhairof new formes are
daylie inventit according to the Poetis pleasour," the following
stanza, which has been rendered familiar to an English ear by the
genius of Burns:—

    "Quha wald have tyrde to heir that tone,
     Quhilk birds corroborat ay abone,
       Through schouting of the larkis!
     They sprang sa heich into the skyes,
     Quhill Cupide walknis with the cryis
       Of Nature's chapell clerkis.
     Then leaving all the heavins above,
         He lichted on the card;
       Lo! how that lytill god of love
         Before me then appeard.
             So mylde-like
             And child-like,
         With bow thre quarters skant,
             So moilie
             And coylie
         He lukit lyke a Sant."

It is observable that James, in assigning his "twa caussis" for
composing this work, tells us that "albeit _sindrie hes written of it_
(poesie) _in English_, quhilk is lykest to our language, zit we differ
from thame in sindrie reulis of poesie, as ze will find be experience;"
but who these _sundry writers_ were, has not, with the exception of
Gascoigne's "Notes of Instruction," been hitherto discovered.[462:A]

It is barely possible that the royal critic may have included in his
"sindrie," the next work which we have to record on the subject, the
production of our immortal Spenser, and entitled "The English Poet," a
work which we lament should have been suffered to perish in manuscript.
Its existence was first intimated to the public in 1579, by E. K., in
his argument to the tenth Aeglogue of the _Shepheard's Calender_, with
a promise, which unfortunately proved faithless, of committing it to
the press. Poetry, observes this commentator, is "no art, but a divine
gift and heavenly instinct not to be gotten by labour and learning, but
adorned with both; and poured into the witte by a certaine Enthusiasmos
and celestial inspiration, as the Author hereof elsewhere at large
discourseth in his booke called _The English Poet_, which booke being
lately come to my handes, I minde also by God's grace, upon further
advisement, to publish."[463:A] That the taste and erudition of Spenser
had rendered this critical essay highly interesting, there is every
reason to conclude, and though the only positive testimony to its
composition rests on the single authority which we have quoted, it is
extremely probable, from the manner in which its acquisition by the
commentator is mentioned, that the MS. had circulated, and continued to
circulate, among the friends and admirers of the poet, for some years.

Scarcely had the British Solomon published his juvenile criticisms,
when a kindred work issued from the London press, under the title of
"A Discourse of English Poetrie, together with the Author's Judgment
touching the reformation of our English verse. By William Webbe,
Graduate. Imprinted at London by John Charlewood. 4to, 1586." Black
letter.

The chief purport of this pamphlet, now so rare that only three copies
are known to exist[463:B], is to propose, what the author terms, a
"perfect platform, or prosodia of versifying, in imitation of the
Greeks and Latins," a scheme which, though supported by Sidney, Dyer,
Spenser, and Harvey, happily miscarried. "The hexameter verse," says
Nash, with great good sense, in his controversy with Harvey, "I graunt
to be a gentleman of an auncient house, (so is many an English
beggar,) yet this clyme of ours hee cannot thrive in; our speech is too
craggy for him to set his plough in; hee goes twitching and hopping
in our language, like a man running upon quagmires, up the hill in
one syllable and downe the dale in another, retaining no part of that
stately smooth gate which he vaunts himself with amongst the Greeks and
Latins."[464:A]

Webbe's "Discourse," however, is valuable on account of the characters
which he has drawn of the English poets, from Chaucer to his own time.
He notices, also, "Gaskoynes Instructions for versifying;" and, after
declaring the Shepherd's Calender inferior neither to Theocritus nor
Virgil, he expresses an ardent wish that the other works of Spenser
might get abroad, and especially his "English Poet, which his friend
E. K. did once promise to publish." The tract concludes with the
author's assertion, that his "onely ende" in compiling it was "not as
an exquisite censure concerning the matter," but "that it might be
an occasion to have the same thoroughly, and with greater discretion
taken in hande, and laboured by some other of greater abilitie, of whom
I know there be manie among the famous poets in London, who both for
learning and leysure may handle the argument far more pythelie."[464:B]

In 1588, _Abraham Fraunce_, another encourager and writer of English
Hexameter and Pentameter verses, published in octavo, a critical
treatise, a mixture of prose and verse, under the quaint title of
"The Arcadian Rhetoricke, or the Precepts of Rhetoricke made plain by
example, Greeke, Latyne, Englishe, Italyan, and Spanishe." This rare
volume is in the library of Mr. Malone, and is valuable, observes
Warton, for its English examples.[464:C]

In the same year which produced Fraunce's work, appeared the
_Touch-Stone of Wittes_, written by _Edward Hake_, and printed at
London by Edmund Botifaunt. This little tract is employed in sketching
the features of the chief poets of the day; but differs not materially
from _Webbe's Discourse of English Poetrie_, from which, indeed, it
is principally compiled. Hake describes himself (in another of his
productions called "_A Touchstone_ for this time present,") as an
"attorney of the Common Pleas;" mentions his having been educated under
John Hopkins, whom he terms a learned and exquisite teacher, and when
criticising the _Mirrour of Magistrates_ in his _Touchstone of Wittes_,
speaks of its augmentor, John Higgins, as his particular friend.[465:A]

But by far the most valuable work which was published in the province
of criticism, during the life-time of Shakspeare, was written by
_George Puttenham_, and entitled "The Arte of English Poesie, Contrived
into three Bookes: The first of Poets and Poesie, the second of
Proportion, the third of Ornament. At London Printed by Richard Field,
dwelling in the black-Friers neere Ludgate. 1589."

This book, which seems to have been composed considerably anterior to
its publication, was printed anonymously, and has been ascribed to
Spenser and Sidney.[465:B] Bolton, whose _Hypocritica_ was written
in the reign of James I., though not printed until 1722, mentions
Puttenham, however, as the reputed author; and a reference to Bolton's
manuscript, preserved in the archives at Oxford, enabled Anthony Wood
to announce this fact to the public. "There is," says he, "a book in
being called _The Art of English Poesie_, not written by Sydney, as
some have thought, but rather by one _Puttenham_, sometime a Gentleman
Pensioner to Qu. Elizab."[465:C]

An elegant reprint of this old critic has been lately (1811) edited by
Mr. Haslewood, in which, with indefatigable industry and research, he
has collected all that could throw light on the personal and literary
history of his author. His opinion of the critical acumen of Puttenham,
though favourable, is not too highly coloured. "Puttenham," he remarks,
"was a candid but sententious critic. What his observations want in
argument, is made up for by the soundness of his judgment; and his
conclusions, notwithstanding their brevity, are just and pertinent. He
did not hastily scan his author, to indulge in an untimely sneer, and
his opinions were adopted by contemporary writers, and have not been
dissented from by the moderns."[466:A]

Of the same tenour are the sentiments of Mr. Gilchrist, who opens
his analysis of the _Arte of English Poesie_, with asserting that it
"is on many accounts one of the most curious and entertaining, and,
intrinsically, one of the most valuable books of the age of Elizabeth;"
infinitely superior, he adds, as an elementary treatise on the arts,
to the volumes of Wilson and Webbe, "as being formed on a more
comprehensive scale, and illustrated by examples; while the copious
intermixture of contemporary anecdote, tradition, manners, opinions,
and the numerous specimens of coeval poetry, no where else preserved,
contribute to form a volume of infinite amusement, curiosity, and
value."[466:B]

To various parts of this interesting treatise, we shall have occasion
frequently to refer, when discussing the subjects of miscellaneous
poetry and metropolitan manners. It is indeed a store-house of poetical
erudition.

The next work which, in the order of publication, falls under our
notice, is SIR JOHN HARRINGTON'S _Apologie of Poetry_, prefixed in 1591
to his Version of the Orlando Furioso of Ariosto. It is a production
of some merit, displaying both judgment and ingenuity; but is most
remarkable for the earliest notice of Puttenham's Arte of Poesie,
and for affording a striking proof of the obscurity in which that
critic had enveloped himself with regard to its parentage; for though
two years had elapsed since its publication, it appears that neither
the Queen, her courtiers, nor the literary world, had the slightest
idea of its origin, and Sir John speaks of the author under the
appellation of "_Ignoto_." "Neither," says he, "do I suppose it to be
greatly behoovefull for this purpose, to trouble you with the curious
definitions of a poet and poesie, and with the subtill distinctions of
their sundrie kinds; nor to dispute how high and supernatural the name
of a Maker is, so christened in English by that _unknowne Godfather_,
that this last yeare save one, viz. 1589, set forth a booke called
the Art of English Poetrie: and least of all do I purpose to bestow
any long time to argue, whether Plato, Zenophon, and Erasmus, writing
fictions and dialogues in prose, may justly be called poets, or whether
Lucan writing a story in verse be an historiographer, or whether
Master Faire translating Virgil, Master Golding translating Ovid's
Metamorphosis, and my selfe in this worke that you see, be any more
than versifiers, as the same _Ignoto_ termeth all translators."[467:A]

Poetry, soon after the birth of this Apology, had to boast of a
champion of still greater prowess, in the person of SIR PHILIP
SIDNEY, whose _Defence of Poesie_ was first made public in 1595.
It had, however, been previously circulated in manuscript for some
years; thus Sir John Harrington refers to it in his Apology 1591,
and there is reason to believe, that it was written so early as 1581
or 1582. This delightful piece of criticism exhibits the taste and
erudition of Sir Philip in a striking light; the style is remarkable
for amenity and simplicity; the laws of the Drama and Epopœa are laid
down with singular judgment and precision, and the cause of poetry
is strenuously and successfully supported against the calumny and
abuse of the puritanical scowlers, one of whom had the effrontery to
dedicate to him his collection of scurrility, in the very title-page
of which he classes poets with pipers and jesters, and terms them the
"caterpillars of the commonwealth."[468:A]

A very ingenious "_Comparative Discourse of our English Poets, with
the Greeke, Latine, and Italian Poets_," was published by FRANCIS
MERES, in 1598, under the title of _Palladis Tamia, Wit's
Treasury_.[468:B] Meres is certainly much indebted to the thirty-first
chapter of the first book of Puttenham's Arte of English Poesie; but
he has considerably extended the catalogue of poets, and it should be
added, that his comparisons are drawn with no small portion of skill
and felicity, and that his criticisms are, for the most part, just and
tersely expressed.

Another attempt was made, at the beginning of the seventeenth century,
to introduce the Roman measures into English verse, in a duodecimo
entitled, "Observations in the Art of English Poesie, by THOMAS
CAMPION, wherein it is demonstratively proved, and by example
confirmed, that the English toong will receive eight severall kinds of
numbers, proper to itselfe, which are all in this book set forth, and
were never before this time by any man attempted." London; printed by
Richard Field, for Andrew Wise. 1602.

The object of this tract, which is dedicated to Lord Buckhurst, whom
he terms, "the noblest judge of poesie," was not only to recommend the
adoption of classical metres, but to abolish, if possible, the use
of rhime. "For this end," says he in his preface, "have I studyed to
induce a true forme of versefying into our language, for the vulgar
and unartificial custome of riming hath, I know, detered many excellent
wits from the exercise of English Poesy."

In consequence of this determination, he has enforced his
"Observations" by examples on the classic model, without rhime; and
among them, at p. 12. is a specimen of what he calls _Lincentiate
Iambicks_, which is, in fact, our present blank verse.

This systematic attack upon rhime speedily called forth a consummate
master of the art in its defence; for in 1603 appeared, "A Defence of
Ryme, against a pamphlet intituled, Observations in the Art of Poesie,
wherein is demonstratively proved that ryme is the fittest harmonie of
wordes that comports with our language." By Samuel Daniel.

It need scarcely be said that the elegant and correct poet has obtained
a complete victory over his opponent, whom he censures, not so much for
attempting the introduction of new measures, as for his abuse of rhime;
he might have shown his skill, he justly and eloquently observes,
"without doing wrong to the honour of the dead, wrong to the fame of
the living, and wrong to England, in seeking to lay reproach upon her
native ornaments, and to turn the fair stream and full course of her
accents, into the shallow current of a loose uncertainty, clean out of
the way of her known delight.—Therefore here stand I forth," he adds
in a subsequent paragraph, "only to make good the place we have thus
taken up, and to defend the sacred monuments erected therein, which
contain the honour of the dead, the fame of the living, the glory of
peace, and the best power of our speech, and wherein so many honourable
spirits have sacrificed to memory their dearest passions, showing by
what divine influence they have been moved, and under what stars they
lived."[469:A]

Great modesty and good sense distinguish this pamphlet, in which the
author candidly allows that rhime has been sometimes too lavishly
used and where blank verse might have been substituted with better
effect, and he concludes his "Defence" with some excellent remarks on
affectation in the choice and collocation of words, a vice from which
he was more free than any of his contemporaries, simplicity and purity,
in fact, being the leading features of his style.

The last critic of the era to which we are limited, is EDWARD BOLTON,
whose "_Hypercritica_; Or a Rule of Judgment for writing or reading
our Historys," a small collection of tracts or essays, "occasioned,"
says Warton, "by a passage in Sir Henry Seville's Epistle prefixed to
his edition of our old Latin historians, 1596,"[470:A] was supposed by
Wood, in a note on the MS. preserved in the Ashmolean Museum, to have
been written about 1610. But that this date is too early is evident
from the work itself; for in the fourth essay, which is entitled "Prime
Gardens for gathering English: according to the true gage or standard
of the tongue about fifteen or sixteen years ago," King James's poetry
is spoken of in the following manner:—"I dare not presume to speak of
his Majesty's exercises in this heroick kind, because I see them all
left out in that which Montague lord bishop of Winchester hath given us
of his royal writings."[470:B] Now Bishop Montague's edition of James's
Works was not published until 1616.

The principal writers in prose and poetry, anterior to 1600, are
noticed in this fourth division of the _Hypercritica_, and the judgment
passed upon them is, in general, correct and satisfactory, and does
credit to the "sensible old English critic," as Warton emphatically
terms him.[470:C]

It is remarkable that the _Hypercritica_ should have been suffered to
continue in its manuscript state until 1722, at which period it was
printed by Anthony Hall at the end of Trivet's "Annalium Continuatio."
Oxford, 8vo.

Bolton, whom Ritson calls "a profound scholar and eminent
critic[470:D]," was certainly a man of considerable learning, and
occupied no small space in the public eye as an historian, philologer,
and antiquary.

To this enumeration it may be necessary to add some notice of that
industrious race of critics, termed _Commentators_; a species which,
for the last half century, has been employed as laboriously on old
English, as formerly were the German Literati on ancient classical,
literature. Of this mode of illustration, which has lately thrown so
much light on the manners and learning of our poet's age, two early and
very ingenious specimens may be mentioned under the reign of Elizabeth
and James. The first is the Commentary of E. K. on the Shepheards
Calender of Spenser, in 1579; and the second, the learned Notes of
Selden on the first eighteen Songs of the Polyolbion of Drayton,
1612; both productions of great merit, but especially the last, which
exhibits a large portion of acumen and research, united to an equal
share of discrimination and judgment.

Such are the chief critics on English literature who flourished during
the life-time of Shakspeare. That some of them contributed very
materially towards the improvement of polite literature, and especially
of poetry, by stimulating the genius and guiding the taste of their
contemporaries, must be readily granted, and more particularly may
these benefits be attributed to the labours of _Webbe_, _Puttenham_,
_Sidney_, and _Meres_. How far the manuscripts of _Spenser_ and
_Bolton_, at the commencement and termination of our critical era,
assisted to enlighten the public mind, cannot now be ascertained; but
as the circulation of works in this state is generally very confined,
we cannot suppose, even admitting the industry and admiration of their
favoured readers to have been strongly excited, that their effect could
have been either widely or permanently felt.

It would be a subject of still greater curiosity, could we determine,
with any approach towards precision, in what degree Shakspeare was
indebted, for his progress in English literature, to the authors whom
we have just enumerated, under the kindred branches of _philology_ and
_criticism_.

Of his assiduity as a reader of English books, whether original or
translated, his works afford the most positive and abundant proofs;
and that he was peculiarly attentive to the philology of his native
language is to be learnt from the same source. We have already
noticed his satirical allusion to Florio and Lilly in the character
of Holofernes, and a similar stroke on the innovating pedantry of
the times, will be found in his _Much Ado about Nothing_, which was
probably directed against another equally bold attempt to alter the
whole system of orthography. The experiment was made by Bullokar, of
whose Brief Grammar a slight mention has been given, in a book entitled
an _Amendment of Orthographie_ for _English Speech_, 1580; in which
the author proposes not only an entire change in the established mode
of spelling, but a total revolution also in the practice of printing.
To level a sarcasm at the head of this daring innovator may have been
the aim of the poet, where he represents Benedict complaining of
Claudio, that "_he was wont to speak plain, and to the purpose, like an
honest man, and a soldier; and now he is turned ORTHOGRAPHER; his words
are a very fantastical banquet, just so many strange dishes_."[472:A]

In a former part of this work we have mentioned some of the books to
which our great poet must have had recourse in the progress even of
his limited education in the country; and on his settlement in London,
we cannot, with any probability, conceive, that a mind so active,
comprehensive, and acute, would sit down content with its juvenile
acquisitions, and hesitate to inspect those treatises on philology and
criticism which had acquired the popular approbation, and were adapted
to the years of manhood. Not only, indeed, did he peruse with avidity
the _Arte of Rhetoricke_ of Wilson, and the _Scolemaster_ of Ascham,
but we are convinced, from a thorough study of his writings, that so
extensive was his range of reading, that not a translation from the
_Greek_, the _Latin_, the _Italian_, _Spanish_, or _French_ appeared,
but what was soon afterwards to be found in the hands of Shakspeare.
His dramas, in fact, even without the aid of his indefatigable
commentators, assure us, in almost every page, that, if not erudite
from the possession of many languages, he was truly and substantially
learned in every other sense; in the vast accumulation of materials
drawn through the medium of translation, from the most distant and
varied sources.

That he had not only read, but availed himself professionally of
Wilson's Rhetoric, will be evident, we think, from a passage quoted
by Mr. Chalmers, from this critic, in support of a similar opinion.
Wilson has mentioned Timon of Athens in such a manner as _might_ lead
Shakspeare to select this misanthrope for dramatic exhibition; but the
very character and language of _Dogberry_ seem to be anticipated in
the following sketch:—"Another good fellow of the countrey, being an
officer and mayor of a toune, and desirous to speak like a fine learned
man, having just occasion to rebuke a runnegate fellowe, said after
this wise, in a greate heate:—Thou _yngraine_ and _vacation_ knave,
if I take thee any more within the _circumcision_ of my _dampnation_;
I will so _corrupt_ thee, that all other _vacation_ knaves shall take
_ilsample_ by thee."[473:A]

We cannot, however, coalesce with Mr. Chalmers, in considering the
character of Holofernes as founded on the Scholemaster of Ascham, and
that in drawing the colloquial excellence ascribed to the pedagogue
by Sir Nathaniel, the poet had in his _minds-eye_ the conversation at
Lord Burleigh's table, so strikingly recorded by Ascham in his preface.
We have not the smallest doubt but that our author had read, and with
much pleasure and profit, the invaluable treatise of that accomplished
scholar; but the general folly and pedantry of Holofernes are such,
notwithstanding the eulogium of his clerical companion, as to preclude
all idea that the character could have been sketched from such a
model;—it is, in fact, a broad caricature of some well known pedant
of the day, and we must agree with the commentators in fixing upon
_Florio_ as the most probable prototype.

It will readily be granted, that, if Shakspeare were the assiduous
reader which we have supposed him to be, and no judge, indeed, of his
works can doubt it, he must have perused with peculiar interest the
critical treatises on poets and poetry which were published during
his march to fame. It will be considered, therefore, scarcely as
an assumption to conclude, that the works of _Webbe_, _Puttenham_,
_Sidney_, and _Meres_ were familiar to his mind; and though he must
have written with too much haste, and with too much attention to
the gratifications of the _million_, to carry their precepts, and
especially the strictures of Sidney, into perfect execution, yet it is
very reasonable to conceive that even his early works may have been
rendered less imperfect by the perusal of Webbe and Puttenham; and
that, as he advanced in his professional career, the improved mechanism
of his dramas, and his greater attention to the unities, may have been
in some degree derived from the keen invectives of Sir Philip.

That Shakspeare, in return, contributed, more than any other poet, to
enrich and modulate his native language, is now freely admitted; but
that he was held in similar estimation by his contemporaries, and even
at an early period of his poetical progress, may be inferred from what
_Markham_ has said of the "poets of his age" in 1595, when Shakspeare
had published some of his poems, and had produced his "Romeo," and from
what _Meres_, in 1598, more specifically applies to our author; the
former observing, in the Dedication of his _Gentleman's Academie_, with
reference to the Booke of St. Albans, originally published in 1486,
that "our tong being not of such puritie then, _as at this day the
Poets of our age have raised it to: of whom, and in whose behalf I wil
say thus much, that our Nation may only thinke herselfe beholding for
the glory and exact compendiousnes of our longuage_;" and the latter
expressly terming our poet, from the superiority of his diction and
versification, "_mellifluous and hony-tongued Shakspeare_."[475:A]

Reverting to the subject of National Literature, we proceed to notice
the progress which HISTORY, GENERAL, LOCAL AND PERSONAL, may be deemed
to have made, during the era to which we are limited.

History appears in every country to have been late in acquiring its
best and most legitimate form, and to have been usually preceded by
annals or chronicles, which, aspiring to no unity in arrangement,
and void of all political or philosophical deduction, were confined
to a bare chronological detail of facts. Such was the state of this
important branch of literature on the accession of Elizabeth; numerous
chroniclers had flourished from Robert of Gloucester to Fabian and
Hall, but with little to recommend them, except the minuteness of their
register, and the occasional illustration of manners and customs; and
more distinguishable for credulity and prolixity than for any other
characteristics.

The chronicle of _Holinshed_, however, which appeared in 1577, and a
second edition in 1587, merits a higher title. It is more full and
complete than any of its predecessors, and less loaded with trifling
matter. We are much indebted to Reginald Wolfe, the Queen's printer,
for stimulating the historian to the undertaking, who was assisted, in
his laborious task, by several able coadjutors, and particularly by the
Rev. _William Harrison_, whose _Description of England_, prefixed to
the first volume, is the most interesting and valuable document, as a
picture of the country, and of the costume, and mode of living of its
inhabitants, which the sixteenth century has produced.

The example of Holinshed was followed, towards the close of our period,
by _Stowe_ and _Speed_, writers more succinct in their narrative, more
correct in their style, and more philosophical in their matter. The
"History of Great Britain" by Speed, the second edition of which was
printed under the author's care in 1620, is, in every respect, a work
of very great merit, whether we consider its authorities, or the mode
in which it is written. It is in fact a production which may be read
with great pleasure and profit at the present day, and makes a nearer
approach, than any former chronicle, to the tone of legitimate history.

In the mean time, the more classical form of this branch of literature
was making a rapid progress. Numerous attempts were published,
partaking of a mixed character, neither assuming the dignity of
history, nor descending to the minuteness of the chronicle; Newton's
History of the Saracens[476:A] and Fulbeck's Account of the Roman
Factions, previous to the reign of Augustus[476:B], may be mentioned as
specimens; but the great historians of this period, who condescended
to use their native tongue, were Raleigh, Hayward, Knolles, Bacon,
and Daniel, writers who in this province still hold no inferior rank
among the classics of their country. The "History of the World," by
Sir Walter, exhibits great strength of style, and much solidity of
judgment; Hayward's Lives of the three Norman Kings, and of Henry the
IV. and Edward the VI., contain many curious facts to which sufficient
attention has not yet been paid; his diction is neat and smooth, but
he adopts too profusely the classical costume of framing speeches for
his principal characters. Knolles's "General History of the Turks" is
an elaborate and useful work, and its language is clear, nervous, and
often powerfully descriptive. Bacon's Henry the VIIth betrays too much
of the apologist for arbitrary power, but it is otherwise of great
value; it is written from original, and now lost, materials, with
vigour and philosophical acuteness. But these historians are excelled,
in purity of style and perspicuity of narration, by Daniel, whose
"History of England," closing with the reign of Edward the Third, is
a production which reflects great credit on the age in which it was
written.

We must not omit to mention, however, two historians, who, by rejecting
their vernacular language, and adopting that of ancient Rome, acquired
for a time a more extended celebrity in this department. Buchanan
and Camden are, or should be, familiar to all lovers of history and
topography. The "Rerum Scoticarum Historia" of the first of these
historians, and the "Annales Rerum Anglicanarum et Hibernicarum" of
the second, are productions in deserved estimation; the former for the
classical purity and taste exhibited in its composition, the latter for
its accuracy and impartiality.

Of that highly interesting and useful branch of History which is
included under the title of Voyages and Travels, the era of which we
are treating affords a most abundant harvest. The two great collectors,
_Hakluyt_ and _Purchas_, appear within its range, compilers, whose
industry and research need fear no rivalry. Hakluyt's first collection
was published in a small volume in 1582; was increased to a folio
in 1589, and to three volumes of the same size in 1598, containing
upwards of two hundred voyages. The still more ample work of Purchas
was commenced in 1613, by the publication of the first volume folio,
with the title of "Purchas, his Pilgrimage, or Relations of the World,
and the Religions observed in all Ages and Places discovered, from the
Creation unto this present; in four parts." This elaborate undertaking
was greatly augmented in subsequent editions, of which the fourth and
best was published in 1626, in five volumes folio, the last four being
entitled "_Hakluytus Posthumous_, or Purchas, his Pilgrims; containing
a history of the world, in sea-voyages, and land-travels, by Englishmen
and others." Purchas professes to include, in this immense compilation,
the substance of _above twelve hundred authors_; it contains also the
maps of Mercator and Hondius, and numerous engravings.

These vast and valuable collections are an honour to the reigns of
Elizabeth and James; and, notwithstanding the industry and research of
the moderns, have not yet been superseded.

To the gigantic labours of these writers, which include almost every
previous book on the subject of voyage or travel, may be added the
publications of two or three contemporaries of singular or useful
notoriety. In 1611, _Thomas Coryate_ printed the most remarkable of his
eccentric productions, under the quaint title of "Crudities hastily
gobbled up in five Months Travels, in France, Savoy, Italy, Rhetia,
Helvetia, some Parts of High Germany, and the Netherlands." Lond. large
4to. Coryate was a man of consummate vanity, of some learning, but of
no judgment. Inflamed with an inextinguishable desire of travelling,
he walked over a great part of Europe and Asia, terminating his life,
"in the midst of his Indian travail," about the year 1617. Nothing
can be more ridiculous than the style, and often the matter of his
book, which is preceded by nearly sixty copies of what Fuller calls
_mock-commending verses_. "Prince _Henry_," says the same writer,
"allowed him a pension, and kept him for his servant. _Sweet-meats_
and _Coriat_ made up the _last course_ at all _Court-entertainments_.
Indeed he was the courtier's _anvil_ to trie their witts upon, and
sometimes this _anvil_ returned the _hammers_ as hard knocks as it
received, his bluntnesse repaying their abusivenesse."[478:A]

A still greater pedestrian than even Coryate lived, at this time, in
the person of _William Lithgow_, who published his "Travels" in 1614.
His peregrinations were extended through Europe, Asia, and Africa, and
he declares, at the close of his book, that in his three voyages "his
painful feet have traced over (besides passages of seas and rivers)
thirty-six thousand and odd miles, which draweth near to twice the
circumference of the whole earth." His sufferings through the tyranny
of the Spanish governor of Malaga, who had tortured, robbed, and
imprisoned him, excited so much pity and indignation, that, on his
arrival in England, he was conveyed to Theobalds on a feather-bed,
being unable to stand, that King James might be an eye-witness of his
"martyred anatomy," as he terms the miserable condition to which his
body had been reduced. Lithgow's "Travels" are entertaining, and not
ill written, but they abound in the marvellous, and too often excite
the smile of incredulity.

The "Itinerary, or Ten Yeares Travell through Germany, Italy, England,"
&c. a folio volume by _Fines Moryson_, is a production of a far
different cast. Moryson is a sober-minded and veracious traveller,
and that part of his book which relates to the manners and customs of
England and Scotland is peculiarly useful and interesting. He was a
native of Lincolnshire, and fellow of Peter-house, Cambridge. "He began
his Travels," relates Fuller, "May the first, 1591, over a great part
of Christendome, and no small share of Turky, even to Jerusalem, and
afterwards printed his observations in a _large book_, which, for the
truth thereof, is in good reputation, for of so great a traveller, he
had nothing of a traveller in him, as to stretch in his reports. At
last he was _Secretary_ to _Charles Blunt_, Deputy of Ireland, saw and
wrote the conflicts with, and conquest of _Tyrone_, a discourse which
deserveth credit, because the writer's _eye_ guides his _pen_, and
the privacy of his place acquainted him with many secret passages of
importance. He dyed about the year of our Lord 1614."[479:A]

In that department of history which may be termed _local_, including
topography and antiquities, the latter half of the sixteenth century
had many cultivators. "Persons of greatest eminence in this sort of
learning under queen Elizabeth," remarks Nicolson, "were Humphrey
Lhuyd, John Twyne, William Harrison, and William Camden."[479:B]
Lluyd possessed unrivalled celebrity in his day, for Camden calls him
"a learned Briton, who, for knowledge in antiquities, was reputed
to carry, after a sort, with him, all the credit and honour." He
wrote a variety of tracts, among which is a fragment of a Commentary
on Britain; a Description of the Island of Mona; a Description of
the Coasts of Scotland; a Chorography of England and Wales; and a
Translation of Caradoc's History of Wales, subsequently published by
Powel, and again by Wynn. Lluyd practised physic at Denbigh in Wales,
and died there about the year 1570. His friend _John Twyne_, the
translator of his Commentarioli Britannicæ, under the title of The
Breviary of Britain, Lond. 1573, has been extolled also both by Lee
and Nicolson for his knowledge of the history and antiquities of his
country. He died in 1581, leaving behind him two books of Commentaries
on British History[480:A], which reached the press in 1590, and various
Collectanea relative to the antiquities of Britain.

We must here add to Bishop Nicolson's enumeration the name of _William
Lambarde_, the learned author of _Archaionomia, sive de priscis
Anglorum Legibus_, and of the _Perambulation of Kent_. This last
production, which was printed in 1570, is the prolific parent of our
county histories, works which have in our days very rapidly increased,
and which exhibit the estimation in which they are held, by the high
price annexed to their publication.

Of _Harrison_'s "Historical Description of the Island of Britain" we
have already taken due notice, and it would be superfluous, in this
place, to do more than mention the _Britannia_ of _Camden_. Proceeding
therefore to the reign of James, we have to increase the catalogue with
the names of _Stowe_, _Norden_, _Carew_, and _Burton_. The _Survey of
London_ by _Stowe_, is one of the most early, valuable, and interesting
of our topographical pieces; and on it has been founded the subsequent
descriptions of Hatton, Seymour, Maitland, Noorthouck, Pennant, and
Malcolm. _John Norden_ is well known to the lovers of topography by
his _Speculum Britanniæ_, which was meant to include the chorography
of England, but unfortunately extends no farther than the counties of
Middlesex and Hertfordshire. Norden was the projector of those useful
works familiarly termed _Guides_, having written a "Guide for English
Travellers," and a "Surveyor's Guide," both works of singular merit. He
died about the year 1625. _Richard Carew_, the author of the "Survey of
Cornwall," first printed in 1602, and termed, by Fuller, "the pleasant
and faithfull description of Cornwall," was educated at Christ-Church,
Oxford, where, at the early age of fourteen, though of three years'
standing in the University, "he was called out to dispute _extempore_,
before the Earls of _Leicester_ and _Warwick_, with the matchless Sir
_Philip Sidney_."[481:A] The Cornwall of Carew, though now superseded
by the more elaborate history of Dr. Borlase, is a compilation of great
merit, and makes a nearer approach than Lambarde's Kent to a perfect
model for county topography. Carew died in 1620.

_William Burton_, the last writer whom we shall mention under this
head, though contemporary with Shakspeare for more than forty years,
was not an author until six years after the poet's death, when he
published his "Description of Leicestershire," folio; a book which,
independent of its own utility, had the merit of stimulating Sir
William Dugdale to the composition of his admirable "History of
Warwickshire." Burton's work was justly considered as carrying forward,
on an improved scale, the plan of Lambarde and Carew; it is now,
however, thrown into the shade by the most copious, and, in every
respect, the most complete county history which this kingdom has
hitherto produced, the "Leicestershire" of Mr. Nichols. Burton was
the friend of Drayton, and brother to the author of the Anatomy of
Melancholy.

The third branch of History, the _personal_ or biographical, cannot
boast of any very celebrated cultivator during the period to which we
are confined. Many ephemeral sketches, it is true, were given of the
naval and military commanders of the day, at a time when enterprise
and adventure enjoyed the marked protection of government; but no
classical production in biography, properly so called, no enduring
specimen of personal history seems to have issued from the press; at
least we recollect no example, worth notice, in a separate form, and of
the general compilers in this province, we are reduced to mention the
names of _Fox_ and _Pits_. The "Acts and Monuments of the Church," by
the first of these writers, commonly called "Fox's Book of Martyrs," is
a mixed composition; but as consisting principally of personal detail
and anecdote, more peculiarly belonging to the department of biography.
The first edition of the "Martyrology" was published in London in 1563,
in one thick volume folio, and the fourth in 1583, four years before
the death of the author, in two volumes folio. This popular work, which
was augmented to three volumes folio in 1632, has undergone numerous
editions, and perhaps no book in our language has been more universally
read. "It may regarded," remarks Granger, "as a vast Gothic building:
in which some things are superfluous, some irregular, and others
manifestly wrong: but which, altogether, infuse a kind of religious
reverence; and we stand amazed at the labour, if not at the skill, of
the architect. This book was, by order of Queen Elizabeth, placed in
the common halls of archbishops, bishops, deans, archdeacons, and heads
of colleges; and was long looked upon with a veneration next to the
Scriptures themselves."[482:A]

John Pits, who died in 1616, was a writer, in not inelegant Latin, of
the lives of the Roman Catholic authors of England. His work, which was
published after his death, at Paris, in 1619, 4to. is usually known and
quoted by the title of _De illustribus Angliæ scriptoribus_. He is a
bold plagiarist from Bale, partial from religious bigotry, and often
inaccurate with regard to facts and dates.

To this summary of historical literature it will be necessary to add
a few remarks on the translations which were made, during the era
in question, from the Greek and Roman historians, as these would
necessarily have much influence on the public taste, and would throw
open to Shakspeare, and to those of his contemporaries who could not
readily appeal to the originals, many sources of imagery and fable. It
appears then, that from the year 1550 to the year 1616, all the great
historians of Greece and Rome, had been either wholly or in part,
familiarized in our language. That the Grecian classics were translated
with any large portion of fidelity and spirit, will not easily be
admitted, when we find their sense frequently taken from Latin or
French versions; but they still served to stimulate curiosity, and to
excite emulation. The two first books of _Herodotus_, 4to. appeared
in 1584; _Thucydides_ from the French of Claude de Seyssel, by Thomas
Nicolls, folio, in 1550; a great part of _Polybius_, by Christopher
Watson, 8vo. in 1568; _Diodorus Siculus_, by Thomas Stocker, 4to. in
1569; _Appian_, 4to. in 1578; _Josephus_, by Thomas Lodge, folio, in
1602; _Ælian_, by Abraham Fleming, 4to. in 1576; _Herodian_, from the
Latin version of Politianus, by Nycholas Smyth, 4to. in 1591; and
_Plutarch's Lives_, from the French of Amyot, by Sir Thomas North,
folio, in 1579.

The Roman writers were more generally naturalized, without the aid of
an intermediate version. _Livy_ and _Florus_ were given to the world
by Philemon Holland, folio, in 1600; _Tacitus_, by Sir Henry Saville
and Richard Grenaway, 4to. and folio, in 1591 and 1598; _Sallust_, by
Thomas Paynell, 4to., and by Thomas Heywood, folio, in 1557 and 1608;
_Suetonius_, by Philemon Holland, folio, 1606; _Cæsar_, by Arthur
Golding, 4to., 1565, and by Clement Edmundes, folio, 1600; _Justin_, by
Arthur Golding, 4to., 1564, and by Holland, 1606; _Quintus Curtius_, by
John Brande, 8vo., 1561; _Eutropius_, by Nic. Haward, 8vo., 1564, and
_Marcellinus_, by P. Holland, folio, 1609.

Such are the chief authors, original and translated, which, in the
province of History, general, local, and personal, added liberally to
the mass of information and utility which was rapidly accumulating
throughout the Shakspearean era.

That our great poet amply availed himself of these stores, more
particularly in those dramas which are founded on domestic and foreign
history, every attentive reader of his works must have adequate proof.
Several, indeed, of the writers that we have enumerated, though
exclusively belonging to our period, and throwing much light on the
manners, customs, and literature of their age, came rather too late
for the poet's purpose; but of those who published sufficiently early,
he has made the best use. Traces of his footsteps may be discerned in
many of the authors that we have mentioned, but his greatest inroads
seem to have been made through the compilations of _Holinshed_ and
_Hakluyt_, and through the version of _Plutarch_ by _North_. All that
was necessary in the _minutiæ_ of fact, was derivable from the labours
of the faithful _Holinshed_; much illustration was to be acquired from
the manners-painting pen of _Harrison_; a knowledge of the globe and
its marvels, was attainable in the narratives of _Hakluyt_; and the
character and costume of Greece and Rome were vividly delineated in the
delightful, though translated, pages of _Plutarch_. From these sources,
and from a few which existed previous to the commencement of the poet's
age, such as the _Froissart_ of _Lord Berners_, and the _Chronicle_ of
_Hall_, were drawn and coloured those exquisite pictures of manners,
history, and individual character, which fix and enrapture attention
throughout the dramatic annals of Shakspeare. Indeed, from whatever
mine the poet procured his ore, he uniformly purified it into metal
of the finest lustre, and it may truly be added, that on the study of
the "Histories" of Shakspeare, a more intimate acquaintance with human
nature may be founded, than on any other basis.

Whilst on the subject of _History_, we must deviate in a slight degree
from our plan, which excludes the detail of science, to notice two
works in _Natural History_, from which our bard has derived various
touches of imagery and description; I mean the Roman and the Gothic
Pliny, rendered familiar to our author by the labours of Holland,
and Batman; the former having published his Translation of Pliny's
immense collection in 1601, folio, and the latter his Commentary upon
Bartholome, under the title of "Batman uppon Bartholome his booke De
proprietatibus rerum," in 1582, folio. "Shakspeare," says Mr. Douce,
speaking of Batman's Bartholome, "was extremely well acquainted with
this work;" an assertion which he has sufficiently established in the
course of his "Illustrations."[485:A] Few, indeed, were the popular
books of his day, to which our author had not access, and from which he
has not derived some slight fact or hint conducive to his purpose.

We now approach the last branch of our present subject, _Miscellaneous
Literature_; a topic which, were we not restricted by various other
demands, might occupy a volume; for in no era of our annals have
miscellaneous writers been more abundant than during the reign of
Elizabeth.

A set of men at this time infested the town, in a high degree
dissipated in their manners, licentious in their morals, and vindictive
in their resentments, yet possessing a large share of native and
acquired talent. These adventurers, who hung loose upon society,
appear to have seized upon the press for the purpose of indulging an
unbounded love of ridicule and raillery, sometimes excited by the mere
spirit of badinage and frolic, more frequently stimulated by malignity
and revenge, and often goaded to the task by the pressure of deserved
poverty. The fertility of these writers is astonishing; the public was
absolutely deluged with their productions, which proved incidentally
useful, however, in their day, by the exposure of folly, and are
valuable, at this time, for the illustrations which they have thrown
upon the most evanescent portion of our manners and customs.

Another description of miscellaneous authors, consisted of those who,
attached to the discipline of the puritans, employed their pens in
inveighing with great bitterness against the dress and amusements of
the less rigid part of the community; and a third, equally distant from
the levity of the first, and the severity of the second, class, was
occupied in calmly discussing the various topics which morals, taste,
and literature supplied.

As examples of the first species, no age can produce more extraordinary
characters than _Nash_, _Decker_, and _Greene_; men intimately
acquainted with all the crimes, follies, and debaucheries of a
town-life, indefatigable as writers, and possessing the advantages
of learning and genius. _Thomas Nash_, whose character as a satirist
and critic, we have already given in a quotation from Dr. Lodge, died
about the year 1600, after a life spent in controversy and dissipation.
He had humour, wit, and learning, but debased by a plentiful portion
of scurrility and buffoonery; he was born at Leostoffe in Suffolk,
educated at Cambridge, where he resided as a Member of St. John's
College, nearly seven years, and obtained great celebrity, as the
confuter and silencer of the puritanical _Mar-prelates_, a service that
merited the reputation which it procured him. He was the boon companion
of _Robert Greene_, whose vices he shared, and with whom he acted as
the unrelenting scourge of the Harveys.

This terror of his opponents, this Aretine of England, though most
remarkable for his numerous prose pamphlets, was also a dramatic
poet. His productions, as enumerated by Mr. Beloe, amount to five and
twenty.[486:A]

_Thomas Decker_, an author still more prolific, began his career as a
dramatic poet about the year 1597, and as a prose writer in 1603. His
plays, now lost, preserved, or written in conjunction with others,
amount to twenty-eight; but it is in his capacity as a miscellanist
that we have here to notice him.

His tracts, of which thirty have been attributed to him, and near
five and twenty may be considered as genuine, clearly prove him to
have been an acute observer of the fleeting fashions of his age,
and a participator in all its follies and vices. His "Gul's Horne
Booke, or Fashions to please all sorts of Guls," first printed in
1609, exhibits a very curious, minute, and interesting picture of the
manners and habits of the middle class of society, and on this account
will be hereafter frequently referred to in these pages.[487:A] That
experience had tutored him in the knaveries of the metropolis, the
titles of the following pamphlets will sufficiently evince. "THE BELMAN
OF LONDON, bringing to Light the most notorious Villanies that are now
practised in the Kingdome," 1608; one of the earliest books professing
to disclose the slang of thieves and vagabonds; and remarks Warton,
from a contemporary writer, the most witty, elegant, and eloquent
display of the vices of London then extant.[487:B] "LANTHERN AND CANDLE
LIGHT: Or, The Bell-Man's Second Night's Walke. In which he brings
to light a Brood of more strange Villanies than ever were till this
Yeare discovered" 4to. 1612. "Villanies discovered by Lanthorn and
Candle Light, and the Helpe of a new Crier called O-per-se-O. Being an
Addition to the Belman's second Night's Walke, with canting Songs never
before printed." 4to. 1616. It will occasion no surprise, therefore,
if we find this describer of the arts and language of thieving himself
in a jail; he was, in fact, confined in the King's Bench prison from
1613 to 1616, if not longer. The most remarkable transaction of his
life appears to have been his quarrel with Ben Jonson, who, no doubt
sufficiently provoked, satirizes him in his _Poetaster_, 1601, under
the character of _Crispinus_; a compliment which Decker amply repaid
in his "Satiromastix, or the Untrussing of the humorous Poet," 1602,
where he lashes Ben without mercy, under the designation of Horace
Junior. Jonson replied in an address to the Reader, introduced in the
4to. edition of his play, in place of the epilogue, and points to
Decker, under the appellation of the _Untrusser_. Decker was an old
man in 1631, for in his _Match me in London_, published in that year,
he says: "I have been a priest in Apollo's Temple many years, my voice
is decaying with my age;" he probably died in 1639, the previous year
being the date of his latest production.

Of _Robert Greene_, the author of near fifty productions[488:A], the
history is so highly monitory and interesting as to demand more than
a cursory notice. It affords, indeed, one of the most melancholy
proofs of learning, taste, and genius being totally inadequate,
without a due control over the passions, to produce either happiness
or respectability. This misguided man was born at Norwich, about the
middle of the sixteenth century, of parents in genteel life and much
esteemed. He was sent to St. John's College, Cambridge, from whence, at
an early period of his education, he was, unfortunately for his future
peace of mind, induced to absent himself, on a tour through Italy and
Spain. His companions were wild and dissolute, and, according to his
own confession[488:B], he ran headlong with them into every species of
dissipation and vice.

On his return to England, he took his degree of Batchelor of Arts
at St. John's, in 1578, and afterwards, removing to Clare-hall, his
Master of Arts degree in that college, 1583. We learn, from one of his
numerous tracts, that, immediately after this event, he visited the
metropolis, where he led a life of unrestrained debauchery. Greene
was one of those men who are perpetually sinning and perpetually
repenting; he had a large share of wit, humour, fancy, generosity,
and good-nature, but was totally deficient in that strength of mind
which is necessary to resist temptation; he was conscious, too, of his
great abilities, but at the same time deeply conscious of the waste of
talent which had been committed to his care. When we find, therefore,
that he was intended for the church, and that he was actually
presented to the vicarage of Tollesbury, in Essex, on the 19th of
June, 1584[489:A], we may easily conceive how a man of his temperament
and habits would feel and act; he resigned it, in fact, the following
year, no doubt shocked at the disparity between his profession and
his conduct; for we find, from his own relation, that a few years
previous to this incident, he had felt extreme compunction on hearing
a sermon "preached by a godly learned man," in St. Andrew's Church,
Norwich.[489:B]

It was shortly after this period that he married; and, if any thing
could have saved Greene from himself, this was the expedient; for the
lady he had chosen was beautiful in her person, amiable and moral in
her character, and we know, from the works of this unhappy man, that
_his_ heart _had_ been the seat of the milder virtues, and that he
possessed a strong relish for domestic life.

The result of the experiment must lacerate the feelings of all who hear
it; for it exhibits, in a manner never surpassed, the best emotions
of our nature withering before the touch of Dissipation. The picture
is taken from a pamphlet of our author's, entitled "Never Too Late,"
printed in 1590, where his career is admirably and confessedly shadowed
forth under the character of the _Palmer Francesco_. It would appear
from this striking narrative, if the minutiæ, as well as the outline
of it, are applicable to Greene, that he married his wife contrary
to the wishes of her father; their pecuniary distress was great, but
prudence and affection enabled them to realize the following scene of
domestic felicity:—"Hee and Isabel joyntly together taking themselves
to a little cottage, began to be as Ciceronicall as they were amorous;
with their hands thrift coveting to satisfy their hearts thirst, and
to be as diligent in labours, as they were affectionate in loves; so
that the parish wherein they lived, so affected them for the course of
their life, that they were counted the very mirrors of methode; for
he being a scholer, and nurst up in the universities, resolved rather
to live by his wit, than any way to be pinched with want, thinking
this old sentence to be true, _the wishers and woulders were never
good householders_; therefore he applied himselfe in teaching of a
schoole, where by his industry, hee had not onely great favour, but
gate wealthe to withstand fortune. Isabel, that shee might seeme no
lesse profitable, then her husband carefull, fell to her needle, and
with her worke sought to prevent the injurie of necessitie. Thus they
laboured to maintain their loves, being as busie as bees, and as true
as turtles, as desirous to satisfie the world with their desert, as
to feede the humours of their own desires. Living thus in a league of
united virtues, out of this mutuall concord of conformed perfection,
they had a sonne answerable to their owne proportion, which did
increase their amitie, so as the sight of their young infant was a
double ratifying of their affection. Fortune and love thus joyning in
league, to make these parties to forget the stormes, that had nipped
the blossom of their former yeres."[490:A]

The poetry of Greene abounds still more than his prose with the most
exquisite delineations of rural peace and content, and the following
lines feelingly paint this short and only happy period of his life:—

    "Sweet are the thoughts that savour of content,
       The quiet minde is richer than a crowne:
     Sweete are the nights in carelesse slumber spent,
       The poor estate scornes Fortune's angry frowne:
     Such sweete content, such mindes, such sleepe, such blis,
     Beggers injoy, when princes oft doe mis.

     The homely house that harbours quiet rest,
       The cottage that affoords no pride nor care,
     The meane that grees with country musicke best,
       The sweete consort of mirth and musick's fare,
     Obscured life sets downe a type of blis,
     A minde content both crowne and kingdome is."[491:A]

Deeply is it to be lamented, and with a sense, too, of humiliation for
the frailty of human nature, that, with such inducements to a moral
and rational life, with sufficient to support existence comfortably,
for he had some property of his own, and his wife's dowry had been
paid[491:B], and with a child whom he loved, and with a wife whom
he confesses was endowed with all that could endear and dignify her
sex, he could suffer his passions so far to subdue his reason, as to
throw these essentials towards happiness away! In the year 1586 he
abandoned this amiable woman and her son, to revel in all the vicious
indulgences of the metropolis. The causes of this iniquitous desertion
may be traced in his works; from these we learn that, in the first
place, she had endeavoured, and perhaps too importunately for such
an irritable character, to reform his evil propensities[491:C], and
secondly that on a visit to London on business, he had been fascinated
by the allurements of a courtesan[491:D], and on this woman, whose name
was Ball, and on her infamous relations, for her brother was afterwards
hanged[491:E], he squandered both his own property and that of his wife.

It is almost without a parallel that during the remainder of Greene's
life, including only six years, he was continually groaning with
anguish and repentance, and continually plunging into fresh guilt; that
in his various tracts he was confessing his sins with the deepest
contrition, passionately apostrophizing his injured wife, imploring her
forgiveness in the most pathetic terms, and describing, in language the
most touching and impressive, the virtue of her whom he had so basely
abandoned.

He tells us, under the beautifully drawn character of Isabel, by
whom he represents his wife, that upon her being told, by one of his
friends, of his intended residence in London, and by another, of the
attachment which had fixed him there, she would not at first credit the
tale; but, when convinced, she hid her face, and inwardly smothered
her sorrows, yet grieving at his follies, though unwilling to hear him
censured by others, and at length endeavouring to solace her affliction
by repeating to her cittern some applicable verses from the Italian of
Ariosto. He then adds, that she subsequently hinted her knowledge of
the amour to him in a letter, saying "the onely comfort that I have in
thine absence is the child, who lies on his mother's knee, and smiles
as wantonly as his father when he was a wooer. But, when the boy sayes,
'Mam where is my dad, when wil he come home;' then the calm of my
content turneth to a present storm of piercing sorrow, that I am forced
sometime to say, 'unkinde Francesco that forgets his Isabell. I hope
Francesco it is thine affaires, not my faults, that procure this long
delay."[492:A]

The following pathetic song seems to have been suggested to Greene
by the scene just described, and is a further proof of the singular
disparity subsisting between his conduct and his feelings:—


"BY A MOTHER TO HER INFANT.

    WEEPE not, my Wanton, smile upon my knee,
    When thou art old theres griefe enough for thee.
       Mothers wagge, prettie boy,
       Fathers sorrow, fathers joy;
       When thy father first did see
       Such a boy by him and me,
       He was glad, I was woe,
       Fortune changd made him so,
       When he had left his prettie boy,
       Last his sorrow, first his joy.

    Weepe not, my Wanton, smile upon my knee,
    When thou art old theres griefe enough for thee.
       Streaming teares that never stint,
       Like pearle drops from a flint,
       Fell by course from his eies,
       That one anothers place supplies.
       Thus he grieved in every part,
       Teares of bloud fell from his heart,
       When he left his prettie boy,
       Fathers sorrow, fathers joy.

    Weep not, my Wanton, smile upon my knee,
    When thou art old theres griefe enough for thee.
       The wanton smilde, father wept,
       Mother cried, babie lept;
       Now he crow'd more he cride,
       Nature could not sorrow hide;
       He must goe, he must kisse
       Childe and mother, babie blisse,
       For he left his prettie boy,
       Fathers sorrow, fathers joy.
    Weep not, my Wanton, smile upon my knee,
    When thou art old theres griefe enough for thee."[493:A]

In the mean time he pursued his career of debauchery in Town, whilst
his forsaken wife retired into Lincolnshire. In July 1588, he was
incorporated at Oxford, at which time, says Wood, he was "a pastoral
sonnet maker, and author of several things which were pleasing to men
and women of his time: they made much sport, and were valued among
scholars."[493:B] In short, such had been the extravagance of Greene,
that he was now compelled to write for his daily support, and his
biographers, probably without any sufficient foundation, have chosen to
consider him as the first of our poets who wrote for bread. It should
be recorded, however, that his pen was employed not only for himself
but for his wife; for Wood tells us, and it is a mitigating fact which
has been strangely overlooked by every other writer, that he "_wrote
to maintain his wife_, and that high and loose course of living which
poets generally follow."[494:A] We have reason, indeed, to conclude,
that the income which he derived from his literary labours was
considerable, for his popularity as a writer of prose pamphlets, which,
as Warton observes, may "claim the appellation of satires[494:B]," was
unrivalled. Ben Jonson alludes to them in his _Every Man out of his
Humour_[494:C], and Sir Thomas Overbury, describing a chamber-maid,
says "_she reads Greenes works over and over_; but is so carried away
with the Mirror of Knighthood, she is many times resolv'd to run out of
herself, and become a lady-errant."[494:D]

It must be confessed that many of the prose tracts of Greene are
licentious and indecent; but there are many also whose object is useful
and whose moral is pure. They are written with great vivacity, several
are remarkable for the most poignant raillery, all exhibit a glowing
warmth of imagination, and many are interspersed with beautiful and
highly polished specimens of his poetical powers. On those which are
employed in exposing the machinations of his infamous associates, he
seems to place a high value, justly considering their detection as an
essential service done to his country; and he fervently thanks his
God for enabling him so successfully to lay open the "most horrible
Coosenages of the common Conny-Catchers, Cooseners and Crosse Biters,"
names which in those days designated the perpetrators of every species
of deception and knavery.[494:E]

But the most curious and interesting of his numerous pieces, are those
which relate to his own character, conduct, and repentance. The titles
of these, as they best unfold the laudable views with which they were
written, we shall give at length.

1. _Greene's Mourning Garment_, given him by Repentance at the Funerals
of Love, which he presents for a Favour to all young Gentlemen that
wishe to weane themselves from wanton Desires. Both pleasant and
profitable. By R. Greene, Utriusque Academiæ in Artibus Magister. Sero
sed serio. Lond. 1590.

2. _Greene's Never Too Late._ Sent to all youthful Gentlemen,
decyphering in a true English Historie those particular vanities,
that with their frosty vapours nip the Blossomes of every Braine from
attaining to his intended perfection. As pleasant as profitable, being
a right Pumice Stone, apt to race out Idlenesse with delight and Folly
with admonition. By Robert Greene, In Artibus Magister. Lond. 1590.

3. _Greene's Groatsworth of Wit._ Bought with a million of Repentance,
describing the Folly of Youth, the Falshood of make-shift Flatteries,
the Miserie of the Negligent, and Mishaps of deceyving Courtezans.
Published at his dying Request, and newly corrected and of many errors
purged. Felicem fuisse infaustum. Lond. 1592.

4. _Greene's Farewell to Follie._ Sent to Courtiers and Scholers, as a
President to warne them from the vaine Delights that drawe Youth on to
Repentance. Sero sed serio. By Robert Greene.

5. _The Repentance of Robert Greene_, Maister of Artes. Wherein, by
himselfe, is laid open his loose Life, with the Manner of his Death.
Lond. 1592.

6. _Greene's Vision._ Written at the instant of his death, conteyning
a penitent Passion for the folly of his Pen. Sero sed serio. By Robert
Greene.

In these publications the author has endeavoured to make all the
reparation in his power, by exposing his own weakness and folly, by
detailing the melancholy effects of his dissipation, and by painting in
the most impressive terms the contrition which he so bitterly felt.
In what exquisite poetry he could deplore his vicious habits, and by
what admirable precepts he could direct the conduct of others, will be
learnt from two extracts taken from his "Never Too Late," in the first
of which the Penitent Palmer, the intended symbol of himself, repeats
the following ode:

    "Whilome in the Winter's rage,
     A Palmer old and full of age,
     Sate and thought upon his youth,
     With eyes, teares, and hart's ruth,
     Beeing all with cares yblent,
     When he thought on yeeres mispent,
     When his follies came to minde,
     How fond love had made him blinde,
     And wrapt him in a fielde of woes,
     Shadowed with pleasures shoes,
     Then he sighed, and sayd, alas!
     Man is sinne, and flesh is grasse.
     I thought my mistres hairs were gold,
     And in her locks my harte I folde;
     Her amber tresses were the sight
     That wrapped me in vaine delight:
     Her ivorie front, her pretie chin,
     Were stales that drew me on to sin:
     Her starry lookes, her christall eyes,
     Brighter than the sunnes arise:
     Sparkling pleasing flames of fire,
     Yoakt my thoughts and my desire,
     That I gan cry ere I blin,
     Oh her eyes are paths to sin.
     Her face was faire, her breath was sweet,
     All her lookes for love was meete:
     But love is folly this I know,
     And beauty fadeth like to snow.
     Oh why should man delight in pride,
     Whose blossome like a dew doth glide:
     When these supposes taught my thought,
     That world was vaine, and beautie nought,
     I gan to sigh, and say, alas!
     Man is sinne, and flesh is grasse."[496:A]

The second extract, entitled _The Farewell of a friend_, is supposed to
be addressed to Francesco the Palmer, "by one of his companions;" such
an one, indeed, as might have saved him from ruin, had he sought for
the original in real life.

"Let God's worship be thy morning's worke, and his wisdome the
direction of thy dayes labour.

"Rise not without thankes, nor sleepe not without repentance.

"Choose but a few friends, and try those; for the flatterer speakes
fairest.

"If thy wife be wise, make her thy secretary; else locke thy thoughts
in thy heart, for women are seldome silent.

"If she be faire, be not jealous; for suspition cures not womens
follies.

"If she be wise, wrong her not; for if thou lovest others she will
loath thee.

"Let thy children's nurture be their richest portion: for wisdome is
more precious than wealth.

"Be not proude amongst thy poore neighbours; for a poore mans hate is
perillous.

"Nor too familiar with great men; for presumption winnes
disdaine."[497:A]

The virtues of Greene were, it is to be apprehended, confined to his
books, they were theoretical rather than practical; for, however
sincere might be his repentance at the moment, or determined his
resolution to reform, the impression seems to have been altogether
transient; he continued to indulge, with few interruptions, his vicious
course, until a death, too accordant with the dissipated tissue of his
life, closed the melancholy scene. He died, says Wood, about 1592,
of a surfeit taken by eating pickled herrings and drinking Rhenish
wine.[497:B] It appears that his friend Nash was of the party.

Of the debauchery, poverty, and misery of Greene, Gabriel Harvey,
with whom he had carried on a bitter personal controversy, has left us
a highly-coloured description. If the last scene of his life be not
exaggerated by this inveterate opponent, it presents us with a picture
of distress the most poignant and pathetic upon record.

"I once bemoned," relates Harvey, "the decayed and blasted estate of
_M. Gascoigne_, who wanted not some commendable parts of conceit, and
endevour: but unhappy _M. Gascoigne_, how lordly happy, in comparison
of most unhappy _M. Greene_? He never envyed me so much as I pitied him
from my hart; especially when his hostesse _Isam_, with teares in her
eies, and sighes from a deeper fountaine (for she loved him deerely)
tould me of his lamentable begging of a penny pott of Malmesie;—and
how he was faine poore soule, to borrow her husbandes shirte, whiles
his owne was a washing: and how his dublet, and hose, and sworde were
sold for three shillings: and beside the charges of his winding sheete,
which was four shillinges, and the charges of his buriall yesterday in
the New-church yard neere Bedlam, which was six shillinges and foure
pence; how deeply hee was indebted to her poore husbande: as appeered
by hys owne bonde of tenne poundes: which the good woman kindly shewed
me: and beseeched me to read the writing beneath; which was a letter to
his abandoned wife, in the behalfe of his gentle host: not so short as
persuasible in the beginning, and pittifull in the ending.

    _Doll_,

    _I charge thee by the love of our youth, and by my soules rest,
    that thou wilte see this man paide: for if hee and his wife had
    not succoured me, I had died in the streetes._

                                           ROBERT GREENE."[498:A]

The pity which Harvey assumes upon this occasion may justly be
considered as hypocritical; for the pamphlet whence the above extract
has been taken, abounds in the most rancorous abuse and exaggerated
description of the vices of Greene, and contains, among other
invectives, a sonnet unparalleled, perhaps, for the keen severity
of its irony, and for the dreadful solemnity of tone in which it is
delivered. It is put into the mouth of _John Harvey_, the physician,
who had been dead some years, but who had largely participated of the
torrent of satire which Greene had poured upon his brothers, Gabriel
and Richard. If it be the composition of Gabriel, and there is reason
to suppose this to be the case, from the tract in which it appears, it
must be deemed infinitely superior, in point of poetical merit, to any
thing else which he has written.


JOHN HARVEY THE PHYSICIAN'S WELCOME TO ROBERT GREENE!

    "COME, fellow _Greene_, come to thy gaping grave,
       Bid Vanity and Foolery farewell,
     That overlong hast plaid the mad-brained knave,
       And overloud hast rung the bawdy bell.
     Vermine to vermine must repair at last;
       No fitter house for busie folke to dwell;
     Thy conny-catching pageants are past,
       Some other must those arrant stories tell:
     These hungry wormes thinke long for their repast;
       Come on; I pardon thy offence to me;
     It was thy living; be not so aghast!
       A Fool and a Physitian may agree!
     And for my brothers never vex thyself;
     They are not to disease a buried elfe."[499:A]

We have entered thus fully into the character and writings of Greene,
from the circumstance of his having been the most popular miscellaneous
author of his day, from the striking talent and genius which his
productions display, and from the moral lesson to be drawn from his
conduct and his sufferings. It may be useful to remark here, that a
well chosen selection from his pamphlets, now all extremely rare,
would furnish one of the most elegant and interesting volumes in the
language.[500:A]

Of the next class of miscellaneous writers, those derived from that
part of the community which adhered to the tenets and discipline
of the Puritans, and who employed their pens chiefly in satirizing
their less enthusiastic neighbours, it will be sufficient to notice
two, who have attracted a more than common share of attention, as
well for the rancour of their animadversion, as for their rooted
antipathy to the stage. The first of these, _Stephen Gosson_, was
educated at Christ Church, Oxford; on leaving the University, he went
to London, where he commenced poet and dramatist, and, according to
Wood, "for his admirable penning of pastorals, was ranked with Sir
P. Sidney, Tho. Chaloner, Edm. Spencer, Abrah. Fraunce, and Rich.
Bernfield."[500:B] His dramatic writings, which consist of a tragedy,
founded on Cataline's conspiracy, a comedy, and a morality, were
never printed. Of his devotion to the Muses, however, he soon after
heartily repented, as of a most heinous sin; for, imbibing the sour
severity of the Puritans, he left the metropolis, became tutor in a
gentleman's family, in the country, and subsequently took orders,
declaiming in a style so vehement against the amusements of his early
days, as to acquire a great share of popular notoriety. The work by
which he is best known is entitled "_The Schoole of Abuse_. Conteining
a pleasaunt Invective against Poets, Plaiers, Jesters, and such like
Caterpillers, of a Comonwelth; setting up the Flagge of Defiance
to their mischievous exercise, and overthrowing their Bulwarkes by
prophane Writers, naturall Reason and common experience. A Discourse
as pleasaunt for Gentlemen that favour learning, as profitable for all
that wyll follow vertue. By Stephen Gosson, Stud. Oxon." London, 1597.
This was speedily followed by another attack in a pamphlet termed,
"_Playes confuted in five Actions_, &c. Proving that they are not to
be suffred in a christian common weale, &c.[501:A];" a philippic which
he dedicated to Sir Francis Walsingham, as he had done his _Schoole_
to Sir Philip Sidney; both of whom considered the liberty which he had
taken, rather in the light of an insult than a compliment.

The warfare of Gosson, however, was mildness itself, compared with that
which _Philip Stubbes_ carried on against the same host of poetical
sinners. This puritanical zealot, whose work we have repeatedly quoted,
commenced his attack upon the public in the year 1583, by publishing
in small 8vo. the first edition of his "_Anatomie of Abuses_:
contayning a discoverie, or briefe summarie of such notable vices and
imperfections as now rayne in many Christian Countreyes of the Worlde:
but (especiallie) in a verie famous Ilande called Ailgna: &c." A second
impression, which now lies before me, was printed in 1595, 4to. and
both it and the octavo are among the scarcest of Elizabethan books.
"Stubbes," remarks Mr. Dibdin, "did what he could, in his _Anatomy of
Abuses_, to disturb every social and harmless amusement of the age. He
was the forerunner of that snarling satirist, Prynne; but I ought not
thus to cuff him, for fear of bringing upon me the united indignation
of a host of black-letter critics and philologists. A _large and clean_
copy of his sorrily printed work, is among the choicest treasures of a
Shakspearean virtuoso." He subjoins, in a note, commencing in the true
spirit of bibliomaniacism, that "Sir John Hawkins calls this 'a curious
and very scarce book;' and so does my friend, Mr. Utterson; who revels
in his morrocco-coated copy of it—'_Exemplar olim Farmerianum!_'" Then
proceeding more soberly, he adds, "Let us be candid, and not sacrifice
our better judgments to our book-passions. After all, Stubbes's work
is a caricatured drawing. It has strong passages, and a few original
thoughts; and is, moreover, one of the very few works printed in days
of yore, which have running titles to the subjects discussed in them.
These may be recommendations with the bibliomaniac: but he should be
informed that this volume contains a great deal of puritanical cant,
and licentious language: that vices are magnified in it in order to be
lashed, and virtues diminished that they might not be noticed. Stubbes
equals Prynne in his anathemas against Plays and Interludes; and in his
chapters upon 'Dress' and 'Dancing,' he rakes together every coarse
and pungent phrase in order to describe 'these horrible sins' with due
severity. He is sometimes so indecent, that, for the credit of the age,
and of a virgin reign, we must hope that every virtuous dame threw the
copy of his book, which came into her possession, behind the fire. This
may reasonably account for its present rarity."[502:A]

Of the tone in which Stubbes book is written no inaccurate judgment
may be formed from the various passages which we have already quoted;
but the following short extract will more fully develope perhaps,
the acrimony of his pen than any paragraph that has yet been brought
forward. He is speaking of the neglect of Fox's Book of Martyrs,
"whilst other toyes, fantasies and bableries," he adds, "wherof the
world is ful, are suffered to be printed. Then prophane schedules,
sacraligious libels, and hethnical pamphlets of toyes and bableries
(the authors whereof may vendicate to themselves no smal commendations,
at the hands of the devil for inventing the same) corrupt men's mindes,
pervert good wits, allure to baudrie, induce to whordome, suppresse
virtue and erect vice: which thing how should it be otherwise? for
are they not invented and excogitat by Belzebub, written by Lucifer,
licensed by Pluto, printed by Cerberus, and set a broche to sale by the
infernal furies themselves to the poysning of the whole world."[502:B]

The works of Gosson and Stubbes are now chiefly valuable for the
numerous illustrations which they incidentally give of the manners,
customs, dress, and diversions, of their age, and especially for the
light which they throw on the character and costume of the stage.

The progress of discussion has at length brought us to the _third_
class of Miscellaneous Writers, who may be considered as possessing a
more decorous and philosophic cast in composition than the authors who
have just fallen beneath our notice. The individuals of this genus,
too, are numerous, but we shall content ourselves with the mention
of three, who were more than usually popular in their day, _Thomas
Lodge_, _Abraham Fleming_, and _Gervase Markham_. Lodge was educated at
Oxford, which he entered about 1573; he took his degree of Doctor of
Medicine at Avignon, and practised as a physician in London, where he
died in 1625. He was a dramatic poet as well a miscellaneous writer,
and was considered by his contemporaries as a man of uncommon genius.
He appears to have been, not only a scholar, but a man of the world, to
have possessed no small share of wit and humour, and to have uniformly
wielded his pen in support of morality and good order. Of his pieces
no doubt many have perished; in his professional capacity, only one
remains, a _Treatise on the Plague_; but the productions which acquired
him most celebrity were written to expose the follies and vices of the
times, and of these, about half a dozen are preserved. He is now best
known by his "_Wits Miserie and the Worlds Madnesse_. Discovering the
Devils incarnate of this Age. Lond. 1596:" a tract which, although
so extremely rare as to be in the possession of only one or two
collectors, has been frequently quoted, owing to its containing some
interesting notices of contemporary writers. The principal faults in
the literary character of Lodge seem to have been a love of quaintness
and affectation; the very titles of his pamphlets indicate the former;
the alliteration in the one just transcribed is notorious, and
another is termed "Catharos. Diogenes in his Singularitie. Wherein
is comprehended his merrie baighting fit for all men's benefits:
Christened by him, A Nettle for Nice Noses, 1591." From a passage in
_The Returne from Pernassus_ it is evident that he was thought to be
deeply tainted with Euphuism, the literary folly of his time. The poet
is speaking of Lodge and Watson, both, he says,

    —— "subject to a crittick's marginall.
    _Lodge_ for his oare in every paper boate,
    He that turnes over Galen every day,
    To sit and simper Euphue's legacy."[504:A]

_Abraham Fleming_, the corrector and enlarger of the second edition
of Holinshed's Chronicle in 1585, was prodigiously fertile, both as
an original writer and a translator. In the latter capacity he gave
versions of the Bucolics and Georgics of Virgil, both in rhyme of
fourteen feet, 1575, and in the regular Alexandrine without rhyme,
1589; of Ælian's Various History in 1576; of Select Epistles of Cicero,
1576, and in the same year, a _Panoplie of Epistles from Tully,
Isocrates, Pliny, and others_; of the Greek Panegyric of Synesius,
and of various Latin works of the fifteenth century. As an original
miscellaneous writer, his pieces are still more numerous, and, for the
most part, occupied by moral and religious subjects; for example, one
is called _The Cundyt of Comfort_, 1579; a second, _The Battel between
the Virtues and Vices_, 1582, and a third _The Diamond of Devotion_,
1586. This last is so singularly quaint both in its title-page and
divisions, so superior, indeed, in these departments, to the titles
of his contemporary Lodge, and so indicative of the curious taste of
the times in the methodical arrangement of literary matter, as to call
for a further description. The complete title runs thus: "The Diamond
of Devotion: Cut and squared into sixe severall pointes: namelie, 1.
The Footepath of Felicitie. 2. A Guide to Godlines. 3. The Schoole
of Skill. 4. A swarme of Bees. 5. A Plant of Pleasure. 6. A Grove of
Graces. Full of manie fruitfull lessons availeable unto the leading
of a godlie and reformed life." The _Footepath of Felicitie_ has
ten divisions, concluding with a "looking glasse for the Christian
reader;" the _Guide to Godlines_, is divided into three branches,
and these branches into so many blossoms; the first branch containing
four blossoms, the second thirteen, and the third ten; the _Schoole
of Skill_ is digested into three sententious sequences of the A. B.
C.; the _Swarme of Bees_ is distributed into ten honeycombs, including
two hundred lessons; the _Plant of Pleasure_ bears fourteen several
flowers, in prose and verse; the _Grove of Graces_ exhibits forty-two
plants, or Graces, for dinner and supper, and the volume concludes with
"a briefe praier."

From the specimens which we have seen of Fleming's composition, it
would appear, that his affectation was principally confined to his
title pages and divisions: for his prose is more easy, natural, and
perspicuous, than most of his contemporaries. He was rector of Saint
Pancras, Soper-lane, and died in 1607.[505:A]

_Gervase Markham_, whom we have incidentally mentioned in various parts
of this work, was the most indefatigable writer of his era. He was
descended of an ancient family in Nottinghamshire, and commenced author
about the year 1592. The period of his death is not ascertained; but he
must have attained a good old age, for he fought for Charles the First,
and obtained a Captain's commission in his army. His education had been
very liberal, for he was esteemed a good classical scholar, and he was
well versed in the French, Italian, and Spanish languages. As he was
a younger son it is probable that his finances were very limited, and
that he had recourse to his pen as an additional means of support. "He
seems," remarks Sir Egerton Brydges, "to have become a general compiler
for the booksellers, and his various works had as numerous impressions
as those of Burn and Buchan in our days."[505:B] No subject, indeed,
appears to have been rejected by Markham; _husbandry_, _huswifry_,
_farriery_, _horsemanship_, and _military tactics_, _hunting_,
_hawking_, _fowling_, _fishing_, and _archery_, _heraldry_, _poetry_,
_romances_, and the _drama_:—all shared his attention and exercised
his genius and industry.[506:A] His popularity, in short, in all
these various branches was unrivalled; and such was his reputation as
a cattle doctor, that the booksellers, aware of the value of his works
of this kind in circulation, got him to sign a paper in 1617, in which
he bound himself not to publish any thing further on the diseases of
"horse, oxe, cowe, sheepe, swine, goates, &c." His books on agriculture
were not superseded until the middle of the eighteenth century, and
the fifteenth impression of his _Cheap and Good Husbandry_, which
was originally published in 1616, is now before us, dated 1695. Nor
were his works on rural amusements less relished; for his _Country
Contentments_, the first edition of which appeared in 1615, had reached
the eleventh in 1675. The same good fortune attended him even as a
poet, for in _England's Parnassus_, 1600, he is quoted thirty-four
times, forming the largest number of extracts taken from any minor
bard in the book. He appears to have been an enthusiast in all that
relates to field-sports, and his works, now becoming scarce, are, in
many respects, curious and interesting, and display great versatility
of talent. By far the greater part of them, as is evident from their
dates, was written before the year 1620, though many were subsequently
corrected and enlarged.

Having thus given a sketch of three great classes of miscellaneous
writers, it will be necessary to add some notice of a few circumstances
which more peculiarly distinguished this branch of literature during
the life-time of our poet.

It is to the reign of Elizabeth, that we have to ascribe the origin
of genuine printed _Newspapers_, a mode of publication which has now
become absolutely essential to the wants of civilised life. The epoch
of the Spanish invasion forms that of this interesting innovation,
for, previous to the daring attempt of Spain, all public news had
been circulated in manuscript, and it was left to the sagacity of
Elizabeth and the legislative prudence of Burleigh to discover,
how highly useful, in this agitated crisis, would be a more rapid
circulation of events, through the medium of the press. Accordingly,
in April 1588, when the formidable Armada approached the shores of
old England, appeared the first number of _The English Mercury_. That
it was published very frequently, is evident from the circumstance
that No. 50, the earliest number now preserved, and which is in the
British Museum, Sloane MSS., No. 4106, is dated the 23d of July 1588.
It resembles the London Gazette of the present day, with respect to
the nature of its articles, one of which presents us with this curious
information:—"Yesterday the Scotch Ambassador had a private audience
of Her Majesty, and delivered a letter from the King his master,
containing the most cordial assurances of adhering to Her Majesty's
interests, and to those of the protestant religion; and the young King
said to Her Majesty's minister at his court, that all the favour he
expected from the Spaniards was, the courtesy of Polyphemus to Ulysses,
that he should be devoured the last."[508:A]

So rapid was the progress of newspapers after this memorable
introduction, that towards the close of the reign of James, Ben
Jonson, in his _Staple of News_, alludes to them, as fashionable among
all ranks of people, and as sought after with the utmost avidity,
one consequence of which was, that the greater part of what was
communicated was fabricated on the spot. To this grievance the poet
refers in an address to his readers, where, speaking of spurious
news, he calls it "news made like the Times news, (a weekly cheat
to draw money,) and could not be fitter reprehended, than in raising
this ridiculous office of the Staple, wherein the age may see her own
folly, or _hunger and thirst after published pamphlets of news, set
out every Saturday_, but made all at home, and no syllable of truth in
them."[509:A]

Another branch of miscellaneous literature which may be said to
have originated at this period, was that employed in the writing
of _Characters_; a species of composition which, if well executed,
necessarily throws much light on the manners and customs of its age.

A claim to the first legitimate collection of this kind, may be
allotted, on the authority of Fuller, to Sir Thomas Overbury; "he was,"
says that entertaining compiler, "the first writer of _Characters_
of our nation, so far as I have observed."[509:B] With the exception
of two small tracts, descriptive of the characters of rogues and
knaves[509:C], this assertion appears to be correct. Few works have
been more popular than Overbury's volume; it was printed several times,
according to Wood, before the author's death in 1613; but the earliest
edition now usually met with, is dated 1614, and is, with great
probability, supposed to be the fifth impression, for the sixth, which
is not uncommon, was published the subsequent year. Various alterations
took place in the title-page of this miscellany, but that of 1614 is
as follows:—"A Wife now the Widdow of Sir Thomas Overbury. Being a
most exquisite and singular Poem of the Choice of a Wife. Whereunto are
added many witty Characters, and conceited Newes, written by himselfe
and other learned Gentlemen his friends.

    Dignum laude virum musa vetat mori,
    Cælo musa beat.
                                         Hor. Car. lib. iii.

London, Printed for Lawrence Lisle, and are to bee sold at his shop
in Paule's Church-yard, at the signe of the Tiger's head. 1614.
4to."[510:A] The characters in this edition amount to twenty-two,
but were augmented in the eleventh, printed in 1622, to eighty.
So extensive was the sale of this collection, that the sixteenth
impression appeared in 1638.

Both the poem and the characters exhibit no small share of talent
and discrimination. In Overbury's Wife, observes Mr. Neve, "the
sentiments, maxims, and observations with which it abounds, are such
as a considerable experience and a correct judgment on mankind alone
could furnish. The topics of jealousy, and of the credit and behaviour
of women, are treated with great truth, delicacy and perspicuity.
The nice distinctions of moral character, and the pattern of female
excellence here drawn, contrasted as they were with the heinous and
flagrant enormities of the Countess of Essex, rendered this poem
extremely popular, when its ingenious author was no more."[510:B] The
prose characters, though rather too antithetical in their style, are
drawn with a masterly hand, and are evidently the result of personal
observation.

Numerous imitations of both were soon brought forward; in 1614 appeared
"The Husband. A poeme expressed in a compleat man;" small 8vo.: and in
1616, "A Select Second Husband for Sir Thomas Overburie's Wife; now
a matchlesse Widow:" small 8vo.; which were followed by many others.
The prose characters established a still more durable precedent, for
they continued to form a favourite mode of composition for better than
a century. Of these the most immediate offspring were, "Satyrical
Characters" by John Stephens, 8vo. 1615, and "The Good and the Badde,
or Description of the Worthies and Unworthies of this Age. Where the
Best may see their Graces, and the Worst discerne their Basenesse,"
by Nicholas Breton, 4to. 1616. Perhaps the most valuable collection
of characters, previous to the year 1700, is that published by Bishop
Earle, in 1628, under the title of _Microcosmography_, and which may
be considered as a pretty faithful delineation of many classes of
characters as they existed during the close of the sixteenth, and
commencement of the seventeenth, century.[511:A]

One of the earliest attempts at miscellaneous _Essay-writing_, since
become a most fashionable and popular species of literary composition,
may likewise very justly be ascribed to a similar epoch. In 1601,
Thomas Wright published in small octavo a collection of Essays, on
various subjects, which he entitled _The Passions of the Minde_.
This volume, consisting of 336 pages independent of the preface, was
re-issued from the press in 1604, enlarged by nearly as much more
matter, and in a quarto form; and a third edition in the same size
appeared in 1621.

The work is divided into six books, and, from the specimens which
we have seen, is undoubtedly the production of a practised pen and
a discerning mind. It is termed by Mr. Haslewood, "an amusing and
instructive collection of philosophical essays, upon the customary
pursuits of the mind;" and he adds, "though a relaxation of manners
succeeded the gloomy history of the cowl, and the abolition of the dark
cells of superstition; it was long before the moralist ventured to draw
either example, or precept, from any other source than Scripture, and
the writings of the fathers. Genius run riot in some instances from
excess of liberty, but the calm, rational, and universal essayist was a
character unknown. In the present work there are passages that possess
no inconsiderable portion of ease, spirit, and freedom, diversified
with character and anecdote that prove the author mingled with the
world to advantage; and could occasionally lighten the hereditary
shackles that burthened the moral and philosophical writer."[512:A]

It is, however, to the profound genius of _Lord Bacon_ that we must
attribute the _earliest legitimate_ specimen of essay-writing in this
country; for though his "Essays on Councils, Civil and Moral," were
not completed until 1612, the first part of them was printed in 1597;
and in the intended dedication to Prince Henry of this second edition,
he assigns his reason for adopting the term _essay_. "To write just
treatises," he observes, "requires leisure in the writer, and leisure
in the reader, and therefore are not so fit, neither in your Highness's
princely affairs, nor in regard of my continual service, which is
the cause that hath made me chuse to write certain brief notes, set
down rather significantly than curiously, which I have called Essays.
The word is late, but the thing is ancient; for Seneca's Epistles to
Lucilius, if you mark them well, are but essays, that is, dispersed
meditations, though conveyed in the form of epistles."[512:B] This
invaluable work, in a moral and prudential light, perhaps the most
useful which any English author has left to posterity, has been the
fruitful parent of a more extensive series of similar productions,
collectively or periodically published, than any other country can
exhibit.

The age of Shakspeare was fertile, also, in what may be termed
_Parlour-window Miscellanies_; books whose aim was to attract the
attention of the idle, the dissipated, and the gossipping, by
intermingling with the admonitions of the sage, a more than usual
share of wit, narrative, and anecdote. Two of these, as exemplars
of the whole class, it may be necessary to notice. In 1589, Leonard
Wright published "_A Display of dutie, dect with sage sayings, pythie
sentences, and proper similies: Pleasant to reade, delightfull
to heare, and profitable to practise_;" a collection which Mr.
Haslewood calls "an early and pleasing specimen" of this species of
miscellaneous writing. It contains observations and friendly hints
on all the principal circumstances and events of life; "certaine
necessarie rules both pleasant and profitable for preventing of
sicknesse, and preserving of health: prescribed by Dr. Dyet, Dr.
Quiet, and Dr. Merryman;" and concludes with "certaine pretty notes
and pleasant conceits, delightfull to many, and hurtfull to none."
The author closes "A friendly advertisement touching marriage," by
enumerating the infelicities of the man who marries a shrew, where "hee
shall finde compact in a little flesh, a great number of bones too
hard to digest.—And therefore," adds he, "some do thinke wedlocke to
be that same purgatorie, which learned divines have so long contended
about, or a sharpe penance to bring sinnefull men to heaven. A merry
fellow hearing a preacher say in his sermon, that whosoever would be
saved, must take up and beare his cross, ran straight to his wife, and
cast her upon his back. . . . .

"Finally, he that will live quiet in wedlocke, must be courteous in
speech, cheareful in countinance, provident for his house, carefull
to traine up his children in vertue, and patient in bearing the
infirmities of his wife. Let all the keyes hang at her girdle, only the
purse at his own. He must also be voide of jelosie, which is a vanity
to thinke, and more folly to suspect. For eyther it needeth not, or
booteth not, and to be jelious without a cause is the next way to have
a cause.

    "This is the only way, to make a woman dum:
     To sit and smyle and laugh her out, and not a word, but
         mum."[513:A]

In 1600, appeared the first edition of "_The Golden-grove, moralized
in three books: A worke very necessary for all such, as would know how
to governe themselves, their houses, or their countrey. Made by W.
Vaughan, Master of Artes, and Graduate in the Civill Law_." A second
edition, "reviewed and enlarged by the Authour," was printed in 1608.

Each book of this work, which displays considerable knowledge both
of literature and of mankind, is divided, after a ridiculous fashion
of the time, into plants, and these again into chapters. The first
book, on the Supreme Being, and on man, contains eleven plants, and
eighty-four chapters; the second, on domestic and private duties, five
plants, and thirty chapters; and the third, upon the commonwealth, nine
plants and seventy-two chapters.

Great extent of reading, and much ingenuity in application, are
discoverable in the _Golden Grove_, accompanied by many curious tales,
and local anecdotes. It is one of the books, also, which has thrown
light upon the manners and diversions of its age, and will hereafter be
quoted on this account. Vaughan, though he professes himself attached
to poetry from his earliest days, and has devoted a chapter to its
praise, was too much of the puritan to tolerate the stage, against
which he inveighs with more acrimony than discrimination. The passages
which allude to our old English poets, we shall throw together, as a
specimen of his style and composition.

"Jeffery Chaucer, the English poet, was in great account with King
Richard the Second, who gave him in reward of his poems, the mannour
of Newelme in Oxfordshire.—King Henry the eighth, her late Maiesties
father, for a few psalms of David turned into English meeter by
Sternhold, made him groome of his privie chamber, and rewarded him with
many great giftes besides. Moreover, hee made Sir Thomas More Lord
Chauncelour of this realme, whose poeticall workes are as yet in great
regard.—Queene Elizabeth made Doctour Haddon, beyng a poet, Master of
the Requests.—Neither is our owne age altogether to bee dispraysed.
Sir Philip Sydney excelled all our English poets, in rareness of stile
and matter. King James, our dread Soveraigne, that now raigneth, is
a notable poet, and hath lately set out most learned poems, to the
admiration of all his subjects.

"Gladly I could go forward in this subject, which in my stripling
yeeres pleased me beyond all others, were it not I delight to bee
briefe: and that Sir Philip Sydney hath so sufficiently defended it
in his Apology of Poetry; and if I should proceede further in the
commendation thereof, whatsoever I write would be eclipsed with the
glory of his golden eloquence. Wherefore, I stay myselfe in this place,
earnestly beseeching all gentlemen, of what qualitie soever they
bee, to advaunce poetrie, or at least to admire it, and not bee so
hastie shamefully to abuse that, which they may honestly and lawfully
obtayne."[515:A]

We shall conclude these observations on the miscellaneous literature of
Shakspeare's time, by noticing one of the earliest of our _Facetiæ_,
the production of an author who may be termed, in allusion to this _jeu
d'esprit_, the _Rabelais_ of England. Had the subject of this satire
been less exceptionable in its nature, the popularity which it acquired
for a season might have been permanent; but its grossness is such as
not to admit of adequate atonement by any portion of wit, however
poignant. It is entitled "_A New Discourse of a Stale Subject, called
the Metamorphosis of Ajax. Written by Misacmos to his friend and cosin
Philostilpnos_." London, 1596; and is said to have originated from the
author's invention of a water-closet for his house at Kelston.[515:B]
The conceit, or pun upon the word Ajax, or a _jakes_, appears to have
been a familiar joke of the time, and had been previously introduced
by Shakspeare in his _Love's Labour's Lost_, when Costard tells Sir
Nathaniel, the Curate, on his failure in the character of Alexander,
"you will be scraped out of the painted cloth for this: your lion, that
holds his poll-ax sitting on a close-stool, will be given to A-jax: he
will be the ninth worthy."[515:C] A similar allusion is to be found in
Camden and Ben Jonson.

The _Metamorphosis_, for which Sir John published a witty apology,
under the appellation of _An Anatomie of the Metamorphosed Ajax_,
abounds with humour and sarcastic satire, and is valuable as an
illustration of the domestic manners of the age. Either from its
indecency, however, or its severity upon her courtiers, the facetious
author incurred the displeasure of Elizabeth, and was banished for
some time from her presence. It is probably to the latter cause that
his exile is to be attributed; for in a letter addressed to the knight
by his friend, Mr. Robert Markham, and dated 1598, he says:—"Since
your departure from hence, you have been spoke of, and with no ill
will, both by the nobles and the Queene herself. Your book is almoste
forgiven, and I may say forgotten; but not for its lacke of wit or
satyr. Those whome you feared moste are now bosoming themselves in
the Queene's grace; and tho' her Highnesse signified displeasure in
outwarde sorte, yet did she like the marrowe of your booke. Your great
enemye, Sir James, did once mention the Star-Chamber, but your good
esteeme in better mindes outdid his endeavours, and all is silente
again. The Queen is minded to take you to her favour, but she sweareth
that she believes you will make epigrams and write _misacmos_ again on
her and all the courte; she hath been heard to say, 'that merry poet,
her godson, must not come to Greenwich, till he hath grown sober,
and leaveth the ladies sportes and frolicks.' She did conceive much
disquiet on being tolde you had aimed a shafte at Leicester."[516:A]

The genius of Harrington was destined to revive, with additional
vigour, in the person of Swift, who, to an equal share of physical
impurity, united a richer, and more fertile vein of coarse humour and
caustic satire.

That Shakspeare was well acquainted with the various works which we
have noticed in this class of literature, and probably with most
of their authors, there is much reason to infer. We have already
found[517:A] that he was justly offended with Robert Greene, for the
notice which he was pleased to take of him in his _Groat's Worth of
Witte bought with a Million of Repentance_, and there can be no doubt
that the philippics of Gosson and Stubbes, being pointedly directed
against the stage, would excite his curiosity, and occasionally
rouse his indignation. The very popular satires also of Nash and
Decker must necessarily have attracted his notice, nor could a mind
so excursive as his, have neglected to cull from the varied store
which the numerous miscellanies, characters, and essays of the age
presented to his view. It can be no difficult task to conceive the
delight, and the mental profit, which a genius such as Shakspeare's, of
which one characteristic is its fertility in aphoristic precept, must
have derived from the study of Lord Bacon's Essays! The apothegmatic
treasures of Shakspeare have been lately condensed into a single
volume by the judgment and industry of Mr. Lofft, and it may be safely
affirmed, that no uninspired works, either in our own or any other
language, can be produced, however bulky or voluminous, which contain
a richer mine of preceptive wisdom than may be found in these two
books of the philosopher and the poet, the _Essays_ of Bacon, and the
_Aphorisms_ of Shakspeare.


FOOTNOTES:

[426:A] Chalmers's Supplemental Apology, p. 269.

[429:A] Ascham's Works, Bennet's edit. p. 242. speaking of Windsor.

[429:B] Warton's History of English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 491.

[430:A] Holinshed's Chronicles, edit. 1807, vol. i. p. 330.

[430:B] The 1st edit. of Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy was published
in 1617.

[431:A] Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, fol. edit. p. 84.

[432:A] Holinshed's Chronicles, vol. i. p. 331.

[432:B] "The reader is referred to an account of a preciously bound
diminutive godly book (once belonging to Q. Elizabeth), in the first
volume of my edition of the British _Typographical Antiquities_,
p. 83.; for which, I understand, the present owner asks the sum of
150_l._ We find that in the 16th year of Elizabeth's reign, she was in
possession of 'One Gospell booke, covered with tissue and garnished on
th' inside with the crucifix and the Queene's badges of silver guilt,
poiz with wodde, leaves and all, cxij oz." Archæologia, vol. xiii. 221.

"I am in possession of the covers of a book, bound (A. D. 1569) in
thick parchment or vellum, which has the whole length portrait of
Luther on one side, and of Calvin on the other. These portraits, which
are executed with uncommon spirit and accuracy, are encircled with
a profusion of ornamental borders of the most exquisite taste and
richness." Bibliomania, p. 158.

[432:C] "In the PRAYER BOOK which goes by the name of QUEEN
ELIZABETH'S, there is a portrait of Her Majesty kneeling upon a superb
cushion, with elevated hands, in prayer. This book was first printed
in 1575; and is decorated with wood-cut borders of considerable spirit
and beauty; representing, among other things, some of the subjects of
Holbein's Dance of Death."

[432:D] Dibdin's Bibliomania, 2d edit. 1811, p. 329-331. This book,
the most fascinating which has ever been written on Bibliography, is
already scarce. It is composed in the highest tone of enthusiasm for
the art, and its dialogue and descriptions are given with a mellowness,
a warmth and raciness, which absolutely fix and enchant the reader.

[433:A] Strype's Life of Parker, p. 415. 529.

[433:B] Ibid. p. 528.

[433:C] Britannia in Monmouthshire.

[434:A] Fuller's Worthies, part ii. p. 13.

[434:B] Vide Dibdin's Bibliomania, p. 347, 348.

[434:C] Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy, p. 177. 8th edit. folio.

[434:D] Vide Hearne's Benedictus, Abbas, p. iv.

[434:E] Anatomy of Melancholy, Democritus to the Reader, p. 5.

[435:A] Anatomy of Melancholy, p. 176, 177.

[436:A] Earl's Microcosmography, p. 74.

[436:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. v. p. 257, 258. Act i. sc. 4.

[436:C] Ibid. vol. xx. p. 43. Act i. sc. 3.

[437:A] The Compleat Gentleman, 2d edit. p. 54, 55.

[437:B] Dibdin's Typographical Antiquities, Preliminary Disquisition,
p. 35.

[438:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xii. p. 13.

[438:B] Ibid. vol. i. p. 44, 45.

[439:A] Ascham's Works, Bennet's edit. p. 57.

[440:A] Wilson's Arte of Rhetorike, fol. 85, 86.

[441:A] Wilson, book iii. fol. 82.

[441:B] Puttenham's Arte of English Poesie, 1589, reprint, p. 121.

[441:C] Berkenhout's Biographia Literaria, p. 377. note _a_.

[442:A] Webbe's Discourse of English Poetrie, 4to. 1586. Vide Oldys's
British Librarian, p. 90. from which this quotation is given.

[442:B] Apology of Pierce Pennilesse, 4to. 1593.

[442:C] Wit's Miserie and Word's Madness, 4to. 1596, p. 57.

[442:D] Palladis Tamia, Wits Treasurie, being the second part of Wit's
Commonwealth, 1598. Meres terms him "eloquent and wittie John Lillie."

[443:A] Chalmers's English Poets, vol. iv. p. 399.

[443:B] British Librarian, p. 90. et seq.

[443:C] Whalley's Works of Ben Jonson: Every Man Out of His Humour, act
v. sc. 10.

[445:A] Sir Philip Sidney's Works, 7th edit., 1629, fol., p. 619, 620.

[445:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. vii. p. 86. note.

[446:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. vii. p. 93. 134.

[447:A] Peacham's Compleat Gentleman, 4to. 2d edit. p. 43. 53.

[448:A] For specimens of the prose writers of this period, the
introduction of which would be too digressive for the plan of this
work, I venture to refer the reader to my Essays on the Tatler,
Spectator, and Guardian, 1805, vol. ii. part 3. Essay II. on the
Progress and Merits of English Style; or to Burnett's Specimens of
English Prose-Writers, vol. ii. 1807.

[449:A] Vide Preface to Baret's Alvearie, or Quadruple Dictionary,
English, Latin, Greek, and French, bl. l. folio, London, 1580.

[449:B] Warton's History of English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 492.

[450:A] Britannici belli exitus exspectatur: constat enim aditus insulæ
esse munitos mirificis molibus. Etiam illud jam cognitum est, neque
argenti scrupulum esse ullum in illa insula, neque ullam spem prædæ,
nisi ex mancipiis: ex quibus nullos puto te literis, aut musicis
eruditos exspectare. Cic. lib. iv. Epist. ad Attic. ep. 16.

[450:B] Vide Cic. Offic. lib. iii. cap. 17.

[450:C] Ascham's Works, Bennet's edit. 4to. p. 338.

[451:A] Park's edition of Lord Orford's Royal and Noble Authors, vol.
i. article Elizabeth.

[451:B] Chalmers's Apology, p. 218. note.

[452:A] Ascham's Works, Bennet's edit. 4to. p. 253. 255, 256.

[453:A] "Galateo of Maister John Della Casa, Archbishop of Beneuenta,
or rather a treatise of the mañers and behauiours it behoveth a man to
uze and eschewe, in his familiar conversation. A worke very necessary
and profitable for all gentlemen or other. First written in the Italian
tongue, and now done into English by Robert Paterson of Lincolnes Inne
Gentleman. Satis si sapienter. Imprinted at London for Raufe Newbery,
dwelling in Fleete streate, a little above the Conduit. An. Do. 1576.
4to. 68 leaves, b. l."

[453:B] "The Courtier of Count Baldessar Castilio, devided into foure
bookes. Verie necessarie and profitable for young Gentlemen and
Gentlewomen abiding in Court, Pallace, or Place. Done into English by
Thomas Hobby. London: Printed by John Wolfe, 1588. 4to. pp. 616."

[454:A] Lord Orford's Royal and Noble Authors apud Park, vol. i. p. 93.

[456:A] Walton's History of English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 346, 347.

[456:B] The Italian Taylor and his Boy. By Robert Armin, Servant to the
King's most excellent Majestie, 1609.

[457:A] Troia Britannica; or Great Britaine's Troy. A Poem divided into
xvij sevrall Cantons, intermixed with many pleasant Poeticall Tales.
Concluding with an Universall Chronicle from the Creation, untill these
present Times. Written by Tho. Heywood. 1609.

[458:A] One of his specimens of "our Englishe reformed Versifying," as
he terms it, is entitled _Encomium Lauri_, and commences thus:—

    "What might I call this Tree? A Laurell? O bonny Laurell:
     Needes to thy bowes will I bow this knee, and vayle my bonetto;"

lines which Nash, in his _Foure Letters confuted_, 1593, has most
happily ridiculed, representing Harvey walking under the "ewe-tree at
Trinitie Hall," and addressing it in similar terms, and making "verses
of weather cocks on the top of steeples, as he did once of the weather
cocke of Allhallows in Cambridge:—

    "O thou weathercocke, that stands on the top of All-hallows,
     Come thy waies down, if thou dar'st for thy crowne, and take the
         wall of us!"
                      Vide Todd's Spenser, vol. i. p. xliii.

[459:A] See a copious and interesting account of the controversy
between Nash and Harvey, in D'Israeli's Calamities of Authors, vol. ii.
p. 1. ad 49.

[459:B] The Returne from Parnassus; or the Scourge of Simony,
publiquely acted by the Students in St. John's College in Cambridge,
1606.—Vide Ancient British Drama, vol. i. p. 49.

[460:A] Wits Miserie And The Worlds Madnesse. Discovering the Devils
incarnate of this Age. 1596.—Vide Beloe's Anecdotes of Literature and
Scarce Books, vol. ii. p. 164, 165.

[462:A] For a further and more minute account of James's "Essayes,"
I refer the reader to Pinkerton's Ancient Scotish Poems, vol. i. p.
cxix.; to Park's Royal and Noble Authors, vol. i. p. 120; to Censura
Literaria, vol. ii. p. 364; and to Beloe's Anecdotes of Literature and
Scarce Books, vol. i. p. 230.

[463:A] Spenser's Works apud Todd, vol. i. p. 161. See also, vol. i. p.
vii. and p. clviii.

[463:B] One in the King's Library, one in the late Mr. Malone's
collection, and one purchased by the Marquis of Blandford, at the
Roxburgh Sale, for 64_l._!

[464:A] Vide Nash's "Four Letters Confuted," and his "Have with ye to
Saffron-Walden," and D'Israeli's Calamities of Authors, vol. i.

[464:B] Vide Oldys's British Librarian, p. 86, and Beloe's Anecdotes of
Literature and Scarce Books, vol. i. p. 234.

[464:C] Warton's History of English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 406.

[465:A] Warton's History, vol. iii. p. 275.

[465:B] "Mr. Wanley, in his Catalogue of the Harley Library, says he
had been told, that Edm. Spencer was the author of that book, which
came out anonymous." Vide Todd's Spenser, vol. i. p. clviii.

[465:C] Wood's Athenæ Oxon. edit. 1691. vol. i. col. 184.

[466:A] Haslewood's Reprint, 1811. p. xi.

[466:B] Censura Literaria, vol. i. p. 339.

[467:A] Haslewood's Puttenham, p. x.

[468:A] "The Schole of Abuse; containing a pleasant invective against
poets, pipers, players, jesters, &c. and such like caterpillars of
the commonwealth, by Ste. Gossen, Stud. Oxon. dedicated to M. Philip
Sidney, Esquier, 1579."

[468:B] "Palladis Tamia. Wits Treasury. Being the second part of Wits
Common Wealth. By Francis Meres, Maister of Artes of both Universities.
Vivitur ingenio, cætera mortis erunt. At London printed by P. Short,
for Cuthbert Burbie, and are to be solde at his shop at the Royall
Exchange. 1598." Small 8vo. leaves 174. We are under many obligations
to Mr. Haslewood for reprinting the whole of the "Comparative
Discourse" in the ninth volume of the Censura Literaria, as it must
necessarily be to us a subject of frequent reference.

[469:A] Chalmers's English Poets, vol. iii. p. 558, 559.

[470:A] Warton's History of English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 278.

[470:B] Hypercritica. Addresse iv. sect. 3. p. 237.

[470:C] Warton's History, vol. iii. p. 275.

[470:D] Bibliographia Poetica, p. 135.

[472:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. vi. p. 62, 63. Act ii. sc. 3.

[473:A] Wilson's Art of Rhetoric, p. 167, and Chalmers's Apology, p.
160.

[475:A] Meres's Palladis Tamia, in Censura Literaria, vol. ix. p. 46.

[476:A] A notable history of the Saracens. Lond. 4to. 1575.

[476:B] An historical collection of the continued factions, tumults,
and massacres of the Romans before the peaceable empire of Augustus
Cæsar. Lond. 1600. 8vo. 1601. 4to.

[478:A] Fuller's Worthies of England, part iii. p. 31.

[479:A] Fuller's Worthies, part iii. p. 167, 168.

[479:B] Bishop Nicolson's Historical Library, vol. i. p. 8.

[480:A] De Rebus Albionicis, Britannicis atque Anglicis Commentariorum,
lib. duo. Lond. 1590. 8vo.

[481:A] Fuller's Worthies, part i. p. 205.

[482:A] Granger's Biographical History of England, 2d edit. 1775. vol.
i. p. 222.

[485:A] As Batman's Bartholome, continues Mr. Douce, "is likely
hereafter to form an article in a Shakspearean Library, it may be worth
adding that in a private diary written at the time the original price
of the volume appears to have been eight shillings."—Illustrations,
vol. i. p. 9.

I have lately seen a copy of Batman, marked, in a Sale Catalogue, at
three guineas and a half!

[486:A] Beloe's Anecdotes of Literature and Scarce Books, vol. i. p.
260-274.

[487:A] We are much obliged to Dr. Nott, for a most elegant reprint of
this interesting tract; the accompanying notes are highly valuable and
illustrative.

[487:B] Vide Warton's Hist. of English Poetry, Fragment of vol. iv. p.
28-64.

[488:A] For a catalogue of these, as far as they have hitherto been
discovered, we refer the reader to Mr. Beloe's Anecdotes of Literature,
vol. ii., and to Censura Literaria, vol. viii.

[488:B] In his pamphlet, entitled _The Repentance of Robert Greene_,
he informs us, that "wags as lewd" as himself "drew him to march into
Italy and Spaine," where he "saw and practised such villanie as is
abhominable to declare."

[489:A] See Gilchrist's Examination of the Charges of Ben Jonson's
enmity to Shakspeare, p. 22.

[489:B] Beloe's Anecdotes of Literature, vol. ii. p. 180.

[490:A] Censura Literaria, vol. viii. p. 11, 12.

[491:A] From Greene's Farewell to Follie. Vide Beloe's Anecdotes, vol.
vi. p. 7.

[491:B] We learn these circumstances—his having squandered his
paternal inheritance and his marriage portion—from his two tracts,
_Never Too Late_, and _Repentance_, where all the prominent events of
his life are detailed.

[491:C] Oldys says, that "he left his wife, for her good advice, in the
year 1586." Berkenhout's Biographia Literaria, p. 390. note _d_.

[491:D] See Censura Literaria, vol. viii. p. 13.

[491:E] Berkenhout, p. 390. note _d_.

[492:A] "Never Too Late." See Censura Literaria, vol. viii. p. 15.

[493:A] Greene's Arcadia, 1587. Beloe's Anecdotes, vol. ii. p. 191.

[493:B] Berkenhout's Biographia Literaria, p. 389. note _b_.

[494:A] Wood's Athenæ Oxonienses, vol. i. col. 136.

[494:B] History of English Poetry, Fragment of vol. iv. p. 81.

[494:C] Act ii. sc. 3.

[494:D] Vide New and choice Characters of severall Authors, together
with that exquisite and unmatcht poeme, The Wife; written by Syr Thomas
Overburie. Lond. 1615. p.

[494:E] His "trifling pamphlets of Love," as he himself terms them,
(see Repentance of Robert Greene,) we shall not notice; but there are
two, under the titles of "Penelope's Webb," and "Ciceronis Amor," which
deserve mention, as exhibiting many excellent precepts and examples for
the youth of both sexes.

[496:A] Vide Beloe's Anecdotes of Literature, vol. vi. p. 9.

[497:A] Never Too Late, part ii. See Censura Literaria, vol. viii. p.
135, 136.

[497:B] Wood's Athenæ Oxon. vol. i. p. 137.

[498:A] Four Letters and Certaine Sonnets. Especially touching Robert
Greene, and other Poets by him abused. Lond. 1592. Vide Beloe's
Anecdotes, vol. ii. p. 201, 202.

[499:A] Vide D'Israeli's Calamities of Authors, vol. ii. p. 17, 18.

[500:A] This article has been chiefly drawn up from documents
afforded by _Wood_, _Berkenhout_, _Beloe's Anecdotes of Literature_,
_D'Israeli_, and the _Censura Literaria_. The extracts selected from
his pamphlets by Mr. Beloe, in the opening of his sixth volume, will
enable the reader to form a pretty good estimate of the poetical genius
of Greene.

[500:B] Wood's Athenæ Oxon. vol. i.

[501:A] Warton's Hist. of English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 288. note _t_.

[502:A] Dibdin's Bibliomania, p. 366, 367, and note.

[502:B] Anatomie of Abuses, sig. P, p. 7.

[504:A] Ancient British Drama, vol. i. p. 49.

[505:A] For catalogues of Fleming's Works, see Herbert's Typographical
Antiquities; Warton's Hist. of English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 402 ad 405.
Tanner's Bibliotheca, p. 287, 288, and Censura Literaria, No. viii. p.
313, et seq.

[505:B] Censura Literaria, vol. ii. p. 218.

[506:A] As no complete catalogue of this ingenious author's productions
is to be found in any one writer, I have thought it desirable to
endeavour to form one, noticing only the first editions, when
ascertained, and referring, for the full titles, to the works cited at
the close of this note.

1. A Discource of Horsemanshippe, 4to. 1593.

2. Thyrsys and Daphne, 1593.

3. The Gentleman's Academie, or Booke of St. Albans, 4to. 1595.

4. The poem of poems, or Sions muse, contayning the divine song of king
Salomon, devided into eight eclogues, 8vo. 1595.

5. The most honourable tragedie of Sir Richard Grenvill knight, a
heroick poem, in eight-line stanzas, 8vo. 1595.

6. Devoreux. Vertues tears for the losse of the most christian king
Henry, third of that name, king of Fraunce: and the untimely death of
the most noble and heroicall gentleman, Walter Devoreux, &c., 4to. 1597.

7. Ariosto's Rogero and Rodomantho, &c. paraphrastically translated.
1598.

8. The Teares of the beloved, or the Lamentation of Saint John, &c.
4to. 1600.

9. Cavelarice, or the English Horseman, 4to. 1607.

10. England's Arcadia, alluding his beginning from Sir Philip Sydney's
ending, 4to. 1607.

11. Ariosto's Satyres, 4to. 1608.

12. The Famous Whore, or Noble Courtezan, 4to. 1609.

13. Cure of all diseases, incident to Horses, 4to. 1610.

14. The English Husbandman in two parts, 1613.

15. The Art of Husbandry, first translated from the Latin of Conr.
Heresbachius, by Barnaby Googe, 4to. 1614.

16. Country Contentments; or the Husbandman's Recreations, 4to. 1615.

17. The English Huswife, 4to. 1615.

18. Cheap and Good Husbandry, 4to. 1616.

19. Liebault's Le Maison Rustique, or the Country Farm, folio. 1616.

20. The English Horseman, 4to. 1617.

(8. How To Chuse, Ride, Traine, And Diet Both Hunting Horses And
Running Horses, 1599.)

22. The Inrichment of the Weald of Kent, 4to.

23. Markham's Farewel to Husbandry, 4to. 1620.

24. The Art of Fowling, 8vo. 1621.

25. Herod and Antipater, a Tragedy, 4to. 1622.

26. The Whole art of Husbandry, contained in Four Bookes, 4to. 1631.

27. The Art of Archerie, 8vo. 1634.

28. The Faithful Farrier, 8vo. 1635.

29. The Soldiers Exercise, 3d edit. 1643.

30. The Way to Get Wealth, 4to. 1638.

31. The English Farrier, 4to. 1649.

32. Epitome concerning the Diseases of Beasts and Poultry, 8vo.

34. His Masterpiece, concerning the curing of Cattle, 4to. an edition
1662.

(10. Marie Magdalen's Lamentations, 4to. 1601.)

Numerous editions of many of these works, with alterations in the
title-pages, were published to the year 1700. See _Censura Literaria_,
vol. ii. p. 217-225. _Ritson's Bibliographia Poetica_, p. 273, 274.
Beloe's Anecdotes of Literature, vol. ii. p. 244, et seq. and vol.
ii. p. 339. _Bridges's Theatrum Poetarum_, p. 278-285. _Biographia
Dramatica._ _British Bibliographer_, No. iv. p. 380, 381. Warton's
Hist. of Engl. Poetry, vol. iii. p. 485.

[508:A] See Chalmers's Life of Ruddiman, 8vo. p. 106. Nichols's
Literary Anecdotes, vol. iv. p. 34, and Andrew's History of Great
Britain, vol. i. p. 145, 156.

[509:A] Act ii., at the close.

[509:B] Fuller's Worthies, p. 359.

[509:C] "_The Fraternitye of Uacabondes_," 1565, and "_A Caveat for
common Cursetors vulgarely called Uagabones, set forth by Thomas
Herman, Esq._" 1567.

[510:A] Three editions were probably published in 1614; for Mr. Capel,
in his _Prolusions_, 8vo., notices one in 8vo., and one in 4to. stated
in the title-page to be the fourth. Vide Bliss's edition, of the
Microcosmography, p. 258, and Censura Literaria, vol. v. p. 363.

[510:B] Cursory Remarks on Ancient English Poets, 1789. p. 27, et seq.

[511:A] For an accurate Catalogue of the various Writers of Characters
to the year 1700, consult Bliss's edition of Earle's Microcosmography,
1811.

[512:A] Censura Literaria, vol. ix. p. 168.

[512:B] Bacon's Works, folio edit. 1740, vol. iv. p. 586.

[513:A] British Bibliographer, No. VI. p. 49. 51.

[515:A] British Bibliographer, No. VIII. p. 272, 273.

[515:B] Nugæ Antiquæ, vol. i. p. xi. edit. 1804.

[515:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. vii. p. 187. Act v. sc. 2.

[516:A] Nugæ Antiquæ, vol. i. p. 239, 240.

[517:A] Part II. chap. i.




CHAPTER III.

    VIEW OF ROMANTIC LITERATURE DURING THE AGE OF
    SHAKSPEARE—SHAKSPEARE'S ATTACHMENT TO AND USE OF ROMANCES,
    TALES, AND BALLADS.


That a considerable, and perhaps the greater, portion of Shakspeare's
Library consisted of Romances and Tales, we have already mentioned as
a conclusion fully warranted, from the extensive use which he has made
of them in his dramatic works. What the precious tomes specifically
were which covered his shelves, we have now no means of _positively_
ascertaining; but it is evident that we shall make a near approximation
to the truth, if we can bring forward the _library of a contemporary
collector_ of romantic literature, and at the same time _contemporary
authority_ for the romances then most in vogue.

Now it fortunately happens, that we have not only a few curious
descriptions, by the most unexceptionable authors of the reigns
of Elizabeth and James, of the popular reading of their day, but
we possess also a catalogue of the collection of one of the most
enthusiastic hoarders of the sixteenth century, in the various branches
of romantic lore; a document which may be considered, in fact, as
placing within our view, a kind of _fac simile_ of this, the most
copious, department of Shakspeare's book boudoir.

The interesting detail has been given us by Laneham, in his _Account
of the Queen's Entertainment at Killingworth Castle_, 1575. The author
is describing the Storial Show by a procession of the Coventry men, in
celebration of Hock Tuesday, when he suddenly exclaims,—"But aware,
keep bak, make room noow, heer they cum.

"And fyrst _Captain Cox_, an od man I promiz yoo; by profession a
Mason, and that right skilfull; very cunning in fens, and hardy az
_Gavin_; for hiz ton-sword hangs at hiz tablz eend; great oversight
hath he in matters of storie: For az for _King Arthurz_ book, _Huon_
of _Burdeaus_, the foour sons of _Aymon_, _Bevys_ of _Hampton_, The
_Squyre_ of lo degree, The _Knight_ of _Courtesy_, and the _Lady
Faguell_, _Frederick_ of _Gene_, _Syr Eglamoour_, _Syr Tryamoour_,
_Syr Lamwell_, _Syr Isenbras_, _Syr Gawyn_, _Olyver_ of the _Castl_,
_Lucres_ and _Curialus_, _Virgil's Life_, the _Castl_ of _Ladiez_, the
_Wido Edyth_, the _King_ and the _Tanner_, _Frier Rous_, _Howleglas_,
_Gargantua_, _Robinhood_, _Adam Bel_, _Clim_ of the _Clough_ and
_William_ of _Clondsley_, the _Churl_ and the _Burd_, the _Seven Wise
Masters_, the _Wife_ lapt in a _Morels Skin_, the _Sak full of Nuez_,
the _Seargeaunt_ that became a _Fryar_, _Skogan_, _Collyn Clout_, the
_Fryar_ and the _Boy_, _Elynor Rumming_, and the _Nutbrooun Maid_,
with many moe then I rehearz heere; I believe hee have them all at hiz
fingers endz.

"Then in Philosophy, both morall and naturall, I think hee be az
naturally overseen; beside _Poetrie_ and _Astronomie_, and oother
hid _Sciencez_, az I may gesse by the omberty of his books; whearof
part, az I remember, The _Shepherd'z Kalender_, The _Ship_ of _Foolz_,
_Danielz Dreamz_, the _Booke_ of _Fortune_, _Stans puer ad Mensam_,
The by way to the _Spitl-house_, _Julian_ of _Brainford's Testament_,
the _Castle_ of _Love_, the _Booget_ of _Demaunds_, the _Hundred Mery
Talez_, the _Book_ of _Riddels_, the _Seaven Sororz_ of _Wemen_, the
_Prooud Wives Pater Noster_, the _Chapman_ of a _Peneworth_ of _Wit_:
Beside hiz Auncient Playz, _Yooth_ and _Charitee_, _Hikskorner_,
_Nugizee_, _Impacient Poverty_, and herewith _Doctor Boords Breviary_
of _Health_. What should I rehearz heer, what a bunch of Ballets and
Songs, all auncient; as _Broom broom on Hill_, _So Wo iz me begon,
troly lo_, _Over a Whinny Meg_, _Hey ding a ding_, _Bony lass upon
a green_, _My hony on gave me a bek_, _By a bank as I lay_: and a
hundred more he hath fair wrapt up in parchment, and bound with a whip
cord. And az for Almanacks of Antiquitee (a point for Ephemeridees), I
ween he can sheaw from _Jazper Laet_ of _Antwarp_ unto _Nostradam_ of
_Frauns_, and thens untoo oour _John Securiz_ of _Salsbury_. To stay
ye no longer heerin, I dare say hee hath az fair a Library for theez
Sciencez, and az many goodly monuments both in prose and poetry, and
at after noonz can talk az much with out book, az ony inholder betwixt
_Brainford_ and _Bagshot_, what degree soever he be."[520:A]

Of the library of this military bibliomaniac, who is represented as
"marching on valiantly before, clean trust and gartered above the
knee, all fresh in a velvet cap, flourishing with his _ton_ sword,"
Mr. Dibdin has appreciated the value when he declares, that he should
have preferred it to the extensive collection of the once celebrated
magician, Dr. Dee. "How many," he observes, "of Dee's magical books he
had exchanged for the pleasanter magic of _Old Ballads_ and _Romances_,
I will not take upon me to say: but that this said bibliomaniacal
Captain had a library, which, even from Master Laneham's imperfect
description of it, I should have preferred to the four thousand volumes
of Dr. John Dee, is most unquestionable."

He then adds in a note, in reference to the "_Bunch of Ballads and
Songs, all ancient!—fair wrapt up in parchment, and bound with a whip
cord!_" "it is no wonder that Ritson, in the historical essay prefixed
to his collection of _Scotish Songs_, should speak of some of these
ballads with a zest, as if he would have sacrificed half his library
to untie the said 'whip cord' packet. And equally joyous, I ween,
would my friend Mr. R. H. Evans, of Pall-Mall, have been—during his
editorial labors in publishing a new edition of his father's collection
of Ballads—(an edition, by the bye, which gives us more of the
genuine spirit of the COXEAN COLLECTION than any with which I am
acquainted)—equally joyous would Mr. Evans have been, to have had the
inspection of some of these 'bonny' songs. The late Duke of Roxburgh,
of never-dying bibliomaniacal celebrity, would have parted with half
the insignia of his order of the Garter, to have obtained _clean
original copies_ of these fascinating effusions!"[520:B]

Though the Romances and Ballads in Captain Cox's Library are truly
termed "ancient," yet it appears, from unquestionable contemporary
authority, that these romances, either in their original dress or
somewhat modernised, were still sung to the harp, in Shakspeare's days,
as well in the halls of the nobility and gentry, as in the streets and
ale-houses, for the recreation of the multitude: thus Puttenham, in his
"Arte of English Poesie," published in 1589, speaking of historical
poetry adapted to the voice, says, "we our selves who compiled this
treatise have written for pleasure a little brief _Romance_ or
historicall ditty in the English tong of the Isle of great _Britaine_
in short and long meetres, and by breaches or divisions to be more
commodiously song to the harpe in places of assembly, where the company
shal be desirous to heare of old adventures and reliaunces of noble
knights in times past, as are those of king _Arthur_ and his knights
of the round table, Sir _Bevys_ of _Southampton_, _Guy_ of _Warwicke_
and others like;" and he afterwards notices the "blind harpers or such
like taverne minstrels that give a fit of mirth for a groat, their
matter being for the most part stories of old time, as the tale of Sir
_Topas_, the reportes of _Bevis_ of _Southampton_, _Guy_ of _Warwicke_,
_Adam Bell_, and _Clymme_ of the _Clough_ and such other old Romances
or historicall rimes, made purposely for recreation of the com̄on
people at Christmasse diners and bride ales, and in tavernes and
ale-houses and such other places of base resort."[521:A]

Bishop Hall, likewise, in his Satires printed in 1598, alluding to the
tales that lay

    "In chimney-corners smok'd with winter fires,
     To read and rock asleep our drowsy sires,"

exclaims,—

    "No man his threshold better knowes, than I
     Brute's first arrival, and first victory;
     St. George's sorrel, or his crosse of blood,
     Arthur's round board, or Caledonian wood,
     Or holy battles of bold Charlemaine,
     What were his knights did Salem's siege maintaine:
     How the mad rival of faire Angelice
       Was physick'd from the new-found paradise!"[522:A]

and even so late as Burton, who finished his interesting work just
previous to our great poet's decease, we have sufficient testimony
that the major part of our gentry was employed in the perusal of these
seductive narratives: "If they read a book at any time," remarks this
eccentric writer, "'tis an English Chronicle, _Sr. Huon of Bordeaux_,
Amadis de Gaul &c.;" and subsequently, in depicting the inamoratoes
of the day, he accuses them of "reading nothing but play books, idle
poems, jests, _Amadis de Gaul_, the _Knight of the Sun_, the _Seven
Champions_, _Palmerin de Oliva_, _Huon of Bordeaux_, &c."[522:B]

These contemporary authorities prove, to a certain extent, what were
considered the most popular romances in the reigns of Elizabeth and
James; but it will be satisfactory to enquire a little more minutely
into this branch of literature.

The origin of the metrical Romance may be traced to the fostering
influence of our early Norman monarchs, who cultivated with great
ardour the French language; and it was from the courts of these
sovereigns that the French themselves derived the first romances in
their own tongue.[522:C] The gratification resulting from the recital
or chaunting of these metrical tales was then confined, and continued
to be for some centuries, to the mansions of the great, owing to the
vast expense of maintaining or rewarding the minstrels with whom,
at that time, a knowledge of these splendid fictions exclusively
rested. No sooner, however, was the art of printing discovered, than
the wonders of romance were thrown open to the eager curiosity of
the public, and the presses of Caxton and Winkin de Worde groaned
under the production of prose versions from the romantic poesy of the
Anglo-Norman bards.

So fascinating were the wild incidents and machinery of these volumes,
and so rapid was their consequent circulation, that neither the varied
learning nor the theological polemics of the succeeding age, availed to
interrupt their progress; and it was not until towards the close of the
seventeenth century, that the feats of the knight and the spells of the
enchanter ceased to astonish and exhilarate the halls of our fathers.

In the whole course of this extensive career, from the era of the
conquest to the age of Milton, a poet whose youth, as he himself
tells us, was nourished "among those lofty fables and romances, which
recount, in sublime cantos, the deeds of knighthood[523:A]," perhaps
no period can be mentioned in which a greater love of romantic fiction
existed, than that which marks the reign of Elizabeth; and this, too,
notwithstanding the improvement of taste, and the progress of classical
learning; for though the national credulity had been chastened by the
gradual efforts of reason and science, yet was the daring imagery of
romance still the favourite resource of the bard and the novelist, who,
skilfully blending its potent magic with the colder but now fashionable
fictions of pagan antiquity, flung increasing splendour over the union,
and gave that permanency of attraction which only the peculiar and
unfettered genius of the Elizabethan era could bestow.

Confining ourselves at present, however, chiefly to the consideration
of the _prose_ romance, we may observe, that five distinct classes of
it were prevalent in the age of Shakspeare, which we may designate by
the appellations of _Anglo-Norman_, _Oriental_, _Italian_, _Spanish_,
and _Pastoral_, Romance.

Under the first of these titles, the _Anglo-Norman_, we include all
those productions which have been formed on the metrical romances of
the feudal or Anglo-Norman period, and to which the terms _Gothic_ or
_Chivalric_ have been commonly, though not exclusively, applied. These
are blended not only with much classical fiction, but with a large
portion of oriental fable, derived from our commerce with the East
during the period of the Crusades, and are principally occupied either
in relating the achievements of Arthur, Charlemagne, and the knights
engaged in the holy wars, or in chivalarising, if we may use the word,
the heroes of antiquity, or in expanding the wonders of oriental
machinery.

The most popular prose romance of this class was undoubtedly _La Morte
D'Arthur_, translated from various French romances by Sir Thomas
Malory, and printed by Caxton in 1485, a work which includes in a
condensed form the most celebrated achievements of the knights of the
Round Table.[524:A] This "noble and joyous book," as it is termed by
its venerable printer, was the delight of our ancestors until the
age of Charles the First; and in no period more decidedly so than in
the reign of Elizabeth, when probably there were few lordly mansions
without a copy of this seducing tome, either in the great hall or in
the ladies bower. Such were its fascinations, indeed, as to excite the
apprehensions, and call forth the indignant, and somewhat puritanical,
strictures of Ascham and Meres; the former in his _Schoole master_
1571, when, reprobating the inordinate attachment to books of chivalry,
instancing "as one for example, _Morte Arthur_, the whole pleasure
of which booke," he says, "standeth in two specyall poyntes, in open
mans slaghter and bolde bawdrie: in which booke, those be counted
the noblest knights that doe kill most men without any quarrell, and
commit fowlest adoultries by sutlest shifts: as, Syr Lancelote with
the wife of King Arthure, his maister: Syr Tristram with the wife of
King Marke, his uncle: Syr Lameroche with the wife of King Lote, that
was his own aunte. This is good stuffe for wise men to laughe at,
or honest men to take pleasure at. Yet I knowe when God's Bible was
banished the court and Morte Arthure receaved into the princes chamber,
what toyes the dayly reading of such a booke may worke in the will of
a yong gentleman, or a yong maide, that liveth welthely and idlely,
wise men can judge, and honest men do pittie[525:A];" and the latter
declaring in his "Wits' Commonwealth," that "as the Lord de la Nonne in
the sixe discourse of his politike and military discourses censureth
of the bookes of Amadis de Gaule, which he saith are no less hurtfull
to youth, than the workes of Machiavell, to age; so these bookes are
accordingly to be censured of, whose names follow; Bevis of Hampton,
Guy of Warwicke, _Arthur of the Round Table_," &c.[525:B]

That these strictures are too severe, and that the consequences
apprehended by these ingenious scholars did not necessarily follow, we
have the authority of Milton to prove; who, so far from deprecating
the study of romances as dangerous to morality, declares "that
even those books proved to me so many enticements to the love and
stedfast observation of virtue[525:C];" a passage which appears to
have kindled in the mind of a modern writer, a spirited defence of
the utility of these productions, even at the present day. "There
is yet a point of view," he remarks, "in which Romance may be
regarded to advantage, even in the present age. The most interesting
qualities in a chivalrous knight, are his high-toned enthusiasm, and
disinterested spirit of adventure—qualities to which, when properly
modified and directed, society owes its highest improvements. Such
are the feelings of benevolent genius yearning to diffuse love and
peace and happiness among the human race. The gorgeous visions of
the imagination, familiar to the enthusiastic soul, purify the
heart from selfish pollutions, and animate to great and beneficent
action. Indeed, nothing great or eminently beneficial ever has been,
or can be effected without enthusiasm—without feelings more exalted
than the consideration of simple matter of fact can produce. That
Romances have a tendency to excite the enthusiastic spirit, we have
the evidence of fact in numerous instances. Hereafter, we shall hear
the great Milton indirectly bearing his testimony of admiration and
gratitude for their inspiring influence. It is of little consequence,
comparatively speaking, whether all the impressions made, be founded
in strict philosophical truth. If the imagination be awakened and the
heart warmed, we need give ourselves little concern about the final
result. The first object is to elicit power. Without power nothing
can be accomplished. Should the heroic spirit chance to be excited by
reading Romances, we have, alas! too much occasion for that spirit
even in modern times, to wish to repress its generation. Since the
Gallic hero has cast his malign aspect over the nations, it is become
almost as necessary to social security, as during the barbarism of the
feudal times. There is now little danger of its being directed to an
_unintelligible_ purpose.

"Romances, then, not only merit attention, as enabling us to enter into
the feelings and sentiments of our ancestors,—a circumstance in itself
curious, and even necessary to a complete knowledge of the history
of past ages; they may still be successfully employed to awaken the
mind—to inspire genius: and when this effect is produced, the power
thus created may be easily made to bear on any point desired."[526:A]

The demand for _Morte Arthur_, which continued for nearly two
centuries, produced of course several re-impressions: the _second_
issued from the press of Winkin de Worde in 1498, the colophon of
which, as specified by Herbert, is singularly curious. "Here is the
ende of the hoole boke of kynge Arthur, and of his noble knygtes of
the rounde table. That whane they were hoole togyder, there was ever
an C. and XL. And here is the ende of the deth of Arthur. I praye you
all gentylmen and gentylwymmen that rede thys boke of Arthur and his
knyghtes from the beginnynge to the endynge praye for me whyle I am a
lyue, that, God send me good utterance. And when I am deed, I pray you
all pray for my soule: for the translacion of this boke was fynisshed
the IX. yere of the regne of kyng Edwarde the fourth, by syr Thomas
Maleore knyght, as Jhesu helpe him for his grete myghte, as he is the
servaunt of Jhesu bothe day and nyghte. Emprynted fyrst by William
Caxton, on whose soul God have mercy."[527:A]

The re-impression of De Worde was followed by the editions of
_Copland_, _East_, and _William Stansby_, this last being dated 1634.
Of the elder copies East's was probably the one most generally used
in the reign of Elizabeth, and it differs only in a few unessential
phrases from the edition of Caxton.

La Morte D'Arthur, which, by its frequent republication, kept alive
a taste for romantic fiction, may be considered as giving us, with a
few exceptions as to costume, a very pleasing though somewhat polished
picture of the chivalric romance of the Anglo-Norman period. It has the
merit also of furnishing an excellent specimen of purity and simplicity
in style and diction; qualities which have stamped upon many of its
otherwise extravagant details the most decided features of sublimity
and pathos. A passage in the twenty-second chapter of the second book,
for example, furnishes a noble instance of the former, and the speech
of Sir Bohort, over the dead body of Sir Launcelot, towards the close
of the work, is as admirable a specimen of the latter. These, as short,
peculiarly interesting, and characteristic of the work, we shall
venture to transcribe.

The description of, and the effect arising from, so simple a
circumstance as that of blowing a horn, are thus painted:—

"So hee rode forth, and within three days hee came by a cross, and
thereon was letters of gold written, that said, It is not for a knight
alone to ride toward this castle. Then saw hee an old hoar gentleman
coming toward him, that said, Balin le Savage, thou passest thy bounds
this way, therefore turn againe and it will availe thee. And hee
vanished away anon; and so hee heard an horne blow as it had been the
death of a beast. That blast, said Balin, is blown for mee; for I am
the prize, and yet am I not dead."

Sir Ector de Maris, the brother of Sir Launcelot, after having sought
him in vain through Britain for seven years, has at length the
melancholy satisfaction of recognising the body of the hero, who had
just breathed his last.

"And then Sir Ector threw his shield, his sword, and his helme, from
him. And when hee beheld Sir Launcelot's visage, hee fell downe in a
sowne. And when hee awaked, it were hard for any tongue to tell the
dolefull complaints that he made for his brother. Ah Sir Launcelot,
said hee, thou were head of all christian knights, and now I dare say,
said Sir Bors, that Sir Launcelot, there thou liest thou were never
matched of none earthly knight's hands. And thou were the curtiest
knight that ever beare shield. And thou were the truest friend to
thy lover that ever bestrod horse, and thou were the truest lover of
a sinful man that ever loved woman. And thou were the kindest man
that ever stroke with sword. And thou were the goodliest parson that
ever came among presse of knights. And thou were the meekest man
and the gentlest that ever eate in hall among ladies. And thou were
the sternest knight to thy mortall foe that ever put speare in the
rest."[528:A]

We have taken the more notice of this work, not only as it affords
a pretty correct idea of what the old chivalric metrical romance
consisted, but as it was in Shakspeare's time the favourite book in
this branch of literature, and furnished Spenser with many incidents
for his "Faerie Queene."[529:A] It constitutes, in fact, an exemplar
and abridgment of the marvels of the Round Table, such as were
dispersed through a variety of metrical tales, and can only be found
condensed in this production, and of which the popularity may be
considered as an indubitable mark of the taste of the age in which it
was so much admired and cherished.

If it be objected, that, though _Morte Arthur_ was very popular, it
did not originate during our period, it may be answered, that many
prose imitations of the Anglo-Norman romance, the undoubted offspring
of the Elizabethan era, might, if necessary, be mentioned; but one
will suffice, and this has been selected from its having maintained an
influence over the public mind nearly as long as the Death of Arthur.

We allude to the well-known romance entitled _The Seven Champions of
Christendome_, written in the age of Elizabeth by Richard Johnson, the
author of various other productions during this and the subsequent
reign. In what year the first part of the _Seven Champions_ made
its appearance is not known; but the second was published with the
following title and date:—"The Second Part of the famous History of
the Seven Champions of Christendome. Likewise shewing the princely
Prowesse of Saint George's three Sonnes, the lively Sparke of
Nobilitie. With many memoriall atchieuements worthy the Golden Spurres
of Knighthood. Lond. Printed for Cuthbert Burbie, &c. 1597." 4to.
Black letter.[529:B] If Mr. Warton's opinion be correct, that Spenser
was indebted to this work for some incidents in the conduct of his
Faerie Queene, the first part must have been printed before 1590; and
Mr. Todd, indeed, seems to think that the second part "was published
some time after the first[529:C];" a supposition which is corroborated
by the address to the reader prefixed to the second part, in which,
after mentioning "_the great acceptance of HIS First Part_,"
he nevertheless deprecates the severity of criticism to which it had
been exposed: "thy courtesy," he says, "must be my buckler against the
carping malice of mocking jesters, that being worse able to do well,
scoff commonly at that they cannot mend, censuring all things, doing
nothing, but, monkey-like, make apish jests at any thing they see in
print: and nothing pleaseth them, except it savour of a scoffing or
invective spirit;" passages which indicate that the first part of this
romance had been for some length of time before the public. We may
also add, that Johnson is known to have been a popular writer in 1592,
having published in that year his "Nine Worthies of London."

If we except La Morte D'Arthur, and one or two Spanish romances,
which will be afterwards mentioned, the _Seven Champions_ appears to
have been the most popular book of its class. It has accumulated in a
small compass the most remarkable adventures of the ancient metrical
romances, and has related them in a rich and figurative, though
somewhat turgid style. Justice has been done to this compilation, once
so high in repute, both by Percy and Warton: the former speaks of its
"strong Gothic painting," and of its adherence to the old poetical
legends[530:A]; and the latter declares it to contain "some of the
most capital fictions of the old Arabian romance," and instances the
adventure of the ENCHANTED FOUNTAIN.[530:B]

The various editions of this once celebrated compilation attest the
longevity of its fame; and though now no longer the amusement of the
learned and the great, yet is it far from being a stranger to the
literature of our juvenile libraries. A London impression appeared
in 1755, and it has lately been reprinted in a pocket-edition of the
British Classics.

Having thus brought forward _La Morte D'Arthur_ and the _Seven
Champions_ as the most popular _prose_ compilations in Shakspeare's
time from the _Anglo-Norman_ metrical romances, we shall proceed
to notice two collections which were more immediately built on an
ORIENTAL foundation, and which have enjoyed, both at the epoch of
their first translation into English in the sixteenth century, and
subsequently to a very modern date, an almost unrivalled circulation.

A little anterior to the birth of our great poet, W. Copland printed,
without date, a romance entitled _The Seven Wise Masters_, a direct
version from the Latin of a book published in Germany, soon after the
discovery of the art of printing, under the appellation of _Historia
Septem Sapientum_. This interesting series of tales has been traced by
Mr. Douce[531:A] to an _Indian_ prototype; to "The Book of the
Seven Counsellors, or Parables of SENDEBAR or SANDABAR," an Indian
philosopher, who is supposed to have lived about a century before
the Christian æra. The work of this sage, it appears, had been early
translated into Persic, Syriac, Arabic, and, from this latter, into
Hebrew by Rabbi Joel, under the title of _Mischle Sandabar_, a version
which is conjectured to have been made about the middle of the
fourteenth century, and is believed to be the only oriental manuscript
of these Parables which has been subjected to the press; having been
printed at Constantinople in 1517, and at Venice in 1544 and 1608. A
MS. of this Hebrew Sandabar is in the British Museum (Harleian MSS.,
No. 5449.), but no English version of it has been hitherto attempted.

The romance of our Indian fabulist made its next appearance, though
with some alterations in the incidents and names, in _Greek_, under
the title of _Syntipas_, of which many MSS. exist, the greater number
professing to be translated from the Syriac; but in the British Museum
is preserved a copy from the Persic, of so late a date as 1667.

The first _Latin_ version is said to have proceeded from the pen of
Jean de Hauteselve, a native of Lorraine, but the existence of such a
copy is now only known, from its having been translated into _French_
verse, by an ecclesiastic of the name of Herbers, who died 1226, and
who, in the opening of his poem, to which he has given the singular
title of _Dolopatos_, confesses to have taken it from the "_bel Latin_"
of Hauteselve.

Another _French_ version, however, of greater importance, as it makes
a nearer approach to the remote original, and has been the source of
numerous imitations, is preserved in the French National Library, and
numbered 7595. It is a MS. in verse, of the 13th century, and was first
noticed by Mr. Ellis, through a communication from Mr. Douce, who
believes it to be not only the immediate original of many imitations in
French prose, but the source whence an old English metrical romance in
the Cotton Library (Galba, E. 9.) has been taken.

This poem, a large fragment of which exists in the Auchinleck MS.,
is entire in the Cotton Library, and is written in lines of eight
syllables. It is entitled "The Proces of the Sevyn Sages," and Mr.
Ellis refers its composition to a period not later than 1330.[532:A]

The copy, however, which has given rise to the greatest number of
translations, is that already mentioned under the title of "Historia
Septem Sapientum," the first edition of which, with a date, was
published by John Hoelhoff at Cologne in 1490. This was very rapidly
transfused into the German, Dutch, Italian, French, Spanish, English,
and Scotch languages.

Of the _Scotch_ version, which is metrical, and was undertaken by the
translator "at the request of his _Ant Cait_ (Aunt Kate) in Tanstelloun
Castle, during the siege of Leith," 1560, the first edition was printed
at Edinburgh in 1578, with the following title:—"THE SEVIN SEAGES,
TRANSLATIT OUT OF PROIS IN SCOTTIS METER, BE JOHNE ROLLAND, IN
DALKEITH; with ane Moralitie after everie Doctouris tale, and siclike
after the Emprice tale, togidder with ane loving and laude to everie
Doctour after his awin tale, and ane exclamation and outcrying when the
Empreouris wife after hir fals construsit tale. Imprentit at Edinburgh
be John Ros, for Henry Charteries."[533:A]

The prose translation by Copland, which made its appearance between
the years 1550 and 1567, under the title of "The Seven Wise Masters,"
was one of the most popular books of the sixteenth century. It has
undergone a variety of re-impressions, and when no longer occupying its
former place in the hall of the Baron and the Squire, descending to a
less ambitious station, it became the most delectable volume in the
collection of the School-boy. This change in the field of its influence
seems to have taken place in little better than a century after its
introduction into the English language; for in 1674, Francis Kirkman,
publishing a version from the Italian copy of this romance, which he
entitles the "History of Prince Erastus, son to the emperor Diocletian,
and those famous philosophers called The Seven Wise Masters of Rome,"
informs us, in his preface, "that the book of 'The Seven Wise Masters'
is in such estimation in Ireland, that it was always put into the hands
of young children immediately after the horn-book."[533:B]

The "Book of the Seven Counsellors," in short, appears to have been
familiarised in the language of every civilised nation in Asia and
Europe, and though often interpolated and disguised by the admixture
of fables from other oriental collections, and especially from the
fables of Pilpay, it has still preserved, through every transfusion, a
resemblance of its Indian type. Its admission into English literature
contributed to cherish and keep alive the taste for Eastern romance,
which had been generated during the period of the Crusades, and adopted
by the Anglo-Norman minstrels.

If the collection of oriental apologues, to which we have alluded under
the name of Pilpay, had been as early naturalised amongst us, the
effect in favour of oriental fable would probably have been greater;
but it was the fate of this work, though superior in merit perhaps, and
of equal antiquity and similar origin with the Parables of Sandabar,
and alike popular in the East, not to have acquired an English dress
until the eighteenth century. The Heetopades of Veeshnoo Sarma, the
undoubted source of Pilpay's stories, we, at length, possess, in a
correct state, forming certainly the most interesting series of fables
extant.[534:A]

There is another set of tales, however, in their complection almost
entirely oriental, which not only co-operated in their effect, but also
in their period of introduction, with the "Seven Wise Masters," from
the press of Copland.

In 1577 Richard Robinson, a voluminous author who lived by his pen,
published "A record of ancyent historyes intituled in Latin _Gesta
Romanorum_;" and in a catalogue of his productions, written by himself,
and preserved in the British Museum, he says of this work that it was
"translated (auctore ut supponitur Iohane Leylando antiquario) by mee
perused corrected and bettered."[534:B]

This is a partial version of one of two distinct works entitled, _Gesta
Romanorum_, collections of tales in the Latin language which, there is
reason to suppose, originated in the fourteenth century, and certainly
once enjoyed the highest popularity.

Of the _first_, or what may be called the _Continental Gesta_, Mr.
Warton has given us a very elaborate and pleasing analysis. No
manuscript of this primary collection is known to exist, but it was
printed about 1473; the first six editions of it are in folio without
dates; three containing 152 chapters or gests each, and three 181
each, and of those printed with dates, in folio, quarto, octavo, and
duodecimo, a list, amounting to twenty-eight, has been published by
Mr. Douce, from the year 1480 to 1555 inclusive. A Dutch translation
appeared in 1481; a German translation in 1489; the first French
translation with a date in 1521; but no English translation until 1703,
when only forty-five histories or gests were published, the translator,
either from want of encouragement, or from some other cause, having
only printed volume the first of his intended version.

The _second_ or _English Gesta_ must be considered as the discovery of
Mr. Douce, for Warton, not perceiving its frequent discrepancy, had
confounded it with the original work. It is likewise remarkable, that
the circumstances attending its circulation are diametrically different
from those accompanying the prior collection; for while numerous
MSS. of the English Gesta exist in this country, not one copy in the
original Latin has been printed.

It appears from the researches of Mr. Douce, that this compilation very
soon followed the original Gesta, and that the first manuscript may
with great probability be ascribed to a period as early as the reign
of Richard the Second; most of the MSS. however, none of which have
ever been found upon the continent, are of the age of fifth and sixth
Henries, and of these twenty-five are yet remaining preserved in the
British Museum, at Oxford, and in other collections.

As the English Gesta was intended as an imitation of the _Continental_
collection, many of its stories have, of course, been retained; but
these have undergone such alterations in language, and sometimes in
incident, together with new moralizations, and new names, as to give
it, with the addition of forty tales not found in its prototype, the
air of an original work.[535:A] It is not, however, so extensive as
the foreign compilation, the most complete manuscripts containing only
one hundred and two stories; yet as the sources from which it has drawn
its materials are, with a few exceptions, correspondent, in respect to
their oriental origin, with the continental copy, the character which
Mr. Warton has given of the primary, will apply to the secondary,
series.

"This work," he observes, "is compiled from the obsolete Latin
chronicles of the later Roman or rather German story, heightened by
romantic inventions, from Legends of the Saints, oriental apologues,
and many of the shorter fictitious narratives which came into Europe
with the Arabian literature, and were familiar in the ages of ignorance
and imagination. The classics are sometimes cited for authorities;
but these are of the lower order, such as Valerius Maximus,
Macrobius, Aulus Gellius, Seneca, Pliny, and Boethius. To every tale
a _Moralization_ is subjoined, reducing it into a christian or moral
lesson.

"Most of the oriental apologues are taken from the CLERICALIS
DISCIPLINA, or a Latin Dialogue between an Arabian Philosopher and
Edric[536:A] his son, never printed[536:B], written by Peter Alphonsus,
a baptized Jew, at the beginning of the twelfth century, and collected
from Arabian fables, apothegms, and examples.[536:C] Some are also
borrowed from an old Latin translation of the CALILAH U DAMNAH, a
celebrated set of eastern fables, to which Alphonsus was indebted.

"On the whole, this is the collection in which a curious enquirer might
expect to find the original of Chaucer's Cambuscan:—

    "Or,——if aught else great bards beside
     In sage and solemn tunes have sung,
     Of turneys and of trophies hung,
     Of forests and inchantments drear,
     Where more is meant than meets the ear."[537:A]

Of the translations of the _English_ Gesta, which, owing to the Latin
original not being known upon the continent, are solely confined to the
English language, three only have been noticed; and of these, the first
is a manuscript in the Harleian collection, No. 7,333, of the age of
Henry the Sixth, containing but seventy stories, and which Mr. Douce
conjectures to have been produced either by Lydgate, Gower, or Occleve,
as the English Gesta appears familiar to them, and this version
possesses not only several pieces by Lydgate, but some tales from the
_Confessio Amantis_ of Gower.[537:B]

The first printed translation is said to have issued from the press
of Wynkyn de Worde, though without a date, and this edition has
been mentioned and referred to, both by Mr. Warton[537:C] and Dr.
Farmer.[537:D] Neither Herbert, however, nor Mr. Dibdin, has been
fortunate enough to detect its existence, and if it really had, or has,
a being, it is probably either the manuscript version of the reign of
Henry the Sixth, or the translation to which Robinson alludes as the
work of Leland the antiquary.

We must, therefore, look to Robinson's Translation of 1577, as the
only one which has met with a general and undisputed circulation; and
this was so popular, that in 1601 it had been printed six times by
Thomas Easte.[537:E] The most enlarged edition, however, of Robinson's
version, contains but forty-four stories, and it is, therefore, much
to be regretted, that the Harleian manuscript is not committed to the
press.

As this was then the only English translation accessible to the public,
of a collection of tales which in the original Latin, and under the
same name, had amused the learned and the curious for some centuries,
both on the continent, and for nearly the same space of time on our own
island, we shall not be surprised if we find, in a subsequent page,
that Shakspeare has availed himself of a portion of its contents,
especially as its subjects, and the mode of treating them, coincided
with his track of reading.

The popularity of Robinson's work seems to have extended to the
eighteenth century; for the last edition, which we can now recollect,
is dated 1703, and there is reason to think it the fifteenth, while the
edition immediately preceding was published in 1689, but fourteen years
anteriorly.

If Ascham thought he had reason to complain of the popularity of _Morte
Arthur_, and its associates, he found tenfold cause of complaint in the
daily increasing circulation of ITALIAN ROMANCES AND TALES; "ten _La
Morte d'Arthures_," he exclaims, "doe not the tenth parte so much
harme, as one of these bookes made in _Italie_, and translated in
_Englande_."[538:A]

The frequent communication indeed with Italy, which took place
about the middle of the sixteenth century, had not only induced an
indiscriminate imitation of Italian manners, but had rendered the
literature of the Italians so fashionable, that, together with their
poetry, was imported into this island a multiplicity of their _prose_
fictions and tales, a species of composition that had been cultivated
in Italy with incredible ardour from the period of Sacchetti and
Boccacio.

These tales, by blending with the romantic fiction of the Normans and
Orientals the scenes of domestic life and manners; by introducing
greater complexity and skill in the arrangement of fable and
greater probability in the nature and construction of incident; by
intermingling more frequent and more interesting traits of the softer
passions, and by exciting more powerfully the emotions of pity and
compassion, presented to the public a new and poignant source of
gratification, and furnished the dramatic poets and the caterers for
the then universal appetite for story-telling with innumerable bases
for plays, tales, and ballads.[539:A]

It may be asserted, we believe, with a close approach to accuracy, that
in the space which elapsed between the middle of the sixteenth century,
and the accession of James the First, nearly all the most striking
fictions of the Italian novellists had found their way to the English
press; either immediately translated from the original Italian, or
through the medium of Latin, French, or Spanish versions.

Of these curious collections of prose narrative, real or imaginary,
comic or tragic, it will be thought necessary that we should notice a
few of the most valuable, and especially those to which our great poet
has been most indebted.

One of the earliest of these works and mentioned by Laneham in 1575, as
an article in Captain Cox's library, was entitled _The Hundred Merry
Tales_. This series of stories, though existing in English so late as
1659[539:B], is now unfortunately lost; the probability, however, is,
that it was a translation from _Les Cent Nouvelles Nouvelles_, printed
at Paris before the year 1500, and compiled from Italian writers. The
English copy, says Warton, was licensed to be printed by John Waly,
in 1557, under the title of "A Hundreth mery tales," together with
_The freere and the boye, stans puer ad mensam, and youthe, charite,
and humylite_.[540:A] It is again noticed in the register of the
Stationers' Company for 1581, by Ames, under the article for James
Roberts, and in the following manner in a black-letter pamphlet of
1586:—"Wee want not also pleasant mad headed knaves that bee properly
learned and well reade in diverse pleasant bookes and good authors. As
Sir Guy of Warwicke, the Foure Sons of Aymon, the Ship of Fooles, the
Budget of Demandes, _the Hundredth merry Tales_, the Booke of Ryddles,
and many other excellent writers both witty and pleasaunt."[540:B] It
is alluded to by Shakspeare, in his _Much Ado about Nothing_, written
about 1600, where Beatrice complains of Benedict having declared, that
she had "her good wit out of the _Hundred Merry Tales_."[540:C] That
this collection was justly entitled to the epithet _merry_ has been
proved by Mr. Douce, from a reference to the supposed original, in
which only five stories out of the hundred are of a tragic cast, and
where the title, in the old editions, gives further propriety to the
appellation, by terming these tales _Comptes plaisans et recreatiz pour
deviser en toutes compaignies, et Moult plaisans á raconter par maniere
de joyeuseté_.[540:D] It should not be forgotten, however, that the
work entitled _Cento novelle antiche_ was in existence at this period,
though no translation of it is known to have been made, either before
or during Shakspeare's age; nor is it improbable that the term _A
hundred merry tales_, might have become a kind of cant expression for
an attack of personal satire; for Nashe, as Mr. Douce has observed, "in
his _Pappe with an hatchet_, speaks of a book then coming out under
the title of _A hundred merrie tales_, in which Martin Marprelate, i.
e. John Penry, and his friends, were to be satirized."[541:A]

Though no complete translation of the Decameron of Boccacio was
executed before 1620, the greater part of his novels was given to the
public in 1566, by _William Paynter_, in his once popular collection,
entitled "_The Pallace of Pleasure_." This entertaining work occupies
two volumes, 4to.; of which, the first, dedicated to Lord Warwick,
appeared in the year above-mentioned, "containing _sixty_ novels out
of Boccacio," and the second followed in 1567, including thirty-four
novels, principally from Bandello, and dedicated to Sir George Howard.
It appears to have been the intention of the compiler to have added
a third part; for at the close of the second volume, he tells us,
"Bicause sodeynly, contrary to expectation, this volume is risen to
greater heape of leaves, I doe omit for this present time _Sundry
Novels_ of mery devize, reserving the same to be joyned with the rest
of an other part, wherein shall succeede the remnant of _Bandello_,
specially sutch, suffrable, as the learned French man _François de
Belleforrest_ hath selected, and the choysest done in the Italian.
Some also out of _Erizzo_, _Ser Giouanni Florentino_, _Parabosco_,
_Cynthio_, _Straparole_, _Sansovino_, and the best liked out of the
_Queene of Nauarre_, and others;" a passage which is important, as
showing, in a small compass, the nature and extent of his resources.

What motive prevented the continuance of the work, is unascertained; it
certainly could not be want of encouragement, for a second edition of
the first volume, and a third of the second, were published together
in 4to. in 1575, and, as the author informs us in his title, "eftsones
perused, corrected, and augmented" by him. The conjecture of Warton,
that Painter, "in compliance with the prevailing mode of publication,
and for the accommodation of universal readers, was afterward
persuaded to print his _sundry novels_ in the perishable form of
separate pamphlets," is not improbable.

The _Palace of Pleasure_ is, without doubt, not only one of the
earliest, but one of the most valuable selections of tales which
appeared during the reign of Elizabeth; and that it formed one of the
ornaments of Shakspeare's library, and one to which he was in the
habit of referring, the industry of his commentators has sufficiently
established.[542:A]

In the same year with the second volume of Painter's Palace, appeared
"_Certaine Tragicall Discourses_" by _Geffray Fenton_, in one volume
4to. bl. letter. This _passing pleasant booke_, as Turberville terms
it, consists of stories principally from Italian writers, and, in the
dedication to Lady Mary Sydney, the author expresses his high opinion
of their merit, by declaring, "neyther do I thinke that oure Englishe
recordes are hable to yelde at this daye a _Romant_ more delicat and
chaste, treatynge of the veraye theame and effectes of love, than theis
_Hystories_;" an estimate of the value of his collection in which he is
borne out by his friend Turberville, who, in one of the recommendatory
poems prefixed to the book, says—

    "The learned stories erste, and sugred tales that laye
     Removde from simple common sence, this writer doth displaye:
     Nowe men of meanest skill, what Bandel wrought may vew,
     And tell the tale in Englishe well, that erst they never knewe:
     Discourse of sundrye strange, and tragicall affaires,
     Of lovynge ladyes hepless haps, theyr deathes, and deadly cares."

Mr. Warton is of opinion that Fenton's compilation "in point of
selection and size" is "perhaps the most capital miscellany of
this kind."[542:B] In size, however, it is certainly inferior to
Painter's work, and from a survey of its contents with which we have
been indulged, exhibits, in our conception, no superiority to its
predecessor even with regard to selection; it merits, however, the same
honour which is now paying to its rival, that of a re-print.

In 1571 a series of tales, somewhat similar to Fenton's, was published
under the title of "_The Forest_ or collection of Historyes no lesse
profitable, than pleasant and necessary, doone out of Frenche into
English by _Thomas Fortescue_." This production, which forms a quarto
in black letter, and underwent a second, and a third edition, in
1576 and 1596, includes many stories manifestly of Italian birth and
structure, though the work is said to have been originally written in
the Spanish language.

On the authority of Bishop Tanner, as reported by Warton[543:A], we
have to ascribe to the year 1580, a prose version of the _Novelle_ of
_Bandello_, next to Boccacio the most celebrated, at that period, among
the Italian novellists; and more chaste perhaps than any of them in
his sentiments, and more easy and natural in the construction of his
incidents. The translation is said to be by W. W. initials which Mr.
Warton is inclined to appropriate, either to William Warner or William
Webbe.

Another collection of tales, several of which are from Giraldi
Cinthio and other Italian fabulists, was given to the public by
_George Whetstone_, in 1582, under the appellation of _Heptameron_,
a term which had been rendered fashionable by the popularity of a
suite of tales published at Paris in 1560, and entitled, "Heptameron
des Nouvelles de la Royne de Navarre." Whetstone possessed no
inconsiderable reputation in his day; he has been praised as a poet
by Meres and Webbe, and his _Heptameron_, though written in prose,
with only the occasional interspersion of poetry, had its share of
contemporary fame, and the still greater celebrity of furnishing some
portion of a plot to our great dramatic bard.[543:B]

The first volume of a large collection of Italian tales made its
appearance at Paris in 1583, under the title of _Cent Histoires
Tragiques_. This work, the compilation of _Francis de Belleforrest_
and _Boisteau_, was ultimately extended to seven volumes, and a part
of it, if not the whole, appears, on the authority of the Stationers'
Register, to have been translated into English, in 1596.[544:A] The
edition, however, to which Warton alludes, must have been posthumous;
for Belleforrest died on January 1st, 1583, and that he had printed
selections from the Italian novellists long anterior, is evident from
Painter's reference to them in the second volume of his Palace of
Pleasure, dated 1567. Probably what the historian terms the "_grand
repository_" commenced with the copy of 1583.[544:B]

Independent of these large prose collections of Italian tales, a
vast variety of separate stories was in circulation from the same
source; and many of our poets, such as Gascoigne, Turberville,
&c.[544:C] amused themselves by giving them a metrical and sometimes
a semi-metrical, form. By these means the more rugged features of
the Anglo-Norman romance, were softened down, and a style of fiction
introduced more varied and more consonant to nature.

The taste, however, for the wild beauties of Gothic fabling, though
polished and refined by the elegant imagination of the Italians, was
still cultivated with ardour, and, towards the close of Elizabeth's
reign, was further stimulated, by a fresh infusion of similar imagery,
through the medium of the _Spanish and Portuguese Romances_.

These elaborate, and sometimes very interesting productions, are
evidently constructed on the model of the Anglo-Norman romance, though
with greater unity of design, and with more attention to morality.
There is reason to believe, with Mr. Tyrwhitt, that neither Spain nor
Portugal can produce a romance of this species older than the era of
printing[545:A]; for the manuscript of _Amadis of Gaul_, which has been
satisfactorily proved by Mr. Southey to have been the production of
Vasco Lobeira, and written in the Portuguese language, during the close
of the fourteenth century[545:B], was never printed, and is supposed to
be no longer in existence; while the Spanish version of Garciordonez de
Montalvo, the oldest extant, and which has, in general, passed for the
original, did not issue from the press before the year 1510, the date
of its publication at Salamanca.

This romance, beyond all doubt the most interesting of its
[545:C]class, is well known as one of the very few in Don Quixote's
library which escaped the merciless fury of the Licentiate and the
Barber. "The first that master Nicholas put into his hands was Amadis
de Gaul in four parts; and the priest said, 'There seems to be some
mystery in this; for, as I have heard say, this was the first book of
chivalry printed in Spain, and all the rest have had their foundation
and rise from it; and, therefore, I think, as head of so pernicious a
sect, we ought to condemn him to the fire without mercy.'—'Not so,
sir,' said the barber; 'for I have heard also, that it is the best of
all the books of this kind; and therefore, as being singular in his
art, he ought to be spared.'—'It is true,' said the priest, 'and for
that reason his life is granted him.'"[546:A] Nor is the description
which Sir Philip Sidney has given of the effects of Amadis on its
readers less important than the encomium of Cervantes on its literary
merit; "Truly," says the knight, "I have known men, that even with
reading Amadis de Gaul, have found their hearts moved to the exercise
of courtesy, liberality, and especially courage."[546:B]

The introduction of Amadis into the English language took place in the
year 1592, when the first four or five books were translated from the
French version and printed by Wolfe.[546:C] It experienced the same
popularity here which had attended its naturalisation in France, Italy,
and Spain, and seems to have been in the zenith of its reputation
among us at the close of the Shakspearean era; for Fynes Moryson, who
published his Itinerary in 1617, in his directions to a traveller how
to acquire languages, says, "I think no book better for his discourse
than _Amadis of Gaul_; for the knights errant, and the ladies of
courts, doe therein exchange courtly speeches, and these books are in
all languages translated by the masters of eloquence;" and Burton in
his Anatomy of Melancholy, written about the same period, mentions
_Amadis_ along with Huon of Bourdeaux, as one of the most fashionable
volumes of his day. Such, indeed, is the merit of this romance,
that the lapse of four hundred years has not greatly diminished its
attractions, and the admirable version of Mr. Southey, which, by
rejecting or veiling the occasional indelicacy of the original, has
removed the weightiest objections of Ascham, most deservedly finds
admirers even in the nineteenth century.

Another specimen of this class of romances of nearly equal popularity
with the preceding, though inferior in point of merit, may be instanced
in the once celebrated _Palmerin of England_, which, like Amadis
of Gaul, safely passed the ordeal of the Curate of Don Quixote's
village:—"Let Palmerin of England," says the Licentiate, "be
preserved, and kept as a singular piece: and let such another case be
made for it, as that which Alexander found among the spoils of Darius,
and appropriated to preserve the works of the poet Homer.—Therefore,
Master Nicholas, saving your better judgment, let this and Amadis de
Gaul be exempted from the fire, and let all the rest perish without any
further enquiry."[547:A]

Palmerin of England, like its prototype, Amadis de Gaul, is supposed
to have originated in Portugal. Mr. Southey, indeed, confidently
attributes it to the pen of Francis de Moraes; an ascription which is
in direct opposition to the authority of Cervantes, who asserts it
to have been written by a King of Portugal. It has shared the like
fate, too, in this country, with regard to its translator; Anthony
Munday having been the first to usher Palmerin, as well as Amadis, to
an English public; in fact, though in its original garb it appeared
a century and a half later than the romance of Lobeira, it claims
priority with regard to its English dress, having been licensed to
Charlewood, and printed in 1580.

The multiplicity and rapid succession of extraordinary events in
Palmerin of England, are such as to distract the most steady attention,
and if it really deserved the encomium which the curate bestowed upon
it in comparison with the rest of the worthy knight's library, little
surprise can be excited at the mental hallucinations which the study of
such a collection might ultimately produce.

Of the versions of honest Anthony, one of the most indefatigable
translators of romance in the reign of Elizabeth, not much can be
said, either in point of style or fidelity. Labouring for those who
possessed an eager and indiscriminating appetite for the marvellous,
he was not greatly solicitous about the preservation of the manners
and costume of his original, but rather strove to accommodate his
authors to the taste of the majority of his readers. To enumerate the
various romances which he attempted to naturalise, would be tedious
and unprofitable; the two that we have already noticed, together with
"Palmerin D'Oliva," and "The honorable, pleasant, and rare conceited
Historie of Palmendo[548:A]," were among the most popular, and will be
sufficient to impart an idea of what, among the peninsular works of
fiction, were most in vogue, when romances were as much read as novels
are in the present age.

The last species of romance, which we shall notice as fashionable in
Elizabeth's reign, may be termed the _Pastoral_. Of this class the most
celebrated specimen that we can mention, is the _Arcadia_ of Sir Philip
Sidney, a book well known to Shakspeare, which continued highly popular
for near a century, and reached an eighth edition as early as 1633,
independent of impressions in Scotland, of which one occurs before the
year 1600.[548:B]

The Arcadia appears to have been commenced by its author for the sole
amusement of himself and his sister, the Countess of Pembroke, during
his residence at Wilton, in 1580, and though prosecuted at various
periods was left incomplete at his death in 1586. The affection of
the Countess, however, to whose care and protection the scattered
manuscripts had been assigned, induced her to publish an impression of
it in the year 1590, revised under her own immediate direction; since
which period fourteen editions have borne testimony to the merits of
the work, and to the correctness of the editor's judgment.

To the publication of this far-famed romance, which is in many respects
truly beautiful, and in every respect highly moral, we may attribute an
important revolution in the annals of fictitious writing. It appears to
have been suggested to the mind of Sir Philip, by two models of very
different ages, and to have been built, in fact, on their admixture;
these are the Ethiopic History of Heliodorus, Bishop of Tricca, in
Thessaly, and the Arcadia of Sannazaro, productions as widely separated
as the fourth and the sixteenth centuries. Their connection, however,
will be more readily explained, when we recollect, that a translation
of Heliodorus into English had been published only three years before
the commencement of Sidney's Arcadia. This was the work of Thomas
Underdowne, who printed a version of the ten entire books in 1577,
dedicating them to Edward de Vere, Earl of Oxford.[549:A] That the
_English_ Heliodorus was chiefly instrumental in giving this peculiar
direction to the genius of Sidney, was the opinion of Warton; but we
must likewise recollect, that the Arcadia of Sannazaro, with which
Sir Philip, as an excellent Italian scholar, must have been well
acquainted[549:B], presented him with the model for his shepherds, for
their costume, diction, and sentiment, and that, like the English work,
it is a mingled composition of poetry and prose.

Dismissing many of the paraphernalia of the ancient chivalric romance,
its magicians, enchanted castles, dragons, and giants, but retaining
its high-toned spirit of gallantry, heroism, and courtesy, combined
with the utmost purity in morals, and with all the traditionary
simplicity and innocence of rural life, the pastoral romance of Sidney
exhibited a species of composition more reconcilable to probability
than the adventures of Arthur and Amadis, but less natural and
familiar than the tales of the Italians. In these last, however, virtue
and decency are too often sacrificed at the shrine of licentiousness,
whilst in the Arcadia of our countryman not a sentiment occurs which
can excite a blush on the cheek of the most delicate modesty. To this
moral tendency of Sidney's fictions, the muse of Cowper has borne
testimony in the following pleasing lines:—

    "Would I had fall'n upon those happier days,
     That poets celebrate; those golden times,
     And those Arcadian scenes, that Maro sings,
     And _Sidney, warbler of poetic prose_.
     Nymphs were Dianas then, and swains had hearts.
     That felt their virtues: innocence, it seems,
     From courts dismissed, found shelter in the groves;
     The footsteps of simplicity, impress'd
     Upon the yielding herbage, (so they sing)
     Then were not all effac'd: then speech profane,
     And manners profligate, were rarely found;
     Observed as prodigies, and soon reclaim'd."[550:A]

Had the disciples of Sir Philip adhered to the model which he
constructed; had they, rejecting merely his unfortunate attempt to
introduce the Roman metres into modern poetry, preserved his strength
and animation in description, his beauty and propriety of sentiment,
his variety and discrimination of character, the school of Sidney
might have existed at the present hour. On the contrary, whatever was
objectionable and overstrained in their prototype, they found out the
art to aggravate; and by a monstrous and monotonous overcharge of
character, by a bloated tenuity of style, by a vein of sentiment so
quaintly exalted as to have nothing of human sympathy about it, and
by an indefinite prolixity of fable, they contrived to outrage nature
nearly as much as had been effected by the wonders of necromancy
and the achievements of chivalry; and this, too, without producing
a scintillation of those splendid traits of fancy which illumine,
and even atone for, the wild fictions of the Anglo-Norman romance.
The Astrea of D'Urfé, written about twenty years after Sidney's
work, though sufficiently tedious, and frequently unnatural, makes
the nearest approach to the pastoral beauty of the Arcadia; but what
longevity can attach to, or what patience shall endure, the numerous
and prodigious tomes of Madame Scuderi?[551:A]

The shades of oblivion seem gathering fast even over the beautiful
reveries of Sidney, a fate most undoubtedly hastened by the prolix
and perverted labours of his successors; and what was the fashion and
delight of the seventeenth century has generally ceased to charm. So
great, indeed, was once the popularity of the Arcadia, that its effects
became an object of consideration to the satirist and the historian.
In 1631, we find the former thus admonishing the ladies:—"Insteade
of songes and musicke let them learn cookerie and launderie. And
instead of reading _Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia_, let them reade
the groundes of good huswifery."[551:B] But the grave annalist and
antiquary, Fuller, has, with more good sense, vindicated the study
of this moral romance:—"I confess," says he, "I have heard some of
modern pretended wits cavil at the _Arcadia_, because they made it
not themselves: such who say that his book is the occasion that many
precious hours are otherwise spent no better, must acknowledge it also
the cause that many idle hours are otherwise spent no worse than in
reading thereof."[551:C] There is no work, in short, in the department
of _prose-fiction_ which contains more apothegmatic wisdom than the
Arcadia of Sidney; and it is to be regretted that the volume which had
charmed a Shakspeare, a Milton, and a Waller[551:D], and which has
been praised by Temple[552:A], by Heylin[552:B], and by Cowper, should
be suffered, in any deference to the opinion of Lord Orford[552:C], to
slumber on the shelf.

It is with pleasure, however, that we find a very modern critic not
only passing a just and animated eulogium on the Arcadia, but asserting
on his own personal knowledge, that, even in the general classes of
society, it has still its readers and admirers. "Nobody, it has been
said, reads the Arcadia. We have known very many persons who have read
it, men, women, and children, and never knew one who read it without
deep interest and admiration at the genius of the writer, great in
proportion as they were capable of appreciating it. The verses are
very bad, not that he was a bad poet, (on the contrary, much of his
poetry is of high merit,) but because he was then versifying upon an
impracticable system. Let the reader pass over all the eclogues, as
dull interludes unconnected with the drama, and if he do not delight
in the story itself, in the skill with which the incidents are woven
together and unravelled, and in the Shakespearean power and character
of language, with which they are painted; let him be assured the fault
is in himself and not in the book."[552:D]

After this brief survey of the state of romantic literature, and of the
various romances which were most popular, in the days of Shakspeare,
it will be a proper appendage, if we add a few observations on the yet
lingering relics of chivalric costume. That gorgeous spectacle, the
Tournament, in which numerous knights engaged together on either side,
fighting with the sword and truncheon, was latterly superseded by the
joust or tilting-match, consisting of a succession of combats between
two knights at one time, and in which the spear was the only weapon
used. The dexterous management of this military amusement depended
upon striking the front of the opponent's helmet, in such a manner as
either to beat him backward from his horse, or break the spear in the
contest. Jousting or tilting, which was usually celebrated in honour
of the ladies, by whom the prizes were always awarded and distributed,
continued to be a favourite diversion with Elizabeth to the close of
her reign; she was attached to the gallantry which constituted the
soul of these games, and to the splendour which accompanied their
exhibition, and her nobles were not backward in encouraging and
gratifying her romantic taste. Of this a remarkable instance may be
adduced, in the person of Sir Henry Lee, Knight of the Garter, who
vowed that he would annually, while health and strength permitted,
enter the tilt-yard as his sovereign's knight. The completion of this
vow led to annual contentions in the lists, and twenty-five personages
of the first rank, among whom are to be found Lord Leicester, Sir
Christopher Hatton, &c. agreed to establish a society of arms for this
purpose. The presidency of the association was resigned by Sir Henry,
on the plea of infirmity, in 1590, when he formally invested the Earl
of Cumberland with his dignity, one of the most envied at that time, in
the court of Elizabeth.[553:A]

It was usual at these chivalric exhibitions, which ceased on the demise
of their regal patroness, for the combatants, and even the men of
fashion who attended as spectators, to wear a lady's favour on their
arm; and when a knight had tilted with peculiar grace and spirit, the
ladies were wont to fling a scarf or glove upon him as he passed; a
custom which Shakspeare has attributed, as is frequent with him, to an
age long anterior to chivalric usage, for he represents Coriolanus, on
his way to the capitol, as thus honoured:

    —————— "The matrons flung their gloves,
    Ladies and maids their scarfs and handkerchiefs,
    Upon him as he pass'd."[554:A]

It appears also, from a passage in the second part of _King Henry the
Fourth_, that an oath derived from a singular observance in the days of
chivalry, was common in the days of Shakspeare; for Shallow, persuading
Sir John Falstaff to remain with him as his visitor, exclaims, "By
_cock and pye_, Sir, you shall not away to night[554:B];" an adjuration
which Steevens and Ridley refer to a corruption of the sacred name,
and to a service-book of the Romish church, called in this country,
previous to the Reformation, _a pie_; but Mr. Douce has, with more
probability, advanced the origin to which we allude. "It will, no
doubt, be recollected," he observes, "that in the days of ancient
chivalry it was the practice to make solemn vows or engagements for
the performance of some considerable enterprize. This ceremony was
usually performed during some grand feast or entertainment, at which
a roasted peacock or pheasant, being served up by ladies in a dish of
gold or silver, was thus presented to each knight, who then made the
particular vow which he had chosen, with great solemnity. When this
custom had fallen into disuse, the peacock nevertheless continued to
be a favourite dish, and was introduced on the table in a _pie_, the
head, with gilded beak, being proudly elevated above the crust, and the
splendid tail expanded. Other birds of smaller value were introduced
in the same manner, and the recollection of the old peacock vows might
occasion the less serious, or even burlesque, imitation of swearing not
only by the bird itself, but also by the _pie_; and hence probably the
oath _by cock and pie_."[554:C]

As all persons beneath the rank of an esquire were precluded, by
the laws of chivalry, from taking any part in the celebration of
justs and tournaments, while at the same time, a strong desire of
_imitation_ was excited in the public mind, by the attractive nature
of these diversions, it soon became an object with the commonality to
establish something which might bear a striking resemblance to the
favourite amusements of their superiors. Hence the origin of tilting
at the quintain, which we have already noticed in the chapter on Rural
Diversions, and of tilting at the ring and on the water; sports, of
which even the Queen herself condescended not unfrequently to be a
spectator.

Tilting at the ring was considered as the most respectable of the three
amusements, and was generally practised as a preparatory exercise
to the knightly feat of jousting. The ring was suspended at a fixed
height, in a sheath, by the contrivance of two springs, and the object
of the tilter was, while riding at full speed, to thrust the point of
his lance through the ring, drawing it, by the strength of his stroke,
from its sheath, and bearing it away on the summit of his lance.
In this pastime, the horses, as well as the men, required constant
training and practice, and, on the day of contest, the palm of victory
was adjudged to him who in three courses, for this number was allowed
to each candidate, carried the point of his lance the oftenest through
the ring.

Of these games the most vulgar, but the most productive of merriment,
was that of tilting on the water, in which the combatants, standing
in the centre of their respective boats, were armed with a lance
and shield, and he was esteemed the conqueror, who, by a dexterous
management of his weapon, contrived to strike his adversary in such a
manner as to overturn him in the water, while he himself remained firm
and stationary. With this curious exhibition it would appear that the
Queen was highly gratified, on her visit to Sandwich, "where certain
wallounds that could well swym, had prepared two boates, and in the
middle of each boate was placed a borde, upon which borde there stood
a man, and so they met together, with either of them a staff and a
shield of wood; and one of them did overthrow another, at which the
Queene had good sport."[556:A]

To jousting, and to tilting at the ring, some of the most remarkable
relics of expiring chivalry, and of which the latter had attained to
almost scientific precision at the commencement of the seventeenth
century, Shakspeare has several allusions in the course of his
dramas.[556:B] The most striking of these refers to an accident which
not unfrequently occurred, when a knight, unable to manage his horse
with due skill, suffered it to deviate sideways in its career, the
consequence of which was, that instead of breaking his lance in a
direct line against his adversary's helmet, it was broken _across_
his breast, a circumstance deemed highly dishonourable, as the result
either of timidity or want of dexterity:—"O, that's a brave man!"
says Celia, speaking of Orlando, in _As You Like It_, "he writes
brave verses, speaks brave words, swears brave oaths, and breaks them
bravely, quite traverse, athwart the heart of his lover; as a puny
tilter, that spurs his horse but on one side, breaks his staff like a
noble goose."[556:C]

It was about this period too, the close of the sixteenth century, that
another remnant of romantic usage became nearly extinct. We allude to
the profession of the _Minstrel_, which, until the year 1597, had been
cherished or tolerated in this country, from an era as ancient as the
conquest.

During the reign of Elizabeth, indeed, the character of the _Minstrel_,
combining the offices of the poet, the singer, and the musician, and
that of the _Jestour_, or mere reciter of tales and gestes, gradually
lost their importance and respectability, and were no longer protected
by the noble and the opulent. On the accession of the Queen, however,
and for about twenty years afterwards, instances may be adduced
where the Minstrel appears to have acted in his genuine capacity,
that is, as the sole depository of the poems which he chaunted,
and not, as was subsequently the case, the fabricator of songs and
ballads merely for the press. The latest specimens of what may be
termed the old Minstrelsy, Dr. Percy assigns to the years 1569 and
1572, when the ballads entitled "_The Rising in the North_," and
"_Northumberland betrayed by Douglas_," were produced.[557:A] Between
the Minstrel-ballads and those written merely for the press, a marked
difference was usually perceptible, the former exhibiting greater
rudeness of language, with a more northern cast in their structure;
greater irregularity in metre, and incidents more romantic, wild, and
chivalric; while the latter presented altogether a southern dialect,
more correct versification, incidents, though occasionally pathetic,
comparatively tame and insipid, and a costume more modern and familiar.
Of this last kind, were the numerous ballads of the reign of James
the First, frequently collected together, and published under the
appellation of _Garlands_.

There is reason to suppose, notwithstanding the declining state of the
minstrel tribe, that some attention was yet paid to their appearance
and dress; that their ancient distinguishing costume was well known,
and sometimes imitated, and that, especially in the prior half of the
Elizabethan era, a peculiar garb was still attached to their office. We
are warranted in these inferences by contemporary authority: Laneham,
in his description of Elizabeth's entertainment at Killingworth Castle,
in 1575, mentions his having been in company with a person who was
to have performed the character of an _ancient Minstrel_ before the
Queen, "if meete time and place had been foound for it." This man, who
was probably a member of the profession, entertained some worshipful
friends, of which Laneham was one, with a representation of the part
which he should have enacted at the Earl of Leicester's; and it is
remarkable that this assumed minstrel is styled, "_a squire minstrel
of Middilsex, that travaild the cuntree THYS soomer season unto fayrz
and woorshipfull menz houzez_;" a strong proof that the character,
in all its full costume, was not considered as sufficiently bizarre
and obsolete to render such an assertion improbable. "A person very
meete seemed he for the purpose; (we here drop the author's absurd
orthography;) of a XLV years old, apparelled partly as he would
himself. His cap off, his head seemly rounded tonster-wise; fair
kembed, that with a sponge daintily dipt in a little capon's grease,
was finely smoothed to make it shine like a mallard's wing; his beard
smugly shaven; and yet his shirt after the new trink, with ruffs
fair-starched, sleeked, and glistering like a pair of new shoes:
marshalled in good order: with a stetting stick, and stout that every
ruff stood up like a wafer. A side gown of Kendal green, after the
freshness of the year now; gathered at the neck with a narrow gorget,
fastened afore with a white clasp and a keeper close up to the chin,
but easily for heat to undo when he list: seemly begirt in a red caddis
girdle; from that a pair of capped Sheffield knives hanging a to side
(one on each side): out of his bosom drawn forth a lappet of his
napkin, edged with a blue lace, and marked with a true love, a heart,
and a D. for _Damian_; for he was but a batchelor yet.

"His gown had side sleeves down to midleg, slit from the shoulder to
the hand, and lined with white cotton. His doublet-sleeves of black
worsted: upon them a pair of poynets of tawny chamblet, laced along the
wrist with blue threaden joints; a wealt toward the hand of fustian
anapes: a pair of red neather stocks: a pair of pumps on his feet,
with a cross cut at the toes for cornes; not new, indeed, yet cleanly
blacked with soot, and shining as a shoeing horn. About his neck, a red
ribband suitable to his girdle: his harp in good grace dependent before
him: his wrest[558:A] tied to a green lace, and hanging by. Under the
gorget of his gown a fair flagon chain of pewter (for silver); as a
_squire minstrel_ of Middlesex, that travelled the country this summer
season, unto fairs and worshipful mens houses. From his chain hung a
scutcheon, with metal and colour, resplendent upon his breast, of the
ancient arms of Islington.—After three lowly courtsies, 'he' cleared
his voice with a hem and reach, and spat out withal; wiped his lips
with the hollow of his hand for filing his napkin, tempered a string
or two with his wrest, and after a little warbling on his harp for a
prelude, came forth with a solemn song, warranted for story out of
_King Arthur's acts_."[559:A]

In 1592, Henry Chettle, describing _Anthony Now-Now_, an aged and
celebrated minstrel of his own time, represents him as "an od old
fellow; low of stature, his head covered with a _round cap_, his body
with a _tawney coate_, his legs and feete truste uppe in _leather
buskins_, his gray haires and furrowed face witnessed his age, his
_treble viol_ in his hande[559:B];" from which it would appear that
even to the last the members of this tuneful tribe were distinguished
by some peculiarity of dress.

In the mean time, however, they were becoming, through the
dissoluteness of their manners, obnoxious to government, and
contemptible in the public estimation. Stubbes, in the first edition
of his Anatomie of Abuses, 1583, terms them a parcel of drunken
sockets, and baudy parasites, that "raunge the countries," he observes,
"riming and singing of unclean, corrupt, and filthy songs in tavernes,
ale-houses, innes, and other publike assemblies.—There is no ship," he
exclaims, "so laden with merchandize, as their heads are pestred with
al kinds of baudy songs, filthy ballades, and scurvy rymes, serving for
every purpose, and for every company. For proof whereof," he subjoins,
"who bee baudier knaves than they? who uncleaner than they? who more
licentious, and looser minded than they? and brieflie, who more
inclined to all kind of insolency and leudness than they?—I think that
al good minstrels, sober and chast musitions, may dance the wild Moris
through a needles eye." He subsequently adds that, notwithstanding
their immorality, "every toune, citie, and countrey, is full of these
minstrelles to pipe up a daunce to the devill."

That this description is not much exaggerated by the puritanical
severity of its author, is evident from the language of Puttenham,
a courtier and polite writer, who calls this degraded race
"_cantabanqui_," singers "upon benches and barrels heads—minstrels
that give a fit of mirth for a groat—in taverns and ale-houses, and
such other places of base resort[560:A];" a picture corroborated by the
authority of Bishop Hall, who a few years afterwards, speaking of the
exhilarating effect of his own satirical poetry, says it is

    "Much better than a Paris-garden beare,
     Or prating poppet on a theater,
     _Or Mimœ's whistling to his tabouret,
     Selling a laughter for a cold meal's meat_."[560:B]

The character which Shakspeare attributes to the minstrel race of this
period, is in accordance with the preceding passages. In the original
edition of his _Rape of Lucrece_, which appeared in 1594, he draws his
heroine exclaiming,

    "_Feast-finding_ minstrels, tuning my defame,
     Will tie the hearers to attend each line."[560:C]

The epithet in _Italics_ very distinctly points out the vagrant life of
these attendants on merriment and good cheer. They were accustomed to
travel the country, in search of bride-ales, Christmas dinners, fairs,
&c., and wherever they could get access to the halls of the gentry and
nobility.

It is in the _Winter's Tale_, however, that the minstrel of our poet's
age is but too faithfully depicted. In the person of Autolycus, whom
we have already noticed, when describing the country wake, is to be
found, in colours faithful to nature, the very object of Stubbe's
satire, a composition very curiously blending the various functions of
the minstrel, the pedlar, and the rogue.

No harshness therefore can be attributed to the act of Queen Elizabeth,
which in 1597 nearly annihilated an occupation so vilely associated
and degraded. In the fourth chapter of this statute the law enacts
that "all fencers, bearwards, common players of enterludes, and
MINSTRELLS, wandering abroad; all juglers, tinkers, pedlars, &c. shall
be adjudged and deemed _rogues_, _vagabonds_, and _sturdy beggers_;" a
clause which, very deservedly, put an end to a profession which, though
once highly respectable and interesting, no longer had a claim to
public support; a clause which enabled Dr. Bull to say, with much truth,

    "Beggars they are with one consent,
     And Rogues, by Act of Parliament."[561:A]

Of the use which Shakspeare made of the various romances, tales, and
ballads which undoubtedly occupied a large portion of his library, an
accurate estimate may be formed from a close inspection of his dramas.
It will be found, that, with the exception of the Historical plays,
derived either from English chronicles or translations of classic
story, the residue of his dramatic productions may be traced to sources
exclusively existing within the regions of romantic literature. As we
shall have occasion, however, hereafter to notice the origin of each
drama, as it passes before us in chronological succession, it will
merely be necessary in this place, in order to afford some proof of
his familiarity with these fictions, to select a few specimens of his
allusion to them from the body of his plays.

That our poet was well acquainted with the celebrated Romance, entitled
_Mort d'Arthure_, the most popular of its class, would have been
readily admitted from the known course of his studies, even if he had
not once alluded to it in the course of his works. In the _Second
Part_, however, of _King Henry the Fourth_, he makes _Shallow_,
vaunting of his youthful feats to Falstaffe, say, "I was then _Sir
Dagonet_ in _Arthur's show_[562:A];" a line upon which Mr. Douce
observes, "Whatever part Sir Dagonet took in this show would doubtless
be borrowed from Mallory's romance of the _Mort Arture_, which had been
compiled in the reign of Henry VII. What there occurs relating to Sir
Dagonet was extracted from the excellent and ancient story of _Tristan
de Leonnois_, in which Dagonet is represented as the fool of king
Arthur[562:B];" a character certainly well adapted to the powers of the
worthy justice.

It should, however, be remarked, that the _Arthur's show_ in this
passage was not, what it might at first be supposed, an exact
representation of the ancient chivalric costume of that romantic
Prince and his knights, but principally an exhibition of _Archery_ by
a toxophilite society, of which Richard Robinson, the translator of
the English Gesta, has given us an account under the title of "_The
Auncient Order Societie, and Unitie Laudable, of Prince Arthure and his
knightly Armory of the Round Table. With a Threefold Assertion friendly
in favour and furtherance of English Archery at this day_." 1583.
4to.[562:C]

These city-worthies, to the number of fifty-eight, it would seem,
had for some time assumed the arms and the names of the knights of
the Round Table, and Robinson, who the year before had published a
translation of Leland's _Assertio Arthvrii_, thought proper to dedicate
his _Ancient Order_ to M. Thomas Smith, Esq., the then Prince Arthur
of this fellowship, and compliments him by deducing his society from
the establishment of the round table in the reign of Edward the First.
"But touching your famous order and fellowship of knights in shooting,
though in K. E. I. his time (ann. 1279) a valiant Knight and manly
Mortimer at Kenelworth appointed a knightly game, which was called the
Round Table of 100 knights and so manie Ladies (nameth not expressely
shooting to be one) yet for exercise of armes thither came many warlike
knightes of divers kingdomes. And the most famous and victorious king
E. 3. builded at Winchester (ann. 1344) an house called the Round Table
of an exceeding compasse, to the exercise of like or farre greater
Chevalry therin:—So the most famous, prudent, politike and grave
prince K. Henry the 7 was the first Phenix in chusing out a number
of chiefe Archers to give daily attendance upon his person, whom he
named his Garde. But the high and mighty renowned prince his son, K.
H. 8. (ann. 1509) not onely with great prowes and praise proceeded in
that which his father had begon; but also added greater dignity unto
the same, like a most roial renowned David, enacting a good and godly
statute (ann. 33. H. 8. cap. 9.) for the use and exercise of shooting
in every degree. And furthermore for the maintenance of the same
laudable exercise in this honourable city of London by his gratious
charter confirmed unto the worshipful citizens of the same, this your
now famous order of Knights of Prince Arthures Round Table or Society:
like as in his life time when he sawe a good Archer indeede, he chose
him and ordained such a one for a knight of the same order."[563:A]

As this "_friendly and franke fellowship_ of Prince Arthur's Knightes,"
as Mulcaster terms it in his Positions[563:B], bore little resemblance
to its celebrated archetype in any point of chivalric observance,
beyond the name; and as archery had ceased to be an object with
government in a military light, and was considered indeed, in the
reign of James I., as a mere pastime, the society, though respectable
in the days of Robinson and Mulcaster, soon dwindled into contempt,
an idle mockery of an institution which had originally been great and
imposing.

In MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, our author very distinctly refers to another
of Captain Cox's romances, _Huon of Bourdeaux_, a production of equal
popularity with Morte Arthure, and which was translated into English by
Lord Berners, in the reign of Henry the Eighth[564:A], under the title
of _Sir Hugh of Bourdeaux_. Benedict being informed of the approach
of Beatrice, addresses Don Pedro in the following terms:—"Will your
grace command me any service to the world's end? I will go on the
slightest errand now to the Antipodes, that you can devise to send me
on; I will fetch you a tooth-picker now from the farthest inch of Asia;
bring you the length of Prester John's foot; _fetch you a hair of the
great Cham's beard_; do you any embassage to the Pigmies, rather than
hold three word's conference with this harpy."[564:B] The passage in
Italics, together with the spirit of the context, will be discovered in
the subsequent command and achievement.

"Thou must goe to the citie of Babylon to the Admiral Gaudisse,
to bring me thy hand full of the heare of his beard, and foure of
his greatest teeth. Alas, my lord, (quoth the Barrons,) we see
well you desire greatly his death, when you charge him with such a
message."[564:C]

"He opened his mouth, and tooke out his foure great teeth, and then cut
off his beard, and tooke thereof as much as pleased him."[564:D]

This version of Lord Berners furnished Shakspeare with the name,
though not with the character, of _Oberon_.

The SECOND PART OF KING HENRY THE SIXTH supplies us with a reference
to the ancient romance of _Sir Bevis of Southampton_. In the combat
between Horner and his servant Peter, the former exclaims—"Peter, have
at thee with a downright blow, _as Bevis of Southampton fell upon_
Ascapart."[565:A]

This romance, which forms the fourth article in the Coventry Library,
was once highly popular, though possessing little merit. It was printed
by Pynson, and issued twice from the press of Copland, and once from
that of East. It has been since frequently republished, in various
forms, for the amusement of the juvenile part of the community.

Of the hero of the tale, Selden has left us the following notice in
his notes on the Polyolbion:—"About the Norman invasion was Bevis
famous with the title of Earl of Southampton; Duncton in Wiltshire
known for his residence.—His sword is kept as a relique in Arundel
Castle; not equalling in length (as it is now worn) that of Edward 3,
at Westminster."[565:B]

Shakspeare has done further honour to this legend, by putting two lines
of it into the mouth of Edgar. Bevis, being confined in a dungeon, was
allowed neither meat nor corn, but

    "Rattes and myce and such smal dere
     Was his meate that seven yere;"

a distich which the supposed madman in Lear has thus, almost verbally,
adopted:—

    "But mice, and rats, and such small deer,
     Have been Tom's food for seven long year."[566:A]

Dr. Percy has observed that Shakspeare had doubtless often heard this
metrical romance sung to the harp[566:B]; the popularity of these
legends, indeed, was such that, towards the end of Elizabeth's reign,
most of them were converted into prose, a degradation which befel Sir
Bevis, Sir Guy of Warwick, and many others of equal celebrity. To this
last romance Shakspeare has an allusion in his _King John_, where the
bastard speaks of

    "Colbrand the giant, that same mighty man,"[566:C]

the defeat of this Danish Goliah, in single combat, by Sir Guy, being
one of the leading features of the story.

It is highly probable, that the achievement ascribed to King Richard,
in this play, of tearing out the lion's heart[566:D], was immediately
derived from a copy of the old metrical romance in the poet's library.
It is true that the chronicles of Fabian and Rastall have detailed
this fiction, and there is no doubt, from the same authority; but
the metrical legend of Richard Cœur de Lion being one of the most
popular of the Anglo-Norman romances, and having been thrice printed,
twice by W. De Worde, and once by Will. Copland, there is much reason
to conclude that an acknowledged lover, and collector, of this branch
of literature would prefer taking his imagery from the poem itself,
more especially if it rested upon his shelves.

It appears from this romance, that Richard not only tore out the
heart of the lion, but, dipping it in salt, eat it before the eyes of
the astonished king of Almain, a feat which instantly drew from His
Majesty the peculiar appellation which designates the tale:—

    "Yevis, as I understand can,
     This is a devil, and no man,
     That has my strong lion y-slawe,
     The heart out of his body drawe,
     And has it eaten with good will!
     He may be called, by right skill,
     King y-christened of most renown,
     Strong _Richard Cœur de Lion_!"[567:A]

The play of _Henry the Fifth_ furnishes a reference to the fifth
article in Laneham's catalogue of the Coxean collection. Fluellen
compelling Pistol to eat his leek, tells him,—"You called me
yesterday, mountain-squire; but I will make you to-day a _squire of low
degree_."[567:B]

This romance, which was licensed to John Kynge on the tenth of June
1560[567:C], and printed by William Copland before 1570[567:D], was
one of the most popular of the sixteenth century, and possesses some
striking traits of manners, and several very curious poetical sketches.
It is twice alluded to by Spenser[567:E] in his Faerie Queene, and has
been supposed, though probably without sufficient foundation, to have
existed in manuscript anterior to the age of Chaucer.[567:F]

There are some scenes in Shakspeare which appear to have been
originally derived from _Oriental_ fable. Thus, in _Twelfth Night_, the
leading ideas of Malvolio's soliloquy (act ii. sc. 5.), bear a strong
resemblance, as Mr. Tyrrwhitt observes, to those of Alnaschar, in _The
Arabian Nights Entertainments_; an observation which has drawn from Mr.
Steevens the following curious and pertinent note:—

"Many Arabian fictions had found their way into obscure Latin and
French books, and from thence into English ones, long before any
professed version of _The Arabian Nights Entertainments_ had appeared.
I meet with a story similar to that of Alnaschar, in _The Dialoge of
Creatures Moralysed_, bl. l. no date, but probably printed abroad:
'It is but foly to hope to moche of vanyteys. Whereof it is told in
fablis that a lady uppon a tyme delyuered to her mayden a galon of
mylke to sell at a cite. And by the waye as she sate and restid her
by a dyche side, she began to thinke y{t} with ye money of the mylke
she wolde bye an henne, the which shulde bring forth chekyns, and when
they were grownyn to hennys she wolde sell them and by piggis, and
eschaunge them into shepe, and the shepe into oxen; and so whan she was
come to richnesse she sholde be married right worshipfully unto some
worthy man, and thus she rejoycid. And when she was thus marvelously
comfortid, and ravished inwardely in her secrete solace thinkynge with
howe great joye she shuld be ledde towarde the churche with her husbond
on horsebacke, she sayde to her self, Goo wee, goo wee, sodaynelye she
smote the grounde with her fote, myndynge to spurre the horse; but her
fote slypped and she fell in the dyche, and there laye all her mylke;
and so she was farre from her purpose, and never had that she hopid to
have. Dial. 100, LL. ij b."[568:A]

We may also refer the _Induction_ to the _Taming of the Shrew_ to the
same source, to _The Sleeper awakened_, in the Arabian Nights, a tale
which seems to have crept from its oriental fountain through every
modern European language. Its earliest appearance in English that can
now be traced, is derived from the information of Mr. Warton, who
informs us that his friend Mr. Collins, the celebrated lyric poet, had
in his possession a collection of short comic stories in prose, "sett
forth by maister Richard Edwards, mayster of her Majesties revels,"
and with the date of 1570. This book, which was printed in the black
letter, contained the story of the _Induction_, and was, there is
little doubt, the source whence Shakspeare and the author of the elder
_Taming of the Shrew_ drew their outline.[569:A] A similar tale is
the subject of a ballad in the Pepysian collection, which has been
published by Percy[569:B], and it is to be found also in Sir Richard
Barckley's _Discourse on the Felicitie of Man_, 1598, in Goulart's
_Admirable and Memorable Histories_, translated by E. Grimstone, 1607;
in Burton's _Anatomie of Melancholy_, 1615; in _The Apothegms of King
James, King Charles, the Marquis of Worcester_, &c. 1658, and in
Winstanley's _Historical Rarities_, 1684.[569:C] Some of the Arabian
Tales and some of the Fables of Pilpay may be traced in _The Seven Wise
Masters_, and in the English _Gesta Romanorum_.

To romances of _Italian_ origin and structure, such as were exhibited
in English versions often mutilated and incorrect, our author's
obligations are so numerous, particularly with regard to the formation
of plot, that, referring to a future consideration of each play for
further illustration on these subjects, we shall only remark in this
place, that many of the faults which have been ascribed to Shakspeare's
want of judgment in the conduct of his dramas, are attributable to the
necessity he was under, either from want of power or want of time, of
applying to versions and imitations in lieu of the originals; a species
of accommodation which frequently led him to adopt the mistakes of a
wretched translation, when a reference to the Italian would immediately
have induced a better choice. This will account for many of the
charges which Mrs. Lennox has brought against the poet, in respect to
deficiency of skill in the arrangement of his incidents.[569:D]

The _First Part of King Henry the Fourth_ presents us with an allusion
to one of those _Spanish_ romances which became so popular towards the
close of Elizabeth's reign. Falstaff, in answer to the Prince, who had
told him, that he saw no reason why he should "be so superfluous to
demand the time of the day," replies, "Indeed, you come near me now,
Hal: for we, that take purses, go by the moon and seven stars; and not
by Phœbus,—he, _that wandering knight so fair_."[570:A]

The romance to which this passage stands indebted, is entitled, in the
best and most complete edition, "_Espeio de Principes, y Cavalleros.
En el qual se cuentan los immortales hechos de CAVALLERO DEL FEBO_,"
&c. &c., four parts, folio, and is the subject of the Barber's eulogium
in Don Quixote. "He (the Don) had frequent disputes with the priest
of his village, who was a learned person, and had taken his degrees
in Ciguenza, which of the two was the better knight, Palmerin of
England, or Amadis de Gaul. But master Nicholas, barber-surgeon of
the same town, affirmed, that none ever came up to the _Knight of the
Sun_."[570:B]

This production, the first part of which was translated into English,
under the title of _The Myrrour of Knighthood_, was well known in
Shakspeare's time; the second part of the first book having been
printed in the black letter, by Thomas Este, in 1585.[570:C] The whole
occupies three volumes in 4to., and in it the Knight of the Sun is
represented not only as "most excellently _faire_," but as a prodigious
_wanderer_; so that Falstaff, who, by an easy association, digresses
from Phœbus to this solar knight-errant, has very compendiously combined
his characteristics.

It is probable that the celebrated passage in Hamlet's soliloquy, where
the prince speaks of

    "The undiscovered country, from whose bourn
     No traveller returns,"[571:A]

may have been founded on a similar idea in the Spanish romance entitled
_Palmerin d'Oliva_. The translation of Palmerin was first printed in
1588, and in Part II. chap. 3. the reader must be struck with the
following words,—"before he took his journey wherein no creature
returneth agaie." Now, as Hamlet, according to the chronological
arrangement of Mr. Malone, was not written until 1596, and Palmerin
d'Oliva may certainly be reckoned among the most fashionable romances
of its day, the conjecture is entitled to attention. It is necessary,
however, to add, that we are altogether indebted for it to a learned
and ingenious correspondent in the British Bibliographer, whose initial
signature is W. and whose acquaintance with romantic lore appears to be
equally accurate and profound.[571:B]

To this gentleman we are under further obligation for the confirmation
of a supposition made by Mr. Douce, who, commenting on this part of
Hamlet's soliloquy, refers it to a passage in the _History of Valentine
and Orson_, and adds,—"It is probable that there was an edition of
Valentine and Orson in Shakspeare's time, though none such is supposed
now to remain."[571:C]

Such an edition, it appears, is in the possession of the correspondent
of Sir Egerton Brydges, who has given us a description of it, together
with the following title, as drawn from the colophon:—"_The historie
of the two valyante brethren Valentyne and Orson, sônes vn to the
Emperour of Græce. Imprinted at London over a gaynst St. Margaretes
Churche in Lothbery be William Coplande._" Small 4to. b. l. sig. I.
i. 5. wood-cuts.[572:A] The antiquity of this copy, though without
date, is ascertained by the circumstance, that Will. Copland, the
printer, died between the years 1568 and 1569; and there is even
reason to suppose, that this is but a re-impression, for, after the
table of contents, a short note states, "Here endeth the table _newly
correcte_."[572:B]

The reference of Mr. Douce is to page 63 of the edition of 1694, in
which occurs a sentence which undoubtedly bears a striking resemblance
to the lines of Shakspeare:—"I shall send some of you here present
_into such a country, that you shall scarcely ever return again_ to
bring tydings of your valour."[572:C]

That our great poet was as well versed in the pages of Valentine
and Orson, as have been the school-boys of this country for the
last century, is our firm belief. "It would be difficult," says the
possessor of Copland's edition, "to find a reader of the present day,
who had not in the hour of childhood voted a portion of his scanty
stipend to the purchase of 'Valentine and Orson,' and withdrawn for
a few hours from more laborious exercises, or amusements, to peruse
its fascinating pages;" and equally difficult would it have been, in
Shakspeare's days, to have found a person of liberal education, who had
not devoted a portion of his leisure to the perusal of this simple but
energetic romance.

From the numerous corresponding passages, however, cited by our
author's commentators, from the period of Catullus to the seventeenth
century, it would seem that the idea, and even the terms in which it
has been expressed, may be considered as a kind of common property, and
consequently rather a mark of coincidence than imitation.

Of the _Arcadia_ of Sir Philip Sidney, the best _pastoral_ romance, and
one of the most popular books of its age, we cannot be surprised that
Shakspeare should have been an ardent admirer, and that occasionally
he should have been indebted to it for an incident or an image. The
first scene of the fourth act, in the _Two Gentlemen of Verona_, in
which Valentine accepts the captainship of a band of outlaws, appears
to be founded on that part of the Arcadia where Pyrocles, released from
prison by the Helots, consents to be their leader and captain.[573:A]

More certainly is the episode of Gloster and his sons, in King Lear,
derived from the same work, the first edition of which, published in
1590, being divided into chapters, exhibits one with this title:—"The
pitifull state and storie of the Paphlagonian unkinde king, and his
kinde sonne: first related by the sonne, then by the blind father."
The subsequent editions omit the divisions into chapters, and in the
copy before us, which is the seventh impression, the story commences at
page 132, being part of the second book. As no other source for this
narrative than the _Arcadia_, has hitherto been traced, and as the
similarity of incident is considerable, there can be little doubt but
that this portion of _King Lear_ must confess its obligation to the
romance.

The appellation, also, given to Cupid, in a passage in _Much Ado about
Nothing_, is evidently to be referred to a line in the _Arcadia_. Don
Pedro, speaking of Benedict, says, "he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's
bow-string, and the little _hangman_ dare not shoot at him."[573:B] It
has been conjectured, that the word in Italics should be _hench-man_, a
page or attendant; but to decide the question it is only necessary to
quote the words of Sidney:—

    "Millions of yeares this old drivell Cupid lives;
     While still more wretch, more wicked he doth prove:
     Till now at length that Jove him office gives,
     At Juno's suite, who much did Argus love,
       In this our world a _hangman_ for to be
       Of all those fooles that will have all they see."[573:C]

If, from this catalogue of allusions, our author's intimacy with the
romances of his age, may be considered as proved, his familiarity with
the _ballads_ and _songs_ of the same period will not be deemed less
extensive, or less admitting of demonstration. Throughout his dramas,
indeed, a peculiar partiality for these popular little pieces is very
manifest; he delights to quote them, wherever he can find a place for
their introduction, and his own efforts in this line of poetry are
often of the utmost simplicity and beauty.

How strongly he felt this predilection for the strains of our elder
minstrelsy, and how exquisitely he has expressed his attachment to
them, must be in the recollection of all who have ever read, or seen
performed, his admirable comedy of the _Twelfth Night_, in which the
Duke exclaims,—

    "Give me some musick:—but that piece of song,
     That old and antique song we heard last night,
     Methought it did relieve my passion much;
     More than light airs and recollected terms,
     Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times:—
     Mark it, Cæsario; it is old, and plain:
     The spinsters and the knitters in the sun,
     And the free maids, that weave their thread with bones,
     Do use to chaunt it; it is silly sooth,
     And dallies with the innocence of love,
     Like the old age."[574:A]

Before we notice, however, the ballads which Shakspeare has quoted,
or to which he has alluded, it will be satisfactory, if, to the
articles specified in Captain Cox's "Bunch of Ballets and Songs,"
we add a few more of similar popularity, and from a source equally
rare and authentic. In the _British Bibliographer_, Mr. Haslewood has
given us a description of the fragment of a tract in his possession,
entitled THE WORLD'S FOLLY, printed, as he concludes, from the type,
before 1600, and from which, "as every allusion," he justly observes,
"to our early ballads is interesting," he has obliged his readers
with some very curious quotations. "The author," he remarks, "appears
to describe the purgatory of Folly. He wanders from room to room,
and to each new character assigns a ballad, that may be presumed was
distinguished for popularity. A man, whose credit had decayed by
trusting servants, and had commenced botcher, 'had standing by him, for
meate and drinke, a pot of strong ale, which was often at his nose,
that it kept his face in so good a colour, and his braine in so kinde a
heate, as forgetting part of his forepassed pride, in the good humour
of grieving patience, made him with a hemming sigh, ilfavourdly singe
the ballad of _Whilom I was_: to the tune of _Tom Tinker_.' An old
man, shaking with palsy, who, 'having beene a man of some possessions,
and with too fat feeding of horses, too high keeping of hawkes, and
too much delighting in banquetinges, through lacke of husbandrie, was
forced to leave himself without lande; . . . after many a deepe sighe,
with a hollow voice, in a solemne tune, with a heavie hearte fell to
sing the song of _Oken leaves began wither_: to the tune of _Heavilie,
heavilie_.' A dapper fellow that in his youth had spent more than he
got on his person, 'fell to singe the ballad of the _blinde beggar_: to
the tune of _Heigh ho_.' The general lover, having no further credit
with beauty, 'howled out the dittie of _When I was faire and young_: to
the tune of _Fortune_. The next is whimsically described as 'one that
was once a virgin, had beene a little while a mayde, knew the name of
a wife, fell to be a widdow,' and finally a procuress; 'she would sing
the _Lamentation of a sinner_: to the tune of _Welladaye_.' A decayed
prostitute, who had become laundress to the house, 'stood singing the
ballet of _All a greene willowe_: to the famous tune of _Ding Dong_.'
A man with good personage, with a froward wife, 'hummed out the balled
of _the breeches_: to the tune of _Never, never_.' His termagant spouse
drewe from her pocket 'a ballad of _the tinker's wife that beate
her husbande_.' To the last character in the fragment is also given
Raleigh's ballad. He was 'one that had beene in love, sat looking on
his mistresse picture, making such a legge to it, writing such verses
in honour to it, and committing such idolatrie with it, that poore man,
I pittied him: and in his behalfe sorrowed to see how the Foole did
handle him: but there sat he, hanging his head, lifting up the eyes,
and with a deepe sigh, singing the ballad of _Come live with me and be
my love_: to the tune of _adieu my deere_.'"[576:A]

It is, notwithstanding, to the dramas of our poet, that we must look
for more copious intimations relative to the ballad-poetry of the
sixteenth century, and of the first ten years of the reign of James the
First. The list which we shall collect from his works, in the order in
which they are usually published, will sufficiently evince his love
for these productions, and, at the same time, afford a pretty accurate
enumeration of those which were esteemed the most popular of his age.

Yet, in forming this catalogue of Shakspearean ballads and songs, it
may be necessary to premise, that it is not our intention to comment
on the original pieces of our author in this branch of poetry, which
will fall under consideration in a subsequent chapter; but merely
to confine our notices to his quotations from and allusions to the
minstrel strains of others. We commence, therefore, with the ballad of
_Queen Dido_, which the poet had no doubt in view, when he represents
Gonzalo in the _Tempest_ so familiar with her name and history.[576:B]
That this was a favourite song with the common people appears from a
passage in a scarce pamphlet quoted by Mr. Ritson, and published in
1604. "O you ale-knights, you that devoure the marrow of the mault,
and drinke whole ale-tubs into consumptions; that sing _Queen Dido_
over a cupp, and tell strange newes over an ale-pot."[576:C] Dr. Percy,
who has published a correct copy of this old ballad from his folio MS.
collated with two different printed copies, both in black letter, in
the Pepysian collection, terms it "_excellent_;" an epithet justly
merited, for, though blended with the manners of a Gothic age, it is
certainly both pathetic and interesting.

Mrs. Ford, in the _Merry Wives of Windsor_, speaking of Falstaff's
proposals, says, that his disposition and his words "do no more adhere
and keep place together than the hundredth psalm to the tune of _Green
Sleeves_."[577:A] This seems to have been a very popular song about
1580, for it is licensed several times during this year, and entered
on the books of the Stationers' Company, under the titles of "A newe
northerne dittye of the Lady _Green Sleeves_," and "A new Northern Song
of _Green Sleeves_, beginning

    "The bonniest lass in all the land."

It is mentioned by Beaumont and Fletcher in _The Loyal Subject_, but is
supposed to be now no longer extant.

In the same play, Falstaff alludes to another old song, which was
entitled _Fortune my foe_[577:B], enumerating all the misfortunes
incident to mankind through the instability of fortune. Of this ballad,
which is mentioned by Brewer in his _Lingua_[577:C], twice by Beaumont
and Fletcher[577:D], and by Burton in his Anatomy of Melancholy[577:E],
the tune is said to be the identical air now known by the song of
"Death and the Lady;" and the first stanza, observes Mr. Malone, was as
follows:—

    "_Fortune, my foe_, why dost thou frown on me?
     And will my fortune never better be?
     Wilt thou, I say, for ever breed my pain,
     And wilt thou not restore my joys again?"[577:F]

Sir Hugh Evans, in the first scene of the third act of this[577:G]
play, quotes, though from his trepidation very inaccurately, four
lines from two of the most popular little madrigals at the close
of the sixteenth century, entitled _The Passionate Shepherd to His
Love_, and _The Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd_; the first written
by Christopher Marlow, and the second by Sir Walter Raleigh. These
had been attributed, however, to Shakspeare, in consequence of their
being included in a copy of his smaller poems printed by William
Jaggard in 1599. This edition being published during the life-time of
the poet, gave currency to the ascription; but in the year following
Marlow's poem appeared in _England's Helicon_, with his name annexed,
and Raleigh's with his usual signature of _Ignoto_[578:A]; and Isaac
Walton, in the first edition of his _Compleat Angler_, printed in
1653, has attributed these pieces to the same authors, describing
them as "that smooth song, which was made by Kit Marlow, now at least
fifty years ago; and—an Answer to it, which was made by Sir Walter
Raleigh in his younger days—old fashioned poetry," he adds, "but
choicely good; I think much better then the strong lines that are now
in fashion in this critical age."[578:B] Had Marlow written nothing but
this beautiful song, he would yet have descended to posterity as an
excellent poet; the imitations of it have been numerous.

The _Twelfth Night_ presents us with a variety of fragments of ballads,
songs, and catches; Sir Andrew Ague-cheek calls for the catch of
_Thou Knave_, of which the words and musical notes are given by Sir
J. Hawkins[578:C]; Sir Toby compares Olivia to _Peg-a Ramsay_, a
licentious song mentioned by Nash among several other ballads, such
as _Rogero_, _Basilino_, _Turkelony_, _All the Flowers of the Broom_,
_Pepper is black_, _Green Sleeves_, _Peggie Ramsie_; and immediately
afterwards this jovial knight quotes several detached lines from as
many separate ballads, for instance, _Three merry men be we_; _There
dwelt a man in Babylon, lady, lady_; _O the twelfth day of December_;
_Farewell, dear heart, since I must needs be gone_.[579:A] Of these
the first was a burden common to many ancient songs, and is called in
_The Old Wives Tale_, by George Peele, 1595, an _Old Proverb_, and is
thus given:—

    "Three merrie men, and three merrie men,
       And three merrie men be wee;
     I in the wood, and thou on the ground,
       And Jack sleepes in the tree:"[579:B]

an association which acquired such notoriety as to become the frequent
sign of an ale-house, under the appellation of _The Three Merry Boys_.
The second is the first line and the burden of a ballad which was
licensed by T. Colwell, in 1562, under the title of _The goodly and
constant Wyfe Susanna_. It is preserved in the Pepysian collection,
and the first stanza of it has been quoted by Dr. Percy in his
_Reliques_[579:C]; the burden _lady, lady_, is again alluded to by
Mercutio in _Romeo and Juliet_, act ii. sc. 4. The third has not been
traced to its source, but the fourth, and the subsequent lines, are
taken, with a little variation, from _Corydon's Farewell To Phillis_,
published in a little black letter miscellany, called "The Golden
Garland of Princely Delights," and reprinted entire by Dr. Percy.[579:D]

In act iv. sc. 2. the clown is introduced singing part of the first
two stanzas of a song which has been discovered among the ancient MSS.
of Dr. Harrington of Bath, and there ascribed, though perhaps not
correctly, to Sir Thomas Wyat. It is evident that Shakspeare trusted to
his memory in the quotation of these popular pieces, for most of them
deviate, in some degree, from the originals; in the present instance,
the first two lines, as given by the clown,

    "Hey Robin, jolly Robin,
       Tell me how thy lady does,"

are substituted for the opening stanza of the old song:—

    "A Robyn,
       Jolly Robyn,
     Tell me how thy leman doeth,
       And thou shalt knowe of myn."[580:A]

The commencement of a madrigal, the composition of William Elderton, is
sung by Benedict, in _Much Ado about Nothing_.

    "The god of love,
     That sits above," &c.[580:B]

and a song beginning in a similar manner, is mentioned by Mr. Ritson,
to be in _Bacchus' Bountie_, 4to. bl. l. 1593; Elderton's production
was parodied by a puritan of the name of Birch, under the title of "The
Complaint of a Sinner."[580:C]

In _Love's Labours Lost_, a sweet air, as Armado terms it, commencing
with the word _Concolinel_, is sung by Moth[580:D], but no further
intimation is given; and in another part of the same comedy, the burden
of an ancient ditty is chaunted by Roseline and Boyet.[580:E] In _As
You Like It_ Touchstone quotes a stanza from a ballad of which the
first line is _O sweet Oliver_, and which appears to be the same with
the ballad of

    "O sweete Olyver
     Leave me not behinde thee,"

entered by Richard Jones, on the books of the Stationers' Company,
August 6th, 1584[580:F]; and in the subsequent act, Orlando alludes to
a madrigal under the title of _Wit whither wilt_.[580:G]

_All's Well that Ends Well_ affords but two passages from the minstrel
poesy of the day, which are put into the mouth of the clown; one of
these is evidently taken from a ballad on the _Sacking of Troy_, and
the other seems to have been the chorus of a song on courtship or
marriage.[581:A]

From the _Taming of the Shrew_ we collect the initial lines of two
apparently very popular ballads; the first beginning _Where is the
life that late I led_[581:B], which is likewise quoted by Ancient
Pistol[581:C], and referred to in _A gorgious Gallery of gallant
Inventions_, 4to. 1578; there is also a song or sonnet with this title,
observes Mr. Malone, in _a handeful of pleasant Delites, containing
sundrie new Sonets_, &c. 1584, where we read of "Dame Beautie's replie
to the _lover late at libertie_, and now complaineth himselfe to be her
captive, intituled, _Where is the life that late I led_:

    "The life that erst thou led'st, my friend,
     Was pleasant to thine eyes," &c.[581:D]

The second fragment with which Petruchio has favoured us, commencing

    "It was the friar of orders grey,
     As he forth walked on his way,"[581:E]

has given rise to one of the most pleasing and pathetic of modern
ballads, founded on a professed introduction of as many of our poet's
ballad fragments as could consistently be adapted. "Dispersed through
Shakspeare's plays," says the ingenious associator, "are innumerable
little fragments of ancient ballads, the entire copies of which
could not be recovered. Many of these being of the most beautiful and
pathetic simplicity, the editor was tempted to select some of them, and
with a few supplemental stanzas to connect them together, and form them
into a little Tale."[582:A] That much taste and poetic spirit, together
with a very successful effort in combination, have been exhibited in
this little piece, the public approbation has unequivocally decided.

To the character of Autolycus, in the _Winter's Tale_, a very humorous
exemplar of the fallen state of the minstrel tribe, we are indebted
for some illustration of the prevalency of ballad-writing at the
commencement of the reign of James the First. Most of the songs
attributed to this adroit rogue, are, there is reason to think, the
composition of Shakspeare, with the exception of the catch beginning
_Jog on, jog on, the foot-path way_[582:B]; but, in his capacity of
ballad-vender, he throws considerable light on the subjects to which
these motley strains were devoted. He is represented as having ballads
of all descriptions, and "the prettiest love-songs for maids"—"and
where some stretch-mouth'd rascal would, as it were, mean mischief, and
break a foul gap into the matter, he makes the maid to answer, _Whoop,
do me no harm, good man_; puts him off, slights him, with _Whoop, do
me_ no harm, good man."[582:C] Accordingly at the Fair he is applied to
for these precious wares:—

    "_Clo._ What hast here? ballads?

    _Mop._ Pray now, buy some: I love a ballad in print, a'-life:
    for then we are sure they are true.

    _Aut._ Here's one to a very doleful tune, How a usurer's wife
    was brought to bed of twenty money-bags at a burden; and how
    she longed to eat adder's heads, and toads carbonadoed.

    _Mop._ Is it true, think you?

    _Aut._ Very true; and but a month old.

    _Dor._ Bless me from marrying a usurer!

    _Aut._ Here's the midwife's name to't, one mistress Taleporter;
    and five or six honest wives that were present: Why should I
    carry lies abroad?

    _Mop._ 'Pray you now, buy it.

    _Clo._ Come on, lay it by: And let's first see more ballads;
    we'll buy the other things anon.

    _Aut._ Here's another ballad, Of a fish, that appeared upon
    the coast, on Wednesday the fourscore of April, forty thousand
    fathom above water, and sung this ballad against the hard
    hearts of maids: it was thought she was a woman, and was turned
    into a cold fish, for she would not exchange flesh with one
    that loved her: The ballad is very pitiful, and as true.

    _Dor._ Is it true, think you?

    _Aut._ Five justices' hands at it; and witnesses, more than my
    pack will hold.

    _Clo._ Lay it by too: Another.

    _Aut._ This is a merry ballad; but a very pretty one.

    _Mop._ Let's have some merry ones.

    _Aut._ Why, this is a passing merry one; and goes to the tune
    of, _Two maids wooing a man_: there's scarce a maid westward,
    but she sings it; 'tis in request, I can tell you."[584:A]

The request, in fact, for these popular pieces of poetry was then
infinitely greater than has since obtained in more modern times; not
a murder, or an execution, not a battle or a tempest, not a wonderful
event or a laughable adventure, could occur, but what was immediately
thrown into the form of a ballad, and the muse supplied what humble
prose now details to us among the miscellaneous articles of a
news-paper; a statement which is fully confirmed by the observation of
another character in this very play, who tells us that "such a deal of
wonder is broken out within this hour, that ballad-makers cannot be
able to express it."[584:B]

In the _Second Part of King Henry the Fourth_ Falstaff enters a room,
in the Boar's Head Tavern, singing the first two lines of a ballad
which Dr. Percy has reprinted under the title of _Sir Lancelot Du
Lake_.[585:A] This, which is merely a metrical version of three
chapters from the first part of _Morte Arthur_, is quoted imperfectly
by the knight, owing to the interruptions attending his situation; the
opening lines of the ballad are,

    "When Arthur first in court began,
       And was approved king,"

which Falstaff mutilates and alters, by omitting the last word of the
first line, and converting _approved_ into _worthy_[585:B]; the version
and quotation, it may be remarked, are strong proofs of the popularity
of the romance.

To the admirably drawn character of _Silence_ in this play, we are
indebted for several valuable fragments of popular poesy. This curious
personage, who, when sober, has not a word to say, is no sooner
exhilarated by the circling glass, than he chaunts forth an abundance
of unconnected stanzas from the minstrelsy of his times. Having nothing
original in his ideas, no fund of his own on which to draw, he marks
his festivity by the vociferous repetition of scraps of catches, songs,
and glees. We may, therefore, conceive the poet to have appropriated
to this simple justice in his cups, the most generally known and, of
course, the favourite, convivial songs of the age. They are of such
a character, indeed, as to warrant the belief, that there was not a
hall in Shakspeare's days but what had echoed to these jovial strains;
a conclusion which almost imperatively calls for the admission of a
few, as specimens of the vocal hilarity of our ancestors, when warmed,
according to Shallow's confession, by "too much sack at supper."[585:C]

    "_Sil._ Do nothing but eat and make good cheer,    (Singing.)
            And praise heaven for the merry year;
            When flesh is cheap and females dear,[586:A]
            And lusty lads roam here and there,
                    So merrily,
                And ever among so merrily.

    _Fal._ There's a merry heart!—Good master Silence, I'll give
    you a health for that anon.—

    _Sil._ Be merry, be merry, my wife's as all;[586:B]
           For women are shrews, both short and tall:
           'Tis merry in hall, when beards wag all,
             And welcome merry shrove-tide.
                            Be merry, be merry, &c.

    _Fal._ I did not think, master Silence had been a man of this
    mettle.

    _Sil._ A cup of wine, that's brisk and fine,
           And drink unto the leman mine;
             And a merry heart lives long-a.

    _Fal._ Well said, master Silence.

    _Sil._ And we shall be merry;—now comes in the sweet of the
    night.

    _Fal._ Health and long life to you, master Silence.

    _Sil._ Fill the cup and let it come;
           I'll pledge you a mile to the bottom."[586:C]

After drinking another bumper, and singing another song, allusive
to the rights of pledging, _Do me right, And dub me knight_[586:D];
and quoting the old ballad of _Robin Hood_, and the _Pindar of
Wakefield_[586:E], master Silence is carried to bed, fully saturated
with sack and good cheer.

A character equally versed in minstrel lore, and equally prodigal of
his stock, though wanting the excuse of inebriation, has been drawn by
Beaumont and Fletcher, in the person of _Old Merrythought_ in their
_Knight of the Burning Pestle_[586:F]; but, in point of nature and
humour, it is a picture which falls infinitely short of Shakspeare's
sketch.

Many of the old songs, or rather the fragments of them, which are
scattered through the dramas of our poet, either proceed from the
professed clown or fool of the play, or are given as the wild
and desultory recollections of derangement, real or feigned; the
ebullitions of a broken heart, and the unconnected sallies of a
disordered mind.

Shakspeare's fools may be considered, in fact, as exact copies of the
living manners and costume of these singular personages, who, in his
era, formed a necessary part of the household establishment of the
great. To the due execution of their functions, a lively fancy, and a
copious fund of wit and sarcasm, together with an unlimited licence of
uttering what imagination and the occasion prompted, were essential;
but it was likewise required, that bitterness of allusion, and asperity
of remark, should be softened by the constant assumption of a playful
and unintentional manner. For this purpose, the indirect method of
quotation, and generally from ludicrous songs and ballads, is resorted
to, with the evident intention of covering what would otherwise have
been too naked and too severely felt. Thus, in an old play, entitled _A
very mery and pythie Comedy, called, The longer thou livest the more
Foole thou art_, printed about 1580, the appearance of a character of
this description is prefaced by the following stage-note:—"Entreth
_Moros_, counterfaiting a vaine gesture and a foolish countenance,
_synging the foote of many songs, as fools were wont_."[587:A]

The simple yet sarcastic drollery of the fool, and the wild ravings of
the madman, have been alike employed by Shakspeare, to deepen the gloom
of distress. In the tragedy of _Lear_ it is difficult to ascertain
whether the horrors of the scene are more heightened by the seeming
thoughtless levity of the former, or by the delirious imagery of the
latter. The greater part of the bitterly sportive metres, attributed
to the fool, in this drama, appears evidently to have been written for
the character; and as the reliques drawn from more ancient minstrelsy,
seem rather the foot or burden of each song, than the commencement,
and are at the same time of little poetical value, we shall forbear
enumerating them. The fragments, however, allotted to Edgar are both
characteristic, and apparently initial; the line which Mr. Steevens
asserts to have seen in an old ballad,

    "Through the sharp hawthown blows the cold wind,"[588:A]

is so impressive as absolutely to chill the blood; and the legendary
pieces beginning

    "Saint Withold footed thrice the wold,"[588:B]

and

    "Child Rowland to the dark tower came,"[588:C]

are reliques which well accord with the dreadful peculiarity of his
situation. The two subsequent quotations are from pastoral songs, of
which the first,

    "Come o'er the bourn, Bessy, to me,"[588:D]

as Mr. Malone observes, has a marked propriety, alluding to an
association then common; for in a description of beggars, published in
1607, one class of these vagabonds is represented as counterfeiting
madness;

      ———————— "they were so frantique
    They knew not what they did, but every day
      Make sport with stick and flowers like an antique;—
    _One calls herself poor Besse, the other Tom_."[588:E]

The second seems to have been suggested to the mind of Edgar by some
connection, however distant and obscure, with the business of the
scene. Lear fancies he is trying his daughters; and the lines of Edgar,
who is appointed one of the commission, allude to a trespass which
takes place in consequence of the folly of a shepherd in neglecting his
charge,—the lines appear to be the opening stanza of a lyric pastoral.
"A shepherd," remarks Dr. Johnson, "is desired to pipe, and the request
is enforced by a promise, that though his sheep be in the corn, _i. e._
committing a trespass by his negligence—yet a single tune upon his
pipe shall secure them from the pound.

    "Sleepest, or wakest thou, jolly shepherd?
       Thy sheep be in the corn;
     And for one blast of thy minikin mouth,
       Thy sheep shall take no harm."[589:A]

If the assumed madness of Edgar is heightened by the casual repetition
of these artless strains, how is the real distraction of the
heart-broken Ophelia augmented in its pathos by a similar appeal!
The interesting fragments which she sings, certainly do not produce
their effect, as Sir Joshua Reynolds imagined, by marking an "utter
insensibility to her own misfortunes[589:B];" for they manifestly refer
both to her father's death, and to her own unfortunate attachment,
their influence over the heart being felt as the consequence of this
indirect allusion.

Of the first three fragments, which appear to be parts of the same
ballad, and, as the king observes, are a "conceit upon her father," the
two prior have been beautifully incorporated by Dr. Percy in his _Friar
of Orders Gray_:

    "How should I your true love know,
       From another one?
     By his cockle hat and staff,
       And his sandal shoon."

    "He is dead and gone, lady,
       He is dead and gone;
     At his head a grass-green turf,
       At his heels a stone."[589:C]

The first line of the third,

    "White his shroud as the mountain snow,"

has been parodied by Chatterton, in the Mynstrelle's Songe in Œlla,

    "Whyte his rode as the sommer snowe."

The subsequent songs, beginning

    "Good morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's day,"

and

    "By Gis, and by Saint Charity,"[590:A]

were, there is little doubt, suggested to the fair sufferer's mind, by
an obscure and distant association with the issue of her unfortunate
amour, a connection, however, which is soon dissipated by reverting
to the fate of her father, the scene closing with two fragments
exquisitely adapted to unfold the workings of her mind on this
melancholy event.

    "They bore him barefac'd on the bier—
     And in his grave rain'd many a tear."[590:B]

    "And will he not come again?
     And will he not come again?
         No, no, he is dead,
         Go to thy death-bed,
     He never will come again, &c."[590:C]

passages of which Dr. Percy has admirably availed himself in his _Friar
of Orders Gray_, and to which the Mynstrelle's song in Œlla is
indebted for its pathetic burden:

    "_Mie love ys dedde,
     Gonne to his deathe-bedde_,
     Alle underre the wyllowe tree."[590:D]

The vacillation of poor Ophelia amid her heavy afflictions is rendered
strikingly apparent by the insertion of two ballad lines between the
stanzas last quoted, which again manifestly allude to her lover:—

    "_Oph._ You must sing, _Down a-down, an you call him adown-a_.
    O, how the wheel becomes it! It is the false steward, that
    stole his master's daughter.——"[591:A]

    "For bonny sweet Robin is all my joy."[591:B]

We may remark that the expression, "_O, how the wheel becomes it!_" is
meant to imply the popularity of the song, that

    "The _spinsters_ and the knitters in the sun
     Do use to _chaunt_ it,"

a custom which, as exercised in the winter, is beautifully exemplified
by Mr. Malone, in a passage from Sir Thomas Overbury's characters,
1614:—"She makes her hands hard with labour, and her head soft with
pittie; and when winter evenings fall early, sitting at her merry
_wheele_, she sings a defiance to the giddy wheele of fortune."[591:C]

In the church-yard scene of this play, one of the grave-diggers, after
amusing himself and his companion by queries, which, as Mr. Steevens
observes, "perhaps composed the chief festivity of our ancestors by an
evening fire[591:D];" sings three stanzas, though somewhat corrupted
either by design or accident, of "A dyttie or sonet made by the lord
Vaus, in the time of the noble quene Marye, representing the image of
death."[591:E] This poem was originally published in Tottel's edition
of Surrey and Wyat, and the Poems of Uncertain Authors; the earliest
poetical miscellany in our language, and first printed in 1557 under
the title of "Songes and sonettes by the right honourable Henry Howard,
late earl of Surrey, and other." To this very popular collection, which
underwent many editions during the sixteenth century[592:A], Slender
alludes, in the _Merry Wives of Windsor_, where he exclaims, "I had
rather than forty shillings, I had my book of _Songs and Sonnets_
here[592:B];" from which we may conclude that this was the fashionable
manual for lovers in the age of Elizabeth. Lord Vaux's lines have
been reprinted by Dr. Percy, who remarks on the apparent corruptions
of Shakspeare's transcript, that they were "perhaps so designed by
the poet himself, the better to suit the character of an illiterate
clown."[592:C]

No fragment of our minstrel poetry has been introduced by Shakspeare
with greater beauty and effect, than the melancholy ditty which
he represents Desdemona as singing, under a presentiment of her
approaching fate:

      "_Des._ My mother had a maid call'd—Barbara;
    She was in love; and he, she lov'd, prov'd mad,
    And did forsake her: she had a song of—willow,
    An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her fortune,
    And she died singing it: That song to-night,
    Will not go from my mind; I have much to do,
    But to go hang my head all at one side,
    And sing it like poor Barbara."[592:D]

Of this song of willow, ushered in with such a powerful appeal to the
heart, Dr. Percy has given us a copy in his Reliques[592:E]; it is in
two parts, and proves that the poet has not only materially altered the
few lines which he quotes, but has changed also the sex of its subject;
for in the original in the Pepys collection, it is entitled "A Lover's
Complaint, being forsaken of _his_ Love."

From the ample, we may almost say complete, enumeration, which we
have now given, of the fragments selected by Shakspeare from the
minstrel-poetry of his country, together with the accompanying remarks,
may be formed, not only a tolerably accurate estimate of the most
popular songs of this period, but a clear idea of the use to which
Shakspeare has applied them.[593:A] They will be found, in fact, with
scarcely any exceptions, either elucidatory of the business of the
scene, illustrative of the progress of the passions, or powerfully
assistant in developing the features and the shades of character.

It will appear also, from the view which has been taken of romantic
literature, as comprehending all the branches noticed in this chapter,
that its influence, in the age of our poet, was great and universally
diffused; that he was himself, perhaps more than any other individual,
if we except Spenser, addicted to its study and partial to its
fictions; and that, if we take into consideration, what will hereafter
be mentioned, the bases of his various plays, he may be affirmed to
have availed himself of its stores often with great skill, and with as
much frequency as the nature of the province which he cultivated, would
admit.


FOOTNOTES:

[520:A] Nichols's Progresses, vol. i. Laneham's Letter, p. 34-36.

[520:B] Dibdin's Bibliographical Romance, p. 349, 350, and note.

[521:A] Puttenham's Arte of English Poesie, reprint of 1811, p. 33, 69.

[522:A] Chalmers's English Poets, vol. v. p. 283. col. 2.

[522:B] Anatomy of Melancholy, folio. 8th edit. p. 84. col. 2. p. 177.
col. 2.

[522:C] See Ellis's Specimens of Early English Metrical Romances, vol.
i. Introduction, p. 38.; and the Abbé de la Rue's Dissertations on the
Anglo-Norman poets, Archæologia, vol. xii. and xiii.

[523:A] See Toland's Life of Milton, p. 35.

[524:A] The title of this first edition, as gathered from the prologue
and colophon, has been thus given by Mr. Dibdin:—

"A BOOK OF THE NOBLE HYSTORYES OF KYNGE ARTHUR, and of certeyn of his
knyghtes. Whiche book was reduced in to englyshe by syr Thomas Malory
knyght _and by me devyded into XXI bookes chapytred and enprynted, and
fynysshed in th abbey Westmestre the last day of Juyl the yere of our
lord M.CCCC._ lxxxv. FOLIO."—Dibdin's Typographical Antiquities, vol.
i. p. 241.

[525:A] Ascham's Works, Bennet's edit. p. 254.

[525:B] Vide p. 268.

[525:C] Toland's Life of Milton, p. 35.

[526:A] Burnet's Specimens of English Prose Writers, vol. i. p. 287-289.

[527:A] Dibdin's Typographical Antiquities, vol. ii. p. 81, 82.

[528:A] Book III. chap. 176.

[529:A] Vide Warton's Observations on the Faerie Queene, and Todd's
edition of Spenser's Works, vol. ii. p. lxviii.

[529:B] Vide Bibliotheca Reediana, No. 2670, and Todd's Spenser, vol.
ii. p. lxvii. note _k_.

[529:C] Todd's Spenser, vol. ii. p. lxvii. note.

[530:A] Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 217.

[530:B] Warton's History of English Poetry, vol. ii. p. 230. note.

[531:A] Ellis's Specimens of Early English Metrical Romances, vol. iii.
p. 4. et seq.

[532:A] Beloe's Anecdotes, vol. ii. p. 223.

[533:A] This short summary has been drawn up from the larger account
detailed by Mr. Ellis in his Specimens of Early English Metrical
Romances, vol. iii. p. 1-22.

[533:B] Ellis's Specimens of Early English Metrical Romances, vol. iii.
p. 17.

[534:A] The common version of Pilpay was published in 1747. It should
be remarked, however, that a translation from the Italian of Doni,
containing many of the fables of Pilpay, and professedly rendered
by Doni, from the Directorium Humanæ Vitæ, vel Parabole Antiquorum
Sapientum, was given in English by Sir Thomas North, 4to. 1570, and
1601, under the title of the "Moral Philosophy of Doni." From this
source, therefore, Shakspeare and his contemporaries may have been
partially acquainted with this collection of tales.

[534:B] Douce's Illustrations, vol. ii. p. 424.

[535:A] Two of these tales, chap. 31. and 32. are immediately taken
from _The Seven Wise Masters_, and may be found also in the Arabian
Nights and Pilpay's Fables.

[536:A] "_Edric_ was the name of _Enoch_ among the Arabians, to whom
they attribute many fabulous compositions. Herbelot, in V.—Lydgate's
_Chorle_ and _The Bird_ is taken from the _Clericalis Disciplina_."

[536:B] MSS. Harl. 3861, and in many other libraries. It occurs in old
French verse, MSS. Digb. 86. membrar. "_Le Romaune de Peres Aunfour
coment il aprist et chastia son fils belement._"

[536:C] "See Tyrwhitt's Chaucer, vol. iv. p. 325. seq."

[537:A] Milton's "Il Penseroso." Warton's History of English Poetry,
vol. iii. Dissertation on the Gesta Romanorum, p. v. vi.

[537:B] Douce's Illustrations, vol. ii. p. 422.

[537:C] History of English Poetry, vol. ii. p. 18. vol. iii. p. lxxxiii.

[537:D] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. vii. p. 229.

[537:E] According to his own assertion, in the MS. catalogue of his
works in the British Museum, to which he has given the title of
_Eupolemia_. See Douce's Illustrations, vol. ii. p. 423. 425.

[538:A] Ascham's Schole Master, Bennet's edit. 4to. p. 255.

[539:A] A writer, whose work has just fallen into my hands, closes a
long and accurate analysis of the Italian Tales, with the following
just observations:—"The larger works of fiction," he remarks,
"resemble those productions of a country which are consumed within
itself, while tales, like the more delicate and precious articles of
traffic, which are exported from their native soil, have gladdened and
delighted every land. They are the ingredients from which Shakspeare,
and other enchanters of his day, have distilled those magical drops
which tend so much to sweeten the lot of humanity, by occasionally
withdrawing the mind, from the cold and naked realities of life, to
visionary scenes and visionary bliss."—Dunlop's History of Fiction,
vol. ii. p. 409.

[539:B] "In The London Chaunticleres, 1659, this work, among others,"
remarks Mr. Steevens, "is cried for sale by a ballad-man; The Seven
Wise Men of Gotham; a _Hundred merry Tales_; Scoggin's Jests," &c.—See
Reed's Shakspeare, vol. vi. p. 42.

[540:A] History of English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 475.

[540:B] The English Courtier and the Cuntrey Gentleman, sig. H. 4. See
Reed's Shakspeare, vol. vi. p. 43. note.

[540:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. vi. p. 42. Act ii. sc. 1.

[540:D] Illustrations, vol. i. p. 166.

[541:A] Illustrations, vol. i. p. 168.

[542:A] The Roxburghe copy of the Palace of Pleasure produced the sum
of 42_l._

[542:B] History of English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 478.

[543:A] History of English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 473.

[543:B] Ritson thinks that Whetstone's Heptameron was republished in
1593, under the title of "Aurelia." In the Roxburghe Library, No. 6392,
this romance is termed "The Paragon of Pleasure, or the Christmas
Pleasures of Queene Aurelia," 4to. 1593.

[544:A] Warton's History of English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 487.

[544:B] Of the Italian tales it may be useful to enumerate the best and
most celebrated of those which were written during the fifteenth and
sixteenth centuries; as, in some shape or other, most of them became
familiar to English readers before the death of Shakspeare.

1. _Cento Novelle Antike._ The earliest collection of Italian novels.

2. _Boccacio il Decamerone._ Venet. Valdarfer. 1471. This, which is the
first edition, was purchased at the Roxburghe sale, by the Marquis of
Blandford, for 2260_l._!

3. _Novelle di Sacchetti._ Sacchetti died in 1408.

4. _Masuccio_, _Il Novellino_, nel quale si contengono _cinquanta_
Novelle.—Best edition that of 1484, folio.

5. _Sabadino_, _Porretane_, dove si narra Novelle _settanta una_.

6. _Sansovino_, _Cento Novelle_ scelte da più nobili Scrittori.

7. _Giovanni Fiorentino_, _il Pecorone_, nel quale si contengono
_cinquanta_ Novelle antiche. First and best edition, 1559.

8. _Novelle del Bandello_, 3 vols. 4to. 1554.

9. _Straparola_, _le piacevoli Notte_. 2 vols. 1557.

10. _Giraldi Cinthio_, _gli Hecatomithi_, (Cento Novelle.) 4 vols.

11. _Erizzo_, _le Sei Giornate_, (trenta cinque Novelle) Edizione prim.
4to. Ven. 1567.

12. Parabosco, i Diporti, o varo Novelle, Venet. 1558.

13. _Granucci_, _la piacivol Notte, et lieto Giorno_ (undici Novelle),
Venet. 1574.

14. Novelle di Ascanio de Mori. 4to. 1585.

15. Malespini, Ducento Novelle, 4to.

[544:C] Vide Gascoigne's Tale of Ferdinando Jeronimi, from the Italian
riding tales of Bartello, in his "Weedes," and Turberville's "Tragical
Tales, translated out of sundrie Italians," 1587.

[545:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. vii. p. 221.

[545:B] Vide Aikin's General Biography, vol. vi. article Lobeira.

[545:C] "Amadis of Gaul," remarks Mr. Southey, "is among prose, what
Orlando Furioso is among metrical Romances, not the oldest of its kind,
but the best."—Preliminary Essay to his Translation, 4 vols. 1803.

"This" (Amadis de Gaul), says Mr. Burnet, "is perhaps one of the most
beautiful books that ever was written."—Specimens of English Prose
Writers, vol. i. p. 289. note.

[546:A] Jervis's Translation of Don Quixote, vol. i. chap. 6.

[546:B] Sir Philip Sidney's Works, fol. edit. of 1629. p. 551.

[546:C] This version, which was reprinted in 1618, is by Anthony Munday.

[547:A] Jervis's Don Quixote, vol. i. chap.

[548:A] The first edition of Palmerin D'Oliva, translated by Anthony
Munday, was published by Charlewood in 1588. Vide Bibliotheca Reediana,
No. 2665; and his version of Palmendos, was printed by J. C. for Simon
Watersonne (1589), 4to. bl. l.

[548:B] In a letter from Mr. Whyte to Sir Robert Sidney, dated
September 1599, it is said, that "the Arcadia is now printed in
Scotland, according to the best edition, which will make them good
cheap, but is very hurtful to Ponsonbie, who held them at a very
high rate: he must sell as others doe, or they will lye upon his
hands."—Vide Zouch's Memoirs of Sir Philip Sidney, p. 361.

[549:A] A second edition of Underdowne's Heliodorus was printed in
1587, and a third in 1605.

[549:B] A complete edition of Sannazaro's Arcadia appeared in 1505.

[550:A] Task, book iv.

[551:A] Among the bulky romances of this prolific lady, who died June
2. 1701, aged 94, it may be worth while to enumerate a few, merely as
instances of her uncommon fecundity, viz. Artamene, ou le Grand Cyrus,
10 vols. 8vo.; Clelie, 10 vols. 8vo.; Almahide ou l'Esclave Reine, 8
vols. 8vo.; Ibrahim ou l'Illustre Bassa, 4 vols. 8vo.

[551:B] Tom of All Trades, or the plaine Pathway to Preferment, &c. By
Thomas Powell. Lond. 1631. 4to. pp. 47, 48.—Vide Warton's History of
English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 425, and 426.

[551:C] Fuller's Worthies, 1662, part ii. p. 75.

[551:D] See his Verses on Saccharissa, the Lady Dorothy Sidney.

[552:A] In his Essay on Poetry.

[552:B] In his Description of Arcadia in Greece, where he tells us that
the Arcadia, "besides its excellent language, rare contrivances, and
delectable stories, hath in it all the strains of poesy, comprehendeth
the universal art of speaking, and to them who can discern and will
observe, affordeth notable rules for demeanor both private and public."

[552:C] Park's edition of Royal and Noble Authors, vol. ii. p. 221. An
excellent defence of the Arcadia against the decision of Lord Orford,
who terms it "a tedious, lamentable, pedantic, pastoral romance," may
be found in the Gentleman's Magazine for 1767, p. 57. See also Sir
Egerton Brydges's edition of Phillip's Theatrum Poetarum, p. 134, et
seq., and Zouch's Memoirs of Sidney, p. 155.

[552:D] Aikin's Annual Review, vol. iv. p. 547.

[553:A] Pennant's London, p. 103.

[554:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xvi. p. 84., and Malone's note.

[554:B] Ibid. vol. xii. p. 213. Act v. sc. 1.

[554:C] Douce's Illustrations, vol. i. p. 472.

[556:A] Nichols's Progresses, vol. i. p. 56., the year 1573.

[556:B] See Comedy of Errors, act iv. sc. 2. Henry IV. Part I. act ii.
sc. 3. Romeo and Juliet, act iii. sc. 1. Love's Labour's Lost, act v.
sc. 2. Taming of the Shrew, act i. sc. 1.

[556:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. viii. pp. 124, 125. Act iii. sc. 4.

[557:A] Percy's Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, vol. i. pp. liv.
285. 295.

[558:A] _Wrest_—the key with which the harp is tuned.

[559:A] Nichols's Progresses of Queen Elizabeth, vol. i.

[559:B] Kind Harts Dreame, sig. B. 2.

[560:A] Arte of English Poesie, reprint, p. 69.

[560:B] Chalmers's English Poets, vol. v. p. 273. col. 1. Book iv. sat.
1.

[560:C] Malone's Supplement to Shakspeare's Plays, vol. i. p. 521.

[561:A] See Ritson's Ancient Engleish Metrical Romanceës, vol. i.
Dissertation on Romance and Minstrelsy, p. ccxxiv.

[562:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xii. p. 144. Act iii. sc. 2.

[562:B] Douce's Illustrations, vol. i. p. 465.

[562:C] British Bibliographer, No. II. p. 125.

[563:A] British Bibliographer, No. II. p. 126, 127.

[563:B] _Positions concerning the training up of Children_, London,
1581 and 1587. 4to. chap. xxvi.

[564:A] The original, the _Histoire de Huon de Bordeaux_, was ushered
into the world at the Fair of Troyes in Champagne, in the first century
of printing.

[564:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. vi. p. 51. Act ii. sc. 1.

[564:C] Huon of Bourdeaux, chap. xvii.

[564:D] Chap. xlvi. edit. of 1601. Lord Berners's translation underwent
three editions. The original has had the honour of giving birth to
the Chef d'Oeuvre of _Wieland_—"the child of his genius," observe
the Monthly Reviewers, "in moments of its purest converse with the
all-beauteous forms of ideal excellence;—the darling of his fancy,
born in the sweetest of her excursions amid the ambrosial bowers of
fairy-land;—the OBERON,—an epic poem, popular beyond example, yet as
dear to the philosopher as to the multitude; which, during the author's
lifetime, has attained in its native country all the honours of a
sacred book; and to the evolution of the beauties of which, a Professor
in a distinguished university has repeatedly consecrated an entire
course of patronized lectures." New Series, vol. xxiii. p. 576.

The beauties of Oberon are now accessible to the mere English scholar,
through the medium of Mr. Sotheby's version, which, though strictly
faithful to the German, has the spirit and harmony of an original poem.

[565:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xiii. p. 249. Act ii. sc. 3.

[565:B] Chalmers's English Poets, vol. iv. p. 189. col. 1.—Polyolbion,
canto ii.

[566:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xvii. p. 475. Act iii. sc. 4.

[566:B] Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, vol. iii. p. xxiii.

[566:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. x. p. 363. Act i. sc. 1.

[566:D] Ibid. p. 367. King John, act i. sc. 1.

[567:A] Vide Ellis's Specimens of Early English Metrical Romances, vol.
ii. p. 201., and Weber's Metrical Romances, vol. i.

[567:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xii. p. 502. Act v. sc. 1.

[567:C] Ritson's Ancient Engleish Metrical Romancees, vol. iii. p. 344.

[567:D] Vide Garrick Collection in Beloe's Anecdotes, vol. i. p. 400.

[567:E] Todd's Spenser, vol. v. p. 313. 367.

[567:F] This poet is conjectured to have thrown some ridicule on the
Squire of Low Degree, in his rhyme of _Sir Thopas_; but Ritson remarks,
that this romance "is never mentioned by any one writer before the
sixteenth century; nor is it known to be extant in manuscript; and,
in fact, the Museum copy is the onely one that exists in print."
Romancees, vol. iii. p. 345.

[568:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. v. p. 326. note.

[569:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 5., and Walton's Hist. of
Poetry, vol. iii. p. 294.

[569:B] Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, vol. i. p. 254.

[569:C] See Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. pp. 201, 202., and Douce's
Illustrations, vol. i. p. 342.

[569:D] See _Shakspeare Illustrated_, by Mrs. Lennox, 3 vols. 12mo.
1754.

[570:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xi. p. 191. Act i. sc. 2.

[570:B] Jarvis's Don Quixote, vol. i. part i. chap. 1. Sharpe's edit.
p. 3.

[570:C] Vide Bibliotheca Reediana, No. 2661.

[571:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xviii. p. 173. Act iii. sc. 1.

[571:B] British Bibliographer, No. II. p. 148.

[571:C] Douce's Illustrations, vol. ii. p. 240.—Mr. Douce observes,
that the "oldest (edition) we know of is that of 1649, printed by
Robert Ibbitson. In 1586, _The old book of Valentine and Orson_ was
licensed to T. Purfoot." P. 240.

[572:A] British Bibliographer, No. V. p. 469.

[572:B] Ibid. p. 470.

[572:C] Douce's Illustrations, vol. ii. p. 240.

[573:A] Arcadia, book i. p. 29. 7th edit.

[573:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. vi. p. 87. Act iii. sc. 2.

[573:C] Book ii. pp. 153, 154. edit. of 1629.

[574:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. v. pp. 305. 307, 308. Act ii. sc. 4.

[576:A] British Bibliographer, No. X. pp. 559, 560. This fragment, says
Mr. Haslewood, "is in black letter, one sheet, and bears signature C."

[576:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iv. p. 60. Act ii. sc. 1.

[576:C] Jacke of Dover, his quest of Inquirie, or his privy Search for
the veriest Foole in England, 4to.—Vide Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iv. p.
60. note 4.

[577:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. v. p. 64. and note by Steevens.

[577:B] Ibid. p. 130. Act iii. sc. 3.

[577:C] Ancient British Drama, vol. ii. p. 219. col. 1. Act iii. sc. 7.

[577:D] Custom of the Country, act i. sc. 1. The Knight of the Burning
Pestle, act v.

[577:E] Anatomy of Melancholy, edit. 1632. p. 576.

[577:F] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. v. p. 131. note 8.

[577:G] Ibid. p. 110.

[578:A] England's Helicon, 3d edit., reprint of 1812. p. 214, 215.

[578:B] Compleat Angler, Bagster's edit. 1808. pp. 147, 148.

[578:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. v. p. 293. Act ii. sc. 3.

[579:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. v. pp. 294-297. 299.

[579:B] Ibid. v. p. 296. note by Steevens.

[579:C] Vol. i. p. 220.

[579:D] Reliques, vol. i. p. 220.

[580:A] Percy's Reliques, vol. i. p. 194.

[580:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. vi. p. 166.

[580:C] Ibid. p. 166. note.

[580:D] Ibid. vol. vii. p. 51. Act iii. sc. 1.

[580:E] Ibid. p. 82. Act iv. sc. 1.

[580:F] Ibid. vol. viii. p. 119. Act iii. sc. 3.

[580:G] Ibid. p. 144. Act iv. sc. 1.

[581:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. viii. pp. 238-240. Act i. sc. 3.

[581:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 131. Act iv. sc. 1.—There
appears to be allusions to two catches in this scene. Grumio exclaims
"_fire, fire; cast on no water_," which Judge Blackstone traces to the
following old catch in three parts:—

    "Scotland burneth, Scotland burneth.
     Fire, fire;——Fire, fire;
     Cast on some more water."

Grumio a little afterwards calls out, "Why, _Jack boy! ho boy!_" the
beginning, as Sir John Hawkins asserts, of an old round in three parts,
of which he has given us the musical notes.

[581:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xii. p. 244.

[581:D] Ibid. vol. ix. p. 131. note.

[581:E] Ibid. vol. ix. p. 132. Act iv. sc. 1.

[582:A] Percy's Reliques, vol. i. p. 259.

[582:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 328. Act iv. sc. 2.

[582:C] Ibid. p. 346. Act iv. sc. 3.—We shall add, in this note,
in order to complete the catalogue, all the fragments of ancient
minstrelsy that have escaped our enumeration in the text.

In Troilus and Cressida, Pandarus, lamenting the approaching departure
of Cressida, expresses his sorrow by quoting an old song beginning—

    "O heart, o heart, o heavy heart,
       Why sigh'st thou without breaking."
                         Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xv. p. 393.

Hamlet, bantering Polonius, quotes part of the first stanza of a ballad
entitled, _Jephtha, Judge of Israel_. This has been published by Dr.
Percy, retrieved, as he relates, from utter oblivion by a lady, who
wrote it down from memory as she had formerly heard it sung by her
father.—Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xviii. p. 142.; and Percy's Reliques,
vol. i. p. 189.

It is probable that Hamlet, who appears to have been well versed in
ballad-lore, has again introduced two morsels from this source, in his
dialogue with Horatio on the conduct of the king at the play: they
strongly mark his triumph in the success of his plan for unmasking the
crimes of his uncle:—

    "Why let the strucken deer go weep," &c.

           *       *       *       *       *

    "For thou dost know, O Damon dear," &c.
                Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xviii. pp. 212. 214.

Iago in the drunken scene with Cassio, in the view of adding to his
exhilaration, sings a portion of two songs; the first apparently a
chorus,—

    "And let me the canakin, clink, clink," &c.

the second,

    "King Stephen was a worthy peer,"

from a humorous ballad of Scotch origin, preserved by Percy in his
Reliques, vol. i. p. 204.—Vide Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xix. pp. 334.
336.

In Romeo and Juliet, Mercutio, in the following passage, alludes to two
ballads of considerable notoriety:—

    "Young _Adam_ Cupid, he that shot so trim,
     When king _Cophetua_ lov'd the _beggar maid_;"

the first line referring to the celebrated ballad of _Adam Bell_, _Clym
of the Clough_, and _William of Cloudesly_, and the second to _King
Cophetua and the Beggar-Maid_; popular pieces which are again the
objects of allusion in _Much Ado about Nothing_, act i.; and in the
Second Part of Henry IV. act v. sc. 3.—Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xx. p.
77.; and Percy's Reliques, vol. i. pp. 154. 198.

The same play will afford us three or four additional references;
Mercutio, ridiculing the old Nurse, gives us a ludicrous fragment
commencing "_An old hare hoar_," vol. xx. p. 116.; and Peter, after
calling for two songs called _Heart's ease_, and _My heart is full of
woe_, attempts to puzzle the musicians by asking for an explanation
of the epithet _silver_ in the first stanza of _A Song to the Lute
in Musicke_, written by Richard Edwards, in the "Paradise of Daintie
Devises," and commencing,

    "Where griping griefs the hart would wounde."
               Vide Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xx. p. 220. 222.
                   and Percy's Reliques, vol. i. p. 196.

[584:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. pp. 353-355. Act iv. sc. 3.

[584:B] Ibid. p. 403. Act v. sc. 2.

[585:A] Reliques, vol. i. p. 214.

[585:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xii. p. 78.

[585:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xii. p. 232. Act v. sc. 3.

[586:A] _Dear_ is here to be remembered in its double sense.—Farmer.

[586:B] _My wife's as all_, that is, as all women are.—Steevens.

[586:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xii. pp. 232-236. Act v. sc. 3.

[586:D] Ibid. p. 237.

[586:E] Ibid. p. 241.

[586:F] This play was first printed in the year 1613.

[587:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xvii. p. 366, note.

[588:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xvii. p. 463, and 490, note. This
finely descriptive line, Dr. Percy has interwoven in his ballad of _The
Friar of Orders Gray_.

[588:B] Reed's Shakspeare vol. xvii. p. 472. Act iii. sc. 4.

[588:C] Ibid. p. 478. Act iii. sc. 4.

[588:D] Ibid. p. 484. Act iii. sc. 6.

[588:E] Ibid. p. 485, note by Malone.

[589:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xvii. p. 486.

[589:B] Ibid. vol. xviii. p. 278. note.

[589:C] Ibid. p. 278-280. Act iv. sc. 5.

[590:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xviii. p. 281, 282. Act iv. sc. 5.

[590:B] Ibid. vol. xviii. p. 292. Act iv. sc. 5.

[590:C] Ibid. p. 299. Act iv. sc. 5.

[590:D] Poems, supposed to have been written at Bristol, by Thomas
Rowley, and others. Cambridge edition, 1794, p. 70.

[591:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xviii. p. 293.

[591:B] Ibid. p. 298.

[591:C] Ibid. p. 294. note.

[591:D] Ibid. p. 322, note 4.

[591:E] Warton's Hist. of Eng. Poetry, vol. iii. p. 45.

[592:A] Namely in 1565, 1567, 1569, 1574, 1585, 1587, &c.

[592:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. v. p. 27.

[592:C] Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, vol. i. p. 186.

[592:D] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xix. p. 472. Act iv. sc. 3.

[592:E] Vol. i. p. 208.

[593:A] To form a complete enumeration of the songs of the Elizabethan
era, it would be necessary not only to consult _all_ the dramatic
writers of this age, but to acquire a perfect series of the very
numerous _Collections of Madrigals_ which were published during the
same period.




CHAPTER IV.

    CURSORY VIEW OF POETRY, WITH THE EXCEPTION OF THE DRAMA, DURING
    THE AGE OF SHAKSPEARE.


The space which elapsed between the birth and the death of Shakspeare,
from April 1564 to April 1616, a period of fifty-two years, may be
pronounced, perhaps, the most fertile in our annals, with regard to the
production of poetical literature. Not only were the great outlines of
every branch of poetry chalked out with skill and precision, but many
of its highest departments were filled up and finished in a manner
so masterly as to have bid defiance to all subsequent competition.
Consequently if we take a survey of the various channels through
which the genius of poetry has been accustomed to diffuse itself, it
will be found, that, during this half century, every province had its
cultivators; that poems epic and dramatic, historic and didactic, lyric
and romantic, that satires, pastorals, and sonnets, songs, madrigals,
and epigrams, together with a multitude of translations, brightened and
embellished its progress.

On a subject, however, so productive, and which would fill volumes,
it is necessary, that, in consonancy with the limits and due keeping
of our plan, the utmost solicitude for condensation be observed. In
this chapter, accordingly, which, to a certain extent, is meant to be
introductory to a critical consideration of the miscellaneous poems of
Shakspeare, the dramatic writers are omitted; a future section of the
work being appropriated to a detail of their more peculiar labours for
the stage.

After a few general observations, therefore, on the poetry of this era,
it is our intention to give short critical notices of the principal
bards who flourished during its transit; and with the view of affording
some idea of the extensive culture and diffusion of poetic taste, an
alphabetical table of the minor poets, accompanied by slight memoranda,
will be added. An account of the numerous _Collections_ of Poetry which
reflect so much credit on this age, and a few remarks and inferences,
more particularly with respect to Shakspeare's study of his immediate
predecessors and contemporaries in miscellaneous poetry, will complete
this portion of our subject.

The causes which chiefly contributed to produce this fertility in
poetical genius may, in a great measure, be drawn from what has been
already remarked under the heads of _superstition_, _literature_, and
_romance_.

The sun of philosophy and science, which had just risen with the
most captivating beauty, and which promised a meridian of uncommon
splendour, had not yet fully dissipated those mists that for centuries
had enveloped and darkened the human mind. What remained, however,
of the popular creed, was much less gross and less contradictory to
common experience, than what had vanished from the scroll; these
reliques were, indeed, such, as either appealed powerfully to a warm
and creative imagination, or were intimately connected with those
apprehensions which agitate the breast of man, when speculating on his
destiny in another and higher order of existence.

Under the first of these classes may be included all that sportive,
wild, and terrific imagery which resulted from a partial belief in the
operations of fairies, witches, and magicians, and in the reveries
of the alchemist, the rosicrusian, and the astrologer; and under the
second will be found, what can scarcely be termed superstition in the
customary sense, that awful and mysterious conception of the spiritual
world, which supposes its frequent intervention, through the agency
either of departed spirits, or superhuman beings.

The opinions which prevailed with regard to these topics in the days
of Shakspeare, were such as exactly suited the higher regions of
poetry, without giving any violent shock to the deductions of advancing
philosophy. The national credulity had been, in fact, greatly chastised
through the efforts of enquiry and research, and though it may still
appear great to us, was in perfect accordance with the progress of
civilisation, and certainly much better calculated for poetic purposes
than has been any subsequent though purer creed.

The state of _literature_, too, was precisely of that kind which
favoured, in a very high degree, the nurture of poetical genius.
The vocabulary of our language was rich, beyond all example, both
in natives and exotics; not only in "new grafts of old withered
words[596:A]," but in a multitude of expressive terms borrowed from
the learned languages; and this wealth was used freely and without
restriction, and without the smallest apprehension of censure.

An enthusiastic spirit for literary acquisition had been created
and cherished by the revival, the study, and the translation of the
_ancient classics_; and through this medium an exhaustless mine of
imagery and allusion was laid open to our vernacular poets.

Nor were these advantages blighted or checked by the fastidious canons
of dictatorial _criticism_. Puttenham's was the only _Art of Poetry_
which had made its appearance, and, though a taste for discussion of
this kind was rapidly advancing, the poet was yet left independent of
the critic; at liberty to indulge every flight of imagination, and
every sally of feeling; to pursue his first mode of conception, and to
adopt the free diction of the moment.

The age of _chivalry and romance_, also, had not yet passed away; the
former, it is true, was verging fast towards dissolution, but its tone
was still exalting and heroic, while the latter continued to throw
a rich, though occasionally a fantastic light over every species of
poetic composition. In short, the unrestricted copiousness of our
language, the striking peculiarities of our national superstition, the
wild beauties of Gothic invention, and the playful sallies of Italian
fiction, combined with a plentiful infusion of classic lore, and
operating on native genius, gave origin, not only to an unparalleled
number of great bards, but to a cast of poetry unequalled in this
country for its powers of description and creation, for its simplicity
and energy of diction, and for its wide dominion over the feelings.

If we proceed to consider the _versification_, _economy_, and
_sentiment_ of the Elizabethan poetry, candour must confess, that
considerable defects will be found associated with beauties equally
prominent, especially in the first and second of these departments. We
must be understood, however, as speaking here only of rhymed poetry,
for were the blank verse of our dramatic poets of this epoch included,
there can be no doubt but that in versification likewise the palm must
be awarded to Shakspeare and his contemporaries. Indeed, even in the
construction of rhyme, the inferiority of our ancestors is nearly,
if not altogether, confined to their management of the pentameter
couplet; and here, it must be granted, that, in their best artificers
of this measure, in the pages of Daniel, Drayton, and Browne, great
deficiencies are often perceptible both in harmony and cadence, in
polish and compactness. It has been said by a very pleasing, and, in
general, a very judicious critic, that "the older poets _disdained_
stooping to the character of syllable-mongers; as their conceptions
were vigorous, they trusted to the simple provision of nature for
their equipment; and though often introduced into the world _ragged_,
they were always healthy."[597:A] Now versification is to poetry, what
colouring is to painting, and though by no means among the higher
provinces of the art, yet he who _disdains_ its cultivation, loses one
material hold upon the reader's attention; for, though plainness and
simplicity of garb best accord with vigour, sublimity, or pathos of
conception, _raggedness_ can never coincide in the production of any
grand or pleasing effect.

It is remarkable, however, that, in lyrical composition, the poets of
Elizabeth's reign, so far from being defective in harmony of metre,
frequently possess the most studied modulation; and numbers of their
songs and madrigals, as well as many stanzas of their longer poems
constructed on the model of the Italian _octava rima_, exhibit in their
versification so much high-finishing, and such an exquisite polish,
as must render doubtful, in this province, at least, the assumed
superiority of modern art.

A more striking desideratum in the poetry of this era has arisen
from a want of economy in the use of imagery and ornament, and in
the distribution of parts as relative to a whole. That relief, which
is produced by a judicious management of light and shade, appears to
have been greatly neglected; the eye, after having been fatigued by
an unsubdued splendour and warmth of style, suddenly passes to an
extreme poverty of colouring, without any intermediate tint to blend
and harmonize the parts; in short, to drop the metaphor, after a
prodigal profusion of imagery and description, the exhausted bard sinks
for pages together into a strain remarkable only for its flatness and
imbecillity. To this want of union in style, may be added an equal
defalcation in the disposition, connection, and dependency of the
various portions of an extended whole. These requisites, which are
usually the result of long and elaborate study, have been successfully
cultivated by the moderns, who, since the days of Pope, have paid
a scrupulous attention to the mechanism of versification, to the
consonancy and keeping of style, and to the niceties and economy of
arrangement.

We can ascribe, however, to the poets of Elizabeth's reign the greater
merit of excelling in energy and truth of _sentiment_, in simplicity
of diction, in that artless language of nature which irresistibly
makes its way to the heart. To excite the emotions of sublimity, of
terror, of pity, an appeal to the artificial graces of modern growth
will not be found successful; on the contrary, experience has taught
us, that in the higher walks of poetry, where sensations of grandeur
and astonishment are to be raised, or where the passions in all their
native vigour are to be called forth, we must turn to the earlier
stages of the art, when the poet, unshackled by the overwhelming
influence of venerated models, unawed by the frowns of criticism,
and his flow of thought undiverted by any laborious attention to the
minutiæ of diction and cadence, looked abroad for himself, and drew
fresh from the page of surrounding nature, and from the workings of
his own breast, the imagery, and the feelings, which he was solicitous
to impress. In consequence of this self-dependence, this appeal to
original sources, the poetry of the period under our notice possesses a
strength, a raciness, and verisimilitude which have since very rarely
been attained, and which more than compensate for any subordinate
defects in the ornamental departments of metre, or style.

It is conceivable, indeed, that a poet may arise, who shall happily
combine, even in a long poem of the highest class, the utmost
refinements of recent art, with the originality, strength, and
independency of our elder bards; it is a phenomenon, however, rather
to be wished for than expected, as the excellencies peculiar to these
widely-separated eras appear to be, in their highest degree, nearly
incompatible. Yet is the attempt not to be given up in despair; in
short poems, especially of the lyric species, we know that this
union has been effected among us; for Gray, to very lofty flights of
sublimity, has happily united the utmost splendour of diction, and
the utmost brilliancy of versification; and even in a later and more
extended instance, in "The Pleasures of Hope" by Mr. Campbell, we find
some of the noblest conceptions of poetry clothed in metre exquisitely
sweet and polished, and possessing at the same time great variety of
modulation, and a considerable share of simplicity in its construction.

If, however, upon the large scale, which the highest cast of poetry
demands, the studied harmony of later times be found incapable of
coalescing with effect, there can be no doubt what school we should
adopt; for who would not prefer the sublime though unadorned conception
of Michael Angelo to the glowing colouring even of such an artist as
Titian?

Of the larger poems of the age of Shakspeare, the defects may be
considered as of two kinds, either apparent only, or real; under the
first may be classed that want of high-finishing which is the result,
partly of its incompatibility with greatness of design, and partly as
the effect of a just taste; for much of the minor poetry of the reign
of Elizabeth, as hath been previously observed, is polished even to
excess; while under the second are to be placed the positive defects
of want of union in style, and want of connection and arrangement in
economy; omissions not resulting from necessity, and which are scarcely
to be atoned for by any excellencies, however transcendent.

It is creditable to the present age, that in the higher poetry several
of our bards have in a great degree reverted to the ancient school;
that, in attempting to emulate the genius of their predecessors, they
have judiciously adopted their strength and simplicity of diction,
their freedom and variety of metre, preserving at the same time, and
especially in the disposition of their materials, and the keeping
of their style, whatever of modern refinement can aptly blend with
or heighten the effect of the sublime, though often severely chaste
outline, of the first masters of their art.

That meretricious glare of colouring, that uniform though seductive
polish, and that monotony of versification, which are but too apparent
in the school of Pope, and which have been carried to a disgusting
excess by Darwin and his disciples, not only vitiate and dilute all
developement of intense emotion, but even paralyse that power of
picturesque delineation, which can only subsist under an uncontrolled
freedom of execution, where, both in language and rhythm, the utmost
variety and energy have their full play. He who in sublimity and pathos
has made the nearest approach to our three immortal bards, Spenser,
Shakspeare, and Milton, and who may, therefore, claim the fourth
place in our poetical annals, the lamented Chatterton; and he who,
in the present day, stands unrivalled for his numerous and masterly
sketches of character, and for the truth, locality, and vigour of his
descriptions, the poet of Marmion and of Rokeby; are both well known
to have built their fame upon what may be emphatically termed the old
_English_ school of poesy. The difference between them is, that while
both revert to the costume and imagery of the olden time, one adheres,
in a great measure, to the language of his day, while the other must
be deemed a laborious though not very successful imitator of the
phraseology and extrinsic garb of the remote period to which, for no
very laudable purpose, he has assigned his productions.

These few remarks on the poetry of our ancestors being premised, the
critical notices to which we have alluded, may with propriety commence;
and in executing this part of the subject, as well as in the tabular
form which follows, an alphabetical arrangement will be observed.

1. BEAUMONT, SIR JOHN. Though the poems of this author were not
published, yet were they written, during the age of Shakspeare, and
consequently demand our notice in this chapter. He was the elder
brother of Francis the dramatic poet, and was born at Grace-dieu, in
Leicestershire, in 1582. He very early attached himself to poetical
studies, and all his productions in this way were the amusements of
his youthful days. Of these, the most elaborate is entitled "Bosworth
Field," a very animated, and often a very poetical detail of the
circumstances which are supposed immediately to precede and accompany
this celebrated struggle. The versification merits peculiar praise;
there is an ease, a vigour, and a harmony in it, not equalled, perhaps,
by any other poet of his time; many of the couplets, indeed, are such
as would be distinguished for the beauty of their construction, even in
the writings of Pope. An encomium so strong as this may require some
proofs for its support, and among the number which might be brought
forward, three shall be adduced as specimens not only of finished
versification, but of the energy and heroism of the sentiments which
pervade this striking poem.

    "There he beholds a high and glorious throne,
     Where sits a king by lawrell garlands knowne,
     Like bright Apollo in the Muses' quires,
     His radiant eyes are watchfull heavenly fires;
     Beneath his feete pale Envie bites her chaine,
     And snaky Discord whets her sting in vaine."

Ferrers, addressing Richard, exclaims,—

    "I will obtaine to-day, alive or dead,
     The crownes that grace a faithfull souldiers head.
     'Blest be thy tongue,' replies the king, 'in thee
     The strength of all thine ancestors I see,
     Extending warlike armes for England's good,
     By thee their heire, in valour as in blood.'"

On the flight of Catesby, who advises Richard to embrace a similar mode
of securing his personal safety, the King indignantly answers,

    "Let cowards trust their horses' nimble feete,
     And in their course with new destruction meete;
     Gaine thou some houres to draw thy fearefull breath:
     To me ignoble flight is worse than death."

Of the conclusion of Bosworth Field, Mr. Chalmers has justly observed,
that "the lines describing the death of the tyrant may be submitted
with confidence to the admirers of Shakspeare."[602:A]

The translations and miscellaneous poems of Sir John include several
pieces of considerable merit. We would particularly point out
Claudian's Epigram on the Old Man of Verona, and the verses on his
"dear sonne Gervase Beaumont."

Sir John died in the winter of 1628, aged forty-six.

2. BRETON, NICHOLAS. Of this prolific poet few authenticated facts
are known. His first publication, entitled, "A small handfull of
fragrant flowers," was printed in 1575; if we therefore allow him
to have reached the age of twenty-one before he commenced a writer,
the date of his birth may, with some probability, be assigned to
the year 1554. The number of his productions was so great, that a
character in Beaumont and Fletcher's _Scornful Lady_, declares that
he had undertaken "with labour and experience the collection of those
thousand pieces—of that our honour'd Englishman, Nich. Breton."[602:B]
Ritson has given a catalogue of twenty-nine, independent of his
contributions to the "Phœnix Nest" and "England's Helicon," and five
more are recorded by Mr. Park in the Censura Literaria.[603:A] Most
of these are poetical, some a mixed composition of rhyme and prose,
and a few entirely prose; they are all extremely scarce, certainly not
the consequence of mediocrity or want of notice, for they have been
praised by Puttenham[603:B], Meres[603:C], and Phillips; and one of
his most beautiful ballads is inserted in "The Muse's Library," 1740.
After a lapse of twenty-five years, Dr. Percy recalled the attention of
the public to our author by inserting in his Reliques the same piece
which Mrs. Cowper had previously chosen[603:D]; in 1801 Mr. Ellis
favoured us with eight specimens, from his pamphlets and "England's
Helicon[603:E]," and Mr. Park has since added two very valuable
extracts to the number.[603:F] These induce us to wish for a more
copious selection, and at the same time enable us to declare, that as a
lyric and pastoral poet he possessed, if not a splendid, yet a pleasing
and elegant flow of fancy, together with great sweetness and simplicity
of expression, and a more than common portion of metrical harmony.

He is supposed, on the authority of an epitaph in the church of
Norton, a village in Northamptonshire, to have died on the 22d of June
1624.[603:G]

3. BROWNE, WILLIAM, was born at Tavistock, in Devonshire, in 1590, and,
there is reason to suppose, began very early to cultivate his poetical
talents; for in the first book of his _Britannias Pastorals_, which
were published in folio, in 1613, when in his twenty-third year, he
speaks of himself, "as weake in yeares as skill[603:H]," an expression
which leads to the supposition that his earlier pastorals were written
before he had attained the age of twenty. Indeed all his poetry appears
to have been written previous to his thirtieth year. In 1614, he
printed in octavo, _The Shepherds Pipe_, in seven eclogues; in 1616,
the second part of his _Britannias Pastorals_ was given to the public,
and in 1620, his _Inner Temple Mask_ is supposed to have been first
exhibited.

Browne enjoyed a large share of popularity during his life-time;
numerous commendatory poems are prefixed to the first edition of his
pastorals; and, in a copy of the second impression of 1625, in the
possession of Mr. Beloe, and which seems to have been a presentation
copy to Exeter College, Oxford, of which Browne was a member and
Master of Arts, there are thirteen adulatory addresses to the poet,
from different students of this society, and in the hand-writing
of each.[604:A] Among his earliest eulogists are found the great
characters Selden, Drayton, and Jonson, by whom he was highly respected
both as a poet and as a man; and as a still more imperishable honour,
we must not forget to mention, that he was a favourite with our divine
Milton.

Until lately, however, he has been under little obligation to
subsequent times; nearly one hundred and fifty years elapsed before a
third edition of his poems employed the press; this came out in 1772,
under the auspices of Mr. Thomas Davies, and, with the exception of
some extracts in Hayward's British Muse, this long interval passed
without any attempt to revive his fame, by any judicious specimens of
his genius.[604:B] A more propitious era followed the republication
of Davies; in 1787, Mr. Headley obliged us with some striking proofs
of, and some excellent remarks on, his beauties; in 1792, his whole
works were incorporated in the edition of the poets, by Dr. Anderson;
in 1801, Mr. Ellis gave further extension to his fame by additional
examples, and in 1810 his productions again became a component part
of a body of English poetry in the very elaborate and comprehensive
edition of the English Poets, by Mr. Chalmers.

Still it appears to us, that sufficient justice has not, since the era
of Milton, been paid to his talents; for, though it be true, as Mr.
Headley has observed, that puerilities, forced allusions, and conceits,
have frequently debased his materials; yet are these amply atoned for
by some of the highest excellencies of his art; by an imagination
ardent and fertile, and sometimes sublime; by a vivid personification
of passion; by a minute and truly faithful delineation of rural
scenery; by a peculiar vein of tenderness which runs through the
whole of his pastorals, and by a versification uncommonly varied and
melodious. With these are combined a species of romantic extravagancy
which sometimes heightens, but more frequently degrades, the effect of
his pictures. Had he exhibited greater judgment in the selection of his
imagery, and greater simplicity in his style, his claim on posterity
had been valid, had been general and undisputed. Browne is conjectured
by Wood to have died in the winter of 1645.[605:A]

4. CHALKHILL, JOHN. This poet was the intimate friend of Spenser, a
gentleman, a scholar, and, to complete the encomium, a man of strict
moral character. He was the author of a pastoral history, entitled,
_Thealma and Clearchus_; but "he died," relates Mrs. Cooper, "before
he could perfect even the Fable of his poem, and, by many passages
in it, I half believe, he had not given the last hand to what he has
left behind him. However, to do both him and his editor justice,
if my opinion can be of any weight, 'tis great pity so beautiful a
relique should be lost; and the quotations I have extracted from it
will sufficiently evidence a fine vein of imagination, a taste far from
being indelicate, and both language and numbers uncommonly harmonious
and polite."[606:A]

The editor alluded to by Mrs. Cooper was the amiable Isaac Walton, who
published this elegant fragment in 8vo. in 1683, when he was ninety
years old, and who has likewise inserted two songs by Chalkhill in his
"Complete Angler."[606:B]

The pastoral strains of Chalkhill merit the eulogium of their female
critic; the versification, more especially, demands our notice, and may
be described, in many instances, as possessing the spirit, variety,
and harmony of Dryden. To verify this assertion, let us listen to the
following passages; describing the Golden age, he informs us,

    "Their sheep found cloathing, earth provided food,
     And Labour drest it as their wills thought good:
     On unbought delicates their hunger fed,
     And for their drink the swelling clusters bled:
     The vallies rang with their delicious strains,
     And Pleasure revell'd on those happy plains."

How beautifully versified is the opening of his picture of the Temple
of Diana!

    "Within a little silent grove hard by,
     Upon a small ascent, he might espy
     A stately chapel, richly gilt without,
     Beset with shady sycamores about:
     And, ever and anon, he might well hear
     A sound of music steal in at his ear
     As the wind gave it Being: so sweet an air
     Would strike a Syren mute and ravish her."

Pourtraying the cell of an Enchantress, he says,

    "About the walls lascivious pictures hung,
     Such as whereof loose Ovid sometimes sung.
     On either side a crew of dwarfish Elves,
     Held waxen tapers taller than themselves:
     Yet so well shap'd unto their little stature,
     So angel-like in face, so sweet in feature;
     Their rich attire so diff'ring, yet so well
     Becoming her that wore it, none could tell
     Which was the fairest——."[607:A]

Mr. Beloe, in the first volume of his Anecdotes, p. 70., has given
us a Latin epitaph on a John Chalkhill, copied from Warton's History
of Winchester. This inscription tells us, that the person whom it
commemorates died a Fellow of Winchester College, on the 20th of
May, 1679, aged eighty; and yet Mr. Beloe, merely from similarity of
name and character, contends that this personage must have been the
Chalkhill of Isaac Walton; a supposition which a slight retrospection
as to dates, would have proved impossible. Walton, in the title-page
of Thealma and Clearchus, describes Chalkhill as an acquaintant and
friend of Edmund Spenser; now as Spenser died in January, 1598, and the
subject of this epitaph, aged 80, in 1679, the latter must consequently
have been born in 1599, the year after Spenser's death! The coincidence
of character and name is certainly remarkable, but by no means
improbable or unexampled.

5. CHAPMAN, GEORGE, who was born in 1557 and died in 1634, aged
seventy-seven, is here introduced as the principal translator of his
age; to him we are indebted for Homer, Musæus, and part of Hesiod. His
first published attempt on Homer appeared in 1592[607:B], under the
title of "Seaven Bookes of the Shades of Homere, Prince of Poets;" and
shortly after the accession of James the First, the entire Iliad was
completed and entitled, "The Iliads of Homer, Prince of Poets. Never
before in any language truly translated. With a comment upon some of
his chief places: done according to the Greeke."

This version, which was highly prized by his contemporaries, is
executed in rhymed couplets, each line containing fourteen syllables;
a species of versification singularly cumbrous and void of harmony;
and, notwithstanding this protracted metre, fidelity is, by no means,
the characteristic of Chapman. He is not only often very paraphrastic,
but takes the liberty of omitting, without notice, what he could not
comprehend. It has been asserted by Pope, that a daring fiery spirit,
something like what we might imagine Homer himself to have written
before he arrived to years of discretion, animates his translation,
and covers his defects[608:A]; an opinion which seems rather the
result of partiality than unbiassed judgment; for though Chapman is
certainly superior to his successor Hobbes, and occasionally exhibits
some splendid passages, he must be considered by every critic of the
present day as, in general, coarse, bombastic, and often disgusting; a
violator, indeed, in almost every page, of the dignity and simplicity
of his original.

The magnitude and novelty of the undertaking, however, deserved and met
with encouragement, and Chapman was induced, in 1614, to present the
world with a version of the Odyssey. This is in the pentameter couplet;
inferior in vigour to his Iliad, but in diction and versification more
chaste and natural. Of his Musæus and his Georgics of Hesiod, we shall
only remark that the former was printed in 1616, the latter in 1618,
and that the first, which we have alone seen, does not much exceed the
character of mediocrity. As an original writer, we shall have to notice
Chapman under the dramatic department, and shall merely add now, that
he was, in a moral light, a very estimable character, and the friend of
Spenser, Shakspeare, Marlowe, Daniel, and Drayton.

6. CHURCHYARD, THOMAS. This author merits notice rather for the
quantity than the quality of his productions, though a few of his
pieces deserve to be rescued from utter oblivion. He commenced a
writer, according to his own account[609:A], in the reign of King
Edward the Sixth, and as Wood informs us that at the age of seventeen
he went to seek his fortune at court, and lived four years with Howard
Earl of Surry, who died 1546, it is probable that he was born about
1524. Shrewsbury had the honour of producing him, and he continued
publishing poetical tracts until the accession of James the First.
Ritson has given us a catalogue, which might be enlarged, of seventeen
of his publications, with dates, from 1558 to 1599, independent of
a variety of scattered pieces; some of these are of such bulk as to
include from twelve to twenty subjects, and in framing their titles
the old bard seems to have been very partial to alliteration; for
we have _Churchyards Chippes_, 1575; _Churchyards Choice_, 1579;
_Churchyards Charge_, 1580; _Churchyards Change_; _Churchyards Chance_,
1580; _Churchyards Challenge_, 1593; and _Churchyards Charity_,
1595.[609:B] In the "Mirror for Magistrates," first published in 1559,
he contributed "_The Legend of Jane Shore_," which he afterwards
augmented in his "Challenge," by the addition of twenty-one stanzas;
this is perhaps the best of his poetical labours, and contains several
good stanzas. His "_Worthiness of Wales_," also, first published in
1587, and reprinted a few years ago, is entitled to preservation. This
pains-taking author, as Ritson aptly terms him, died poor on April 4th,
1604, after a daily exertion of his pen, in the service of the Muses,
for nearly sixty years.

7. CONSTABLE, HENRY, of whom little more is personally known, than
that he took his degree of Bachelor of Arts at St. John's College,
Cambridge, in 1579[609:C]; that he was compelled to leave his native
country from a zealous attachment to the Roman Catholic religion, and
that, venturing to return, he was imprisoned in the Tower of London,
but released towards the close of 1604.[610:A] Constable possessed
unrivalled reputation with his contemporaries as a writer of sonnets;
Jonson terms his muse "ambrosiack[610:B];" in _The Return from
Parnassus_, 1606, we are told that

    "Sweet Constable doth take the wondring ear
     And lays it up in willing prisonment;"[610:C]

and Bolton calls him "a great master in English tongue," and adds,
"nor had any gentleman of our nation a more pure, quick, or higher
delivery of conceit; witness among all other, that Sonnet of his
before his Majesty's Lepanto."[610:D] In consequence of these encomia
more modern authors have prolonged the note of praise; Wood describes
him as "a noted English poet[610:E];" Hawkins, as the "first, or
principal sonnetteer of his time[610:F]," and Warton, as "a noted
sonnet-writer."[610:G]

To justify the reputation thus acquired, we have two collections of
his sonnets still existing; one published in 1594, under the title of
"Diana, or the excellent conceitful sonnets of H. C. augmented with
divers quatorzains of honorable and learned personages, devided into
viij Decads;" and the other a manuscript in the possession of Mr. Todd,
consisting of sonnets divided into three parts, each part containing
three several arguments, and every argument seven sonnets.[610:H]

From the specimens which we have seen of his Diana, and from the sonnet
extracted by Mr. Todd from the manuscript collection, there can be
little hesitation in declaring, that the reputation which Constable
once enjoyed, was built upon no stable foundation, and that mediocrity
is all which the utmost indulgence of the present age can allow him.

8. DANIEL, SAMUEL, a poet and historian of no small repute, was born
near Taunton, in Somersetshire, in 1562. Having received a classical
education at Magdalen Hall, Oxford, and being afterwards enabled to
pursue his studies under the patronage of the Earl of Pembroke's
family, he became the most correct poet of his age. He commenced author
as early as 1585, by a translation of Paulus Jovius's Discourse of
rare Inventions; but his first published poems appear to have been his
Delia, a collection of Sonnets, with the complaint of Rosamond, 1592.
He continued to write until nearly the close of his life, for the
Second Part of his History of England was published in 1618, and he
died on the 14th of October 1619.

Of the poetry of Daniel, omitting for the present all notice of his
dramatic works, the most important are his _Sonnets to Delia_, the
_History of the Civil War_, the _Complaint of Rosamond_ and the
_Letter from Octavia to Marcus Antonius_; the remainder consisting
of occasional pieces, and principally of Epistles to his friends and
patrons.

The Sonnets are not generally constructed on the legitimate or
Petrarcan model; but they present us with some beautiful versification
and much pleasing imagery. The "Civil Wars between the two houses of
Lancaster and York," the first four books of which were published
in 1595, and the eighth and last in 1609, form the _magnum opus_
of Daniel, and to which he looked for fame with posterity. That he
has been disappointed, must be attributed to his having too rigidly
adhered to the truth of history; for aspiring rather at the correctness
of the annalist than the fancy of the poet, he rarely attempts the
elevation of his subject by any flight of imagination, or digressional
ornaments. Sound morality, prudential wisdom, and occasional touches
of the pathetic, delivered in a style of then unequalled chastity
and perspicuity, will be recognised throughout his work; but neither
warmth, passion, nor sublimity, nor the most distant trace of
enthusiasm can be found to animate the mass. In the _Complaint of
Rosamond_, and in the _Letter from Octavia_, he has copied the manner
of Ovid, though with more tenderness and pathos than are usually found
in the pages of the Roman.

In short, purity of language, elegance of style, and harmony of
versification, together with an almost perfect freedom from pedantry
and affectation, and a continual flow of good sense and just
reflection, form the merits of Daniel, and resting on these qualities
he is entitled to distinguished notice, as an improver of our diction
and taste; but to the higher requisites of his art, to the fire and
invention of the creative bard, he has few pretensions.

Daniel was the intimate friend of Shakspeare, Marlowe, Chapman,
Camden, and Cowel; and was so highly esteemed by the accomplished
Anne, Countess of Pembroke, that she not only erected a monument to
his memory in Beckington church, Somersetshire, but in a full length
of herself, at Appleby Castle in Cumberland, had a small portrait of
her favourite poet introduced.[612:A] This partiality seems to have
sprung from a connection not often productive of attachment; Daniel
had been her tutor when she was only thirteen years old, and in his
poems he addresses an epistle to her at this early age, which, as Mr.
Park has justly said, "deserves entire perusal for its dignified vein
of delicate admonition."[612:B] Dissatisfied with the opinions of his
contemporaries as to his poetical merit, which appears to have been
similar to the estimate that we have just given[612:C], he relinquished
the busy world, and spent the closing years of his life in the
cultivation of a farm.

9. DAVIES, SIR JOHN, was born at Chisgrove in Wiltshire in 1570.
Though a lawyer of great eminence, he is chiefly known to posterity
through the medium of his poetical works. His _Nosce Teipsum_,
or poem on the Immortality of the Soul, on which fame rests, was
published in 1599, and not only secured him the admiration of his
learned contemporaries, among whom may be recorded the great names of
Camden, Harrington, Jonson, Selden, and Corbet, but accelerated his
professional honours; for being introduced to James in Scotland, in
order to congratulate him on his accession to the throne of England,
the king, on hearing his name, enquired "if he was _Nosce Teipsum_? and
being answered in the affirmative, graciously embraced him, and took
him into such favour, that he soon made him his Solicitor, and then
Attorney-General in Ireland."[613:A]

Beside this philosophical poem, the earliest of which our language
can boast, Sir John printed, in 1596, a series of Epigrams, which
were published at Middleburg, at the close of Marlowe's translation
of Ovid's Epistles, and in the same year the first edition of his
"Orchestra, or a poeme of dauncing;" these, with twenty-six acrostics
on the words Elizabetha Regina, printed in 1599, and entitled "Hymns of
Astræa," complete the list of his publications.

His "Nosce Teipsum" is a piece of close reasoning in verse, peculiarly
harmonious for the period in which it appeared. It possesses, also,
wit, ingenuity, vigour and condensation of thought, but exhibits few
efforts of imagination, and nothing that is either pathetic or sublime.
In point of argument, metaphysical acuteness and legitimate deduction,
the English poet is, in every respect, superior to his classical model
Lucretius; but how greatly does he fall beneath the fervid genius and
creative fancy of the Latian bard!

Sir John died suddenly on the 7th of December 1626, in the
fifty-seventh year of his age.

10. DAVORS, JOHN. Of this poet little more is known, than that he
published, in 1613, the following work: "The Secrets of Angling:
teaching the choicest Tooles, Baits, and Seasons, for the taking of
any Fish, in Pond or River: practised and familiarly opened in three
Bookes." 12mo.

Upon a subject so technical and didactic, few opportunities for
poetical imagery might naturally be expected; but Davors has most
happily availed himself of those which occurred, and has rendered his
poem, in many places, highly interesting by beauty of sentiment, and
warmth of description. A lovely specimen of his powers may be found
in the "Complete Angler" of Isaac Walton[614:A], and the following
invocation, from the opening of the First Book, shall be given as a
further proof of the genuineness of his inspiration, and with this
additional remark, that his versification is throughout singularly
harmonious:—

    "You Nimphs that in the springs and waters sweet,
       Your dwelling have, of every hill and dale,
     And oft amidst the meadows green do meet
       To sport and play, and hear the nightingale,
     And in the rivers fresh do wash you feet,
       While Progne's sister tels her wofull tale:
     Such ayd and power unto my verses lend,
       As may suffice this little worke to end.

     And thou, sweet Boyd, that with thy wat'ry sway
       Dost wash the Cliffes of Deignton and of Week,
     And through their rocks with crooked winding way,
       Thy mother Avon runnest soft to seek;
     In whose fair streams, the speckled trout doth play,
       The roch, the dace, the gudgin, and the bleike:
     Teach me the skill with slender line and hook
       To take each fish of river, pond, and brook."

A second edition of "The Secrets of Angling," "augmented with many
approved experiments," by W. Lawson, was printed in 1652, and a third
would be acceptable even in the present day.

11. DONNE, JOHN, D.D. The greater part of the poetry of this prelate,
though not published, was written, according to Ben Jonson, before he
was twenty-five years of age; and as he was born in London in 1573, he
must consequently be ranked as a bard of the sixteenth century. His
poems consist of elegies, satires, letters, epigrams, divine poems, and
miscellaneous pieces, and procured for him, among his contemporaries,
through private circulation and with the public when printed, during
the greater part of the seventeenth century, an extraordinary share of
reputation. A more refined age, however, and a more chastised taste,
have very justly consigned his poetical labours to the shelf of the
philologer. A total want of harmony in versification, and a total want
of simplicity both in thought and expression, are the vital defects
of Donne. Wit he has in abundance, and even erudition, but they are
miserably misplaced; and even his amatory pieces exhibit little else
than cold conceits and metaphysical subtleties. He may be considered
as one of the principal establishers of a school of poetry founded on
the worst Italian model, commencing towards the close of Elizabeth's
reign, continued to the decease of Charles the Second, and including
among its most brilliant cultivators the once popular names of Crashaw,
Cleveland, Cowley, and Sprat.

Dr. Donne died in March 1631, and the first edition of his poems was
published by his son two years after that event.

12. DRAYTON, MICHAEL, of an ancient family in Leicestershire, was born
in the village of Harshul, in the parish of Atherston, in Warwickshire,
in 1563. This voluminous and once highly-popular poet has gradually
sunk into a state of undeserved oblivion, from which he can alone be
extricated by a judicious selection from his numerous Works. These
may be classed under the heads of _historical_, _topographical_,
_epistolary_, _pastoral_, and _miscellaneous_ poetry. The first
includes his _Barons Warres_, first published in 1596 under the title
of "Mortimeriades; the lamentable Civil Warres of Edward the Second,
and the Barons;" his _Legends_, written before 1598 and printed in an
octavo edition of his poems in 1613, and his _Battle of Agincourt_. It
cannot be denied that in these pieces there are occasional gleams of
imagination, many just reflections, and many laboured descriptions,
delivered in perspicuous language, and generally in smooth
versification; but they do not interest the heart or elevate the fancy;
they are tediously and minutely historical, void of passion, and, for
the most part, languid and prosaic. The second department exhibits
the work on which he rested his hopes of immortality, the elaborate
and highly-finished _Poly-olbion_, of which the first eighteen songs
made their appearance in 1612, accompanied by the very erudite notes
of Selden, and the whole was completed in thirty parts in 1622. The
chief defect in this singular poem results from its plan; to describe
the woods, mountains, vallies, and rivers of a country, with all their
associations, traditionary, historical, and antiquarian, forms a task
which no genius, however exalted, could mould into an interesting
whole, and the attempt to enliven it by continued personification has
only proved an expedient which still further taxes the patience of
the reader. It possesses, however, many beauties which are poetically
great; numerous delineations which are graphically correct, and a
fidelity with regard to its materials so unquestioned, as to have
merited the reference of Hearne and Wood, and the praise of Gough, who
tells us that the Poly-olbion has preserved many circumstances which
even Camden has omitted. It is a poem, in short, which will always be
consulted rather for the information that it conveys, than for the
pleasure that it produces.

To _England's Heroical Epistles_, which constitute the third class,
not much praise can now be allotted, notwithstanding they were once
the most admired of the author's works. Occasional passages may, it is
true, be selected, which merit approbation for novelty of imagery and
beauty of expression; but nothing can atone for their wanting what,
from the nature of the subjects chosen, should have been their leading
characteristic—pathos.

It is chiefly as a _pastoral_ poet that Drayton will live in the memory
of his countrymen. The shepherd's reed was an early favourite; for
in 1593 he published his "Idea: the Shepherd's Garland, fashioned in
nine Eglogs: and Rowland's Sacrifice to the nine Muses," which were
reprinted under the title of Pastorals, and with the addition of a
tenth eclogue. His attachment to rural imagery was nearly as durable
as his existence; for the year previous to his death he brought
forward another collection of pastorals, under the title of _The
Muses Elisium_. Of these publications, the first is in every respect
superior, and gives the author a very high rank among rural bards; his
descriptions are evidently drawn from nature; they often possess a
decided originality, and are couched in language pure and unaffected,
and of the most captivating simplicity.

The _miscellaneous_ productions of Drayton include a vast variety of
pieces; odes, elegies, sonnets, religions effusions, &c. &c. To specify
the individual merit of these would be useless; but among them are two
which, from their peculiar value, call for appropriate notice. A most
playful and luxuriant imagination is displayed to much advantage in the
_Nymphidia_, or _The Court of Fairy_, and an equal degree of judgment,
together with a large share of interest, in the poem addressed to his
loved friend Henry Reynolds, _On Poets and Poesy_. These, with the
first collection of pastorals, part of the second, and some well-chosen
extracts from his bulkier works, would form a most fascinating
little volume. Drayton died on December 23. 1631, and was buried in
Westminster Abbey.

13. DRUMMOND, WILLIAM. The birth of this truly elegant poet is placed
at Hawthornden in Scotland, on the 13th of December, 1585, and the
publication of the first portion of his Sonnets, in 1616, entitles him
to due notice among these critical sketches.

A disappointment of the most afflictive nature, for death snatched
from him the object of his affection almost immediately after she had
consented to be his, has given a peculiar and very pathetic interest
to the greater part of his poetical compositions, which are endeared
to the reader of sensibility by the charm resulting from a sincere and
never-dying regret for the memory of his earliest love.

His poetry, which has never yet been properly arranged, consists
principally of poems of a lyrical cast, including sonnets, madrigals,
epigrams, epitaphs, miscellanies, and divine poems.

Of these classes, the first and second exhibit numerous instances
of a versification decidedly more polished and elegant than that of
any of his contemporaries, and to this technical merit is frequently
to be added the still more rare and valuable distinctions of beauty
of expression, simplicity of thought, delicacy of sentiment, and
tenderness of feeling. Where he has failed, his faults are to be
attributed to the then prevailing taste for Italian _concetti_; to
the study of Marino, and his French imitators, Bellày and Du Bartas.
These deviations from correct taste are, however, neither frequent nor
flagrant, and are richly atoned for by strains of native genius, and
the felicities of unaffected diction.[618:A]

Drummond was the intimate friend of Drayton, the Earl of Stirling, and
Ben Jonson; the latter holding him in such estimation as to undertake
a journey to Scotland on foot, solely for the purpose of enjoying
his company and conversation. How far this meeting contributed to
enhance their mutual regard, is doubtful; no two characters could be
more opposed, the roughness and asperity of Jonson ill according with
the elegant manners of the Scottish poet, whose manuscript memoranda
relative to this interview plainly intimate his disapprobation of the
disposition and habits of his celebrated guest; but, unfortunately, at
the same time, display a breach of confidence, and a fastidiousness of
temper, which throw a shade over the integrity of his own friendship,
and the rectitude of his own feelings.

This accomplished bard died on the 4th of December 1649, aged
sixty-three, and though his poems were republished by Phillips, the
nephew of Milton, in 1656, with a high encomium on his genius, he
continued so obscure, that in 1675, when the Theatrum Poetarum of the
same critic appeared, he is said to be "utterly disregarded and laid
aside[618:B];" a fate which, strange as it may seem, has, until these
few years, almost completely veiled the merit of one of the first
poets of the sister kingdom.

14. FAIREFAX, EDWARD. The singular beauty of this gentleman's
translation of Tasso, and its influence on English versification,
demand a greater share of notice than is due to any poetical version
preceding that of Pope. He was the son of Sir Thomas Fairefax, of
Denton in Yorkshire, and early cultivating the enjoyment of rural and
domestic life, retired with the object of his affections to Newhall,
in the parish of Fuyistone, in Knaresborough forest, where he usefully
occupied his time in the education of his children, and the indulgence
of literary pursuits. His "Godfrey of Bulloigne," the work which has
immortalised his name, was written whilst he was very young, was
published in 1600, and dedicated to Queen Elizabeth.

This masterly version, which for the last half century has been most
undeservedly neglected, has not hitherto been superseded by any
posterior attempt. Though rendered line by line, and in the octave
stanza of the Italians, it possesses an uncommon share of elegance,
vigour, and spirit, and very frequently exhibits the facility and
raciness of original composition. That it contributed essentially
towards the improvement of our versification, may be proved from the
testimony of Dryden and Waller, the former declaring him superior
in harmony even to Spenser, and the latter confessing that he owed
the melody of his numbers to a studious imitation of his metrical
skill.[619:A]

It is greatly to be regretted that the original poetry of Fairefax,
with the exception of one piece, has been suffered to perish. It
consisted of a poetical history of the Black Prince, and twelve
Eclogues, of which the fourth is preserved by Mrs. Cooper in her Muses'
Library. This lady informs us that the eclogues were all written after
the accession of King James to the throne of England; that they were
occupied by "important subjects relating to the manners, characters,
and incidents of the times he lived in; that they were pointed with
many fine strokes of satire; dignified with wholesome lessons of
morality, and policy, to those of the highest rank; and some modest
hints even to Majesty itself;" and that the learning they contained was
"so various and extensive, that, according to the evidence of his son,
(who has written large Annotations on each,) no man's reading, beside
his own, was sufficient to explain his references effectually."[620:A]

Fairefax died about the year 1632; and, beside his poetical works, was
the author of several controversial pieces, and of a learned essay on
Demonology.

15. FITZGEFFREY, CHARLES, was a native of Cornwall, of a genteel
family, and was entered a commoner of Broadgate's hall, Oxford, in
1592. Having taken his degrees in arts, and assumed the clerical
profession, he finally became rector of St. Dominic in his own county.
In 1596, he published a poem to the memory of Sir Francis Drake,
entitled "Sir Francis Drake his honorable Life's commendation; and his
tragicall Deathe's lamentation;" 12mo. This poem, which possesses no
small portion of merit, is dedicated, in a sonnet, "to the beauteous
and vertuous Lady Elizabeth, late wife unto the highlie renowned Sir
Francis Drake, deceased," and is highly spoken of by Browne and Meres;
the former declaring that he unfolded

    "The tragedie of Drake in leaves of gold;"[620:B]

and the latter asserting that "as C. Plinius wrote the life of
Pomponius secundus, so yong Cha. Fitz-Geffray, that high-touring
falcon, hath most gloriously penned the honourable life and death of
worthy Sir Francis Drake."[621:A]

As the poetry of Fitzgeffrey is very little known, we shall give the
Sonnet to Lady Drake as a pleasing specimen of his genius:

    "Divorc'd by Death, but wedded still by Love,
       For Love by Death can never be divorc'd;
     Loe! England's dragon, thy true turtle dove,
       To seeke his make is now againe enforc'd.
     Like as the sparrow from the kestrel's ire,
       Made his asylum in the wise man's fist:
     So, he and I, his tongues-man, do require
       Thy sanctuary, envie to resist.
     So may heroique Drake, whose worth gave wings
       Unto my Muse, that nere before could fly,
     And taught her tune these harsh discordant strings
       A note above her rurall minstrelsy,
     Live in himselfe, and I in him may live;
     Thine eyes to both vitality shall give."[621:B]

Beside his volume on Drake, Fitzgeffrey was the author of a collection
of Latin epigrams, in three books, under the title of _Affaniæ_,
printed in 8vo., 1601, and of a religious poem, called "The Blessed
Birth-day," 1634, 4to. He lived highly respected both as a poet and
divine, and died at his parsonage-house in 1636-7.

16. FLETCHER, GILES, the elder brother of Phineas Fletcher, was born
in 1588, took the degree of bachelor of divinity at Oxford, and died
at his rectory of Alderton, in Suffolk, in 1623. The production which
has given him a poet's fame, was published in 1610, under the title
of "Christ's Victory and Triumph in Heaven and Earth over and after
Death," Cambridge, 4to. It is written in stanzas of eight lines, and
divided into four parts, under the appellations of _Christs Victory
in Heaven_, his _Triumph on Earth_, his _Triumph over Death_, and his
_Triumph after Death_.

This is a poem which exhibits strong powers of description, and a
great command of language; it is, however, occasionally sullied by
conceits, and by a frequent play upon words, of which the initial
stanza is a striking proof. Our author was an ardent admirer of
Spenser, and has in many instances successfully imitated his
picturesque mode of delineation, though he has avoided following him
in the use of the prosopopeia.

17. FLETCHER, PHINEAS, who surpassed his brother in poetical genius,
took his bachelor's degree at King's College, Cambridge, in 1604, and
his master's degree in 1608. Though his poems were not published until
1633, there is convincing proof that they were written before 1610; for
Giles, at the close of his "Christ's Victory," printed in this year,
thus beautifully alludes not only to his brother's Purple Island, but
to his eclogues, as previous compositions:—

    "But let the Kentish lad, that lately taught
     His _oaten reed_ the trumpets silver sound,
     _Young Thyrsilis_; and for his music brought
     The willing spheres from Heav'n, to lead around
     The dancing nymphs and swains, that sung, and crown'd
       Eclectas Hymen with ten thousand flowers
       Of choicest praise, and hung her heav'nly bow'rs
     With saffron garlands, dress'd for nuptial paramours:

     Let his shrill trumpet, with her silver blast
     Of fair Eclecta, and her spousal bed,
     Be the sweet pipe, and smooth encomiast:
     But my green Muse, hiding her younger head,
     Under old Camus's flaggy banks, that spread
       Their willow locks abroad, and all the day
       With their own wa'try shadows wanton play:
     Dares not those high amours, and love-sick songs assay."[622:A]

It is, indeed, highly probable, that they were composed even before
he took his bachelor's degree; for, in the dedication of his "Purple
Island" to his learned friend, Edward Benlowes, Esq., he terms them
"raw essays of my very unripe years, and almost childhood."[622:B]

The "Purple Island" is an allegorical description, in twelve cantos,
of the corporeal and intellectual functions of man. Its interest
and effect have been greatly injured by a too minute investigation
of anatomical facts; the first five cantos being little else than
a lecture in rime, and productive more of disgust than any other
sensation. In the residue of the poem, the bard bursts forth with
unshackled splendour, and the passions and mental powers are
personified with great brilliancy of imagination, and great warmth of
colouring. Like his brother, however, he is defective in taste; the
great charm of composition, simplicity, is too often lost amid the
mazes of quaint conception and meretricious ornament. Yet are there
passages interspersed through this allegory, of exquisite tenderness
and sweetness, alike simple and correct in diction, chaste in creative
power, and melodious in versification.

The "Piscatory Eclogues," to novelty of scenery, add many passages
of genuine and delightful poetry, and the music of the verse is
often highly gratifying to the ear; but many of the same faults are
discernible in these pieces, which we remarked in the "Purple Island;"
pedantry and forced conceits occasionally intrude, and, though the
poet has not injured the effect of his delineations by coarseness, or
rusticity of expression, he has sometimes forgotten the simple elegance
which should designate the pastoral muse.

Our author was presented to the living of Hilgay, in Norfolk, in 1621,
and died there about the year 1650.

18. GASCOIGNE, GEORGE, the son of Sir John Gascoigne, was descended
from an ancient family in Essex, and, after a private education under
the care of Stephen Nevinson, L.L.D. he was sent to Cambridge, and from
thence to Gray's Inn, for the purpose of studying the law. Like many
men, however, of warm passions and strong imagination, he neglected
his profession for the amusements and dissipation of a court, and
having exhausted his paternal property, he found himself under the
necessity of seeking abroad, in a military capacity, that support which
he had failed to acquire at home. He accordingly accepted a Captain's
commission in Holland, in 1572, under William Prince of Orange, and
having signalised his courage at the siege of Middleburg, had the
misfortune to be captured by the Spaniards near Leyden, and, after four
month's imprisonment, revisited his native country.

He now resumed his profession and his apartments at Gray's Inn; but in
1575, on his return from accompanying Queen Elizabeth in her progress
to Kenelworth Castle, he fixed his residence at his "poore house," at
Walthamstow, where he employed himself in collecting and publishing
his poems. He was not long destined, however, to enjoy this literary
leisure; for, according to George Whetstone, who was "an eye-witness
of his godly and charitable end in this world[624:A]," he expired at
Stamford, in Lincolnshire, on the 7th of October, 1577, when he was
probably under forty years of age.[624:B]

The poetry of Gascoigne was twice collected during his life-time;
firstly, in 1572, in a quarto volume, entitled, "A Hundreth sundrie
Flowres bounde up in one small Poesie. Gathered partely (by
translation) in the fyne outlandish Gardins of Euripides, Ovid,
Petrarke, Ariosto, and others: and partly by invention, out of our
owne fruitefull Orchardes in Englande: Yielding sundrie sweet savors
of Tragical, Comical, and Morall Discourses, both pleasaunt and
profitable to the well smellyng noses of learned Readers. Meritum
petere, grave. At London, Imprinted for Richarde Smith;" and secondly
in 1575, with the title of "The Posies of George Gascoigne Esquire.
Corrected, perfected and augmented by the Authour. _Tam Marti, quam
Mercurio._ Imprinted at London by H. Bynneman for Richard Smith."
The edition is divided into three parts, under the appellation of
_Flowers_, _Hearbes_, and _Weedes_, to which are annexed "Certayne
notes of Instruction concerning the making of verse or ryme in English,
written at the request of Master Edouardo Donati."

Besides these collections, Gascoigne published separately, "The Glasse
of Government. A Tragical Comedie," 1575. "The Steele Glas. A Satyre,"
1576. "The Princely Pleasures, at the Court at Kenelworth," 1576; and
"A Delicate Diet for daintie mouthde Drunkards," a prose tract, 1576.
After his death appeared, in 1586, his tract, entitled, "The Droome of
Doomes Day;" and in 1587, was given to the world, a complete edition of
his works, in small quarto, black letter.

Gascoigne, though patronised by several illustrious characters, among
whom may be enumerated, Lord Grey of Wilton, the Earl of Bedford,
and Sir Walter Raleigh, appears to have suffered so much from the
envy and malignity of his critics, as to induce him to intimate, that
the disease of which he died, was occasioned by the irritability of
mind resulting from these attacks; and yet, as far as we have an
opportunity of judging, his contemporaries seem to have done justice
to his talents; at least Gabriel Harvey[625:A] and Arthur Hall[625:B],
Nash[625:C], Webbe[625:D], and Puttenham[625:E], have together praised
him for his wit, his imagination, and his metre; and in the Glosse
to Spenser's Calender, he is styled "the very chief of our late
rymers."[626:A]

The poetry of our author has not, in modern times, met with all the
attention which it deserves; specimens, it is true, have been selected
by Cooper, Percy, Warton, Headley, Ellis, Brydges, and Haslewood; but,
with the exception of the re-impression of 1810, in Mr. Chalmers's
English Poets, no edition of his works has been published since
1587. This is the more extraordinary, for, as the ingenious editor
just mentioned has remarked, "there are three respects in which his
claims to originality require to be noticed as æras in a history of
poetry. His Steele Glass is among the first specimens of blank verse
in our language; his Jocasta is the second theatrical piece written
in that measure; and his Supposes is the first comedy written in
prose."[626:B] Warton has pronounced him to have "much exceeded all the
poets of his age in smoothness and harmony of versification[626:C],"
an encomium which peculiarly applies to the lyrical portion of his
works, which is indeed exquisitely polished, though not altogether free
from affectation and antithesis. Among these pieces, too, is to be
discovered a considerable range of fancy, much tenderness and glow of
sentiment, and a frequent felicity of expression. In moral and didactic
poetry, he has likewise afforded us proofs approaching to excellence,
and his satire entitled "The Steele Glass," includes a curious and
minute picture of the manners and customs of the age.

To the "Supposes" of Gascoigne, a translation from the Suppotiti of
Ariosto, executed with peculiar neatness and ease, Shakspeare has been
indebted for a part of his plot of the "Taming of the Shrew."[626:D]

19. GREENE, ROBERT. Of this ingenious and prolific writer, we have
already related so many particulars, that nothing more can be wanting
here, than a brief character of his poetical genius. Were his poetry
collected from his various pamphlets and plays, of which nearly fifty
are known to be extant, a most interesting little volume might be
formed. The extreme rarity, however, of his productions, may render
this an object of no easy attainment; but of its effect a pretty
accurate idea may be acquired from what has been done by Mr. Beloe,
who, in his Anecdotes of Literature, has collected many beautiful
specimens from the following pieces of our author. _Tullie's Love_,
1616; _Penelope's Web_, 1601; _Farewell to Follie_, 1617; _Never Too
Late_, 1590; _History of Arbasto_, 1617; _Arcadia, or Menaphon_, 1589;
_Orphanion_, 1599; _Philomela_, 1592.[627:A]

Though most of the productions of Greene were written to supply the
wants of the passing hour, yet the poetical effusions scattered through
his works betray few marks of haste or slovenliness, and many of them,
indeed, may be classed among the most polished and elegant of their
day. To much warmth and fertility of fancy, they add a noble strain
of feeling and enthusiasm, together with many exquisite touches of
the pathetic, and so many impressive lessons of morality, as, in a
great measure, to atone for the licentiousness of several of his prose
tracts.[627:B]

20. HALL, JOSEPH, Bishop of Exeter and Norwich, was born on the
first of July 1574, at Brestow Park, Leicestershire. He was admitted
of Emanuel College, Cambridge, at the age of fifteen, and when
twenty-three years old, published his satires, under the title of
Virgidemiarum, Sixe Bookes. First Three Bookes of Tooth-less Satyrs:
1. Poetical; 2. Academicall; 3. Moral; printed by T. Creede for R.
Dexter 1597. The Three last Bookes of Byting Satyrs, by R. Bradock
for Dexter, 1598. Both parts were reprinted together in 1599, and have
conferred upon their author a just claim to the appellation of one of
our earliest and best satiric poets. Of the legitimate satire, indeed,
he appears to have given us the first example, an honour upon which he
justly prides himself, for, in the opening of his prologue, he tells us

    "I first adventure, with fool-hardy might,
     To tread the steps of perilous despight:
     I first adventure, follow me who list,
     And be the _second_ English satirist."

On the re-publication of the Virgidemiarum at Oxford, in 1752, Gray,
in a letter to Dr. Wharton, speaking of these satires, says, "they
are full of spirit and poetry, as much of the first as Dr. Donne, and
far more of the latter[628:A];" and Warton, at the commencement of
an elaborate and extended critique on Hall's poetic genius, in the
Fragment of his fourth volume of the History of English Poetry, gives
the following very discriminative character of these satires. They "are
marked," he observes, "with a classical precision, to which English
poetry had yet rarely attained. They are replete with animation of
style and sentiment. The indignation of the satirist is always the
result of good sense. Nor are the thorns of severe invective unmixed
with the flowers of pure poetry. The characters are delineated in
strong and lively colouring, and their discriminations are touched with
the masterly traces of genuine humour. The versification is equally
energetic and elegant, and the fabric of the couplets approaches
to the modern standard. It is no inconsiderable proof of a genius
predominating over the general taste of an age when every preacher was
a punster, to have written verses, where laughter was to be raised,
and the reader to be entertained with sallies of pleasantry, without
quibbles and conceits. His chief fault is obscurity, arising from a
remote phraseology, constrained combinations, unfamiliar allusions,
elliptical apostrophes, and abruptness of expression. Perhaps some
will think that his manner betrays too much of the laborious exactness
and pedantic anxiety of the scholar and the student. Ariosto in
Italian, and Regnier in French, were now almost the only modern
writers of satire; and I believe there had been an English translation
of Ariosto's Satires. But Hall's acknowledged patterns are Juvenal
and Persius, not without some touches of the urbanity of Horace.
His parodies of these poets, or rather his adaptations of ancient
to modern manners, a mode of imitation not unhappily practised by
Oldham, Rochester, and Pope, discover great facility and dexterity of
invention. The moral gravity and the censorial declamation of Juvenal,
he frequently enlivens with a train of more refined reflection, or
adorns with a novelty and variety of images."[629:A]

The Satires of Hall exhibit a very minute and curious picture of
the literature and manners, the follies and vices of his times, and
numerous quotations in the course of our work will amply prove the wit,
the sagacity, and the elegance of his Muse. Poetry was the occupation
merely of his youth, the vigour and decline of his days being employed
in the composition of professional works, calculated, by their piety,
eloquence, and originality, to promote, in the most powerful manner,
the best interests of morality and religion. This great and good man
died, after a series of persecution from the republican party, at his
little estate at Heigham, near Norwich, on the 8th of September 1656,
and in the eighty-second year of his age.

21. HARINGTON, SIR JOHN. Among the numerous translators of the
Elizabethan period, this gentleman merits peculiar notice, as
having, through the medium of his Ariosto, "enriched our poetry by
a communication of new stores of fiction and imagination, both of
the romantic and comic species, of Gothic machinery and familiar
manners."[629:B] His version of the Orlando Furioso, of which the
first edition was published in 1591, procured him a large share of
celebrity. Stowe, in his Annals, has classed him among those "excellent
poets which worthily flourish, in their own works, and lived together
in Queen Elizabeth's reign[630:A];" and Fuller[630:B], Philips, Dryden,
and others, to the middle of the eighteenth century, have spoken of
him in terms of similar commendation. In point of poetical execution,
however, his translation, whatever might be its incidental operation
on our poetic literature, must now be considered as vulgar, tame, and
inaccurate. Sir John was born at Kelston near Bath, in 1561, and died
there in 1612, aged fifty-one. His "Epigrams," in four Books, were
published after his death; first in 1615, when the fourth book alone
was printed; again in 1618, including the whole collection; and a third
time in 1625, small 8vo.[630:C] The poetical merit of these pieces is
very trifling, but they throw light upon contemporary character and
manners.[630:D]

22. JONSON, BENJAMIN. Of this celebrated poet, the friend and companion
of Shakspeare, a very brief notice, and limited to his minor pieces,
will here be necessary, as his dramatic works and some circumstances of
his life, will hereafter occupy their due share of attention. His poems
were divided by himself into "Epigrams," "The Forest," "Under-woods,"
and a translation of "Horace's Art of Poetrie;" to which his late
editors have added, "Miscellaneous Pieces." The _general_ cast of
these poems is not such as will recommend them to a modern ear; they
are but too often cold and affected; but occasionally, instances of a
description the very reverse of these epithets, are to be found, where
simplicity and beauty of expression constitute the prominent features.
It is chiefly, if not altogether, among his minor pieces in the lyric
measure that we meet with this peculiar neatness and concinnity of
diction: thus, in "The Forest," the lines from Catullus, beginning
"Come, my Celia, let us prove," and the well-known song

    "Drink to me only with thine eyes;"

in the "Underwoods," the stanzas commencing

    "For Love's sake kisse me once again;"

    "Or scorne, or pittie on me take;"

and, among his "Songs," these with the initial lines

    "Queene and huntresse, chaste and faire;"

    "Still to be neat, still to be drest;"

are striking proofs of these excellencies.

We must also remark that, among his "Epistles" and "Miscellaneous
Pieces," there are discoverable a few very conspicuous examples of the
union of correct and nervous sentiment with singular force and dignity
of elocution. Of this happy combination, the Lines to the Memory of
Shakspeare, an eulogium which will claim our attention in a future
page, may be quoted as a brilliant model.

23. LODGE, THOMAS, M. D. This gentleman, though possessing celebrity,
in his day, as a physician, is chiefly entitled to the attention of
posterity as a poet. He was a native of Lincolnshire, and born about
1556; educated at Oxford, of which he became a member about 1573, and
died of the plague at London, in September 1625. He has the double
honour of being the first who published, in our language, a Collection
of Satires, so named, and of having suggested to Shakspeare the plot of
his AS YOU LIKE IT. Philips, in his Theatrum Poetarum, characterises
him as "one of the writers of those pretty old pastoral songs, which
were very much the strain of those times[632:A];" but has strangely
overlooked his satirical powers; these, however, have been noticed by
Meres, who remarks, that "as Horace, Lucilius, Juvenal, Persius and
Lucullus are the best for Satyre among the Latins, so with us in the
same faculty, these are chiefe: Piers Plowman, LODGE, Hall of Emanuel
Colledge in Cambridge, the author of Pigmalion's Image," &c.[632:B] The
work which gives him precedence, as a writer of professed satires, is
entitled "A FIG FOR MOMUS; containing pleasant Varietie, included in
_Satyrs_, Eclogues, and Epistles, by T. L. of Lincolnes Inne, Gent."
1595.[632:C] It is dedicated to "William, Earle of Darbie," and though
published two years before the appearance of Hall's Satires, possesses
a spirit, ease and harmony, which that more celebrated poet has not
surpassed. Than the following lines, selected from the first satire, we
know few which, in the same department, can establish a better claim to
vigour, truth, and melody:—

    "All men are willing with the world to haulte,
     But no man takes delight to knowe his faulte—
     Tell bleer-eid Linus that his sight is cleere,
     Heele pawne himselfe to buy thee bread and beere;—
     Find me a niggard that doth want the shift
     To call his cursed avarice good thrift;
     A rakehell sworne to prodigalitie,
     That dares not terme it liberalitie;
     A letcher that hath lost both flesh and fame,
     That holds not letcherie a pleasant game:—
     Thus with the world, the world dissembles still,
     And to their own confusions follow will,
     Holding it true felicitie to flie,
     Not from the sinne, but from the seeing eie."[633:A]

The debt of Shakspeare to our author is to be found in a pamphlet
entitled "Rosalynde: Euphues Golden Legacie, found after his Death in
his Cell at Silexdra, by T. L. Gent." The poetical pieces interspersed
through this tract correspond with the character given of Lodge's
composition by Phillips; for they are truly pastoral, and are finished
in a style of great sweetness, delicacy, and feeling. Want of taste,
or want of intimacy with this production, has induced Mr. Steevens to
give a very improper estimate of it; "Shakspeare," he remarks, "has
followed Lodge's novel more exactly than is his general custom when he
is indebted to such _worthless_ originals; and has sketched some of his
principal characters, and borrowed a few expressions from it."[633:B]

The poetry of Lodge is to be gleaned from his pamphlets; particularly
from the two which we have mentioned, and from the two now to be
enumerated, namely, "Phillis: honoured with pastorall sonnets, elegies
and amorous delights. Where-unto is annexed, the tragicall complaynt
of Elstred," 1593, 4to., and "A most pleasant historie of Glaucus and
Scilla: with many excellent poems, and delectable sonnets," 1610, 4to.
He contributed, likewise, to the Collections termed _The Phœnix Nest_,
1593, and _England's Helicon_, 1600; and in the Preface, by Sir
Egerton Brydges, to the third edition of the latter Miscellany, so just
a tribute is paid to his genius as imperatively demands insertion; more
particularly if we consider the obscurity into which this poet has
fallen. "In ancient writings," observes the critic, "we frequently
meet with beautiful passages; but whole compositions are seldom free
from the most striking inequalities; from inharmonious verses; from
lame, or laboured and quaint expressions; and creeping or obscure
thoughts. In Lodge we find whole pastorals and odes, which have all
the ease, polish, and elegance of a modern author. How natural is
the sentiment, and how sweet the expression of the following in _Old
Damon's Pastoral_:

    "Homely hearts do harbour quiet;
       Little fear, and mickle solace;
     States suspect their bed and diet;
       Fear and craft do haunt the palace.
     Little would I, little want I,
       Where the mind and store agreeth;
     Smallest comfort is not scanty;
       Least he longs that little seeth.
     Time hath been that I have longed.
       Foolish I to like of folly,
     To converse where honour thronged,
       To my pleasures linked wholly:
     Now I see, and seeing sorrow
       That the day consum'd returns not:
     Who dare trust upon to-morrow,
       When nor time nor life sojourns not!"

"How charmingly he breaks out in _The Solitary Shepherd's Song_:—

    "O shady vale, O fair enriched meads,
       O sacred flowers, sweet fields, and rising mountains;
     O painted flowers, green herbs where Flora treads,
       Refresh'd by wanton winds and watry fountains!"

"Is there one word or even accent obsolete in this picturesque and
truly poetical stanza?

"But if such a tender and moral fancy be ever allowed to trifle, is
there any thing of the same kind in the whole compass of English poetry
more exquisite, more delicately imagined, or expressed with more
finished and happy artifice of language, than Rosalind's Madrigal,
beginning—

    "Love in my bosom, like a bee,
       Doth suck his sweet:
     Now with his wings he plays with me,
       Now with his feet.
     Within mine eyes he makes his rest;
     His bed amidst my tender breast;
     My kisses are his daily feast;
     And yet he robs me of my rest.
         Ah, wanton, will ye?"—

"Compare Dr. Lodge not only with his cotemporaries but his successors,
and who, except Breton, has so happily anticipated the taste,
simplicity, and purity of the most refined age."[635:A]

Beside his miscellaneous poetry, Lodge published two dramatic
pieces[635:B], and may be considered as a voluminous prose writer.
Seven of his prose tracts are described by Mr. Beloe[635:C], and he
translated the works of Josephus and Luc. An. Seneca.[635:D]

24. MARLOW, CHRISTOPHER. As the fame of this poet, though once in high
repute as a dramatic writer, is now supported merely by one of his
miscellaneous pieces, which is, indeed, of exquisite beauty, it has
been thought necessary briefly to introduce him here; a more extended
notice being deferred to a subsequent page. His earliest attempt
appeared in 1587, when he was about twenty-five years of age, in a
Translation of Coluthus's Rape of Helen into English rhyme. This was
followed by "Certaine of Ovid's Elegies," licensed in 1593, but not
printed until 1596. His next and happiest version was given to the
public in 1598, under the title of "The Loves of Hero and Leander,"
being, like the preceding, a posthumous publication; for the author
died prematurely in 1593, leaving this translation, of which the
original is commonly but erroneously ascribed to Musæus, unfinished.
Phillips, in his character of Marlow, comparing him with Shakspeare,
says, that he resembled him not only in his dramatic circumstances,
"but also because in his begun poem of Hero and Leander, he seems to
have a resemblance of that clean, and unsophisticated wit, which is
natural to that incomparable poet."[636:A] Marlow translated also
"Lucans first booke, line for line," in blank verse, which was licensed
in 1593, and printed in 1600; but the production which has given him a
claim to immortality, and which has retained its popularity even to the
present day, first made its appearance in "England's Helicon," under
the appellation of _The Passionate Shepheard to his Love_. Of an age
distinguished for the excellence of its rural poetry, this is, without
doubt, the most admirable and finished pastoral.

25. MARSTON, JOHN, who has a claim to introduction here, from his
powers as a satirical poet. In 1598, he published "The Metamorphosis,
or Pigmalion's Image. And certaine Satyres." Of these the former is
an elegant and luxurious description of a well-known fable, and to
this sportive effusion Shakspeare seems to allude in his "Measure for
Measure," where Lucio exclaims, "What, is there none of Pygmalion's
images, newly made woman, to be had now?"[636:B] His fame as a satirist
was established the year following, by the appearance of his "Scourge
of Villanie. Three Bookes of Satyres."

A reprint of these pieces was given to the world by Mr. Bowles, in the
year 1764, who terms the author the "_British Persius_," and adds, that
very little is recorded of him with certainty. "Antony a Wood," he
remarks, "who is generally exact in his accounts of men, and much to be
relied upon, is remarkably deficient with respect to him; indeed there
seems to be little reason to think he was of Oxford: it is certain from
his works, that he was of Cambridge, where he was cotemporary with Mr.
Hall, with whom, as it appears from his satyre, called Reactio, and
from the Scourge of Villanie, sat. 10., he had some dispute.—It has
not been generally known who was the author of Pigmalion and the five
satyres: but that they belong to Marston is clear from the sixth and
tenth satyres of the Scourge of Villanie: and to this may be added the
evidence of the collector of England's Parnassus, printed 1600, who
cites the five first lines of the dedication to opinion, prefixed to
Pigmalion by the name of J. Marston, p. 221."

"These satyres," says Mr. Warton, "in his observations on Spenser,
contain many well drawn characters, and several good strokes of
a satyrical genius, but are not, upon the whole, so finished and
classical as Bishop Hall's: the truth is, they were satyrists of a
different cast: Hall turned his pen against his cotemporary writers,
and particularly versifiers; _Marston_ chiefly inveighed against the
growing foibles and vices of the age."[637:A]

There is undoubtedly a want of polish in the satirical muse of
Marston, which seems, notwithstanding, the result rather of design
than inability; for the versification of "Pigmalion's Image," is in
many of its parts highly melodious. Strength, verging upon coarseness,
is, however, the characteristic of the "Scourge of Villanie," and may
warrant the assertion of the author of "The Returne from Parnassus,"
that he was "a ruffian in his stile."[637:B] Yet he is highly
complimented by Fitz-Geoffry, no mean judge of poetical merit, who
declares that he is

    —————— "satyrarum proxima primæ,
    Primaque, fas primas si numerare duas."[637:C]

26. NICCOLS, RICHARD. This elegant poet was born in 1584, was entered
of Magdalen College, Oxford, 1602, and took his bachelor's degree
in 1606. In 1607, he published "The Cuckow, a Poem," in the couplet
measure, which displays very vivid powers of description. His next
work was a new and enlarged edition of "The Mirror for Magistrates,"
dated 1610, and to which, as a third and last part, he has added,
with a distinct title, "A Winter Night's Vision. Being an Addition
of such Princes, especially famous, who were exempted in the former
Historie. By Richard Niccols, Oxon. Magd. Hall, &c." This supplement
consists of an Epistle to the Reader, a Sonnet to Lord Charles Howard,
an Induction, and the Lives of King Arthur; Edmund Ironside; Prince
Alfred; Godwin, Earl of Kent; Robert Curthose; King Richard the First;
King John; King Edward the Second; the two young Princes murdered in
the Tower, and King Richard the Third; a selection, to which, with
little accordancy, he has subjoined, in the octave stanza, a poem
entitled "England's Eliza: or the victorious and triumphant reigne of
that virgin empresse of sacred memorie, Elizabeth Queene of Englande,
&c." This is preceded by a Sonnet to Lady Elizabeth Clere, an Epistle
to the Reader, and an Induction.

Niccols' addition to this popular series of Legends merits considerable
praise, exhibiting many touches of the pathetic, and several
highly-wrought proofs of a strong and picturesque imagination. In the
Legend of Richard the Third, he appears to have studied with great
effect the Drama of Shakspeare.

In 1615, our author published "Monodia: or, Waltham's Complaint upon
the Death of the most virtuous and noble Lady, late deceased, the Lady
Honor Hay;" and in the subsequent year, an elaborate poem, under the
title of "London's Artillery, briefly containing the noble practise
of that worthie Societie; with the moderne and ancient martiall
exercises, natures of armes, vertue of Magistrates, Antiquitie, Glorie
and Chronography of this honourable Cittie." 4to.[638:A] This work,
dedicated to "the Right Honourable Sir John Jolles, Knight, Lord
Maior," &c. is introduced by two Sonnets, a Preface to the Reader, and
a metrical Induction; it consists of ten cantos, in couplets, with
copious illustrative notes; but, in point of poetical execution, is
greatly inferior to his Cuckow, and Winter Night's Vision. Niccols,
after residing several years at Oxford, left that University for the
capital, where, records Wood, he "obtained an employment suitable to
his faculty."[639:A]

27. RALEIGH, SIR WALTER. Of this great, this high-minded, but
unfortunate man, it will not be expected that, in his military,
naval, or political character, any detail should here be given; it is
only with Sir Walter, as a poet, that we are at present engaged, and
therefore, after stating that he was born in 1552, at Hayes Farm, in
the parish of Budley in Devonshire, and that, to the eternal disgrace
of James the First, he perished on a scaffold in 1618, we proceed to
record the singular circumstance, that, until the year 1813, no lover
of our literature has thought it necessary to collect his poetry.
The task, however, has at length been performed, in a most elegant
and pleasing manner, by Sir Egerton Brydges[639:B], and we have only
to regret that the pieces which he has been able to throw together,
should prove so few. Yet we may be allowed to express some surprise,
that two poems quoted as Sir Walter's in Sir Egerton's edition of
Phillips's "Theatrum Poetarum," should not have found a place in
this collection. Of these, the first is attributed to Raleigh, on
the authority of MSS. in the British Museum, and is entitled, "Sir
Walter Raleigh in the Unquiet Rest of his last Sickness," a production
equally admirable for its sublimity and Christian morality, and for the
strength and concinnity of its expression[639:C]; the second, of which
the closing couplet is quoted by Puttenham[639:D] as our author's, is
given entire by Oldys from a transcript by Lady Isabella Thynne, where
it is designated as "The Excuse written by Sir Walter Raleigh in his
younger years[639:E]," and though vitiated by conceit, appears to be
well authenticated. These, together with two fragments preserved by
Puttenham[640:A], would have proved welcome additions to the volume,
and, with the exception of his "Cynthia," a poem in praise of the
Queen, and now lost, might probably have included all that has been
attributed to the muse of Raleigh.

The poetry of our bard seems to have been highly valued in his own
days; Puttenham says, that "for dittie and amorous ode, I finde Sir
Walter Rawleygh's vayne most loftie, insolent, and passionate[640:B];"
and Bolton affirms, that "the English poems of Sir Walter Raleigh
are not easily to be mended[640:C];" opinions which, even in the
nineteenth century, a perusal of his poems will tend to confirm. Of
vigour of diction, and moral energy of thought, the pieces entitled,
"_A Description of the Country's Recreations_;" a "_Vision upon the
Fairy Queen_;" the "_Farewell_," and the _Lines_ written in "_his last
Sickness_," may be quoted as exemplars: and for amatory sweetness, and
pastoral simplicity, few efforts will be found to surpass the poems
distinguished as "_Phillida's Love-call_;" "_The Shepherd's Description
of Love_;" the "_Answer to Marlow_," and "_The Silent Lover_."

The general estimate of Raleigh as a poet, has been sketched by
Sir E. Brydges with his usual felicity of illustration, and as the
impression with which he has favoured the public is very limited, and
must necessarily soon become extremely scarce, a transcript from this
portion of his introductory matter, will have its due value with the
reader.

"Do I pronounce RALEIGH a poet? Not, perhaps, in the judgment of a
severe criticism. RALEIGH, in his better days, was too much occupied
in action to have cultivated all the powers of a poet, which require
solitude and perpetual meditation, and a refinement of sensibility,
such as intercourse with business and the world deadens!

"But, perhaps, it will be pleaded, that his long years of imprisonment
gave him leisure for meditation, more than enough! It has been
beautifully said by Lovelace, that

    "Stone walls do not a prison make,
     Nor iron bars a cage,"

so long as the mind is free. But broken spirits, and indescribable
injuries and misfortunes, do not agree with the fervour required by the
Muse. Hope, that 'sings of promised pleasure,' could never visit him
in his dreary bondage; and Ambition, whose lights had hitherto led him
through difficulties and dangers and sufferings, must now have kept
entirely aloof from one, whose fetters disabled him to follow as a
votary in her train. Images of rural beauty, quiet, and freedom might,
perhaps, have added, by the contrast, to the poignancy of his present
painful situation; and he might rather prefer the severity of mental
labour in unravelling the dreary and comfortless records of perplexing
History in remote ages of war and bloodshed, than to quicken his
sensibilities by lingering amid the murmurs of Elysian waterfalls!

"There are times when we dare not stir our feelings or our fancies;
when the only mode of reconciling ourselves to the excruciating
pressure of our sorrows is the encouragement of a dull apathy, which
will allow none but the coarser powers of the intellect to operate.

"The production of an _Heroic Poem_ would have nobly employed this
illustrious Hero's mighty faculties, during the lamentable years of
his unjust incarceration. But how could _He_ delight to dwell on the
tale of Heroes, to whom the result of Heroism had been oppression,
imprisonment, ruin, and condemnation to death?

"We have no proof that RALEIGH possessed the copious, vivid, and
creative powers of Spenser; nor is it probable that any cultivation
would have brought forth from him fruit equally rich. But even in
the careless fragments now presented to the reader, I think we can
perceive some traits of attraction and excellence which, perhaps, even
Spenser wanted. If less diversified than that gifted bard, he would,
I think, have sometimes been more forcible and sublime. His images
would have been more gigantic, and his reflections more daring. With
all his mental attention keenly bent on the busy state of existing
things in political society, the range of his thoughts had been lowered
down to practical wisdom; but other habits of intellectual exercise,
excursions into the ethereal fields of fiction, and converse with the
spirits which inhabit those upper regions, would have given a grasp
and a colour to his conceptions as magnificent as the fortitude of his
soul!"[642:A]

28. SACKVILLE, THOMAS, Lord Buckhurst, was born at Withyam, in Sussex,
in 1527.[642:B] Though a statesman of some celebrity in the reign of
Elizabeth, his fame with posterity rests entirely on his merits as a
poet, and these are of the highest order. He possesses the singular
felicity of being the first writer of a genuine English tragedy, and
the primary inventor of "The Mirrour for Magistrates;" two obligations
conferred upon poetry of incalculable extent.

Of Gorboduc, which was acted in 1561, and surreptitiously printed in
1563, we shall elsewhere have occasion to speak, confining our notice,
in this place, to his celebrated _Induction_ and _Legend of Henry
Duke of Buckingham_, which were first published in the _Second Part_
and _Second Edition of Baldwin's Mirrour for Magistrates_, printed
in 1563. To this collection we are, indeed, most highly indebted, if
the observation of Lord Orford be correct:—"Our historic plays," he
remarks, "are allowed to have been founded on the heroic narratives in
the Mirrour for Magistrates; to that plan, and to the boldness of lord
Buckhurst's new scenes, perhaps we owe SHAKSPEARE!"[642:C]

Our gratitude to this nobleman will be still further enhanced, when
we recollect, that he was more assuredly a model for _Spenser_,
the allegorical pictures in his _Induction_ being, in the opinion
of Warton, "so beautifully drawn, that, in all probability, they
contributed to direct, at least to stimulate, Spenser's imagination."
In fact, whoever reads this noble poem of Lord Buckhurst with attention
must feel convinced, that it awoke into being the allegorical groupes
of Spenser; and that, in force of imagination, in pathos, and in awful
and picturesque delineation, it is not inferior to any canto of the
Fairie Queen. Indeed from the nature of its plan, the scene being laid
in hell, and _Sorrow_ being the conductor of the hapless complainants,
it often assumes a deeper tone and exhibits a more sombre hue than the
muse of Spenser, and more in consonance with the severer intonations of
the harp of Dante. How greatly is it to be lamented that the effusions
of this divine bard are limited to the pieces which we have enumerated,
and that so early in life he deserted the fountains of inspiration,
to embark on a troubled sea of politics. Lord Buckhurst died, full of
honours, at the Council-Table at Whitehall, on April 19th, 1608, aged
eighty-one.

Sir Egerton Brydges, speaking of his magnificent seat at Knowle in
West-Kent, tells us, that, "though restored with all the freshness
of modern art, it retains the character and form of its Elizabethan
splendour. The visitor may behold the same walls, and walk in the same
apartments, which witnessed the inspiration of him, who composed _The
Induction_, and _the Legend of the Duke of Buckingham_! He may sit
under the same oaks, and behold, arrayed in all the beauty of art,
the same delightful scenery, which cherished the day-dreams of the
glowing poet! Perchance he may behold the same shadowy beings glancing
through the shades, and exhibiting themselves in all their picturesque
attitudes to his entranced fancy!"[643:A]

29. SOUTHWELL, ROBERT. This amiable but unfortunate Roman Catholic
Priest was born at St. Faith's in Norfolk, 1560; he was educated at
the University of Douay, became a member of the Society of Jesus at
Rome, when but sixteen, and finally prefect in the English college
there. Being sent as a missionary to England, in 1584, he was betrayed
and apprehended in 1592, and after being imprisoned three years, and
racked ten times, he was executed, as an agent for Popery, at Tyburn,
on the 21st of February 1595.

Whatever may have been his religious intemperance or enthusiasm, his
works, as a poet and a moralist, place him in a most favourable light;
and we are unwilling to credit, that he who was thus elevated, just,
and persuasive in his writings, could be materially incorrect in his
conduct. In 1595, appeared his "Saint Peters Complaint, with other
poems:" 4to., which went through a second impression in the same
year, and was followed by "Mœoniæ. Or certaine excellent poems and
spiritual Hymns; omitted in the last impression of Peter's complaint;
being needefull thereunto to be annexed, as being both divine and
wittie," 1595-1596. 4to. These two articles contain his poetical works;
his other publications, under the titles of "Marie Magdalen's Funerall
Tears;" "The Triumphs over Death; or a consolatorie Epistle, for
afflicted minds, in the effects of dying friends," and "Short Rules of
Good Life," being tracts in prose, though interspersed with occasional
pieces of poetry.

The productions of Southwell, notwithstanding the unpopularity of his
religious creed, were formerly in great request; "it is remarkable,"
observes Mr. Ellis, "that the very few copies of his works which are
now known to exist, are the remnant of at least seventeen different
editions, of which eleven were printed between 1593 and 1600."[644:A]
The most ample edition of his labours was printed in 1620 in 16mo., and
exhibits five distinct title-pages to the several pieces which we have
just enumerated.

Bolton in his "Hypercritica," written about 1616, does credit, to
his taste, by remarking that "never must be forgotten St. Peter's
Complaint, and those other serious poems, said to be father
Southwells: the English whereof, as it is most proper, so the
sharpness and light of wit is very rare in them."[645:A] From this
period, however, oblivion seems to have hidden the genius of Southwell
from observation, until Warton, by reproducing the criticism of Bolton,
in the third volume of his History of English Poetry 1781, recalled
attention to the neglected bard. Two years afterwards, Mr. Waldron,
in his notes to Ben Jonson's Sad Shepherd, gave us three specimens of
Southwell's poetry; Mr. Headley reprinted these in 1787[645:B]; Mr.
Ellis extracted an additional piece from the "Mœoniæ" in 1801; in 1802
Ritson presented us with a list of his writings accompanied by the
notes of Mr. Park[645:C]; and lastly, in 1808, Mr. Haslewood favoured
us with an essay on his life and works.[645:D]

Both the poetry and the prose of Southwell possess the most decided
merit; the former, which is almost entirely restricted to moral and
religious subjects, flows in a vein of great harmony, perspicuity, and
elegance, and breathes a fascination resulting from the subject and
the pathetic mode of treating it, which fixes and deeply interests the
reader.

Mr. Haslewood, on concluding his essay on Southwell, remarks, that
"those who 'least love the religion,' still must admire and praise the
author, and regret that neither his simple strains in prose, nor his
'polished metre,' have yet obtained a collected edition of his works
for general readers." The promise of such an edition escaped from
the pen of Mr. Headley; at least it was his intention to re-publish
"the better part of Southwell's poetry;" but death, most unhappily,
precluded the attempt.

30. SPENSER, EDMUND. This great poet, who was born in London in 1553,
has acquired an ever-during reputation in pastoral and epic poetry,
especially in the last. His "Shepheard's Calender: conteining twelve
aeglogues, proportionable to the twelve monethes," was published in
1579; it is a work which has conferred upon him the title of the
Father of the English pastoral, and has almost indissolubly associated
his name with those of Theocritus and Virgil. Yet two great defects
have contributed deeply to injure the popularity of his Calender;
the adoption of a language much too old and obsolete for the age in
which it was written, and the too copious introduction of satire on
ecclesiastical affairs. The consequence of this latter defect, this
incongruous mixture of church polemics, has been, that the aeglogues
for May, July, and September, are any thing but pastorals. Simplicity
of diction is of the very essence of perfection in pastoral poetry; but
vulgar, rugged, and obscure terms, can only be productive of disgust;
a result which was felt and complained of by the contemporaries of the
poet, and which not all the ingenuity of his old commentator, E. K.,
can successfully palliate or defend. The pieces which have been least
injured by this "ragged and rustical rudeness," as the scholiast aptly
terms it, are the pastorals for January, June, October and December,
which are indeed very beautiful, and the genuine offspring of the rural
reed.

It is, however, to the _Fairie Queene_ that we must refer for a
just delineation of this illustrious bard. It appears to have been
commenced about the year 1579; the first three books were printed in
1590, and the fourth, fifth, and sixth, in 1596. Whether the remaining
six books, which were to have completed the design, were finished or
not, continues yet unascertained; Browne, the author of Britannias
Pastorals[646:A], and Sir Aston Cokain[646:B], consider the poem to
have been left nearly in its present unfinished state; while Sir James
Ware asserts[646:C] that the latter books were lost by the carelessness
of the poet's servant whom he had sent before him into England on
the breaking out of the rebellion, and, what seems still more to the
purpose, Sir John Stradling, a contemporary of Spenser, and a highly
respectable character, positively declares that some of his manuscripts
were burnt when his house in Ireland was fired by the rebels.[647:A]
Now, as two cantos of a lost book, entitled _The Legend of Constancy_,
were actually published in 1609 as a part of Spenser's manuscripts
which had escaped the conflagration of his castle, it is highly
probable that the declaration of Sir John Stradling is correct, and
that the poet, if he did not absolutely finish the Fairie Queene, had
made considerable progress in the work, and that his labours perished
with his mansion.

The defects which have vitiated the _Shepheard's Calender_, are not
apparent in the _Fairie Queene_; the charge of obsolete diction, which
has been so generally urged against the latter poem, must have arisen
from the just censure which, in this respect, was bestowed upon the
former, and the transference may be considered as a striking proof of
critical negligence, and of the long-continued influence of opinion,
however erroneous. The language of the Fairie Queene is, in fact, the
language of the era in which it was written, and even in the present
day, with few and trifling exceptions, as intelligible as are the texts
of Shakspeare and Milton.[647:B]

Had Spenser, in this admirable poem, preserved greater unity in the
construction of his fable; had he, following the example of Ariosto,
employed human instead of allegorical heroes, he would undoubtedly
have been at once the noblest and most interesting of poets. But, as
it is, the warmest admirer of his numerous excellencies must confess,
that the Personifications which conduct the business of the poem, and
are consequently exposed to the broad day-light of observation, are
too unsubstantial in their form and texture, too divested of all human
organisation, to become the subjects of attachment or anxiety. They
flit before us, indeed, as mere abstract and metaphysical essences, as
beings neither of this nor any other order of planetary existence. A
witch, a fairy, or a magician, is a creation sufficiently blended with
humanity, to be capable of exciting very powerful emotion; but the
meteor-shades of Holiness or Chastity, personally conducting a long
series of adventures, is a contrivance so very remote from all earthly,
or even what we conceive of supernatural, agency, as to baffle and
revolt the credulities of the reader, however ductile or acquiescent.

Yet, notwithstanding these great and obvious errors in the very
foundation of the structure, the merits of Spenser in every other
respect are of so decided and exalted a nature, as to place him,
in spite of every deduction, in the same class with Homer, Dante,
Shakspeare, and Milton. His versification is, in general, uncommonly
sweet and melodious; his powers of description such, with respect
to beauty, fidelity, and minute finishing, as have not since been
equalled; while in strength, brilliancy, and fertility of imagination,
it will be no hyperbole to assert, that he takes precedence of almost
every poet ancient or modern.

One peculiar and endearing characteristic of the Fairie Queene, is the
exquisite tenderness which pervades the whole poem. It is impossible
indeed to read it without being in love with the author, without being
persuaded that the utmost sweetness of disposition, and the purest
sincerity and goodness of heart distinguished him who thus delighted
to unfold the kindest feelings of our nature, and whose language, by
its singular simplicity and energy, seems to breathe the very stamp and
force of truth. How grateful is it to record, that the personal conduct
of the bard corresponded with the impression resulting from his works;
that gentleness, humility, and piety, were the leading features of his
life, as they still are the most delightful characteristics of his
poetry.[649:A]

Yet amiable and engaging as is the general cast of Spenser's genius, he
has nevertheless exhibited the most marked excellence as a delineator
of those passions and emotions which approach to, or constitute, the
sublime. No where do we find the agitations of fear, astonishment,
terror, and despair, drawn with such bold and masterly relief; they
start in living energy from his pen, and bear awful witness to the
grandeur and elevation of his powers.

It is almost superfluous to add, after what has been already
observed, that the morality of the Fairie Queene is throughout pure
and impressive. It is a poem which, more than any other, inculcates
those mild and passive virtues, that patience, resignation, and
forbearance, which owe their influence to Christian principles. While
vice and intemperance are developed in all their hideous deformity,
those self-denying efforts, those benevolent and social sympathies,
which soften and endear existence, are painted in the most bewitching
colours: it is, in short, a work from the study of which no human being
can rise without feeling fresh incitement to cherish and extend the
charities of life.

Spenser died comparatively, though not actually, indigent, on the 16th
of January, 1598.

31. STIRLING, WILLIAM ALEXANDER, EARL OF. This accomplished nobleman
was born at Menstrie, in the county of Clackmannan, Scotland, 1580,
a descendant of the family of Macdonald. He was a favourite both of
James the First, and of his son Charles, and by the latter was created
Viscount Canada, and subsequently Earl of Stirling. From an early
period he gave promise of more than common genius, and his attachment
to poetry was fostered, as in Drummond, by the sorrows of unrequited
love. To the stimulus of this powerful passion we are indebted for his
"Aurora: containing the first Fancies of the Author's Youth," 4to.,
which was published, together with some other pieces, in 1604. This
elegant production, the solace of a rural retreat, on his return from
a tour on the continent, consists of one hundred and six sonnets, ten
songs or odes, some madrigals, elegies, &c., and places the talents of
the writer in a very favourable point of view: for the versification
is often peculiarly harmonious, and many beauties, both in imagery and
sentiment, are interspersed through the collection, which, though a
juvenile production, must be pronounced the most poetical of his works.
The diction approximates, indeed, so nearly to that of the present
century, that a specimen may be considered as a curiosity, and will
confirm the assertion of Lord Orford, that he "was _greatly superior
to the style of his age_."[650:A] With the exception of a little
quaintness in the second line, the subsequent sonnet will equal the
expectation of the reader:—


SONNET X.

    "I SWEARE, Aurora, by thy starrie eyes,
     And by those golden lockes whose locke none slips,
     And by the corall of thy rosie lippes,
     And by the naked snowes which beautie dies;
     I sweare by all the jewels of thy mind,
     Whose like yet never worldly treasure bought,
     Thy solide judgement and thy generous thought,
     Which in this darkened age have clearly shin'd:
     I sweare by those, and by my spotless love,
     And by my secret, yet most fervent fires,
     That I have never nurc'd but chast desires,
     And such as modestie might well approve.
     Then since I love those vertuous parts in thee,
     Shouldst thou not love this vertuous mind in me?"[650:B]

The remaining poems of Stirling consist of four tragedies in alternate
rhyme, termed by their author "monarchicke;" namely, Darius, published
in 1603; Crœsus, in 1604; and the Alexandrean Tragedy, and Julius
Cæsar, in 1607. These pieces are not calculated for the stage; but
include some admirable lessons for sovereign power, and several
choruses written with no small share of poetic vigour. With the Aurora
in 1604, appeared his poem entitled, "A Parænesis to the Prince," a
production of great value both in a moral and literary light, and which
must have been highly acceptable to a character so truly noble as was
that of Henry, to whose memory he paid a pleasing tribute, by printing
an "Elegie on his Death," in 1612.

The most elaborate of this nobleman's works was given to the public at
Edinburgh, in 1614, in 4to., and entitled, "Domes-day; or the great
Day of the Lord's Judgment." It is divided into twelve _Houres_ or
_Cantos_, and has an encomium prefixed by Drummond. Piety and sound
morality, expressed often in energetic diction, form the chief merit
of this long poem, for it has little pretension to either sublimity or
pathos. It had excited, however, the attention of Addison; for when the
first two books of Domes-day were re-printed by A. Johnstoun in 1720,
their editor tells us, "that Addison had read the author's whole works
with the greatest satisfaction; and had remarked, that 'the beauties
of our ancient English poets were too slightly passed over by modern
writers, who, out of a peculiar singularity, had rather take pains to
find fault than endeavour to excel.'"[651:A]

Lord Stirling republished the whole of his poetical works, with the
exception of the "Aurora," in 1637, in a folio volume, including a new
but unfinished poem, under the title of _Jonathan_. This impression had
undergone a most assiduous revision, and was the last labour of its
author, who died on the 12th of February, 1640, in his sixtieth year.

32. SYDNEY, SIR PHILIP, one of the most heroic and accomplished
characters in the annals of England, was born at Penshurst[652:A],
in West Kent, on Nov. 29th, 1554, and died at the premature age of
thirty-one, on the 17th of October, 1586, having been mortally wounded
on the 26th of the preceding September, in a desperate engagement
near Zutphen. "As he was returning from the field of battle," records
his friend, Lord Brooke, "pale, languid, and thirsty with excess of
bleeding, he asked for water to quench his thirst. The water was
brought; and had no sooner approached his lips, than he instantly
resigned it to a dying soldier, whose ghastly countenance attracted his
notice—speaking these ever-memorable words; _This_ man's necessity is
still greater than mine."[652:B]

Had Sir Philip paid an exclusive attention to the poetical art, there
is every reason to suppose that he would have occupied a master's
place in this department; as it is, his poetry, though too often
vitiated by an intermixture of antithesis and false wit, and by an
attempt to introduce the classic metres, is still rich with frequent
proofs of vigour, elegance, and harmony. His "Arcadia," originally
published in 1590, abounds in poetry, among which are some pieces of
distinguished merit. In 1591, was printed his "Astrophel and Stella,"
a collection of one hundred and eight sonnets, and eleven songs, and
of these several may be pronounced beautiful. They were annexed to the
subsequent editions of the Arcadia, together with "Sonets," containing
miscellaneous pieces of lyric poetry, several of which had appeared in
Constable's "Diana," 1594. To these may be added, as completing his
poetical works, fifteen contributions to "England's Helicon," a few
sonnets in "England's Parnassus," three songs in "The Lady of May, a
masque," subjoined to the Arcadia, two pastorals in Davison's poems,
1611, and an English version of the Psalms of David.

That Sydney possessed an exquisite taste for, and a critical knowledge
of poetry, is sufficiently evident from his eloquent "Defence of
Poesy," first published in 1595. This, with his Collected Poetry,
would form a very acceptable reprint, especially if recommended by an
introduction from the elegant and glowing pen of Sir Egerton Brydges,
whose favourite Sydney avowedly is, and to whom he has already paid
some very interesting tributes.[653:A]

The moral character of this great man equalled his intellectual energy;
and the last years of his short life were employed in translating Du
Plessi's excellent treatise on the Truth of Christianity.

33. SYLVESTER, JOSHUA, a poet who has lately attracted a considerable
degree of attention, from the discovery of his having furnished to
Milton the _Prima Stamina_ of his Paradise Lost.[653:B] He was educated
by his uncle, William Plumb, Esq., and died at Middleburgh, in Zealand,
on the 28th of September, 1618, aged fifty-five. His principal work, a
translation of the "Divine Weeks and Works" of Du Bartas, was commenced
in 1590, prosecuted in 1592, 1598, 1599, and completed in 1605, since
which period it has undergone six editions; three in quarto, and three
in folio, the last being dated 1641.

Both the version of Sylvester, and his original poems, published with
it, are remarkable for their inequality, for great beauties, and for
glaring defects. His versification is sometimes exquisitely melodious,
and was recognised as such by his contemporaries, who distinguished him
by the appellation of "silver-tongued Sylvester."[653:C] His diction
also is occasionally highly nervous and energetic, and sometimes
simply elegant; but much more frequently is it disfigured by tumour
and bombast. Of the golden lines which his Du Bartas contains, it may
be necessary to furnish the reader some proof, and the following, we
imagine, cannot fail to excite his surprise:

    "O thrice, thrice happy he, who shuns the cares
     Of city-troubles, and of state affairs;
     And, serving Ceres, tills with his own team
     His own free land, left by his friends to him!—
     And leading all his life at home in peace,
     Always in sight of his own smoke; no seas,
     No other seas he knows, nor other torrent,
     Than that which waters with his silver current
     His native meadows: and that very earth
     Shall give him burial, which first gave him birth.

       To summon timely sleep, he doth not need
     Æthiops cold rush, nor drowsy poppy seed,
     The stream's mild murmur, as it gently gushes,
     His healthy limbs in quiet slumber hushes;—
     ——all self-private, serving God, he writes
     Fearless, and sings but what his heart indites,
     'Till Death, dread Servant of the Eternal Judge,
     Comes very late to his sole-seated Lodge.—

       Let me, Good Lord! among the Great unkenn'd,
     My rest of days in the calm country end:
     My company, pure thoughts, to work thy will,
     My court, a cottage on a lowly hill."[654:A]

So popular was this version in the early part of the seventeenth
century, that Jonson, no indiscriminate encomiast, exclaims, in an
epigram to the translator,

    "Behold! the rev'rend shade of Bartas stands
     Before my thought, and in thy right commands,
     That to the world I publish for him this,
     'Bartas doth wish thy English now were his.'
     So well in that are his inventions wrought,
     As _his_ will now be the _translation_ thought;
     Thine the _original_; and France shall boast
     No more the maiden glories she has lost."[655:A]

The greatest compliment, however, which Sylvester has received, is the
imitation of Milton.

The virtues of Sylvester were superior to his talents; he was, in fact,
to adopt the language of one of his intimate friends, a poet

    "Whom Envy scarce could hate; whom all admir'd,
     Who liv'd beloved, and a Saint expir'd."[655:B]

34. TURBERVILLE, GEORGE, a younger son of Nicholas Turberville, of
Whitechurch, in Dorsetshire, a gentleman of respectable family, was
born about the year 1540. He was educated at Winchester and Oxford,
and in 1562 became a member of one of the Inns of Court. Here the
reputation which he had acquired for talents and the dispatch of
business, obtained for him the appointment of secretary to Thomas
Randolph, Esq., ambassador to the Court of Russia, and, whilst in
this country, he employed his leisure in writing poems descriptive of
its manners and customs, addressed to Spenser, Dancie, and Park, and
afterwards published in Hakluyt's Voyages, 1598, vol. i. pp. 384, 385.

On his return from this tour, he added greatly to his celebrity, as
a scholar and a gentleman, by the publication of his "Epitaphes,
epigrams, songs, and sonets, with a discourse of the friendly
affections of Tymetes to Pyndara his ladie," 8vo. 1567. This year,
indeed, appears to have been fully occupied by him in preparing his
works for the press; for, during its course, independent of the
collection just mentioned, he printed "The Heroycall Epistles of the
learned Poet Publius Ovidius Naso: with Aulus Sabinus aunsweres to
certaine of the same," 8vo., and "The Eclogs of the poet B. Mantuan
Carmelitan, turned into English verse, and set forth with the argument
to every eglogue." 12mo. These productions, with his "Tragical Tales,
translated in time of his troubles, out of Sundrie Italians, with the
argument and L'Envoye to ech tale," printed in 1576, and again in 1587,
with annexed "Epitaphs and Sonets, and some other broken pamphlettes
and Epistles," together with some pieces of poetry in his "Art of
Venerie," and in his "Booke of Faulconrie or Hauking," 1575, and a few
commendatory stanzas addressed to his friends, form the whole of his
poetical works.

Turberville enjoyed, as a writer of songs, sonnets, and minor poems, a
high degree of popularity in his day; it was not, however, calculated
for durability, and he appears to have been forgotten, as a poet,
before the close of the seventeenth century. His muse has experienced
a temporary revival, through the medium of Mr. Chalmers's English
Poets, and to the antiquary, and lover of old English literature, this
reprint will be acceptable; but, for the general reader, he will be
found deficient in many essential points. Fancy, it is true, may be
discovered in his pieces, although forced and quaint; but of nature,
simplicity, and feeling, the portion is unfortunately small. Occasional
felicity of diction, a display of classical allusion, and imagery taken
from the amusements and customs of the age, are not wanting; but the
warmth, the energy, and the enthusiasm of poetry are sought for in vain.

Our author survived the year 1594, though the date of his death is not
known.

35. TUSSER, THOMAS, one of the most popular, and, assuredly, one
of the most useful of our elder poets, was born, according to Dr.
Mavor, about 1515, and died about 1583.[656:A] The work which ushers
him to notice here, and has given him the appellation of the English
Varro, was published in 1557, and entitled "A Hundreth Good Pointes
of Husbandrie," a small quarto of thirteen leaves. It was shortly
followed by "One Hundreth Good Poyntes of Huswiffry;" and in 1573, the
whole was enlarged with the title of "Five Hundreth Points of Good
Husbandry, united to as many of Good Huswifery." The most complete
edition, however, and the last in the author's life-time, was printed
in 1580. So acceptable did this production prove to the lovers of
poetry and agriculture, that it underwent nineteen editions during
its first century, and Dr. Mavor's edition, published in 1812, forms
the last, and twenty-fourth. The mutilated state of the old copies,
indeed, exemplifies, more than any thing else, the practical use to
which they were subjected; "some books," remarks Mr. Haslewood, "became
heir-looms from value, and Tusser's work, for useful information
in every department of agriculture, together with its quaint and
amusing observations, perhaps passed the copies from father to son,
till they crumbled away in the bare shifting of the pages, and the
mouldering relic only lost its value, by the casual mutilation of
time."[657:A] That the estimation in which the poems of Tusser were
held by his contemporaries, might lead to such a result, it may be
allowable to conclude from the assertion of Googe, who, speaking of
our author's works, says, that "in his fancie, they may, without any
presumption, compare with any of the Varros, Columellas, or Palladios
of Rome."[657:B]

The great merit of Tusser's book, independent of the utility of its
agricultural precepts, consists in the faithful picture which it
delineates of the manners, customs, and domestic life of the English
farmer, and in the morality, piety, and benevolent simplicity, which
pervade the whole. In a poetical light its pretensions are not great.
The part relative to Husbandry is divided into months, and written
in quatrains, of eleven syllables in each line, which are frequently
constructed with much terseness, and with a happy epigrammatic brevity.
The abstracts prefixed to each month, are given in short verses of
four and five syllables each; and numerous illustrative pieces, and
nearly the whole of the Huswifery, present us with a vast variety
of metres, among which, as Ritson has observed, "may be traced the
popular stanza which attained so much celebrity in the pastoral ballads
of Shenstone."[658:A] Little that can be termed ornamental, either in
imagery or episode, is to be found in this poem; but the sketches of
character and costume, of rural employment and domestic economy, are
so numerous, and given with such fidelity, raciness, and spirit, as to
render the work in a very uncommon degree interesting and amusing.

36. WARNER, WILLIAM. Of the biography of this fine old poet, little
has descended to posterity. He is supposed to have been born about the
year 1558; and that he died at Amwell in Hertfordshire, and was by
profession an attorney, are two of the principal facts which, by an
appeal to the parish register of Amwell, have been clearly ascertained.
In a note to his poem on this village, Mr. Scott first communicated
this curious document:—"1608-1609. Master William Warner, a man of
good yeares, and of honest reputation: by his profession an atturnye
of the Common Pleas: author of Albion's England, diynge suddenly in
the night in his bedde, without any former complaynt or sicknesse, on
Thursday night, beeinge the 9th day of March: was buried the Saturday
following, and lyeth in the church at the corner, under the stone of
Gwalter Fader."[658:B]

The lines which gave occasion to this extract form a pleasing tribute
to the memory of the bard:

    "He, who in verse his Country's story told,
     Here dwelt awhile; perchance here sketch'd the scene,
     Where his fair Argentile, from crowded courts
     For pride self-banish'd, in sequester'd shades
     Sojourn'd disguis'd, and met the slighted youth
     Who long had sought her love—the gentle bard
     Sleeps here, _by Fame forgotten_."

The words in Italics which close this passage, were not at the time
they were written correctly true, for Warner had then been a subject
of great and judicious praise, both to Mrs. Cooper and Dr. Percy; and,
since the era of Scott, he has been imitated, re-edited, and liberally
applauded. He is conjectured to have been a native of Warwickshire,
to have been educated at Magdalen Hall, Oxford, and to have left
the University without a degree, for the purpose of cultivating his
poetical genius in the metropolis. His _Albion's England_, on which his
fame is founded, was first printed in 1586, when the poet was probably
about eight and twenty. It underwent six subsequent editions during
the author's life-time, namely, in 1589, 1592, 1596, 1597, 1602, and
1606.[659:A]

This extensive poetic history, which is deduced from the deluge to the
reign of Elizabeth, is distributed into twelve books, and contains
seventy-seven chapters; it is dedicated to Henry Cary, Lord Hunsdon,
under whose patronage and protection Warner appears to have spent
the latter portion of his life. Such was the popularity of "Albion's
England," that it threw into the shade what had formerly been the
favourite collection, the "Mirror for Magistrates;" Warner was ranked
by his contemporaries, says Dr. Percy, on a level with Spenser; they
were called the Homer and Virgil of their age[659:B]; and Meres,
speaking of the English tongue, declares, that by his (Warner's) pen,
it "was much enriched and gorgeously invested in rare ornaments and
resplendent habiliments."[659:C] Less hyperbolical, and, therefore,
more judicious praise, was allotted him by Drayton, who, after noticing
his incorrectnesses, adds with a liberal spirit—

    ————————— "yet thus let me say
    For my old friend, some passages there be
    In him, which I protest have taken me
    With almost wonder, so fine, so clear, and new,
    As yet they have been equalled by few;"[659:D]

a decision which subsequent criticism has confirmed.

One of his most pleasing episodes, "Argentile and Curan," was
inserted by Mrs. Cooper in her "Muses' Library," who justly terms it
"a tale full of beautiful incidents, in the romantic taste, extremely
affecting, rich in ornament, wonderfully various in stile, and, in
short, one of the most beautiful pastorals I ever met with."[660:A]
This was again republished by Percy in his "Reliques[660:B]," and
finally honoured by Mason in the third volume of his Poems, 1796, where
it forms a _Legendary Drama in five acts, written on the old English
model_. Ritson, Headley, and Ellis, have furnished us with additional
extracts, and at length _Albion's England_ has found its place in the
body of our English Poetry through the taste and exertions of Mr.
Chalmers.[660:C]

Ease, simplicity, and pathos, are the leading virtues of Warner's
muse. He eminently excelled in depicting rural and pastoral lite, and
in developing those simple and touching emotions which pervade the
innocent and artless bosom. His vices were those of his age, and may
be included under the heads of indelicacy, inequality, and quaintness;
these expunged, his finer parts strongly interest our affections, and
endear to us the memory of the good old bard.

37. WATSON, THOMAS, a once popular writer of sonnets, was born in
London, and educated at Oxford, whence he returned to the metropolis
for the purpose of practising the law. In 1581, his principal poetical
work was entered on the Stationers' books, and afterwards published
with the following title, though without date:—"The ΕΚΑΤΟΜΠΑΘΙΑ, or
Passionate Centurie of Love, divided into two Parts: whereof the first
expresseth the Author's Sufferance in Love: the latter, his long
Farewell to Love and all his Tyrannie. Composed by Thomas Watson,
Gentleman; and published at the Request of certeine Gentlemen his very
Friends."

Of this Collection, which occupies a thin 4to., black letter, with
a sonnet on each page, an admirable critical analysis has been
given by Sir Egerton Brydges, in the twelfth number of the British
Bibliographer, accompanied by seventeen specimens of the sonnets, and
from this critique, and from the Theatrum Poetarum, edited by the same
elegant scholar, we have drawn our account, for the original is so
scarce, as to be of hopeless acquisition.

It will strike the reader, in the first place, that the poems which
Watson termed Sonnets, have no pretensions, in point of mechanism
and form, to the character of the legitimate sonnet. Instead of the
beautiful though artificial construction of the Petrarcan model, they
consist of eighteen lines, including three quatrains in alternate
rhyme, and a couplet appended to each quatrain; a system of verse
totally destitute of the union and dignity which distinguish this
branch of poetry in the practice of the Italians. It should be
remarked, however, that our poet has occasionally given us a sonnet
in Latin verse, in which he confines himself to fourteen lines, and,
as he observes, in the Introduction to his sixth sonnet, "commeth
somwhat neerer unto the Italian phrase than the English doth."[661:A]
Watson was, indeed, an elegant Latin poet, and in the matter prefixed
to his first and sixth sonnets, informs us that he had written a poem
"De Remedio Amoris," and that he was then "busied in translating
Petrarch his sonnets into Latin,—which one day may perchance come
to light."[661:B] In fact there appears to be more of true poetry in
his Latin than in his English verse; for though to the "Centurie of
Love" must be attributed great purity, correctness, and perspicuity of
diction, and a versification uncommonly polished, harmonious, and well
sustained, yet the soul of poetry, tenderness, simplicity, and energy
of sentiment, will be found wanting. In their place Watson has bestowed
upon us a multitude of metaphysical conceits, an exuberant store of
classical mythology, and an abundance of learned allusion; but, to
adopt the interesting observations of the critic mentioned in the
preceding paragraph, "to meditate upon a subject, till it is broken
into a thousand remote allusions and conceits; to accustom the mind to
a familiarity with metaphysical subtleties and casual similitudes in
contradictory objects, is to cultivate intellectual habits directly
opposite to those from whence real poetry springs; and to produce
effects directly opposite to those which real poetry is intended to
produce.

"The real poet does but pursue, fix, and heighten those day-dreams
which every intellectual being more or less at times indulges; though
the difference of the degree, as well as of the frequency, in which
individuals indulge them, is incalculable; arising from the difference
of mental talent and sensibility, as well as of cultivation. But
who is there in whose fancy some absent image does not occasionally
revive? And who is there so utterly dull and hard, that in him it
arises unassociated with the slightest emotion of pain or pleasure?
Yet in what abundance and richness of colouring such images are
constantly springing up in the mind of the poet? Visions adhere to the
boughs of every tree; and painting what he sees and feels with his
natural enthusiasm, he carries the reader of sensibility along with
him; kindles his fainter ideas into a flame; draws forth the yet weak
impression into body and form; and irradiates his whole brain with his
own light. The chords of the heart are touched; and while thus played
upon produce enchanting music; till, as the spell is silent, the object
of this borrowed inspiration is astonished to find, that all this
brilliant entertainment sprung from the wand of the poetical magician.

"If this be the secret of true poetry, what is he who seeks to convey
images so unnatural, that no one had ever even an imperfect glimpse of
them before, and no one can sympathize with them when expressed? Can he
whose thoughts find no mirror in the minds of others be a poet? Is not
a _metaphysical poet_ a contradiction of terms?

"He who adopts these principles, will think of Watson as I do.—Has he
painted the natural emotions of the mind, or the heart? Has he given

    "A local habitation and a name"

to those 'airy nothings' which more or less haunt every fancy? Or has
he not sat down rather to exercise the subtlety of his wit, than to
discharge the fullness of his bosom?"[663:A]

Yet has Watson, with these vital defects, been pronounced by Mr.
Steevens superior as a sonneteer to Shakspeare[663:B]; a preference
which we shall have occasion to consider in the chapter appropriated to
the minor poems of our great dramatist.

Beside the "Hekatompathia," Watson published, in 1581, a Latin
translation of the Antigone of Sophocles; in 1582, "Ad Olandum de
Eulogiis serenissimæ nostræ Elizabethæ post Anglorum prœlia cantatis,
Decastichon;" in 1586, a Paraphrase in Latin verse of the "Raptus
Helenæ," of Coluthus; in 1590, an English Version of Italian
Madrigalls, and "Melibœus, a Latin Eclogue on the Death of Sir Francis
Walsingham," 4to.; in 1592, he printed "Amintæ Gaudia," in hexameter
verses, 4to.; and beside other fugitive pieces, two poems of his are
inserted in the "Phœnix Nest," 1593, and in "England's Helicon," 1600.

Watson has been highly praised by Nash[663:C], by Gabriel
Harvey[663:D], and by Meres; the latter asserting that "as Italy had
Petrarch, so England had Thomas Watson."[663:E] He is supposed to have
died about the year 1595, for Nash, in his "Have with you to Saffron
Walden," printed in 1596, speaks of him as then deceased, adding, that
"for all things he has left few his equals in England."

38. WILLOBIE, HENRY. From the Preface of Hadrian Dorrell, to the first
edition of Willobie's "Avisa" in 1594, in which he terms the author,
"a young man, and a scholar of very good hope," there is foundation
for conjecturing that our poet was born about the year 1565. It
appears also from this prefatory matter that, "being desirous to
see the fashions of other countries for a time, he not long sithence
departed voluntarily to her majestie's service," and that Dorrell, in
his friend's absence, committed his poem to the press.[664:A] He gave
it the following title, "Willobie his Avisa; or the true picture of
a modest Maide and of a chast and constant wife. In hexameter[664:B]
verse. The like argument whereof was never heretofore published:"
4to. A second edition was published by the same editor in 1596, with
an Apology for the work, dated June 30, and concluding with the
information, that the author was "of late gone to God." A fourth
impression "corrected and augmented," consisting of 72 leaves 4to.,
made its appearance in 1609[664:C], with the addition of "the victorie
of English Chastitie never before published," and subscribed "Thomas
Willoby, _frater Henrici Willoby nuper defuncti_."

Mr. Haslewood conjectures from Dorrell's calling Willobie his
_chamber-fellow_, and then dating his Preface from his chamber in
Oxford; and from a passage in the "Avisa" itself, that our author was
educated in that university, and that he was a native of Kent.[665:A]
We are told likewise by Dorrell, in his "Apologie," that his friend had
written a poem entitled "Susanna," which still remained in manuscript.

The "Avisa," which consists of a great number of short cantos, is
written to exemplify and recommend the character of a chaste woman,
under all the temptations to which the various situations incident to
her life, expose her. "In a void paper," says the editor, "rolled up in
this book, I found this very name Avisa, written in great letters, a
pretty distance asunder, and under every letter a word beginning with
the same letter, in this forme:—

    A.     V.        I.        S.       A.
  Amans.  Vxor.  Inviolata.  Semper.  Amanda.

"That is, in effect, A loving wife that never violated her faith is
alwayes to be beloved. Which makes me conjecture, that he minding
for his recreation to set out the idea of a constant wife (rather
describing what good wives should do than registring what any hath
done,) devised a woman's name that might fitly expresse this woman's
nature whom he would aime at: desirous in this (as I conjecture) to
imitate a far off, either Plato in his commonwealth, or More in his
Utopia."[665:B] Prefixed are two commendatory copies of verses, of
which the second, signed _Contraria Contrariis_, is remarkable for
an allusion to Shakspeare's "Rape of Lucrece," and will be noticed
hereafter.

Of invention and enthusiasm, the poet's noblest boast, few traits are
discoverable in the Avisa, nor can it display any vivid delineation of
passion; but it occasionally unfolds a pleasing vein of description,
and both the diction and metre are uniformly clear, correct, and
flowing. Indeed, the versification may be pronounced, for the age in
which it appeared, peculiarly sweet and well modulated, and the whole
poem, in language and rhythm, makes a close approximation to modern
usage.

39. WITHER, GEORGE. This very voluminous writer is introduced here, in
consequence of his _Juvenilia_, which constitute the best of his works,
having been all printed or circulated before the death of Shakspeare.
He was born at Bentworth, near Alton in Hampshire, in 1590, and, after
a long life of tumult, vicissitude, and disappointment, died in his
seventy-eighth year in 1667. He continued to wield his pen to the last
month of his existence, and more than one hundred of his pieces, in
prose and verse, have been enumerated by Mr. Park in a very curious and
elaborate catalogue of his works.[666:A] We shall confine ourselves,
however, for the reason already assigned, to that portion of his poetry
which was in circulation previous to 1616.

It appears from Wither's own catalogue of his works[666:B], that four
of his earliest poems, entitled "Iter Hibernicum," "Iter Boreale,"
"Patrick's Purgatory," and "Philarete's Complaint," were lost in
manuscript. The first of his published productions was printed in 1611,
under the title of "_Abuses Stript and Whipt_: or Satyricall Essays.
Divided into two Bookes;" 8vo., to which were annexed "The Scourge,"
a satire, and "Certaine Epigrams." This book, he tells us[666:C],
was written in 1611, and its unsparing severity involved him in
persecution, and condemned him for several months to a prison. It was
nevertheless highly popular, and underwent an eighth impression in 1633.

An elegant writer in the British Bibliographer has subjoined the
following very just and interesting remarks to his notice of these
poignant satires. "The reign of King James," he observes, "was not
propitious to the higher orders of poetry. All those bold features,
which nourished the romantic energies of the age of his predecessor,
had been suppressed by the selfish pusillanimity and pedantic policy
of this inglorious monarch. Loving flattery and a base kind of
luxurious ease, he was insensible to the ambitions of a gallant
spirit, and preferred the cold and barren subtleties of scholastic
learning to the breathing eloquence of those who were really inspired
by the muse. Poetical composition therefore soon assumed a new
character. Its exertions were now overlaid by learning, and the
strange conceits of metaphysical wit took place of the creations of a
pure and unsophisticated fancy. It was thus that Donne wasted in the
production of unprofitable and short-lived fruit the powers of a most
acute and brilliant mind. It was thus that Phineas Fletcher threw away
upon an unmanageable subject the warblings of a copious and pathetic
imagination. The understanding was more exercised in the ingenious
distortion of artificial stores, than the faculties which mark the poet
in pouring forth the visions of natural fiction.

    "Such scenes as youthful poets dream,
     On summer eve, by haunted stream,

were now deemed insipid. The Fairy Fables of Gorgeous Chivalry were
thought too rude and boisterous, and too unphilosophical for the
erudite ear of the book-learned king!

"As writers of verse now brought their compositions nearer to the
nature of prose, the epoch was favourable to the satyrical class, for
which so much food was furnished by the motley and vicious manners
of the nation. Wither, therefore, bursting with indignation at the
view of society which presented itself to his young mind, took this
opportunity to indulge in a sort of publication, to which the prosaic
taste of the times was well adapted; but he disdained, and, perhaps,
felt himself unqualified, to use that glitter of false ornament, which
was now substituted for the true decorations of the muse. 'I have
arrived,' says he[667:A], 'to be as plain as a pack-saddle.'—'Though
you understand them not, yet because you see this wants some _fine
phrases and flourishes_, as you find other men's writings stuffed
withal, perhaps you will judge me unlearned.'—'Yet I could with ease
have amended it; for it cost me, I protest, more labour to observe this
plainness, than if I had more poetically trimmed it.'"[668:A]

The plainness of which Wither here professes himself to have been
studious, forms one of the noblest characteristics of his best
writings. Dismissing with contempt the puerilities and conceits which
deformed the pages of so many of his contemporaries, he cultivated,
with almost uniform assiduity, a simplicity of style, and an expression
of natural sentiment and feeling, which have occasioned the revival of
his choicest compositions in the nineteenth century[668:B], and will
for ever stamp them with a permanent value.

Returning to his Juvenilia, we find that in 1612 he published in a
thin quarto, "_Prince Henrie's Obsequies_; or mournfull Elegies upon
his Death. With a supposed Interlocution betweene the Ghost of Prince
Henry and Great Britaine;" which was followed the succeeding year
by his "_Epithalamia_: or Nuptiall Poemes," 4to., on the marriage
of Frederick the Fifth, with Elizabeth, only daughter of James the
First. These pieces have been re-printed, by Sir Egerton Brydges, in
his "Restituta:" the _Obsequies_ contain forty-five elegiac sonnets,
succeeded by an _Epitaph_, the _Interlocution_, and a _Sonnet of
Death_, in Latin rhymes, with a paraphrastic translation. Among the
numerous sonnet-writers of the age of Shakspeare, Wither claims a most
respectable place, and many of these little elegies deserve a rescue
from oblivion. We would particularly point out Nos. 14 and 17, from
which an admirable sonnet might be formed by subjoining six lines
of the former to the first two quatorzains of the latter, and this
without the alteration of a syllable; the _octave_ will then consist
of a soliloquy by the poet himself, and the _sestain_ be addressed to
Elizabeth the sister of Prince Henry; a transition which is productive
of a striking and happy effect:—

    "Thrice happy had I been, if I had kept
     Within the circuit of some little Village,
     In ignorance of Courts and Princes slept,
     Manuring of an honest halfe-plough tillage:
     Or else, I would I were as young agen
     As when _Eliza_, our last _Phœnix_ died;
     My childish yeares had not conceived then
     What 'twas to lose a Prince so dignified:—
     Thy brother's well: and would not change estates
     With any prince that reigns beneath the skie:
     No, not with all the world's great potentates:
     His plumes have born him to eternitie!—
         He shall escape (for so th' Almighty wills)
         The stormy Winter of ensuing ills."[669:A]

In 1614, our author published "A _Satyre_ written to the King's most
excellent Majestie," 8vo.; and "_The Shepherds Pipe_," 8vo.; the
latter, a production of high poetical merit, having being composed in
conjunction with Browne, the author of Britannia's Pastorals.

In 1615, appeared "_The Shepheards Hunting_: Being certaine
Eglogues, written during the time of the Author's imprisonment in
the Marshalsey," 8vo. This was intended as a continuation of the
"Shepheard's Pipe," and is fully equal, if not superior, to the prior
portion: Phillips, indeed, speaking of Wither, says, "the most of
poetical fancy, which I remember to have found in any of his writings,
is in a little piece of pastoral poetry, called _The Shepherd's
Hunting_."[669:B]

The next work with which Wither favoured us, though not published for
_general_ circulation before 1619, yet, as the stationer, George
Norton, tells us, had been "long since imprinted for the use of the
author, to bestow on such as had voluntarily requested it _in way of
adventure_;" words which seem to intimate, that it had been dispersed
for the purpose of _pecuniary_ return, and probably with the intent
of supporting the bard during his imprisonment in the Marshalsea. It
has accordingly a title-page which implies a second impression, and
is termed "_Fidelia_. Newly corrected and augmented." This is a work
which ought to have protected the memory of Wither from the sarcasms
of Butler, Swift, and Pope; for it displays a vein of poetry at once
highly elegant, impassioned, and descriptive. To _Fidelia_ was first
annexed the two exquisite songs, reprinted by Dr. Percy, commencing

    "Shall I, wasting in dispaire,"

and

    "Hence away, thou Syren, leave me."[670:A]

We shall close the list of those works of Wither that fall within the
era to which we are limited, by noticing his "_Faire Virtue_: the
Mistresse of Phil'arete," 8vo. This beautiful production, glowing
with all the ardours of a poetic fancy, was one of his earliest
compositions, and is alluded to in his "Satire to the King," in
1614, before which period there is reason to suppose it was widely
circulated in manuscript; for in a prefatory epistle to the copy of
1622, published by John Grismand, but which was originally prefixed
to an anonymous edition printed by John Marriot, and not now supposed
to be in existence, Wither tells us, that "the poem was composed many
years agone, and, unknown to the author, got out of his custody by an
acquaintance;" and he adds, "when I first composed it, I well liked
thereof, and it well enough became my years." To high praise of this
work in its poetical capacity, Mr. Dalrymple has annexed the important
remark, that it unfolds a more perfect system of female tuition than is
any where else to be discovered.

The great misfortune of Wither was, that the multitude of his
subsequent publications, many of which were written during the
effervescence of party zeal, and are frequently debased by coarse and
vulgar language, overwhelmed the merits of his earlier productions. Yet
it must be conceded, that his prose, during the whole period of his
authorship, generally exhibits great strength, perspicuity, and freedom
from affectation; and on the best of his poetical effusions we may
cheerfully assent to the following encomium of an able and impartial
judge:—

"If poetry be the power of commanding the imagination, conveyed in
measure and expressive epithets, Wither was truly a poet. Perhaps
there is no where to be found a greater variety of English measure
than in his writings, (Shakspeare excepted,) more energy of thought,
or more frequent developement of the delicate filaments of the human
heart."[671:A]

40. WOTTON, SIR HENRY. This elegant scholar and accomplished gentleman
was forty-eight years of age when Shakspeare died, being born at
Boughton-Hall in Kent, in 1568. His correspondence with Milton on the
subject of Comus in 1638, is on record, and it is highly probable that,
on his return from the continent in 1598, after a long residence of
nine years in Germany and Italy, he would not long remain a stranger
either to the reputation or the person of the great Dramatic Luminary
of his times.

Having mentioned these great poets as contemporaries of Sir Henry
Wotton, it may be a subject of pleasing speculation to conjecture how
far they could be personally known to each other. The possibility
of some intercourse of this kind, though transient, seems to have
forcibly struck the mind of an elegant poet and critic of the present
day; speaking of Comus, presented at Ludlow-Castle in 1634, he
remarks,—"Much it has appeared to me of the _Shaksperean_ diction
and numbers and form of sentiment may be traced in this admirable
and delightful Drama: in which the streams of the _Avon_ mix with
those of the _Arno_, of the _Mincius_, and the _Ilissus_. Part of
MILTON'S affectionate veneration, beside what arises from congenial
mind, may have arisen from _personal_ respect. At the _death_ of
SHAKSPEARE, MILTON was in his _eighth_ year.

    ——— "Heroum laudes et facta Parentum
    Jam legere, et quæ sit poterat cognoscere Virtus."

"It is hardly probable that they never met. SHAKSPEARE, if they did see
each other, could not but be charmed with the countenance and manners
of a boy like MILTON: and MILTON, whose mind was never childish, and
whose countenance at ten has the modest but decisive character of his
high destiny, would feel the interview: his young heart would dilate,
and every recollection would bring SHAKSPEARE, once seen and heard, to
his remembrance and imagination with increasing force."[672:A]

The most powerful circumstance which militates against this interesting
supposition, is, that, if such an interview had taken place, we should,
in all probability, have found it recorded in the minor poems, Latin or
English, of Milton, who has there preserved many of the occurrences of
his youthful days, and would scarcely have failed, we think, to put the
stamp of immortality on such an event.

The poetry of Wotton, though chiefly written for the amusement of his
leisure, and through the excitement of casual circumstances, possesses
the invaluable attractions of energy, simplicity, and the most touching
morality; it comes warm from the heart, and whether employed on an
amatory or didactic subject, makes its appropriate impression with an
air of sincerity which never fails to delight. Of this description are
the pieces entitled, "A Farewell to the Vanities of the World;" the
"Character of a Happy Life," and the Lines on the Queen of Bohemia. One
of his earliest pieces, being "written in his youth," was printed in
Davison's "Poetical Rapsody," 1602, and his Remains were collected and
published by his amiable friend Isaac Walton. Sir Henry died, Provost
of Eton, in December 1639, in the seventy-third year of his age.

In drawing up these Critical Notices of the principal poets who,
independent of the Drama, flourished during the life-time of
Shakspeare, we have been guided chiefly by the consideration of their
positive merit, or great incidental popularity; and few, if any, who,
on these bases, call for admission, have probably been overlooked.
There is one poet, however, whose memory has been preserved by
Phillips, and of whom, from the high character given of him by this
critic, it may be necessary to say a few words; for if the following
eulogium on the compositions of this writer be not the result of a
marked partiality, it should stimulate to an ardent enquiry after
manuscripts so truly valuable.

"JOHN LANE, a fine old Queen Elizabeth's gentleman, who was living
within my remembrance, and whose several Poems, had they not had the
ill fate to remain unpublisht, when much better meriting than many,
that are in print, might possibly have gained him a name not much
inferior, if not equal to Drayton, and others of the next rank to
Spencer; but they are all to be produc't in manuscript, namely his
'_Poetical Vision_,' his '_Alarm to the Poets_,' his '_Twelve Months_,'
his '_Guy of Warwick, a Heroic Poem_' (at least as much as many others
that are so entitled), and lastly his '_Supplement to Chaucer's
Squire's Tale_.'"[673:A]

It has happened unfortunately for Lane, that the only specimen of his
writings which has met the eye of a modern critic, has proved a source
of disappointment. Warton, after recording that a copy of Lane's
supplement to Chaucer existed in the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford, adds,
"I conceived great expectations of him on reading Phillips's account.
But I was greatly disappointed, for Lane's performance, upon perusal,
proved to be not only an inartificial imitation of Chaucer's manner,
but a weak effort of invention."[674:A] This discovery, however, should
not arrest all future research; for his four preceding poems, of which
the latter two must necessarily, from their titles, be of considerable
length, may yet warrant the decision of Phillips.[674:B]

To this brief summary of Master-Bards we shall now subjoin, in a
tabular and alphabetic form, a catalogue of those numerous minor poets
who were content to follow in the train of more splendid talent. In
carrying this arrangement into execution it will not be necessary,
after the example of Ritson, to dignify with the name of poet every
individual who contributed a single copy of verses, as a tribute to
contemporary merit—a prostitution of the title which appears truly
ridiculous; for though bulk be no proof of excellence, yet were we
to assign the name of poet to every penner of a stanza, the majority
of those who barely read and write, might be included in the list.
To those alone, therefore, who either published themselves, or had
their productions thrown into a collective form by others, will the
appellation be allotted.

With a view to simplicity and brevity, the Table will consist but of
three parts; the first, occupied by the names of the poets; the second,
by abbreviated titles of their works, with their dates; and the third,
in order to prevent the frequent repetition of similar epithets, will
contain arbitrary marks, designative of the general merit of their
writings, and forming a kind of graduated scale. Thus _mediocrity_ will
be designated by a broad black line (|); _excellence_ will be expressed
by eight asterisks before the mark of mediocrity, (* * * * * * * * |),
and absolute _worthlessness_ by eight after it (| * * * * * * * *);
while the intermediate shades of merit will be sufficiently pointed out
by the intervening asterisks. Occasional _notes_, where peculiarity of
any kind may call for them, will be added.

On this plan of _tabular_ construction, the tediousness of a mere
catalogue will, in a great measure, be avoided; and, at the same time,
an adequately accurate view be given of the multiplicity and diffusion
of poetical composition which pervaded this fertile period.


_TABLE of Minor Miscellaneous Poets, during the Age of
SHAKSPEARE._

SCALE.

  E               M               AW
  * * * * * * * * | * * * * * * * *

  Key:  E = _Excellence._
        M = _Mediocrity._
       AW = _Absolute Worthlessness._

  ACHELEY, THOMAS. "_A most lamentable and
  tragical Historie._" 12mo.                  1576

    A translation from a novel of Bandello                 | *

  ANDERSON, JAMES. _Ane godly treatis_, calit
  the first and second cumming of Christ,
  with the tone of the wintersnycht. 16mo.
  Edin.                                       1595         | *

  ANDREWE, THOMAS. _The Unmasking of a feminine
  Machiavell._ 4to.                           1604         | *

  ANNESON, JAMES. _Carolana_, that is to say,
  a Poeme in Honour of our King, Charles-James,
  Queen Anne, and Prince Charles, &c. 4to.    1614

  ARTHINGTON, HENRY. _Principall Points of Holy
  Profession._ 4to.                           1607         | * *

  ASKE, JAMES. _Elizabetha Triumphans._ 4to.
  Blank Verse.                                1588         | *

  AVALE, LEMEKE. _A Commemoration or Dirge_ of
  bastarde Edmonde Boner. 8vo.                1659         |

  BALNEVIS, HENRY. _Confession of Faith_,
  conteining how the troubled man should seeke
  refuge at his God. 12mo. Edin.              1584         |

  BARNEFIELDE, RICHARD. _Cynthia_ with
  certeyne Sonnettes and the Legend of
  Cassandra.                                  1594         |

    The _Affectionate Shepherd_. 16mo.[677:A] 1595       * |

    _The Encomion of Lady Pecunia._ 4to.      1598         |

  BARNES, BARNABE. _Parthenophil and
  Parthenope._ Sonnettes, Madrigals, Elegies
  and Odes.                                   1593       * |

    _A Divine Centurie of Spirituall
    Sonnettes._[677:B]                        1595       * |

  BASTARD, THOMAS. _Chrestoleros._ Seven
  Books of Epigrams. 8vo.[677:C]              1595       * |

  BATMAN, STEPHEN. _The Travayled Pylgrime._
  4to.                                        1569         | * * *

  BEVERLEY, PETER. _The History of Ariodanto
  and Jeneura._ 8vo. 2d edit. From Ariosto.   1600         |

  BIESTON, ROGER. _The Bayte and Snare of
  Fortune._ Folio. ten leaves. No date.[677:D]

  BLENERHASSET, THOMAS. _The Seconde Part of
  the Mirrour for Magistrates._ 4to.          1578         | *

  BOURCHER, ARTHUR. _A Fable of Æsop_
  Versified. 8vo.                             1566

  BOURMAN, NICHOLAS. _A Friendelie Well
  Wishinge_ to such as endure. A Ballad.      1581

  BRADSHAW, THOMAS. _The Shepherd's Starre._
  4to.                                        1591

  BRATHWAYTE, RICHARD. _The Golden Fleece_,
  with other poems. Sm. 8vo.                  1611         |

    _The Poets Willow_, or the Passionate
    Shepherd. 8vo.                            1614         |

    _A Strappado for the Divell._ Epigrams
    and Satyres. 8vo.                         1615         |

  BRICE, THOMAS. _The Courte of Venus
  Moralized._                                 1567

    _Songes and Sonnettes._                   1567

  BROUGHTON, ROWLAND. _A Briefe Discourse_
  of the Lyfe and Death of the late Right
  High and Hon{ble} Sir Will{m} Pawlet,
  Knight.                                     1572         | * *

  BROOKE, THOMAS. _Certayne Verses_ in the
  time of his imprisonment, the day before
  his deathe. Norwich.                        1570

  BROOKE, CHRISTOPHER. _Elegy_ on Prince
  Henry.                                      1613

    _Eclogues._ Dedicated to W{m}
    Browne.[678:A]                            1614         |

  BRYSKETT, LODOWICK. _The Mourning Muses_
  of Lod. Bryskett upon the deathe of the
  most noble Sir Philip Sydney knight.[678:B] 1587       * |

  BUC, SIR GEORGE. Δαφνις Πολυστεφανος. An
  Eclog treating of Crownes, and of
  Garlandes, and to whom of right they
  appertaine. 4to.                            1605       * |

  CAREW, RICHARD. "_Godfrey of Bulloigne_,
  or the Recoverie of Hierusalem." First
  Five Cantos translated from Tasso. First
  edition, no date. Second, 4to.              1594         | *

  CARPENTER, JOHN. _A Sorrowfull Song_ for
  sinfull soules. 8vo.                        1586

  CHESTER, ROBERT. "_Loves Martyr_, or
  Rosalins Complaint." From the Italian of
  Torquato Cœliano. "With the true Legend of
  famous King Arthur."[679:A]                 1601         | *

  CHETTLE, HENRY. _The Pope's pitiful
  Lamentation_ for the death of his deere
  darling Don Joan of Austria. 4to.           1578

    "_The Forest of Fancy._" Consisting of
    apothegmes, histories, songs, sonnets,
    and epigrams. 4to.                        1579

    _A Dolefull Ditty_ or sorowful sonet of
    the Lord Darly, some time King of Scots.  1579         |

  CHUTE, ANTHONY. _Beawtie Dishonoured_,
  written under the title of Shore's Wife.
  4to.                                        1593

    _Procris and Cephalus._[679:B]            1593         | *

  CLAPHAM, HENOCH. _A Briefe of the Bible's
  History_; Drawne first into English poesy.
  8vo. Edin.                                  1596         | * * *

  COPLEY, ANTHONY. _Loves Owle_: an idle
  conceited Dialogue betwene Love and an
  Olde-man. 4to.                              1595

    _A Fig for Fortune._ 4to.                 1596         | * *

  COTTESFORD, THOMAS. _A Prayer to
  Dannyell._                                  1570

  COTTON, ROGER. _An Armor of Proofe_,
  brought from the Tower of David. 4to.       1596

    _A Spirituall Song._ 4to.                 1596

  CULROSE, ELIZABETH. _Ane Godly Dream._
  4to. Edin.                                  1603         |

  CUTWODE, T. _Caltha-poetarum_, or the
  Bumble Bee, 4to.                            1599

  DAVIDSTONE, JOHNE. _Ane Brief Commendation_
  of Uprichtnes, &c. in Inglis Meter. 4to.    1573

    _A Memorial of the Life and Death_ of
    two worthye Chrittians. In English Meter.
    8vo.                                      1595

  DAVIES, JOHN. _The Scourge of Folly._
  Consisting of satyricall Epigramms, &c.
  8vo.                                        1611

    _Humours Heavn on Earth._                 1605

    _Microcosmos._ The Discovery of the
    Little World, with the government
    thereof. 4to.                             1603

    _The Muses Sacrifice_; or Divine
    Meditations. 12mo.                        1612

    _Wittes Pilgrimage_, (by Poeticall
    Essaies,) Through a World of amorous
    Sonnets, &c. 4to.[680:A]                  16

    _A Select Second Husband_ for Sir Thos.
    Overburie's Wife. Small 8vo.              1616

    _Mirum in Modum._[680:B]                  1602         | * *

  DAVISON, FRANCIS. }  _Sonnets, Odes,
  DAVISON, WALTER.  }  Elegies, Madrigals,
                       and Epigrams_, by
                       Francis and Walter
                       Davison, brethren.
                       12mo.[680:C]           1602       * |

  DELONE, THOMAS. _Strange Histories_, or
  songes and sonnets of kinges, princes,
  dukes, lords, ladyes, knights, and
  gentlemen: &c. 4to.[681:A]                  1612         | *

  DERRICKE, JOHN. _The Image of Irelande._
  4to.                                        1581         | *

  DOWRICKE, ANN. _The French Historie._
  4to.                                        1589

  DRANT, THOMAS. _A Medicinable Morall_,
  that is, the two bookes of Horace his
  satyres, englyshed, &c. 4to.                1566

    _Horace his Arte of Poetrie_, pistles,
    and satyres, englished. 4to.              1567

    _Greg. Nazianzen_, his epigrammes, and
    spirituall sentences. 8vo.[681:B]         1568         | *

  EDWARDES, C. The Mansion of Myrthe          1581

  ELDERTON, WILLIAM. _Elderton's Solace_ in
  tyme of his sickness, contayning sundrie
  sonets upon many pithe parables.            1578         | *

    _Various Ballads_ from 1560 to[681:C]     1590         | *

  ELVIDEN, EDMOND. _The Closet of Counselles._
  Translated and collected out of divers
  aucthors into English verse. 8vo.           1569

    _The History of Pisistratus and Catanea._
    12mo.

  EVANS, LEWES. _The Fyrste twoo Satars or
  Poyses of Orace._                           1564

  EVANS, WILLIAM. _Thamesiades_, or Chastities
  Triumph. 8vo.[682:A]                        1602         | *

  FENNER, DUDLEY. _The Song of Songs._
  Translated out of the Hebrue into Englishe
  Meeter. 8vo.                                1587

  FENNOR, WILLIAM. _Fennor's Descriptions._
  4to.[682:B]                                 1616         | *

  FERRERS, GEORGE. _Legends_ of Dame Eleanor
  Cobham and Humfrey Plantagenet—in the
  Myrrour for Magistrates, edition[682:C]     1578         | *

  FETHERSTONE, CHRISTOPHER. _The Lamentations
  of Jeremie_, in prose and meeter, with apt
  notes to singe them withall. 8vo.           1587

  FLEMING, ABRAHAM. _The Bucolikes of P.
  Virgilius Maro_, with alphabeticall
  annotations.                                1575         | *

    _The Georgiks or Ruralls_: conteyning
    four books. 4to.[682:D]                   1589         | *

  FLETCHER, ROBERT. _An Epitaph_ or briefe
  Lamentation for the late Queene. 4to.       1603

  FRAUNCE, ABRAHAM. _The Lamentations of
  Amintas_ for the death of Phillis:
  paraphrastically translated out of Latine
  into English hexameters. 4to.               1588         | *

    "_The Arcadian Rhetoricke._" Verse and
    Prose. 8vo.                               1588         | *

    _The Countess of Pembroke's Emanuel._
    Conteining the nativity, passion, burial,
    and resurrection of Christ: togeather
    with certaine psalmes of David. 4to.      1591         | *

    _The Countesse of Pembroke's Ivychurch._
    Conteining the affectionate life, and
    unfortunate death of Phillis and Amyntas.
    4to.[683:A]                               1591         | *

    _The Third Part of_ the Countesse of
    Pembrokes Ivychurch: entitled: Amintas
    Dale. 4to.                                1592         | *

    _Heliodorus's Ethiopics._ 8vo.[683:B]     1591         | *

  FREEMAN, THOMAS. _Rub and a Great Cast_: and
  Runne, and a Great Cast. The second bowle.
  In 200 Epigrams. 4to.[683:C]                1614         |

  FULWELL, ULPIAN. _The Flower of Fame._
  Containing the bright Renowne, and most
  fortunate raigne of King Henry the viij.
  4to.                                        1575         | * *

  GALE, DUNSTAN. _Pyramus and Thisbe._[683:D] 1597       * |

  GAMAGE, WILLIAM. _Linsi-Woolsie_: or Two
  Centuries of Epigrammes. 12mo.[684:A]       1613         | * * * * *

  GARTER, BARNARD. _The Tragicall History of
  two English Lovers._ 8vo.                   1565

  GIFFORD, HUMPHREY. _A Posie of Gilloflowers_,
  eche differing from other in colour and
  odour, yet all sweete. 4to.                 1580       * |

  GOLDING, ARTHUR. _The XV. Bookes of P.
  Ovidius Naso_, entytuled Metamorphosis, a
  worke very pleasaunt and delectable. 4to.   1567       * |

  GOOGE, BARNABY. _The Zodiake of Life_,
  written by the godly and learned poet
  Marcellus Pallingenius Stellatus, wherein
  are conteyned twelve bookes. Newly
  translated into English Verse. 4to.         1565         |

    _The Popish Kingdome_, or reigne of
    Antichrist. Written in Latine verse
    by Thomas Naogeorgus, and Englyshed by
    Barnaby Googe. 4to.[684:B]                1570         |

    _The overthrow of the Gowte_: written in
    Latin verse, by Chr. Balista, translated
    by B. G. 8vo.[684:C]                      1577         |

  GORDON, PATRICK. _The Famous History of the
  Valiant Bruce_, in heroic verse. 4to.       1615       * |

  GORGES, SIR ARTHUR. _The Olympian
  Catastrophe_, dedicated to the memory of
  the most heroicall Lord Henry, late
  illustrious Prince of Wales, &c. By Sir
  Arthur Gorges, Knight.[685:A]               1612

    _Lucan's Pharsalia_: containing the Civill
    Warres betweene Cæsar and Pompey. Written
    in Latine Heroicall Verse by M. Annæus
    Lucanus. Translated into English verse by
    Sir Arthur Gorges, Knight.[685:B]         1614       * |

  GOSSON, STEPHEN. _Speculum Humanum._ In
  stanzas of eleven lines.[685:C]             1580         |

  GRANGE, JOHN. _His Garden_: pleasant to
  the eare and delightful to the reader, if
  he abuse not the scent of the floures.
  4to.[685:D]                                 1577         | *

  GREENE, THOMAS. _A Poets Vision_ and a
  Prince's Glorie. 4to.                       1603

  GREEPE, THOMAS. _The true and perfect Newes_
  of the woorthy and valiaunt exploytes,
  performed and doone by that valiant knight
  Syr Frauncis Drake. 4to.[686:A]             1587         | *

  GREVILE, SIR FULKE. Poems, viz.

    _Cælica_, a collection of 109 songs.                   |

    _A Treatise of Human Learning_, in 150
    stanzas.      |

    _Upon Fame and Honour_, in 86 stanzas.                 |

    _A Treatise of Wars_, in 68 stanzas.                   |

    _Remains_, consisting of political and
    philosophical poems.                                   |

    _Poems in England's Helicon._[686:B]      1600         |

  GRIFFIN, B. "_Fidessa, more chaste than
  kinde._" A collection of amatory sonnets.
  12mo.                                       1596

  GRIFFITH, WILLIAM. The Epitaph of the
  worthie Knight Sir Henry Sidney, Lord
  President of Wales. Small 8vo.              1591         | *

  GROVE, MATTHEW. _The most famous and
  tragical historie_ of Pelops and
  Hippodamia. Whereunto are adjoyned sundrie
  pleasant devises, epigrams, songes, and
  sonnettes. 8vo.                             1587

  GRYMESTON, ELIZABETH. _Miscellanea_—
  Meditations—Memoratives.[686:C]            1604         | *

  HAKE, EDWARD. _A Commemoration_ of the most
  prosperous and peaceable raigne of our
  gratious and deere soveraigne lady
  Elizabeth. 8vo.                             1575         |

    _A Touchstone_ for the time present, &c.
    12mo.                                     1574         | *

    _Of Gold's Kingdom_ and this unhelping
    age, described in sundry poems. 4to.      1604

  HALL, ARTHUR. "_Ten Books of Homer's
  Iliades._" Translated from the French of
  Hugues Salel. 4to.[687:A]                   1581         | * *

  HALL, JOHN. _The Courte of Vertue_,
  contayning many holy or spretuall songes,
  sonnettes, psalms, balletts, and shorte
  sentences, &c. 16 mo.                       1565

  HARBERT, SIR WILLIAM. _Sidney, or
  Baripenthes_, briefely shadowing out the
  rare and never-ending laudes of that most
  honorable and praise-worthy gent. Sir
  Philip Sidney, knight. 4to.                 1586

  HARBERT, WILLIAM. _A Prophesie of
  Cadwallader_, last King of the Britaines,
  &c. 4to.[687:B]                             1604         |

  HARVEY, GABRIEL. _Four Letters and Certaine
  Sonnets._[687:C]                            1592         | *

  HAWES, EDWARD. _Trayterous Percyes and
  Catesbyes Prosopopeia._ 4to.                1606

  HEATH, JOHN. _Two Centuries of Epigrammes._
  12mo.                                       1610         |

  HERBERT, MARY. _A Dialogue between two
  shepheards_, in praise of Astrea, by the
  Countesse of Pembroke.[687:D]               1602         |

  HEYWOOD, JASPER. _Various Poems and
  Devises._[687:E]                            1576         |

  HEYWOOD, THOMAS. _Troia Britanica_: or,
  Great Britaine's Troy. A Poem, devided into
  17 severall Cantons, &c.[688:A]             1609         |

  HIGGINS, JOHN. _The First Part of the
  Mirour of Magistrates_, contayning the
  falles of the first infortunate Princes of
  this Lande: from the comming of Brute to
  the incarnation of our Saviour, &c.
  4to.[688:B]                                 1575         |

  HOLLAND, ROBERT. _The Holie Historie_ of our
  Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ's nativitie,
  life, actes, miracles, doctrine, death,
  passion, resurrection and ascension: gathered
  into English meeter, &c. 8vo.[688:C]        1594         | *

  HOWELL, THOMAS. _The Arbor of Amitie_;
  wherein is comprised pleasant poems and
  pretie poesies. 12mo.[688:D]                1568         | *

    _Thomas Howell's Devises_ for his owne
    exercise and his friend's pleasure. 4to.  1581

  HUBBARD, WILLIAM. _The Tragicall and
  Lamentable Historie_ of two faythfull mates,
  Ceyx kynge of Thrachyne, and Alcione his
  Wife.                                       1569

  HUDSON, THOMAS. _The Historie of Judith_ in
  forme of a Poeme. Translated from Du Bartas.
  8vo.                                        1584         | *

  HUME, ALEXANDER. _Hymnes, or Sacred Songes_,
  wherein the right Use of Poesie may be
  espied. Edin. 4to.                          1599

  HUNNIS, WILLIAM. _A Hyve full of Hunnye_,
  contayning the firste booke of Moses called
  Genesis. 4to.                               1578         | * *

    _A Handfull of Honisuckles._              1578         | *

    _Seven Sobs of a Sorrowfull Soule for
    Sinne_, &c. &c. 24to.                     1585         | *

  JACKSON, RICHARD. _The Battle of Floddon_
  in nine fits.[689:A]                        1564         |

  JENEY, THOMAS. _A Discours of the present
  troobles in Fraunce_, and miseries of this
  time, compyled by Peter Ronsard, gentilman
  of Vandome;—translated by Thomas Jeney,
  gentilman. 4to.                             1568

  JENYNGES, EDWARD. _The Notable Hystory of
  Two Faithfull Lovers_, named Alfagus and
  Archelaus. Whearin is declared the true
  figure of amytie and freyndship. 4to.       1574

  JOHNSON, RICHARD. _The Nine Worthies of
  London._ 4to.                               1592         | *

    _Anglorum Lachrymæ_, in a sad passion,
    complayning the death of our late Queene
    Elizabeth. 4to.                           1603         | *

  KELLY, EDMUND. _Poems_ on Chemistry, and
  on the Philosophers Stone.[689:B]           1591         | * *

  KEMPE, WILLIAM. _A Dutifull Invective_
  against the moste haynous treasons of
  Ballard and Babington, &c. 4to.             1587         | *

  KENDALL, TIMOTHY. "_Flowers of Epigrammes_,
  out of sundrie the most singular authors,
  as well auncient as late writers." To which,
  as a second part, are added _Trifles_, by
  Timothie Kendal, devised and written (for
  the moste part) at sundrie tymes in his yong
  and tender age. 16mo.[690:A]                1577         |

  KNELL, THOMAS. _An Epitaph_ on the life and
  death of D. Boner, sometime unworthy Bishop
  of London, &c. 8vo.                         1569

    _Answere_ to the most heretical and
    trayterous papistical bil, cast in the
    streets of Northampton, &c.               1570

  KYFFIN, MAURICE. _The Blessednes of
  Brytaine_, or a celebration of the Queene's
  holyday, &c. 4to.                           1587         | *

  LEIGHTON, SIR WILLIAM. _The Teares or
  Lamentations_ of a Sorrowfull Soule. 4to.   1613         | *

  LEVER, CHRISTOPHER. _Queene Elizabeth's
  Teares_; or Her resolute bearing the
  Christian Crosse, &c. 4to.                  1607         | *

  LINCHE, RICHARD. _The Fountaine of Ancient
  Fiction._ Wherein is lively depictured the
  Images and Statues of the Gods of the
  Ancients, &c. Done out of Italian into
  English. Verse and Prose. 4to.[691:A]       1599       * |

  LISLE, WILLIAM. _Babilon_, a part of the
  seconde weeke of Guillaume de Saluste
  Seigneur du Bartas, with the Commentarie,
  and marginall notes of S. G. S.             1596         | * *

    _The Colonyes of Bartas_, with the
    commentarye of S. G. S.[691:B]            1597         | * *

  LLOYD, LODOWICK. _The Pilgrimage of
  Queenes._[691:C]                            1573         | *

    _Hilaria_: or the triumphant feast for the
    fift of August.                           1607         | *

  LOK, HENRY. _The Booke of Ecclesiastes_;
  and Sundry Christian Passions, contayned in
  two hundred Sonnets. 4to.[692:A]            1597         | * * *

  LOVELL, THOMAS. _A Dialogue between Custome
  and Veritie_, concerning the use and abuse
  of dauncing and minstrelsie. 8vo.           1581

  MARBECK, JOHN. _The Holie Historie of King
  David._ 4to.                                1579

  MARKHAM, GERVASE. _The Poem of Poems_, or
  Sion's Muse, contayning the divine song of
  king Saloman, devided into eight eclogues.
  8vo.                                        1595         |

    _The Most Honorable Tragedy_ of Sir
    Richard Grenvill knight; a heroick poem.
    8vo.                                      1595         |

    "_Devoreux._ Vertues Tears for the losse
    of the most Christian King Henry, third
    of that name, king of Fraunce; and the
    untimely death of the most noble and
    heroicall gentleman, Walter Devoreux."
    From the French of Madam Geneuuesne
    Petau Maulette. 4to.                      1597       * |

    _The Tears of the Beloved_, or the
    Lamentation of St. John, containing the
    death and passion of Christ. 4to.         1600         |

    _Marie Magdalens Lamentations_ for the
    losse of her Master Jesus. 4to.[692:B]    1601         |

    _Ariosto's Satyres._ 4to.[692:C]          1608

    _The Famous Whore, or Noble Curtizan_,
    conteining the lamentable complaint of
    Paulina, the famous Roman curtezan,
    sometimes Mrs. unto the great cardinall
    Hypolito, of Est. 4to.                    1609         |

  MAXWELL, JAMES. _The Laudable Life, and
  Deplorable Death_, of our late peerlesse
  Prince Henry, &c. 4to.                      1612         | *

  MIDDLETON, CHRISTOPHER. _The Historie of
  Heaven_, containing the poetical fictions
  of all the starres in the firmament. 4to.   1596

    _The Legend of Humphrey Duke of
    Gloucester_, 4to.                         1600

  MIDDLETON, THOMAS. _The Wisdome of Solomon_
  paraphrased, 4to.                           1597

  MONTGOMERY, ALEXANDER. _The Cherrie and
  the Slae_, Edin. 4to.[693:A]                1595     * * |

  MUNCASTER, RICHARD. _Nœnia Consolans_, or
  a comforting complaint. Latin and English.
  4to.                                        1603         | *

  MUNDAY, ANTHONY. _The Mirrour of
  Mutabilitie._ Selected out of the sacred
  Scriptures. 4to.                            1579         | *

    _The Pain of Pleasure._ 4to.              1580         | *

    _The Fountayne of Fame._ 4to.             1580         | *

    _The Sweet Sobbes and Amorous Complaints_
    of Sheppardes and Nymphes.                1583         | *

    _Munday's Strangest Adventure_ that ever
    happened. 4to.                            1601         | *

  MURRAY, DAVID. "_The Tragicall Death of
  Sophonisba_;" in seven line stanzas, to
  which is added _Cœlia_: containing certaine
  Sonets. 12mo.[694:A]                        1611       * |

  NEWTON, THOMAS. _Atropoion Delion_: or the
  Death of Delia, with the teares of her
  funerall. 4to.                              1603         |

    _A Pleasant New History_: or, a fragrant
    posie made of three flowers, rosa,
    rosalynd, and rosemary.[694:B]            1604         |

  NICHOLSON, SAMUEL. _Acolastus_, his after
  witte. 4to.                                 1600

  NIXON, ANTHONY. _The Christian Navy_,
  wherein is playnely described the perfect
  course to sayle to the haven of happiness.
  4to.                                        1602

  NORDEN, JOHN. _The Storehouse of Varieties_,
  an elegiacall poeme. 4to.                   1601         |

    _A Pensive Soules Delight._ 4to.          1603

    _The Labyrinth of Mans Life_, or Vertues
    Delyght, and Envie's Opposite.[694:C]
    4to.                                      1614         | *

  OVERBURY, SIR THOMAS. A Wife: now the
  Widdow of Sir Thomas Overburye: being a
  most exquisite and singular poem of the
  Choise of a Wife. 4to. 4th edition.[694:D]  1614       * |

  PARKES, WILLIAM. _The Curtaine-Drawer of
  the World_: or, the Chamberlaine of that
  great Inne of Iniquity, &c. 4to.[695:A]     1612       * |

  PARROT, HENRY. _The Mouse Trap._
  Consisting of 100 Epigrams. 4to.            1606         |

    _The More the Merrier_: containing
    three-score and odde headlesse epigrams,
    &c. 4to.                                  1608         |

    "_Epigrams._" Containing 160. 4to.        1608         |

    _Laquei Ridiculosi_: or Springes for
    Woodcoks. In 2 books. 12mo.[695:B]        1613         |

  PARTRIDGE, JOHN. _The Most Famouse and
  Worthie Historie_ of the worthy Lady
  Pandavola, &c. 8vo.                         1566

    _The Worthye Historie_ of the most noble
    and valiaunt knight Plasidas, &c. 8vo.    1566

    _The Notable Historie_ of two famous
    princes Astianax and Polixona. 8vo.       1566

  PAYNE, CHRISTOPHER. _Christenmas-Carrolles_ 1569

  PEACHAM, HENRY. _Minerva Britanna_, or a
  Garden of Heroical Devises. 4to.            1612       * |

  PEELE, GEORGE. _A Farewell_, entituled to
  the famous and fortunate generalls of our
  English forces: Sir John Norris and Syr
  Francis Drake, knights, &c. Whereunto is
  annexed a tale of Troy. 4to.                1589         | *

    _Polyhymnia_ describing the honourable
    triumphs at tylt, before her Majestie,
    &c. 4to.                                  1590         | *

    _The Honour of the Garter_: displaced
    in a poeme gratulatorie, &c. 4to.[696:A]  1593         | *

  PEEND, THOMAS DE LA. _The Pleasant Fable of
  Hermaphroditus and Salmacis._ 8vo.          1565         | *

    _The Historie of John Lord Mandozze._
    From the Spanish. 12mo.[696:B]            1565         | *

  PERCY, WILLIAM. _Sonnets to the fairest
  Cælia._ 4to.                                1594         | * *

  PETOWE, HENRY. The Second Part of the Loves
  of Hero and Leander, &c. 4to.               1598         | *

    _Philochasander and Elanira_ the faire
    Lady of Britaine, &c. 4to.[696:C]         1599         | *

    _Elizabetha quasi vivans_, Elizas
    funerall, &c. 4to.                        1603

    _The Whipping of Runawaies._              1603

  PETT, PETER. _Times Journey_ to seek his
  Daughter Truth, and Truths letter to Fame,
  of England's excellencie. 4to.              1599

  PHILLIP, JOHN. _A Rare and Strange
  Historicall Novell_ of Cleomenes and
  Sophonisba, surnamed Juliet; very pleasant
  to reade. 8vo.                              1577

    _A Commemoration_ of the Right Noble and
    Vertuous Ladye Margrit Duglases Good
    Grace, Countes of Lennox, &c.[696:D]      1578         | *

  PHISTON, WILLIAM. _A Lamentacion of
  Englande_, for the Right Reverent Father
  in God, John Ivele, Doctor of Divinitie:
  and Bisshop of Sarisburie. 8vo.[697:A]      1571         | *

    _The Welspring of Wittie Conceights_,
    4to.[697:B]                               1584         | *

  PLAT, HUGH. _The Floures of Philosophie_,
  with the Pleasures of Poetrie annexed to
  them, &c. 8vo.[697:C]                       1572         | *

  POWELL, THOMAS. _The Passionate Poet_, with
  a description of the Thracian Ismarus, in
  verse. 4to.                                 1601

  PRESTON, THOMAS. _A Geliflower_ or swete
  marygolde, wherein the frutes of teranny
  you may beholde.                            1569         | *

  PRICKET, ROBERT. _A Souldier's Wish_ unto
  his Sovereign Lord, King James. 4to.        1603         | *

  PROCTOR, THOMAS. _Pretie Pamphlets._
  4to.[697:D]                                 1578       * |

  PUTTENHAM, GEORGE. _Partheniades._[697:E]   1579         | *

  RAMSEY, LAURENCE. _Ramsie's Farewell_ to his
  late lord and master therle of Leicester    1588

  RANKINS, WILLIAM. _Seven Satyres_, &c.      1596

  RAYNOLDS, JOHN. _Dolarny's Primerose_; or
  the first part of the Passionate Hermit,
  &c. Written by a Practitioner in Poesie and
  a stranger amongst Poets. 4to.[698:A]       1606       * |

  RICE, RICHARD. _An Invective_ against vices
  taken for vertue: gathered out of the
  Scriptures, &c. 8vo.                        1581

  ROBINSON, RICHARD. _The Rewarde of
  Wickednesse_, discoursing the sundrye
  monstrous abuses of wicked and ungodly
  Worldelings, &c. 4to.                       1574         | * *

    _A Dyall of Dayly Contemplacion_, or
    divine Exercise of the Mind, &c. Verse
    and Prose.[698:B]                         1578         | * *

  ROLLAND, JOHN. _Ane Treatise callit the
  Court of Venus_, devidit into four Buikes.
  Edin. 4to.                                  1575

    _The Sevin Seages_, translatit out of
    Prois into Scottis meiter. Edin.
    4to.[698:C]                               1578         |

  ROSSE, J. _The Author's Teares_ upon the
  death of his honorable freende Sir William
  Sackvile knight of the ordre de la Colade
  in Fraunce: sonne to the right ho. the
  lorde Buckhurst Anno Dni.[699:A]            1592       * |

  ROUS, FRANCIS. _Thule, or Vertues Historie._
  In two books. The first booke 4to.          1598

  ROWLAND, SAMUEL. 1. _The Betraying of
  Christ_, &c. 4to.                           1598

     2. _The Famous History of_ Guy Earle of
     Warwicke. 4to.

     3. _The Letting of Humours Blood_ in the
     head-vaine: &c. 4to.[699:B]              1600

     4. _Looke to it for ile stabbe ye._
     4to.                                     1604

     5. _Democritus._                         1607

     6. _Humors Looking-Glasse._ 8vo.         1608

     7. _Hell Broke Loose_, &c. 4to.

     8. _Doctor Merrieman_, or nothing but
     mirth. 4to.                              1609

     9. _Martin Markal_, beadle of Bridewell.
     4to.                                     1610

    10. _The Knave of Clubs_, or 'tis merrie
    when Knaves meet. 4to.                    1611

    11. _The Knave of Hearts._ 4to.[699:C]

    12. _More Knaves Yet_; the Knaves of
    Spades and Diamonds. 4to.[699:D]          1613

    13. _The Melancholie Knight._ 4to.[699:E] 1615

    14. _Tis Merrie when Gossips Meet_; newly
    enlarged, with divers songs. 4to.[700:A]             * |

  SABIE, FRANCIS. _Pan his Pipe_: conteyning
  three pastorall Eglogues in Englyshe
  hexameter; with other delightfull verses.
  4to.                                        1595       * |

    _The Fissher-mans Tale_: of the famous
    Actes, Life and love of Cassander a
    Grecian Knight. 4to.                      1595         |

    _Floras Fortune._ The second part and
    finishing of the Fisherman's Tale,
    &c.[700:B]                                1595         |

  SAKER, AUG. _The Labirinth of Liberty._     1579

  SAMPSON, THOMAS. _Fortune's Fashion_,
  Pourtrayed in the troubles of the Ladie
  Elizabeth Gray, wife to Edward the Fourth.
  4to.                                        1613         | *

  SANDFORD, JAMES. _Certayne Poems_ dedicated
  to the queenes moste excellent majestie.
  8vo.[700:C]                                 1576

  SCOLOKER, ANTHONY. _Daiphantus_, or the
  Passions of Love, 4to.                      1604

  SCOT, GREGORY. _A Briefe Treatise_ agaynst
  certaine errors of the Romish Church. 12mo. 1570

  SCOTT, THOMAS. _Four Paradoxes_: of Arte,
  of Lawe, of Warre, of Service. Small
  8vo.[700:D]                                 1602     * * |

  SCOTT, THOMAS. _Phylomythie_, or
  Philomythologie: wherein Outlandish Birds,
  Beasts, and Fishes, are taught to speake
  true English plainely.[701:A]               1616         | *

  SMITH, JUD. _A Misticall Devise_ of the
  spirituall and godly love between Christ the
  spouse, and the Church or congregation.
  Firste made by the wise prince Salomon, and
  now newly set forth in Verse, &c. Small
  8vo.                                        1575         | * *

  SMITH, WILLIAM. _Chloris_, or the complaint
  of the passionate despised shepheard. 4to.  1596

  SOOTHERN, JOHN. _Pandora_, the Musique of
  the Beautie of his Mistresse Diana.
  4to.[701:B]                                 1584         | * * * * *

  STANYHURST, RICHARD. _The First Four Bookes
  of Virgil's Æneis_, translated into English
  heroicall verse by Richard Stanyhurst: with
  other poeticall devises thereto annexed.
  4to.[701:C]                                 1583         | * * * * * *

  STORER, THOMAS. _The Life and Death of
  Thomas Wolsey_, cardinall, divided into
  three parts: his aspiring, triumph, and
  death. 4to.[702:A]                          1599       * |

  STUBBS, PHILIP. _A View of Vanitie_, and
  Allarum to England, or retrait from sinne.
  8vo.                                        1582         | *

  STEWART, JAMES THE FIRST, KING OF ENGLAND.
  _The Essayes of a Prentise_ in the Divine
  Art of Poesie. 4to. Edin.[702:B]            1584         | *

    _His Majesties Poeticall Exercises_ at
    Vacant Houres. 4to. Edin.[702:C]          1591         | *

  TARLTON, RICHARD. _Toyes_: in Verse.        1576

    _Tragicall Treatises_, conteyninge sundrie
    discourses and pretie conceipts, bothe in
    prose and verse.                          1577

    _Tarlton's Repentance_, or his farewell to
    his frendes in his sickness, a little
    before his deathe.[702:D]                 1589

  TAYLOR, JOHN. _Heaven's Blessing and Earth's
  Joy_, &c. on the marriage of Frederick Count
  Palatine, and the Princess Elizabeth;
  including Epithalamia, &c.                  1613         | * *

    _The Nipping or Snipping of Abuses_, or
    the Wool-gathering of Wit.[703:A]         1614         | * *

  TOFTE, ROBERTE. _Two Tales_ translated out
  of Ariosto, &c. With certaine other Italian
  stanzas and proverbes. 4to.                 1597         | *

    _Laura._ The toyes of a traveller; or the
    feast of fancie, divided into 3 parts.
    4to.                                      1597

    _Orlando Inamorato._ The three first
    bookes, &c. Done into English heroicall
    verse. 4to.                               1598

    _Alba_, the month's minde of a melancholy
    lover. 8vo.                               1598

    _Honours Academy_, or the famous pastorall
    of the faire shepherdesse Julietta. Verse
    and prose. Folio.                         1610         |

    _The Fruits of Jealousie._ Contayning the
    disastrous Chance of two English Lovers,
    overthrowne through meere Conceit of
    Jealousie. 4to.[703:B]                    1615         | * *

  TREEGO, WILLIAM. _A Daintie Nosegay_ of
  divers smelles, containing many pretie
  ditties to diverse effects.                 1577

  TUDOR, ELIZABETH, QUEEN OF ENGLAND. _Two
  Little Anthemes_, or things in meeter of hir
  majestie.[704:A]                            1578         | *

  TURNER, RICHARD. _Nosce Te_
  (_Humors._)[704:B]                          1607

  TWYNE, THOMAS. _The whole _xij_ Bookes of
  the Œneidos of Virgill_. Whereof the first
  ix. and part of the tenth, were converted
  into English meeter by Thomas Phaër esquier,
  and the residue supplied, and the whole
  worke together newly set forth, by Thomas
  Twyne gentleman. 4to.                       1573         | *

  TYE, CHRISTOPHER. _A Notable Historye_ of
  Nastagio and Traversari, no less pitiefull
  than pleasaunt, translated out of Italian
  into English. 12mo.                         1569

  UNDERDOWNE, THOMAS. _Ovid his Invective_
  against Ibis. 8vo.                          1569       * |

    _The Excellent Historye_ of Theseus and
    Ariadne, &c. Written in English Meeter.
    8vo.                                      1566       * |

  VALLANS, WILLIAM. _A Tale of Two Swannes_,
  &c. 4to.                                    1590

  VENNARD, RICHARD. "_The Miracle of Nature_,"
  and other poems. 4to.[705:A]                1601

  VERSTEGAN, RICHARD. _Odes_: in imitation of
  the Seaven Penitential Psalms. With sundry
  other poemes and Ditties, tending to
  devotion and pietie. 8vo.                   1601         | *

  WARREN, WILLIAM. _A Pleasant New Fancie_, of
  a fondling's device, intituled and cald, The
  nurcerie of names, &c. 4to.                 1581

  WEBBE, WILLIAM. _The First and Second
  Eclogues of Virgil._ In English hexameters,
  and printed in his "Discourse of English
  Poetrie."                                   1586         | *

  WEBSTER, WILLIAM. _The Moste Pleasant and
  Delightful Historie_ of Curan, a prince of
  Danske, and the fayre princesse Argentill,
  &c. 4to.[705:B]                                          | *

  WEDDERBURN. _Ane Compendious Booke of Godly
  and Spirituall Songs_, collectit out of
  sundrie partes of the Scripture, with sundrie
  of other Ballates changed out of Prophane
  Sanges, for avoyding of Sinne and Harlotrie.
  12mo. Edin.[705:C]                          1597         | *

  WEEVER, JOHN. _A Little Book of Epigrams._
  8vo.                                        1599

    _The Mirror of Martyrs_, or the life and
    death of that thrice valiant capitaine and
    most godly martyre, Sir John Oldcastle
    knight, lord Cobham. 18mo.                1601

  WENMAN, THOMAS, _The Legend of Mary, Queen
  of Scots_, with other Poems.[706:A]         1601         |

  WHARTON, JOHN. _Wharton's Dreame_:
  conteyninge an invective agaynst certaine
  abhominable caterpillars, &c. 4to.          1578

  WHETSTONE, GEORGE. _The Rocke of Regard_:
  divided into foure parts. The first, the
  Castle of Delight, &c. The second, the
  Garden of Unthriftinesse, &c. The thirde,
  the Arbour of Virtue, &c.; and the fourth,
  the Orchard of Repentance, 4to.[706:B]      1576         | *

    _A Report of the Vertues_ of the right
    valiant and worthy knight S. Frauncis,
    Lord Russell, 4to.[706:C]                 1585         | *

  WHITNEY, GEOFFREY. _A Choice of Emblemes_,
  and other devises. 4to.                     1586         | *

    _Fables or Epigrams._ 4to.[706:D]         1586

  WILKINSON, EDWARD. _Isahac's Inheritance_;
  dew to ovr high and mightie Prince, James
  the sixt of Scotland, &c. 4to.              1603         | *

  WILLET, ANDREW. _Sacrorum Emblematum_
  centura una, in Latin and English verse.
  4to.[706:E]

  WILLYMAT, WILLIAM. _A Princes Looking
  Glasse_, or a Princes Direction, &c. 4to.   1603         | *

  WYRLEY, WILLIAM. _Lord Chandos._ The
  glorious life and honourable death of Sir
  John Chandos, &c. 4to.                      1592         | * *

    _Capitall de Buz._ The honourable life and
    languishing death of Sir John de Gralhy
    Capitall de Buz. 4to.[707:A]              1592         | * *

  YATES, JAMES. _The Castell of Courtesie_,
  whereunto is adjoyned The Holde of
  Humilitie; with the Chariot of Chastitie
  thereunto annexed. Also a Dialogue betweene
  Age and Youth; and other matters herein
  conteined. 4to.[707:B]                      1582         | *

  YONG, BARTHOLOMEW. _Diana of George of
  Montemayer._ Translated out of Spanish into
  English. Prose and Verse. Folio.[707:C]     1598       * |

  ZOUCHE, RICHARD. _The Dove_, or Passages of
  Cosmography, by Richard Zouche, Civilian of
  New College, in Oxford.[707:D]              1613         |

Several articles in this table, it will be observed, are without any
mark designating their merit in the scale, a defalcation which has
occurred from our not having been able to procure either the works
themselves, or even specimens of them, a circumstance not exciting
wonder, if we consider the extreme rarity of the greater part of the
pieces which form the catalogue.

Another result which may immediately strike the reader will be, that
of _one hundred and ninety-three_ poets included in this list, so few
should have risen even one degree above mediocrity, and so many should
have fallen below it; but it should be recollected that the nobler
bards, amounting to _forty_, had been previously enumerated, and that
poetic excellence is, at all times, of very rare attainment.

The most legitimate subject of admiration, indeed, arising from
a review of these details, is the extraordinary fecundity of the
Shakspearean era; that in the course of fifty-two years, and
independent of any consideration of dramatic effort, or of the various
contributors to collections of poetry, nearly _two hundred and
thirty-three_ bards in the miscellaneous department should have been
produced: and these, not the writers of scattered or insulated verses,
but the publishers of their own collected works.

A still more heightened conception of the fertility of the period will
accrue from a survey of its numerous POETICAL MISCELLANIES, a species
of publication which constitutes a remarkable feature of the age.

Before the reign of Elizabeth, only one production of the kind had
made its appearance, namely, the Collection, called by Tottel "The
Poems of Uncertaine Auctors," and appended to his edition of Surrey and
Wyat in 1557. But, during the first year after the accession of our
maiden queen, appeared the MIRROUR for MAGISTRATES, a quarto volume
containing nineteen legends or characters drawn from English history.
The plan originated with Sackville, who, not finding leisure to write
more than an Induction and the Legend of Henry Duke of Buckingham,
transferred the completion of the work to _Richard Baldwyne_ and
_George Ferrers_, who were further assisted in its prosecution by
_Churchyard_, _Phayer_, _Skelton_, _Dolman_, _Seagers_, and _Cavyl_. A
second edition, of what may be termed Baldwyne's Mirrour, was printed
in 1563, with the addition of eight legends; a third issued from the
press in 1571, and a fourth in 1575. With the exception of Sackville's
two pieces, on which an eulogium has already been given, mediocrity
may be said to characterise the productions of Baldwyne and his
associates.

In the same year which produced the fourth edition of Baldwyne's
Collection, a new series of Legends was published in 4to. by _John
Higgins_, which, commencing at an earlier period than his predecessor's
work, he entitled "The firste Part of the Mirour for Magistrates."
This portion commences, after an Induction, with the legend of King
Albanact, the youngest son of Brutus, and terminates with that of Lord
Irenglas, "slayne about the yeere before Christ;" including seventeen
histories, the sole composition of Higgins. It was reprinted, with
little or no alteration, in 1578, and occasioned Baldwyne's prior
publication to be called "The Last Part."

The year 1578, however, not only produced this second impression
of Higgins's Mirrour, but witnessed a fifth and separate edition
of Baldwyne's labours, with the addition of two legends, and an
intermediate part written by _Thomas Blener-Hasset_, containing
_twelve_ stories, and entitled "The Seconde part of the Mirrour of
Magistrates, conteining the falles of the infortunate Princes of this
Lande: from the Conquest of Cæsar unto the commyng of Duke William the
Conquerer," 4to.

A much more complete edition of this very curious collection of of
poetic biography at length appeared in 1587, under the care of Higgins,
who, blending Baldwyne's pieces with his own former publications, and
adding greatly to both parts, produced a quarto volume consisting of
seventy-three legends.

Enlarged and improved as this impression must necessarily be deemed,
it was still further augmented, and, in fact, digested anew by
Richard Niccols, who, in 1610, published his copy of the work with
the following title: "_A Mirrour for Magistrates_, being a true
Chronicle-history of the untimely falles of such unfortunate princes
and men of note as have happened since the first entrance of Brute
into this Iland untill this our age. Newly enlarged with a last part
called a _Winter Night's Vision_, being an addition of such Tragedies
especially famous as are exempted, in the former Historie, with a poem
annexed called _England's Eliza_."

Niccols's edition forms a thick quarto of eight hundred and
seventy-five pages, including ninety legends, and embracing, with
the exception of four pieces, all the parts previously published, in
chronological order, and super-adding an induction and ten poems of his
own composition. He has taken the liberty, however, of modernising and
abbreviating some of the earliest stories, with the view of rendering
the series more acceptable to his contemporaries.

Of the _Mirror for Magistrates_, the poetical merit must, of course,
be various and discrepant. Sackville stands pre-eminent and apart,
the author, indeed, of a poem, which, for strength and distinctness
of imagery, is almost unrivalled. Next, but with many a length
between, Niccols claims our attention for sweetness of versification,
perspicuity of diction, and occasional flights of fancy. In his legend
of Richard the Third, he is evidently indebted to Shakspeare, and his
poem assumes, on that account, a higher imaginative tone. The other
writers of this bulky collection are as much inferior to Niccols, as he
is to Sackville. The best production of Higgins is his legend of Queen
Cordelia; and from Baldwyne and Ferrers, a few stanzas, animated by the
breath of poetry, might be quoted; but Blener-Hasset seldom, if ever,
reaches mediocrity.

The popularity of this work, and its influence on our national poetry
throughout the reigns of Elizabeth and James the First, were very
considerable. Even in its earliest and most unfinished state it had
attracted the admiration of Sir Philip Sidney, who says, "I account the
Mirrour of Magistrates, meetely furnished of beautiful partes[710:A];"
and in its last and most perfect form, it seems to have been considered
as a book necessary to the accomplished gentleman; for in Chapman's
Comedy, entitled _May-Day_, and printed in 1611, a character versed
in the elegant literature of the time, is described as "One that
has read Marcus Aurelius, Gesta Romanorum, and the _Mirrour of
Magistrates_."[711:A]

That this Collection contributed to accelerate the progress of
dramatic poetry, and to familiarise the events of our history, there
can be little doubt, if we reflect that, previous to its appearance,
historical plays were scarcely known; that its pages present us with
innumerable specimens of dramatic speeches, incidents, and characters,
and that it has thrown into a metrical form the most interesting
passages of the ancient chroniclers, a medium through which the best
parts of those massive compilations soon descended to the lower orders
of society.

The next work which calls for our attention is THE PARADYSE OF DAYNTY
DEVISES, originally published in 1576 with the following title:—"The
Paradyse of daynty devises, aptly furnished with sundry pithie and
learned inventions: devised and written for the most part by M.
Edwards, sometimes of her Majesties Chappel: the rest by sundry learned
Gentlemen, both of honor, and worshippe: viz.

  S. Barnarde.                      Jasper Heywood.
  E. O.                             F. K.
  L. Vaux.                          M. Bewe.
  D. S.                             R. Hill.
              M. Yloop, with others.

Imprinted at London, by Henry Disle, dwellyng in Paules Church-yard,
at the South west doore of Saint Paules Church, and are there to be
solde," 4to.

Though, until the late re-print by Sir Egerton Brydges, this miscellany
had become extremely rare[711:B], yet numerous editions of it were
called for during the first thirty years of its existence. In 1577,
and 1578, Disle again published it in quarto, and it is remarkable for
being the only book of his printing which has reached the present age.
The edition of 1578 differs, in some respects, from the preceding,
and from all, in including a poem by George Whetstone, no where else
discoverable.

A fourth edition, from the press of Disle, appeared in 1580, varying so
greatly from the earlier copies, that it omits eighteen poems contained
in the first impression, and substitutes eighteen others in their place.

In 1585, the public attention was fixed on a fifth edition by Edward
White, who also republished the work in 1596 and 1600 in 4to. The two
latter impressions were printed by Edward Allde for White, and exhibit
some variations from the copy of 1580, omitting four pieces in that
edition, and adding seven new ones. Beside these, there was an edition,
without date, printed by Allde for White, and constituting an _eighth_
impression.

That a Collection which ran through so many editions in so short a
period, must possess a considerable share of merit, will be a natural
inference; nor will the readers of the Reprint lately published be
disappointed in such an expectation. It is true that the _Paradise of
Daintie Devises_ contains no piece of such high poetic character as the
_Induction_ of Sackville; for its contributions are chiefly on subjects
of an ethic and didactic cast; but it displays a vast variety of short
compositions, on love, friendship, and adversity; on the consolations
of a contented mind, on the instability of human pleasures, and on
many of the minor morals and events of life. These are expressed, in
many instances, with simplicity and vigour, and often with a flow of
versification and perspicuity of diction, which, considering the age
of their production, is truly remarkable. If no splendour of imagery,
or sublimity of sentiment, arrest the attention, it cannot be denied
that several of these poems make their way to the heart, by attractions
resulting from a clear perception, that the writers wrote from their
own unadulterated feelings, from the instant pressure of what they
suffered or enjoyed.

Of the contributors to this Miscellany, which, in its most perfect
state, consists of one hundred and twenty-four poems, more than one
half was communicated by six individuals; by Lord Vaux fourteen pieces;
by Richard Edwardes fourteen; by William Hunnis twelve; by Francis
Kinwelmarsh ten; by Jasper Heywood eight; and by the Earl of Oxford
seven.

The compositions of Lord Vaux, are uniformly of a moral and pensive
cast, and breathe a spirit of religion and resignation often truly
touching, and sometimes bordering on the sublime. Of this description
more particularly are the poems entitled "Of the instabilitie of
youth;" "Of a contented mind;" and on "Beying asked the occasion of his
white head," from the last of which a few lines will afford a pleasing
specimen of the pathetic tone and unaffected style of this noble bard:—

    "These heeres of age are messingers,
     Whiche bidd me fast, repent and praie:
     Thei be of death the harbingers,
     That doeth prepare and dresse the waie,
     Wherefore I joye that you mai see,
     Upon my head such heeres to bee.

     Thei be the line that lead the length,
     How farre my race was for to ronne:
     Thei saie my yongth is fledde with strength,
     And how old age is well begonne.
     The whiche I feele, and you maie see,
     Upon my head such lines to bee."[713:A]

Of a character still higher for poetic power are the effusions of
Richard Edwards, who excels alike in descriptive, ethic, and pathetic
strains. Of the first, his two pieces called "May" and "I may not"
are, with the exception of the third stanza of the latter poem, very
striking instances; of the second, he has afforded us several proofs;
and of the last, his lines on the maxim of Terence, _Amantium iræ
amoris redintegratio est_, form one of the most lovely exemplifications
in the language. Of the opening stanza it is scarcely possible to
resist giving a transcription:—

    "In going to my naked bed, as one that would have slept,
     I heard a wife syng to her child, that long before had wept:
     She sighed sore and sang full sore, to bryng the babe to rest,
     That would not rest but cried still in suckyng at her brest:
     She was full wearie of her watche, and grieved with her child,
     She rocked it and rated it, untill on her it smilde:
     Then did she saie nowe have I founde the proverbe true to prove,
     The fallyng out of faithfull frends renewing is of love."[714:A]

"The happiness of the illustration," remarks Sir Egerton Brydges, "the
facility, elegance, and tenderness of the language, and the exquisite
turn of the whole, are above commendation; and show to what occasional
polish and refinement our literature even then had arrived. Yet has the
treasure which this gem adorned, lain buried and inaccessible, except
to a few curious collectors, for at least a century and an half."[714:B]

Edwards has a song of four stanzas "In commendation of Musick,"[714:C]
of which the first has been quoted by Shakspeare in _Romeo and
Juliet_[714:D], affording a proof, if any were wanted, that the
madrigals of Edwards were very popular in their day.

Of the poetry of _William Hunnis_ the more remarkable features are a
peculiar flow of versification, and a delicate turn upon the words,
which approximate his songs, in an extraordinary degree, to the
standard of the present age. By dividing his lines of sixteen syllables
into two, this similarity becomes more apparent; for instance,—

    "When first mine eyes did view and mark
     Thy beauty fair for to behold,
     And when mine eares gan first to hark
     The pleasant words that thou me told;
     I would as then I had been free
     From ears to hear and eyes to see.

     And when in mind I did consent
     To follow thus my fancy's will,
     And when my heart did first relent
     To taste such bait myself to spill,
     I would my heart had been as thine,
     Or else thy heart as soft as mine.[715:A]

           *       *       *       *       *

     O flatterer false, thou traitor born,
     What mischief more might thou devise,
     Than thy dear friend to have in scorn,
     And him to wound in sundry wise?
     Which still a friend pretends to be,
     And art not so by proof I see.
         Fie, fie, upon such treachery."[715:B]

From the ten contributions by Kinwelmarsh, three may be selected as
pleasing, both from their sentiment and melody, viz. "On learning;"
"All thinges are vain," which is a truly beautiful poem; and "The
complaint of a Sinner."[715:C] Neither the productions of Heywood, nor
of the Earl of Oxford, surmount mediocrity.

Of the remaining writers who assisted in forming this collection, _M.
Bew_ has written five pieces; _Arthur Bourcher_, one; _M. Candish_,
one; _Thos. Churchyard_, one; _G. Gashe_, one; _Richard Hill_, seven;
_Lodowick Lloyd_, one; _T. Marshall_, two; _Barnaby Rich_, one; _D.
Sands_, five; _M. Thorn_, two; _Yloop_, two, and there are five with
the signature of _My lucke is losse_. There are sixteen poems also with
initials only subjoined, and seven anonymous contributions. Most of
these consist of moral precepts versified, and, though little entitled
to the appellation of poetry, from any display either of imagery or
invention, are yet of high value as developing the progress both of
literary and intellectual cultivation.

The popularity of Edwards's Miscellany produced, two years afterward,
another collection of a similar kind, under the title of "A GORGIOUS
GALLERY OF GALLANT INVENTIONS. Garnished and decked with Divers Dayntie
Devises, right delicate and delightfull, to recreate eche modest minde
withall. First framed and fashioned in sundrie formes, by Divers Worthy
Workemen of late dayes: and now joyned together and builded up: By T.
P. Imprinted at London, for Richard Jones. 1578."

Of this work, "one copy only," relates Mr. Park, "is known to have
survived the depredation of time. This was purchased by Dr. Farmer,
with the choice poetical stores of Mr. Wynne, which had been formed
in the seventeenth century by Mr. Narcissus Luttrell. At Dr. Farmer's
book-sale this _unique_ was procured by Mr. Malone; from whose
communicative kindness a transcript was obtained, which furnished the
present reprint. One hiatus, occasioned by the loss of a leaf, occurs
at p. 102, which it will be hopeless to supply, unless some chance copy
should be lurking in the corner of a musty chest, a family-library, or
neglected lumber-closet; though, in consequence of the estimation in
which all antiquated rarities are now held, even such hiding-places
have become very assiduously explored."[716:A]

By the Initials T. P. we are to understand _Thomas Proctor_, the editor
of this "Gorgious Gallery," and who has been noticed in the preceding
table on account of his "Pretie Pamphlets," which commence at p. 125
of Mr. Park's Reprint. His verses following this title are numerous,
and in various metres, and indicate him to have been no mean observer
of life and manners. If he display little of the fancy of the poet, he
is not often deficient in moral weight of sentiment, and though not
remarkable for either the melody or correctness of his versification,
he may be considered as having passed the limits of mediocrity.

Of the other contributors our information is so scanty, that we
can only mention _Anthony Munday_ and _Owen Royden_, and this in
consequence of the first having prefixed a copy of verses "In
commendation of this Gallery," and the second a more elaborate poem,
"To the curious company of Sycophants." It is probable that they were
both coadjutors in the body of the work.

The "Gorgious Gallery of Gallant Inventions" consists of seventy-four
poems, and some, especially the "History of Pyramus and Thisbie," of
considerable length. Too many of them are written in drawling couplets
of fourteen syllables in a line, and with too flagrant a partiality
for the meretricious garb of alliteration.[717:A] There appears to be
also too little variety in the selection of topics, and some of the
pieces are reprinted from "Tottel's Miscellany" and the "Paradyse of
Dayntie Devises." It must be pronounced, indeed, inferior to these its
predecessors in the essential points of invention, harmony of metre,
and versatility of style, though it seems to have shared with them
no small portion of popular favour; for Nashe, in his life of Jacke
Wilton, 1594, alluding to the Gardens of Rome, says, that "to tell you
of their rare pleasures, their baths, their vineyards, their galleries,
were to write a second part of the _Gorgious Gallerie of Gallant
Devices_."[717:B]

In 1584 was published, in 16mo., "A HANDEFULL OF PLEASANT DELITES:
containing Sundrie new Sonets and delectable Histories in divers kindes
of meeter. Newly devised to the newest tunes, that are now in use to
be sung: everie sonet orderly pointed to his proper tune. With new
additions of certain songs, to verie late devised notes, not commonly
knowen, nor used heretofore. By Clement Robinson: and divers others. At
London, printed by Richard Jhones: dwelling at the signe of the Rose
and Crowne, neare Holburne Bridge."

Only one copy of the printed original of this Miscellany, which is in
the Marquis of Blandford's library, is supposed to be in existence.
The editor, Clement Robinson, if all the pieces unappropriated to
others, be of his composition, must be deemed worthy of high praise
for numerous productions of great lyric sweetness in point of
versification, and composed in a vein of much perspicuity with regard
to diction. His associates, as far as we have any authority from the
work itself, amount only to five; and these, with the exception of
_Leonard Gibson_, who claims only one piece, consist of names unknown
elsewhere in the annals of poetry. Two effusions are attributed
to _J. Tomson_; two to _Peter Picks_; one to _Thomas Richardson_,
and one to _George Mannington_. This last production, denominated
"A sorrowfull Sonet," if we make allowance for a commencement too
alliterative, possesses a large share of moral pathos, and unaffected
simplicity.[718:A]

Thirty-two poems occupy the pages of this pleasing little volume, among
which, at p. 23., is _A New Courtly Sonet of the Lady Greensleeves, to
the new tune of Greensleeves_, alluded to by Shakspeare in the _Merry
Wives of Windsor_, Act ii. Sc. 1., and which throws some curious light
on the female dress of the period.

In point of interest, vivacity, and metrical harmony, this compilation
has a decided superiority over the "Gorgious Gallery of Gallant
Inventions." It is, in a great measure, formed of ballads and songs,
adapted to well-known popular tunes, and, though its poets have
been arbitrarily confined in the structure of their verse by the
pre-composed music, yet many of their lyrics have a smoothness and
sweetness in the composition of their stanzas, which may even arrest
the attention of a modern ear.

To the publication of Clement Robinson succeeded, in 1593, "THE PHŒNIX
NEST. Built up with the most rare and refined workes of Noblemen,
worthy Knights, gallant Gentlemen, Masters of Arts, and brave Scholers.
Full of varietie, excellent invention, and singular delight. Never
before published. Set foorth by R. S. of the Inner Temple, Gentleman.
Imprinted at London, by John Jackson, 4to."

The opening of Mr. Park's "Advertisement" to his Reprint of this
Collection includes so much just, and elegantly expressed, criticism
on our elder poetry, and on Shakspeare, that we seize with pleasure
the opportunity of transferring it to our pages.

"Between the Gorgious Gallery of Gallant Inventions," he remarks,
"printed in 1578, and the present miscellany in 1593, an interval of
only fifteen years, there will be traced no inconsiderable advance
towards poetical elegance and sentimental refinement. Watson, Breton,
Peele, and Lodge, contributed very materially to the grace, and melody,
and strength, of our amatory, lyric, and satiric verse; while Spenser,
Daniel, and Drayton enlarged the sphere of the allegoric, and historic,
and descriptive Muse. But the magnitude of the works of the two latter
poets, owing to the subjects they unhappily selected, has conduced to
deaden that reputation which several of their minor effusions were
calculated to keep alive. The very labours which might otherwise have
extended their fame, have fatally contracted it. Their ponderous
productions are incorporated indeed with the late general collections
of British Poets, but where is the poetic amateur who peruses them?
They resemble certain drugs in a family-dispensary, which, though
seldom if ever taken, still eke out the assemblage. From reading the
fair specimens put forth by Mr. Ellis, many may be allured to covet the
entire performances of our elder bards: but should these be obtained,
they will probably be found (as Mr. Steevens said by the Shakspearian
quartos) of little more worth than a squeezed orange. The flowers will
appear to have been culled and distilled by the hand of judgment;
and the essence of early poetry, like most other essences, will be
discovered to lie in a narrow compass. 'Old poets in general,' says Mr.
Southey, 'are only valuable because they are old.' It must be allowed
that few poems of the Elizabethan æra are likely to afford complete
satisfaction to a mere modern reader, from the fastidious delicacy of
modern taste. Some antiquated alloy, either from incongruous metaphor
or infelicitous expression, will commonly jar upon his mind or ear.
The backward footstep of Time will be audible, if not visible. Yet the
songs of our unrivalled Shakspeare combine an almost uniform exception
to this remark. They are exquisite in thought, feeling, language, and
modulation. They blend simplicity with beauty, sentiment with passion,
picture with poesy. They unite symmetry of form with consistency of
ornament, truth of nature with perfection of art, and must ever furnish
models for lyric composition. As a sonnet-writer Shakspeare was not
superior to some of his contemporaries: he was certainly inferior
to himself. In lighter numbers and in blank verse, peculiar and
transcendent was his excellence. His songs never have been surpassed,
his dramas never are likely to be."[720:A]

Of the editor of the Phœnix Nest, intended by the initials R. S., no
certain information has been obtained. The work has been attributed to
_Richard Stanyhurst_, _Richard Stapleton_, and to _Robert Southwell_,
by Coxeter, by Warton, and by Waldron; but their claims, founded merely
on conjecture, are entitled to little confidence. It is perhaps more
interesting to know, that the chief contributors to this miscellany
were among the best lyric poets of their age, that _Thomas Watson_,
_Nicholas Breton_, and, above all, _Thomas Lodge_, assisted the unknown
editor. Not less than sixteen pieces have the initials of this last
bard, and many of them are among the most beautiful productions of
his genius. Beside these, _George Peele_, _William Smith_, _Matthew
Roydon_, Sir _William Herbert_, the _Earl of Oxford_, and several
others, aided in completing this elegant volume.

The "Phœnix Nest," which comprehends not less than seventy-nine
poems, is certainly one of the most attractive of the Elizabethan
miscellanies, whether we regard its style, its versification, or
its choice of subject, and will probably be deemed inferior only to
"England's Helicon," which, indeed, owes a few of its beauties to this
work.

Of the valuable Collection thus mentioned, the first edition made its
appearance in 1600, with the following title-page: "ENGLAND'S HELICON.

    Casta placent superis
      pura cum veste venite,
    Et manibus puris
      sumite fontis aquam.

At London. Printed by J. R. for John Flasket, and are to be sold in
Paules Church-yard, at the signe of the Beare." 4to.

The second edition was published in 1614, and entitled, "England's
Helicon, or the Muses Harmony.

    The Courts of Kings heare no such straines,
    As daily lull the Rusticke Swaines.

London: Printed for Richard More; and are to be sould at his shop in S.
Dunstanes Church-yard." 8vo.

England's Helicon, which, in its first impression, contained one
hundred and fifty poems, and in its second one hundred and fifty-nine,
has the felicity of enrolling among its contributors all the
principal poets of its era. These, enumerated alphabetically, are as
follow:—_Richard Barnefield_ has two pieces; _Thomas Bastard_, one;
_Edmund Bolton_, five; _Nicholas Breton_, eight; _Christopher Brooke_,
one; _William Browne_, one; _Henry Constable_, four; _John Davis_,
one; _Michael Drayton_, five; Sir _Edward Dyer_, six; _John Ford_,
one; _Robert Greene_, seven; _Fulke Grevile_, two; _John Gough_, one;
_Howard, Earle of Surrie_, two; _Howell_, one: _William Hunnis_, two;
_Thomas Lodge_, ten; _Jervis Markham_, two; _Christopher Marlow_, one;
_Earle of Oxenford_, one: _George Peele_, three; Sir _Walter Raleigh_,
fourteen; _William Shakspeare_, two; Sir _Philip Sidney_, fourteen;
_William Smith_, one; _Edmund Spenser_, three; _Shepherd Tonie_, seven;
_Thomas Watson_, five; _John Wootton_, two, and _Bartholomew Yong_,
twenty-five. Of anonymous contributions there are sixteen.

Amid this galaxy of bards we cannot fail to distinguish for their
decided superiority, the productions of _Breton_, _Greene_, _Lodge_,
_Marlow_, and _Raleigh_, which might confer celebrity on any selection.
The principal feature, indeed, of England's Helicon is its _pastoral_
beauty, and in this department how few have surpassed, or even
equalled, the exquisite strains of Lodge or Marlow!

"It cannot be idle or useless," remarks Sir Egerton Brydges, "to
study this early Collection of Pastoral compositions. Here is the
fountain of that diction, which has since been employed and expanded
in the description of rural scenery. Here are the openings of those
reflections on the imagery of nature, in which subsequent poets have so
much dealt. They show us to what occasional excellence, both in turn
of thought and polish of language, the literature of Queen Elizabeth
had arrived; and how little the artificial and incumbered prose of mere
scholars of that time exhibits a just specimen of either the sentiment
or phrase of the court or people! In the best of these productions,
even the accentuation and rhythm scarce differs from that of our
days. Lodge and Breton in particular, who are characterised by their
simplicity, are striking proofs of this!—

"To such as could enjoy the rough and far-fetched subtlety of
metaphysical verses, this Collection must have appeared inexpressibly
insipid and contemptible. To those whose business it was to draw
similitudes from the most remote recesses of abstruse learning, how
childish must seem the delineation of flowers that were open to every
eye, and images which found a mirror in every bosom!!

"But, O, how dull is the intricate path of the philosopher, how
uninteresting is all the laboured ingenuity of the artist, compared
with the simple and touching pleasures which are alike open to the
peasant, as to the scholar, the noble, or the monarch! It is in the
gift of exquisite senses, and not in the adventitious circumstances of
birth and fortune, that one human being excels another!

    "The common air, the sun, the skies,
     To him are opening Paradise."

"We are delighted to see reflected the same feelings, the same
pleasures from the breasts of our ancestors. We hear the voices of
those bearded chiefs, whose portraits adorn the pannels of our halls
and galleries, still bearing witness to the same natural and eternal
truths; still inveighing against the pomp, the fickleness, and the
treachery of courts; and uttering the songs of the shepherd and the
woodman, in language that defies the changes of time, and speaks to all
ages the touching effusions of the heart.

"If some little additional prejudice in favour of these compositions be
given by the association in our ideas of their antiquity, if we connect
some reverence, and some increased force, with expressions which were
in favourite use with those who for two centuries have slept in the
grave, the profound moral philosopher will neither blame nor regret
this effect. It is among the most generous and most ornamental, if not
among the most useful habits of the mind!

"Such are among the claims of this Collection to notice. But the seal
that has been hitherto put upon this treasure; the deep oblivion in
which the major parts of its contents have for ages been buried, ought
to excite curiosity, and impart a generous delight at its revival.
Who is there so cold as to be moved with no enthusiasm at drawing the
mantle from the figure of Time? For my part, I confess how often I have
watched the gradual developement with eager and breathless expectation;
and gazed upon the reviving features till my warm fancy gave them a
glow and a beauty, which perhaps the reality never in its happiest
moments possessed."[723:A]

That very nearly two hundred years should have elapsed between the
second and third editions of this miscellany is a striking proof of the
neglect to which even the best of our ancient poetry has been hitherto
subjected. The rapidly increasing taste of the present age, however,
for the reliques of long-departed genius, cannot fail of precluding in
future any return of such undeserved obscurity.

In 1600 the industry of Robert Allot presented the public with a large
collection of extracts from the most popular poets of his times, under
the title of "ENGLAND'S PARNASSUS: or the choysest flowers of our
moderne poets, with their poeticall comparisons. Descriptions of
Bewties, Personages, Castles, Pallaces, Mountaines, Groves, Seas,
Springs, Rivers, &c. Whereunto are annexed other various discourses,
both pleasant and profitable." Small 8vo. pp. 510.

Had the editor of this curious volume, beside citing the names of
his authors, added the titles of the works from which he culled his
specimens, an infinity of trouble would have been saved to subsequent
research; yet the deficiency has served, in a peculiar manner, to
mark the successful progress of modern bibliography. When Oldys wrote
his Preface to Hayward's British Muse, which was first published in
1738, he complains grievously of this omission, observing that most
of Allot's poets "were now so obsolete, that not knowing what they
wrote, we can have no recourse to their works, if still extant."[724:A]
Since this sentence was written, such has been the industry of our
literary antiquaries, that almost every poem which Allot laid under
contribution in forming his volume, has been ascertained, and rendered
accessible to the curious enquirer; and so far from the writers being
obsolete, after nearly eighty years have been added to their antiquity,
we may venture to affirm that, excepting about half-a-dozen, they are
as familiar to us as the poets of the present reign. It is but just,
however, to acknowledge that a considerable portion of this intimacy
may be ascribed to Allot's book, which, by its numerous passages from
bards rendered scarce by neglect, has stimulated the bibliographical
enthusiasm of the last twenty years to achieve their detection. An
enumeration of the contributors to England's Parnassus, will serve to
illustrate and confirm these remarks:—

   1. Thomas Achelly.
   2. Thomas Bastard.
   3. George Chapman.
   4. Thomas Churchyard.
   5. Henry Constable.
   6. Samuel Daniel.
   7. John Davies.
   8. Thomas Dekkar.
   9. Michael Drayton.
  10. Edmund Fairfax.
  11. Charles Fitzgeffrey.
  12. Abraham Fraunce.
  13. George Gascoigne.
  14. Edward Gilpin.
  15. Robert Greene.
  16. Sir John Harrington.
  17. John Higgins.
  18. Thomas Hudson.
  19. James, King of Scots.
  20. Benjamin Jonson.
  21. Thomas Kyd.
  22. Thomas Lodge.
  23. Gervase Markham.
  24. Christopher Marlowe.
  25. John Marston.
  26. Christopher Middleton.
  27. Thomas Nash.
  28. Oxford, Earl of.
  29. George Peele.
  30. Matthew Roydon.
  31. Sackville, Lord Buckhurst.
  32. William Shakspeare.
  33. Edmund Spenser.
  34. Thomas Storer.
  35. Surrey, Earl of.
  36. Sir Philip Sidney.
  37. Joshua Sylvester.
  38. George Turberville.
  39. William Warner.
  40. Thomas Watson.
  41. John Weever.
  42. William Weever.
  43. Sir Thomas Wyatt.

Though Oldys has severely blamed the judgment of the editor in his
selection of authors and extracts, yet a much more consummate critic,
the highly-gifted Warton, considers him as having exhibited taste in
his choice, and it must be acknowledged that the volume has preserved
many exquisite passages from poets who, but for this selection, had
probably been irrecoverably merged in oblivion.

In the same year with England's Parnassus came forth another
compilation, to which its editor, _John Bodenham_, gave the following
title: "BEL-VEDERE, OR THE GARDEN OF THE MUSES.

    Quem referent Musæ vivet, dum robora tellus,
    Dum cælum stellas, dum vehit amnis aquas.

Imprinted at London, by F. K. for Hugh Astley, dwelling at Saint Magnus
Corner. 1600." Small 8vo. pp. 236.

This collection, which underwent a second impression in 1610, with the
omission of its first appellative, Bel-vedere, though it contain a vast
number of quotations, is, on two accounts, inferior to the "Parnassus."
In the first place, no authors' names are annexed to the extracts,
and, in the second, a much greater defect has arisen from the editor's
determination to confine his specimens to one or two lines at most, a
brevity which almost annihilates the interest of the work. To obviate,
however, in some degree, the inconveniences arising from the first
of these plans, he has recourse, in his _Proemium_, to the following
detail, which, as it gives a very curious narrative of the construction
of the book, will have its due value with the reader:—

"Now that every one may be fully satisfied concerning this Garden, that
no man doth assume to him-selfe the praise thereof, or can arrogate
to his owne deserving those things, which have been derived from so
many rare and ingenious spirits; I have set down both how, whence, and
where, these flowres had their first springing, till thus they were
drawne together into the Muses Garden; that every ground may challenge
his owne, each plant his particular, and no one be injured in the
justice of his merit.

"First, out of many excellent speeches, spoken to her Majestie, at
tiltings, triumphes, maskes, and shewes, and devises perfourmed in
prograce: as also out of divers choise ditties sung to her; and some
especially, proceeding from her owne most sacred selfe! Here are
great store of them digested into their meete places, according as
the method of the worke plainly delivereth. Likewise out of private
poems, sonnets, ditties, and other wittie conceits, given to her
honourable Ladies and vertuous Maids of Honour; according as they could
be obtained by sight, or favour of copying, a number of most wittie
and singular sentences. Secondly, looke what workes of poetrie have
been put to the world's eye, by that learned and right royall king and
poet, James King of Scotland; no one sentence of worth hath escaped,
but are likewise here reduced into their right roome and place. Next,
out of sundrie things extant, and many in private, done by these right
honourable persons following:

  Thomas, (Henry) Earl of Surrey.
  The Lorde Marquesse of Winchester.
  Mary Countess of Pembrooke.
  Sir Philip Sidney.

"From poems and workes of these noble personages extant:

  Edward, Earle of Oxenford.
  Ferdinando, Earle of Derby.
  Sir Walter Raleigh.
  Sir Edward Dyer.
  Fulke Grevile, Esq.
  Sir John Harrington.

"From divers essayes of their poetrie; some extant among other
honourable personages writings, some from private labours and
translations.

  Edmund Spencer.
  Henry Constable, Esq.
  Samuel Daniell.
  Thomas Lodge, Doctor of Physicke.
  Thomas Watson.
  Michaell Drayton.
  John Davies.
  Thomas Hudson.
  Henrie Locke, Esq.
  John Marstone.
  Chr. Marlowe.
  Benjn. Johnson.
  William Shakspeare.
  Thomas Churchyard, Esq.
  Tho. Nash.
  Tho. Kidde.
  Geo. Peele.
  Robert Greene.
  Josuah Sylvester.
  Nicolas Breton.
  Gervase Markham.
  Thomas Storer.
  Robert Wilmot.
  Chr. Middleton.
  Richard Barnefield.

"These being moderne and extant poets, that have lived together, from
many of their extant workes, and some kept in private.

  Thomas Norton, Esq.
  George Gascoigne, Esq.
  Frauncis Hindlemarsh, Esq.
  Thomas Atchelow.
  George Whetstones.

"These being deceased, have left divers extant labours, and many more
held back from publishing, which for the most part have been perused,
and their due right here given them in the Muses Garden.

"Besides, what excellent sentences have been in any presented Tragedie,
Historie, Pastorall, or Comedie, they have been likewise gathered, and
are here inserted in their proper places."[727:A]

It will be perceived that eleven poets are here enumerated, who had
no share in England's Parnassus; and it may be worth while to remark,
that, among the verses prefixed in praise of the book, are some lines
by _R. Hathway_, whom Mr. Malone conjectures to have been the kinsman
of _Ann Hathaway_, the wife of our immortal bard.[727:B]

A small contribution of pieces by a few of the chief poets of the age,
was, in 1601, annexed to a production by Robert Chester, entitled,
"LOVE'S MARTYR, OR ROSALIN'S COMPLAINT, allegorically shadowing the
Truth of Love in the constant fate of the Phœnix and Turtle. A poem,
enterlaced with much varietie and raritie; now first translated out of
the venerable Italian Torquato Cæliano, by Robert Chester. With the
true legend of famous King Arthur, the last of the nine worthies; being
the first Essay of a new British poet: collected out of authenticall
records. _To these are added some new compositions of several modern
writers; whose names are subscribed to their severall workes; upon the
first subject; viz. the Phœnix and Turtle._"

These _new compositions_ have the following second title immediately
preceding them: "_Hereafter follow diverse poetical essaies on the
former subject; viz. the Turtle and Phœnix. Done by the best and
chiefest of our modern writers, with their names subscribed to their
particular workes. Never before extant. And now first consecrated by
them all generally to the love and merit of the truly noble Knight, Sir
John Salisburie._"

The only known copy of this collection was in Major Pierson's
possession, and it is solely from Mr. Malone, to whom we are indebted
for the above titles, that we learn the names of the principal
contributors; these are _Shakspeare_, _Ben Jonson_, _Marston_, and
_Chapman_.[728:A] Shakspeare's contribution forms the twentieth poem in
"The Passionate Pilgrim," commencing

    "Let the bird of loudest lay," &c.

A miscellany upon a more extensive scale than the preceding, and
of great value for the taste exhibited in its selection, succeeded
in 1602, under the appellation of "A POETICAL RAPSODÎE; containing
diverse Sonnets, Odes, Elegies, Madrigals, Epigrams, Pastorals,
Eglogues, with other Poems, both in Rime and Measured Verse. For
varietie and pleasure, the like never yet published.

    The Bee and Spider by a diverse power,
    Sucke hony and poyson from the selfe-same flower.

London. 12mo."

The editor and principal contributor, was _Francis Davison_, a poet of
no mean talents, and son of that Secretary of State, who experienced in
so remarkable a degree the duplicity of Elizabeth, in relation to Mary
Queen of Scots. In an Address to the Reader, he thus accounts for the
form which the volume assumes:—"Being induced by some private reasons,
and by the instant entreaty of speciall friends, to suffer some of
my worthlesse poems to be published, I desired to make some written
by my deere friends _Anonymoi_, and my deerer _Brother_, to beare
them company: both, without their consent; the latter being in the
low-country warres, and the rest utterly ignorant thereof. My friends
names I concealed; mine owne and my brother's, I willed the printer to
suppresse, as well as I had concealed the other, which he having put in
without my privity, we must now undergo a sharper censure perhaps than
our namelesse workes should have done; and I especially. For if their
poems be liked, the praise is due to their invention; if disliked, the
blame both by them and all men will be derived upon me, for publishing
that which they meant to suppresse."

He then enters upon a defence of poetry, experience proving, he
remarks, "by examples of many, both dead and living, that divers
delighted and excelling herein, being princes or statesmen, have
gouerned and counselled as wisely; being souldiers, have commanded
armies as fortunately; being lawyers, have pleaded as judicially and
eloquently; being divines, have written and taught as profoundly; and
being of any other profession, have discharged it as sufficiently, as
any other men whatsoever;" and concludes by alleging, as an excuse "for
these poems in particular, that those under the name of _Anonymos_
were written (as appeareth by divers things to Sir Philip Sidney
living, and of him dead) almost twenty years since, when poetry was
farre from that perfection to which it hath now attained: that my
brother is by profession a souldier, and was not eighteen years old
when he writ these toys: that mine owne were made most of them sixe or
seven yeares since, at idle times as I journeyed up and downe during my
travails."

The division of the "Rapsodie" more peculiarly occupied by these
kindred bards, is that including "Sonnets, Odes, Elegies, Madrigals,
and Epigrams, by Francis and Walter Davison, brethren;" and they were
assisted in that, and the residue of the work, by Spenser, Sidney,
Sir John Davis, Mary Countess of Pembroke, Thomas Campion, Thomas
Watson, Charles Best, Thomas Spelman, and by others, whose initials are
supposed to indicate Henry Constable, Walter Raleigh, Henry Wotton,
Robert Greene, Andrew Willet, and Joshua Sylvester.[730:A]

The "Poetical Rapsodie" is dedicated by Davison in a sonnet, "To the
most noble, honorable, and worthy Lord William Earl of Pembroke, Lord
Herbert of Cardiffe, Marmion, and St. Quintine," and was successively
republished with augmentations in 1608, 1611, and 1621. It may be
said to present us, not only with a felicitous choice of topics, but
it claims the merit of having preserved several valuable poems not
elsewhere to be discovered, and which, owing to the rarity of the book,
although four times subjected to the press, have not, until lately,
attracted the notice that is due to them.

Independent of the _ten_ miscellanies which we have now enumerated, an
immense multitude of _Airs_, _Madrigals_, and _Songs_, set to music,
and printed in Parts, were published during the latter part of the
reign of Elizabeth, and during the reign of James the First. These
Collections contain a variety of lyric poems not elsewhere to be met
with, and which were either written expressly for the Composers, or
selected by the latter from manuscripts, or rare and insulated printed
copies. Foremost among these Professors of Music, who thus indirectly
contributed to enrich the stores of English Poetry, stands _William
Byrd_. This celebrated composer's first printed work in English was
licensed in 1587, and has the following title:—"_Tenor. Psalmes,
Sonets, and Songs of sadnes and pietie, made into musicke of five
parts: whereof, some of them going a broad among divers, in untrue
coppies, are heere truely corrected, and the other being Songs very
rare and newly composed, are heere published, for the recreation of all
such as delight in Musicke. By William Byrd, one of the Gent. of the
Queene's Maiesties Royall Chappell._" 4to.

The volume is dedicated to Sir Christopher Hatton; and he tells his
reader, in an epistle subscribed the most assured friend to all that
love or learne musicke, William Byrd,—"heere is offered unto thy
courteous acceptation, musicke of sundrie sorts, and to content divers
humors. If thou bee disposed to pray, heere are psalmes. If to bee
merrie, heere are sonets. If to lament for thy sins, heere are songs
of sadnesse and pietie. If thou delight in musicke of great cõpasse,
heere are divers songs, which beeing originally made for instruments to
expresse the harmony, and one voyce to pronounce the dittie, are now
framed in all parts for voyces to sing the same. If thou desire songs
of smal compasse and fit for the reach of most voyces, heere are most
in number of that sort."

Next to Byrd, whose publications of this kind are numerous, we may
mention _Thomas Morley_, no less remarkable for his skill in music,
and for his fertility in the production of _madrigals_, _ballets_, and
_canzonets_. How fashionable and universal had become the practice of
singing these compositions at every party of amusement, may be drawn
from one of the elementary works of this writer:—"Being at a banquet,"
he relates, "supper being ended, and music books brought to table, the
mistress of the house, _according to custom_, presented me with a part,
earnestly intreating me to sing; when, after many excuses, I protested
unfeignedly that I could not, _every one began to wonder_, yea, some
whispered to others demanding _how I was brought up_."[732:A]

Of the various collections of lyric poetry adapted to music and
published by Morley, who died about the period of the accession of
James the First, we shall notice two; one as indicatory of the manners
of the age, and the other of the estimation in which the science was
held by our composer, who seems, on this occasion, to have partaken
the enthusiasm of Shakspeare; for in a dedication, "To the Worshipfull
Sir Gervis Clifton, Knight," prefixed to "_Madrigals to five voyces.
Selected out of the best approved Italian Authors. By Thomas Morley,
Gentleman of hir Maiesties Royall Chappell_, 1598," he tells his
worthy patron, "I ever held this sentence of the poet, as a canon of
my creede; _That whom God loveth not, they love not Musique_. For as
the Art of Musique is one of the most Heavenly gifts, so the very love
of Musique (without art) is one of the best engrafted testimonies of
Heavens love towards us."

In 1601, Morley published in quarto, "Cantus Madrigales. The triumphes
of Oriana, to 5 and 6 voices: composed by divers severall aucthors,"—a
collection remarkable for its object, as it consisted of twenty-five
songs, composed by twenty-four several musicians, for the express
purpose of commemorating the beauty and virginity of Elizabeth, under
the appellation of Oriana, and who was now in the sixty-eighth year of
her age, one, among innumerable proofs, of the extreme vanity of this
singular woman.

That a great proportion of these musical miscellanies consisted of
translations from the Italian, is evident from the publications of
_Byrd_ and _Morley_, and from the _Musica Transalpina_ of _Nicolas
Yonge_, printed in two parts, in the years 1588 and 1597, where,
however, equal industry appears to have been exerted in collecting
English songs; the dedication, indeed, points out very distinctly the
sources whence these popular works were derived. "I endeavoured," says
Yonge, "to get into my hands all such English songes as were praise
worthie, and amongst others I had the hap to find in the hands of some
of my good friends certaine Italian Madrigales translated most of them
five years ago by a gentleman for his private delight." The two parts
of Musica Transalpina contain eighty-one songs.

It seems probable, indeed, from _Orlando Gibbons_'s dedication of his
"First set of Mardrigals and Mottets" to Sir Christopher Hatton, dated
1612, that the courtiers of that period sometimes employed themselves
in writing lyrics for their domestic Lutenists; for Orlando tells his
lord,—"They were most of them composed in your own house, and do
therefore properly belong unto you as lord of the soil; _the language
they speak you provided them_; I only furnished them with tongues to
utter the same." It may be, however, that Sir Christopher was only a
selector of poetry for the lyre of Gibbons.

To enumerate the multitude of music-stricken individuals, who, during
this period, were occupied in procuring and collecting lyric poetry
for professional purposes, would fill a volume. Among the most
indefatigable, may be mentioned _John Wilbye_, _Thomas Weelkes_, _John
Dowland_ and _Robert Jones_; "_The Musicall Dream_," 1609, and "_The
Muse's Gardin of Delights_," 1610, by the last of these gentlemen, were
held in great esteem.

We cannot close this subject, indeed, without acknowledging our
obligations to this numerous class for the preservation of many most
beautiful specimens of lyric poetry, which, it is highly probable,
without their care and accompaniments, would either not have existed,
or would have perished prematurely.[733:A]

As a further elucidation of the Poetical Literature of this period, and
with the view of condensing its retrospect, by an arrangement under
general heads, it may prove satisfactory, if we briefly throw into
classes, the names of those poets who may be considered as having given
ornament or extension to their art. The following divisions, it is
expected, will include all that, in this place, it can now be necessary
to notice.

  --------------------+-------------------+-------------
  _Epic Poetry._      |_Historic._        |_Lyric._
  --------------------+-------------------+-------------
  Spenser.            |Sackville.         |Gascoigne.
                      |Higgins.           |Greene.
                      |Niccols.           |Raleigh.
                      |Warner.            |Breton.
                      |Daniel.            |Lodge.
                      |Drayton.           |Shakespeare.
                      |Shakespeare.       |Jonson.
                      |Marlow.            |Wotton.
                      |Fitzgeffrey.       |Wither.
                      |Storer.            |
                      |Willobie.          |
                      |Beaumont.          |
  --------------------+-------------------+-------------
  _Didactic._         |_Satiric._         |_Sonnet._
  --------------------+-------------------+-------------
  Tusser.             |Lodge.             |Spenser.
  Davies Sir J.       |Hall.              |Sidney.
  Davors.             |Marston.           |Constable.
  Fletcher G.         |Donne.             |Watson.
                      |Wither.            |Shakespeare.
                      |                   |Daniel.
                      |                   |Drayton.
                      |                   |Barnes.
                      |                   |Barnefield.
                      |                   |Smith.
                      |                   |Stirling.
                      |                   |Drummond.
  --------------------+-------------------+
  _Pastoral._         |_Translators._     |
  --------------------+-------------------+
  Spenser.            |Chapman.           |
  Chalkhill.          |Harrington.        |
  Marlow.             |Fairefax.          |
  Drayton.            |Sylvester.         |
  Fairefax.           |Golding.           |
  Brown.              |                   |

We have thus, in as short a compass as the nature of the subject would
admit, given, we trust, a more accurate view of the poetry of the
Shakspearean era, as it existed independent of the Drama, than has
hitherto been attempted.

That Shakspeare was an assiduous reader of English Poetry; that he
studied with peculiar interest and attention his immediate predecessors
and contemporaries, there is abundant reason to conclude from a careful
perusal of his volume of miscellaneous poetry, which is modelled on a
strict adherence to the taste which prevailed at the opening of his
career. The collection, indeed, may, with no impropriety, be classed
under the two divisions of _Historic_ and _Lyric_ poetry; the former
concluding "Venus and Adonis," and the "Rape of Lucrece," and the
latter the "Sonnets," the "Passionate Pilgrim," and the "Lover's
Complaint."

The great models of Historic poetry, during the prior portion of
Shakspeare's life, were the "Mirror for Magistrates" and "Warner's
Albion's England;" but for the mythological story of Venus and
Adonis, though deviating in several important circumstances from its
prototype, we are probably indebted to Golding's Ovid; and for the Rape
of Lucrece and the structure of the stanza in which it is composed, to
the reputation and the metre of the _Rosamond_ of Daniel, printed in
1592. For the Sonnets, he had numerous examples in the productions of
Spenser, Sidney, Watson, and Constable; and, through the wide field of
amatory lyric composition, excellence of almost every kind, in the form
of ode, madrigal, and song, might be traced in the varied effusions of
Gascoigne, Greene and Raleigh, Breton and Lodge.

How far our great bard exceeded, or fell beneath, the models which he
possessed; in what degree he was independent of their influence, and to
what portion of estimation his miscellaneous poetry is justly entitled,
will be the subjects of the next chapter, in which we shall venture to
assign to these efforts of his early days a higher rank in the scale of
excellence than it has hitherto been their fate to obtain.


FOOTNOTES:

[596:A] Preface to Gondibert. Vide Chalmers's English Poets, vol. vi.
p. 351.

[597:A] Headley's Select Beauties of Ancient English Poetry, vol. i.
Introduction, p. 19. edit. 1810.

[602:A] Chalmers's English Poets, vol. vi. p. 4.

[602:B] Act ii.

[603:A] Vol. ix. p. 163.

[603:B] Arte of English Poesie, reprint of 1811. p. 49.

[603:C] Vide Censura Literaria, vol. ix. p. 47.

[603:D] Percy's Reliques, vol. iii. p. 62.

[603:E] Specimens of the Early English Poets, vol. ii. p. 240.

[603:F] Censura Literaria, vol. ix. pp. 159. 161.

[603:G] Shaw's Staffordshire, vol. i. p. 442. Ritson's Bibliographia
Poetica, p. 143.

[603:H] Chalmers's English Poets, vol. vi. p. 268. col. 2.

[604:A] Beloe's Anecdotes of Literature and Scarce Books, vol. vi. p.
58. et seq.

[604:B] It is sufficient praise, however, to remark, that Milton, both
in his L'Allegro and his Lycidas, is under many obligations to our
author.

[605:A] We are told by Prince, in his "Worthies of Devonshire," that as
Browne "had honoured his country with his sweet and elegant Pastorals,
so it was expected, and he also entreated a little farther to grace
it by his drawing out the line of his poetic ancestors, beginning in
Joseph Iscanus, and ending in himself." Had this design been executed,
how much more full and curious had our information been with regard to
Shakspeare and his contemporaries, and how much is it to be lamented
that so noble a scheme was relinquished.

Since these critical notices were written, Sir Egerton Brydges has
favoured the world with some hitherto unpublished poems of Browne;
productions which not only support the opinions given in the text, but
which tend very considerably to heighten our estimation of the genius
and imagination of this fine old bard.

[606:A] Muses Library, 1741. p. 315.

[606:B] Bagster's edit. 1808. p. 156. 276.

[607:A] Muses Library, pp. 317. 319. 327.

[607:B] See Beloe's Anecdotes, vol. ii. p. 83. Ritson has erroneously
dated this publication 1598.

[608:A] Vide Pope's Preface to the Iliad; and Warton's History of
English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 442, 443.

[609:A] In his "Challenge," he tells us, that his first publication was
"a book named _Davie Dicars Dream_, in King Edward's daies."

[609:B] This publication, which was likewise called "A Musicall Consort
of heavenly Harmonie," is not mentioned by Ritson.

[609:C] Vide Bibliographia Poetica, p. 169.

[610:A] Vide Birch's Memoirs of Queen Elizabeth, vol. i.; and Winwood's
Memor. vol. ii. p. 36.

[610:B] Underwood's edit. of 1640, folio, p. 196.

[610:C] Ancient British Drama, vol. i. p. 49. col. 1.

[610:D] Brydge's Theatrum Poetarum, p. 268.

[610:E] Athenæ Oxonienses, vol. i. p. 14.

[610:F] Origin of the English Drama, vol. iii. p. 212.

[610:G] Warton's Hist. of English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 292. note.

[610:H] Todd's Milton, 2d. edit. vol. vi. p. 439.

[612:A] Percy's Reliques, vol. i. p. 328.

[612:B] Park's Royal and Noble Authors, vol. iii. p. 167. note.

[612:C] Thus Drayton speaks of him as

    ——— "too much historian in verse.
    His rhimes were smooth, his metres well did close;
    But yet his manner better fitted prose;"

and Bolton describes his works as containing "somewhat a flat, but yet
withal a very pure and copious English, and words as warrantable as any
man's, and fitter perhaps for prose than measure."

[613:A] Brydges's Theatrum Poetarum, p. 273.

[614:A] Vide Bagster's edit. p. 128.

[618:A] Lord Woodhouslee, speaking of our author's poem entitled,
Forth Feasting, observes that it "attracted the envy as well as the
praise of Ben Jonson, is superior, in harmony of numbers, to any of
the compositions of the contemporary poets of England; and is, in its
subject, one of the most elegant panegyrics that ever were addressed by
a poet to a prince."—Life of Lord Kaimes.

[618:B] Theatrum Poetarum, p. 195. original edition.

[619:A] Dr. Johnson was of opinion that the translation of Mr.
Hoole would entirely supersede the labours of Fairefax. With no
discriminating judge of poetry, however, will this ever be the case;
there is a lameness and mediocrity in the version of Mr. Hoole, which
must always place it far beneath the spirited copy of the elder bard.
Had Mr. Brookes completed the Jerusalem with the same harmony and
vigour which he has exhibited in the first three books, a desideratum
in English literature had been supplied, and the immortal poem of Tasso
had appeared clothed in diction and numbers worthy of the most polished
era of our poetry.

[620:A] Muses Library, 1741. p. 363.

[620:B] Chalmers's English Poets, vol. vi. p. 295. col. 2.

[621:A] Censura Literaria, vol. ix. p. 53.

[621:B] Vide British Bibliographer, No. VII. p. 118.

[622:A] Chalmers's English Poets, vol. vi. p. 79. col. 2.

[622:B] Ibid. vol. vi. p. 81.

[624:A] Whetstone published a pamphlet, entitled, "A Remembrance of
the wel imployed life and godly end of George Gaskoigne Esquire, who
deceased at Stalmford in Lincolne Shire, the 7th of October 1577. The
reporte of George Whetstone Gent. an eye witness of his Godly and
charitable end in this world. _Formæ nulla Fides._ Imprinted At London
for Edward Aggas, dwelling in Pauls Churchyard and are there to be
solde." "Since the antiquities of poetry," observes Mr. Chalmers, "have
become a favourite study, many painful inquiries have been made after
this tract, but it could not be found in Tanner's Library, which forms
part of the Bodleian, or in any other collection, private or public,
and doubts were entertained whether such a pamphlet had ever existed.
About three years ago, however, it was discovered in the collection of
a deceased gentleman, a Mr. Voight, of the Custom-house, London, and
was purchased at his sale by Mr. Malone. It consists of about thirteen
pages small quarto, black letter, and contains, certainly not much
_life_, but some particulars unknown to his biographers."—English
Poets, vol. ii. p. 447, 448.

[624:B] For further particulars of his life see Chalmers's English
Poets, vol. ii. p. 447. et seq., Censura Literaria, vol. i. p. 110.,
and British Bibliographer, vol. i. 73.

[625:A] Gratulationes Valdinenses, edit. Binneman, 1578, 4to. lib. iv.
p. 22.

[625:B] In his Dedication prefixed to his Translation of Ten Books of
Homer.

[625:C] In his Address to Gentlemen Students, prefixed to Green's
Arcadia.

[625:D] Discourse of English Poetrie, 1586.

[625:E] Arte of Poesie, 1589, reprint, p. 51.

[626:A] Todd's Spenser, vol. i. p. 191. Glosse to November.

[626:B] Chalmers's English Poets, vol. ii. p. 455.

[626:C] Observations on the Fairy Queen, vol. ii. p. 168.

[626:D] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. p. 144. note 4.

[627:A] Beloe's Anecdotes, vol. ii. p. 191. et seq.; and vol. vi. p. 1.
21.

[627:B] The reprint which has just appeared of our author's
_Philomela_, is a proof, however, that his prose was occasionally
the medium of sound instruction; for the moral of this piece is
unexceptionable. We may also remark, that the confessions wrung from
him in the hour of repentance are highly monitory, and calculated to
make the most powerful and salutary impression.

[628:A] Mason's Gray, p. 224.

[629:A] Vide Chalmers's English Poets, vol. v. p. 226.

[629:B] Warton's Hist. of English Poetry, vol. iii. p. 485.

[630:A] Nugæ Antiquæ, apud Park, vol. i. p. xxii.

[630:B] This writer terms Sir John "one of the most ingenious poets
of our English nation," and says "he was a Poet in all things, save
in his wealth, leaving a fair estate to a learned and religious
son."—Worthies, part iii. p. 28.

[630:C] They were also annexed to the third edition of the Translation
of "Orlando Furioso," fol. 1634.

[630:D] The popularity of these epigrams, notwithstanding their
poetical mediocrity, may be estimated from the opinion of the publisher
of the edition of 1625. "If in poetry," he remarks, "heraldry were
admitted, he would be found in happiness of wit near allied to the
great Sidney: yet but near; for the Apix of the Cœlum Empyrium is not
more inaccessible, than is the height of Sidney's poesy, which by
imagination we may approach, by imitation never attain to."—Dedication
to George Villiers Duke of Buckingham.

A subsequent writer has also gifted them with extraordinary longevity:—

    "Still lives the Muse's Apollonian son,
     The Phœnix of his age, rare HARINGTON!
     Whose _Epigrams_, when time shall be no more,
     May die, perhaps, but never can before."
                                      Beedome's Poems, 1641.

Vide Nugæ Antiquæ, vol. i. p. xxiii.

[632:A] Edition of 1800, by Sir Egerton Brydges, p. 197, 198.

[632:B] Vide Beloe's Anecdotes of Literature, vol. ii. p. 114.

[632:C] Ibid. p. 115.

[633:A] Vide Beloe on Scarce Books, vol. ii. pp. 115-117.

[633:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. viii. p. 3.

[635:A] British Bibliographer, No. 11. Preface to England's Helicon,
pp. 6, 7.

[635:B] Biographia Dramatica, vol. i. p. 287. edit. 1782.

[635:C] Vol. ii. p. 159. et seq.

[635:D] Phillips's Theatrum apud Brydges, p. 199.

[636:A] Theatrum Poetarum, edit. of 1800, p. 113.

[636:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. vi. p. 318. Act iii. sc. 2.

[637:A] Miscellaneous Pieces of Antient English Poesie, preface.

[637:B] Ancient British Drama, vol. i. p. 49.

[637:C] Affaniæ, lib. ii. Ad Johannem Marstonium.

[638:A] British Bibliographer, vol. i. p. 363.

[639:A] Athenæ Oxon. vol. i. col. 402.

[639:B] "The Poems of Sir Walter Raleigh: now first collected. With a
Biographical and Critical Introduction:" Dedicated to William Bolland,
Esq.

[639:C] Phillips's Theatrum apud Brydges, p. 308, 309.

[639:D] Arte of English Poesie, reprint of 1811. p. 168.

[639:E] Phillips's Theatrum apud Brydges, p. 314, 315.

[640:A] Arte of English Poesie, reprint, p. 165. 167.

[640:B] Ibid. p. 51.

[640:C] Vide Phillips's Theatrum apud Brydges, p. 269.

[642:A] Biographical and Critical Introduction, pp. 43-46.

[642:B] The date of this nobleman's birth has been variously given:
thus Ritson affirms in his Bibliographia, p. 324., he was born in 1536;
and Sir Egerton Brydges in his edition of the "Theatrum Poetarum," also
expressly tells us, that "Sackville was not born till 1536," p. 66; but
in "The British Bibliographer" he has corrected this assertion, and
places his nativity in 1527, which is the true era, as he died aged 81,
in 1608.

[642:C] Park's edition of Lord Orford's Royal and Noble Authors, vol.
ii. p. 130.

[643:A] British Bibliographer, No. IV. p. 295.

[644:A] Specimens of the Early English Poets, 1st edit. vol. ii. p. 166.

[645:A] Vide Warton, vol. iii.; or, Phillips's Theatrum apud Brydges,
p. 268.

[645:B] Select Beauties of Antient English Poetry, vol. ii. Kett's
edit. pp. 2. 5. 86.

[645:C] Bibliographia Poetica, p. 340, 341.

[645:D] Censura Literaria, vol. vi. p. 285-298.

[646:A] Book ii. Song 1. See Chalmers's English Poets, vol. vi. p. 276.
col. 2.

[646:B] Poems, edit. 1658. p. 8.

[646:C] Preface to Spenser's View of the State of Ireland, 1633.

[647:A] Epigrammatum Libri quatuor, 1607, p. 100. For this striking
testimony we are indebted to Mr. Todd's valuable edition of Spenser,
vol. i. p. cxxi.

[647:B] To the charge of "critical negligence," in this respect, I am
sorry to say, that I must plead guilty in my "Literary Hours;" where,
in delineating the character of Spenser, I have brought forward this
accusation of _obsolete diction_, without the proper discrimination.
Vide Literary Hours, 3d edit. vol. ii. p. 161.—In every other respect
I consider the criticism as correct. I had then read Spenser but twice
through; a further familiarity with the Fairie Queene has induced me to
withdraw the censure, and to accede to the opinion of Mr. Malone, who
conceives the language of the _Fairie Queene_ to have been "perfectly
intelligible to every reader of poetry in the time of Queen Elizabeth,
though the _Shepheards Calendar_ was not even then understood without a
commentary."—See his Dryden's Prose Works, vol. iii. p. 94.

[649:A] It is impossible to view the portrait prefixed to Mr. Todd's
valuable edition of Spenser, without being incredulous as to its
authenticity. There is a pertness and satirical sharpness in its
expression very inconsistent, not only with the disposition of the
poet, but with the features given to him in every other representation,
of which the leading character is an air of pensive sweetness.

[650:A] Royal and Noble Authors apud Park, vol. v. p. 73.

[650:B] Chalmers's English Poets, vol. v. p. 298.

[651:A] Orford's Royal and Noble Authors apud Park, vol. v. p. 76.

[652:A] "Its rude grandeur, its immense hall, its castellated form, its
numerous apartments, well accord with the images of chivalry, which the
memory of Sydney inspires."—British Bibliographer, vol. i. p. 293.

[652:B] Zouch's Life of Sydney, 4to. p. 256.

[653:A] Vide Poems, 1807, 12mo. 4th. edit.; and British Bibliographer,
vol. i. p. 81-105. and 289-295. Censura Literaria, vol. ii. p. 175. et
seq.; and vol. iii. p. 389.

[653:B] Considerations on Milton's Early Reading, and the Prima Stamina
of his Paradise Lost; together with Extracts from a Poet of the
Sixteenth Century. In a Letter to William Falconer, M. D., from Charles
Dunster, Esq. M. A. London, 1800.

[653:C] Vide Wood's Athenæ, vol. i. p. 594.; and Phillips's Theatrum.

[654:A] For further observations on, and numerous extracts from,
Sylvester's Du Bartas, see Dunster's Considerations, and Drake's
Literary Hours, 3d edit. vol. iii. Nos. 49, 50, and 51.

[655:A] One of the Epigrams prefixed to the folio edition of
Sylvester's Works. Ten pages in the copy of 1641 are occupied by
commendatory Poems on the Translator.

[655:B] Lines by Viccars, under the portrait of Sylvester, in the
edition of 1641.

[656:A] Vide Preliminary Dissertation to his edition of Tusser, pp. 5.
13. 20, 21. 25.

[657:A] British Bibliographer, No. III. p. 286.

[657:B] Preface to his Translation of Conradus Heresbachius, printed in
1596, and 1601.

[658:A] Bibliographia Poetica, p. 374.

[658:B] See Sharpe's British Poets, No. LXXIX. p. 17. note 20.

[659:A] Ritson's Bibliographia Poetica, p. 384.

[659:B] Reliques, vol. ii. p. 239. 4th edit.

[659:C] Wit's Academy, part ii. p. 280. edit. of 1598.

[659:D] Of Poets and Poesy, Chalmers's English Poets, vol. iv. p. 399.
col. 2.

[660:A] Edit. 1741. p. 157.

[660:B] Vol. ii. p. 238.

[660:C] Vol. iv. p. 499.

[661:A] British Bibliographer, No. XII. p. 7.

[661:B] Ibid. p. 5. 7.

[663:A] British Bibliographer, No. XII. p. 3, 4.

[663:B] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 31.

[663:C] Epistle prefixed to Greene's Menaphon.

[663:D] Foure Letters and certaine Sonnets, 1592.

[663:E] Censura Literaria, vol. ix. p. 47.

[664:A] In the Apologie of Dorrell, dated 1596, and annexed to the
second edition, he tells us, that "this poetical fiction was penned by
the author at least for thirty and five yeares sithence." "If there
was sufficient ground for this assertion," remarks Mr. Haslewood, "it
fixes the time of the composition about 1561, and supposing the author
then, as seems reasonable to presume, to have attained his twenty-first
year, it places the time of his birth, as conjecturally fixed by Mr.
Ellis, at 1540. However, some doubt arises whether this inference is
not contradicted by the preface of 1594; which describes the author
not only as 'a scholar of very good hope,' but also as a 'young man,'
who, desirous of seeing the fashions of other countries, had, 'not long
sithence,' departed voluntarily in Her Majesty's service. Here the
most enlarged meaning bestowed on the expression 'not long sithence,'
can neither explain the sentence that calls him a 'scholar of very
good hope,' nor that of a 'young man,' whereby they shall be terms
applicable to a person who had written thirty years before, and from
the above inference might have been then in the fifty-fourth year of
his age. It is probable the preface may be relied on; otherwise the
author's departure from this country will be found too remote for the
term of any voluntary engagement, civil or military, that could be
attached to foreign service. Dorrell's subsequent anachronism may be
ascribed to inadvertency: to a zealous, but hurried attempt to parry
the attack of the critic, by the supposed youth of the writer; and
by fixing the composition at a period sufficiently early to prevent
an unfavourable comparison with more recent productions." British
Bibliographer, No. XIV. p. 242.

[664:B] The term _hexameter_ is here meant to designate stanzas
consisting of _six lines_.

[664:C] Ritson dates this fourth impression 1609, but Mr. Haslewood
1605: see Brit. Bibliogr., No. XIV. p. 241.

[665:A] Brit. Bibliogr., No. XIV. p. 243.

[665:B] Ibid., p. 245.

[666:A] Brit. Bibliogr., No. III. p. 17, et seq.

[666:B] At the end of his "Fides Anglicanæ," 1660.

[666:C] In his "Warning-piece to London," 1665.

[667:A] Vide Preface to "Abuses Stript and Whipt."

[668:A] Brit. Bibliogr., No. I. p. 4, 5.

[668:B] A Selection from Wither's Works, in three volumes 8vo.,
was promised, five years ago, by a gentleman of Bristol. In 1785
Mr. Alexander Dalrymple published Extracts from his Juvenilia; and
"Fidelia," "Faire Virtue," "The Shepheard's Hunting," and "Abuses
Stript and Whipt," are now separately reprinting from the press of
Longman and Co.—October 1814.

[669:A] Restituta, No. VI. p. 394, 395.

[669:B] Theatrum Poetarum, edition of 1675.

[670:A] Reliques, vol. iii., 4th edit. p. 190-264.

[671:A] Dalrymple's Extracts from Wither's Juvenilia, 1785.

[672:A] "Laura: or an Anthology of Sonnets." By Capel Lofft. 5 vols.
Preface, vol. i. p. cxliv. cxlv.

[673:A] Theatrum Poetarum apud Brydges, p. 318, 319.

[674:A] Observations on Spenser, vol. i. p. 155, 156.

[674:B] It may be useful in this note, to place, in immediate
juxta-position, the names of the Poets whom we have thus enumerated,
as leaders of a great portion of their Art, during a period of half a
century.

   1. Beaumont, Sir John.
   2. Breton.
   3. Browne.
   4. Chalkhill.
   5. Chapman.
   6. Churchyard.
   7. Constable.
   8. Daniel.
   9. Davies.
  10. Davors.
  11. Donne.
  12. Drayton.
  13. Drummond.
  14. Fairfax.
  15. Fitzgeffrey.
  16. Fletcher, Giles.
  17. Fletcher, Phineas.
  18. Gascoigne.
  19. Greene.
  20. Hall.
  21. Harrington.
  22. Jonson.
  23. Lodge.
  24. Marlow.
  25. Marston.
  26. Niccols.
  27. Raleigh.
  28. Sackville.
  29. Southwell.
  30. Spenser.
  31. Stirling.
  32. Sydney.
  33. Sylvester.
  34. Turberville.
  35. Tusser.
  36. Warner.
  37. Watson.
  38. Willobie.
  39. Wither.
  40. Wotten.

  Lane.

[677:A] "Here, through the course of twenty sonnets, not inelegant,
and which were exceedingly popular, the poet bewails his unsuccessful
love for a beautiful youth, by the name of Ganymede, in a strain of the
most tender passion, yet with professions of the chastest affection."
Warton's Hist. vol. iii. p. 405.—It was the fashion, at this period,
to imitate the second Eclogue of Virgil.

[677:B] The Sonnets of Barnes, which are written in strict adherence
to the recurring _rima_ of the Italian school, frequently possess
no inconsiderable beauties. The Sonnet on Content, selected by Mr.
Beloe (vol. ii. p. 78.), from Parthenophil, is highly pleasing and
harmonious, and at least twenty of his centenary may be pronounced,
both in imagery and versification, above mediocrity.

[677:C] Sheppard, in his Poems, 1651, remarks that "none in England,
save Bastard and Harington, have divulged epigrams worth notice." A
beautiful specimen of his Epigrams is given by Mr. Park, in Censura
Literaria, vol. iv. p. 375.

[677:D] To this poet, Nash dedicated his "Strange Newes," &c. 1592, in
the subsequent curious terms: "To the most copious carminist of our
time, and famous persecutor of Priscian, his verie friend maister _Apis
lapis_."—Vide Ritson, p. 131. note.

[678:A] For an account of this author, see British Bibliographer, No.
VIII. p. 235. In this, as in other instances, I have only inserted the
pieces published during the life of Shakspeare.

[678:B] Two pieces by this writer, entitled "The Mourning Muse of
Thestylis," and "A Pastorall Aeglogue upon the Death of Sir Philip
Sidney," have been inserted in Spenser's Works (Todd's edit. vol.
viii. p. 66. et seq.), and probably form the contents of "The Mourning
Muses." He is described by Spenser as a swain

    "Of gentle wit and daintie sweet device,"

and if, as Ritson asserts, (Bibliograph. Poet. p. 146,) "we probably
owe much that has descended to us of the incomparable "Faery Queen,"
to this poet, we are greatly his debtors indeed. That Bryskett had
importuned his friend for the continuance of his immortal poem, is
evident from Spenser's thirty-third sonnet, which pleads, as an excuse,
disappointment in love, and closes with the following petitionary
couplet:—

    "Cease then, till she vouchsafe to grawnt me rest;
     Or lend you me another living breast."
                                          Vol. viii. p. 137.

Bryskett succeeded Spenser as Clerk of the Council of Munster.

[679:A] To these poems by Chester, are added on the first subject,
which, he tells us, "allegorically shadows the truth of love, in the
constant fate of the phœnix and turtle," poems by Shakspeare, Jonson,
Marston, Chapman, and others.—Vide Ritson, p. 159.

[679:B] Ritson remarks,—"This is probably the poem alluded to in the
_Midsummer-Night's Dream_:—

    "Not Shafalus to Procrus was so true,
     As Shafalus to Procrus, I to you."
                                                   Page 170.

[680:A] That Wittes Pilgrimage was written before 1614, is evident from
its being alluded to in his _Scourge for Paper-Persecutors_: annexed to
the _Scourge of Folly_, printed in this year.

[680:B] Beside these productions here enumerated, Davies published, in
1617, "_Wits Bedlam_," 8vo.; containing not less than 400 Epigrams, and
about 80 Epitaphs. This writer usually designated himself by the title
of _John Davies of Hereford_,—See Censura Literaria, vols. i. ii. v.
vi. Brit. Bibliographer, No. VIII, Beloe's Anecdotes, vol. ii., and
Wood's Athenæ Oxon. vol. i. p. 445. He also wrote _The Holy Rood, or
Christ's Crosse_, 1609.

[680:C] These poetical brothers published their poems with the above
title, in a valuable Collection of Metrical Miscellanies, called "A
Poetical Rapsodie," 1602, which will be noticed hereafter. They are
introduced in the Table as being the principal contributors, and as
distinguishing their pieces by a separate title or division.

[681:A] This writer was the most popular ballad-maker of his day; he
was by trade a silk-weaver, and the compiler of various Garlands, under
the titles of "The Garland of Good Will;" "The Garland of Delight,"
&c. &c. Nash, in his "Have with you to Saffron-Walden," 1596, says,
that "his muse from the first peeping forth, hath stood at livery at
an alehouse wispe, never exceeding a penny a quart day nor night; and
this deere yeare, together with the silencing of his looms, scarce
that; he being constrained to betake himself to carded ale: whence
it proceedeth, that since _Candlemas_, or his jigge of _John for the
King_, not one merrie dittie will come from him, but _The thunder-bolt
against swearers_, _Repent England repent_, and _The strange judgements
of God_."

[681:B] Drant was a copious Latin Poet, having published two
miscellanies under the titles of _Sylva_, and _Poemata Varia_.

[681:C] A quotation from one of the songs or ballads of this drunken
rhymer, is to be found in _Much Ado about Nothing_, (Reed's Shakspeare,
vol. vi. p. 196.) commencing

    "The god of love,
     That sits above."

[682:A] This poem, of which a prior edition is noticed in Censura
Literaria, vol. v. p. 349, as published in 4to. 1600, is conjectured
by Ritson, p. 201, to have been the production of William Evans, who
is well known to the lovers of old English poetry, by his eulogium
prefixed to the first edition of Spenser's "Faerie Queene," 1590. The
Thamesiades, which consists of three books or cantos, is written with
vigour, and exhibits some pleasing poetical pictures.

[682:B] This thin volume of 22 leaves, consists of seven poetical
speeches "spoken before the King and Queens most excellent Majestie,
the Prince his highnesse, and the Lady Elizabeth's Grace."

[682:C] He contributed also to the previous editions of 1559 and 1563.

[682:D] The "Georgiks" were added to a new version of the "Bucolikes,"
forming one volume, 4to. Both are in regular Alexandrines without rhyme.

[683:A] This production consists of a pastoral and an elegy; the former
being a translation of the Aminta of Tasso.

[683:B] Fraunce also published in a work of his, entitled "The
Lawyers Logicke," 1586, an hexameter version of Virgil's Alexis. His
affectation of Latin metres has condemned him to oblivion, for as
Phillips justly remarks, "they neither become the English, nor any
other modern language."—Edit. apud Brydges, p. 109.

[683:C] Wood tells us (Ath. Oxon. vol. i. p. 398.), that Freeman was
held in esteem by Donne, Daniel, Chapman, and Shakspeare; and to
these poets, and to Spenser, he has addressed epigrams. For numerous
specimens of this poet, see Warton, vol. iv., Ellis, and Park in
Censura Lit. vol. iv. p. 129.

[683:D] This poem was afterwards annexed to Greene's "History of
Arbasto," 1617, where it is termed "a lovely poem." It was reprinted in
1626. On Greene's authority, I have ranked it beyond mediocrity.

[684:A] A collection which consists, observes Mr. Park, "of the saddest
trash that ever assumed the name of Epigrams; and which, with a very
slight alteration, well merits the sarcasm bestowed by Shenstone on the
poems of a Kidderminster bard:—

    "Thy verses, friend, are _linsey woolsey_ stuff,
     And we must own—you've measur'd out enough."
                                Censura Lit. vol. v. p. 348.

[684:B] The "Popish Kingdome" consists of four books, of which the last
contains a curious and interesting description of feasts, holidays, and
Christmas games; including, of course, many of the customs, and almost
all the amusements of the period in which it was written.

[684:C] Besides these works, Googe published in 1563, "Eglogs,
Epitaphs, and Sonnets," 12mo.

[685:A] "A Poem in manuscript, of considerable length, together with
some Sonnets, preserved amongst numerous treasures of a similar nature,
which belonged to the late Duke of Bridgewater, and now belong to the
Marquis of Stafford."—Todd's Spenser, vol. i. p. 87. Mr. Todd has
given us a specimen of Sir Arthur's talents, by the production of a
Sonnet from this manuscript treasure, which indicates no common genius,
and induces us to wish for the publication of the whole.

[685:B] Sir Arthur was the intimate friend of Spenser, who lamented
the death of Lady Gorges in a beautiful elegy entitled "Daphnaida:" he
has recorded, likewise, the conjugal affection and the talents of her
husband, under the name of _Alcyon_, in the following elegant lines:—

    "And there is sad Alcyon, bent to mourne,
     Though fit to frame an everlasting dittie,
     Whose gentle spright for Daphne's death doth tourne
     Sweet layes of love to endlesse plaints of pittie.
     Ah pensive boy, pursue that brave conceipt,
     In thy sweet eglantine of Meriflure,
     Lift up thy notes unto their wonted height,
     That may thy Muse and mates to mirth allure."
                           Todd's Spenser, vol. viii. p. 23.

[685:C] This poem was printed, says Ritson, at the end of Kenton's
"Mirror of man's life," 1580. Gosson is introduced here in consequence
of the celebrity attributed to him by Wood, who declares, that "for his
admirable penning of pastorals, he was ranked with Sir P. Sidney, Tho.
Chaloner, Edm. Spenser, Abrah. Fraunce, and Rich. Bernfield."

[685:D] This forms the second part of a work by the same writer, called
"The Golden Aphroditis," and consists of 19 pieces, four of which are
in prose.

[686:A] Greepe's poem has been, through mistake, attributed by Mr.
Beloe to Thomas Greene; and Ritson, by a second error, charged with its
omission.—Vide Anecdotes, vol. ii. p. 89.

[686:B] These pieces, written before 1620, were collected in his Works,
folio, 1633, and in his "Remains," 1670. 8vo.

[686:C] Vide Beloe's Anecdotes, vol. ii. p. 109.

[687:A] Warton observes, that "this translation has no other merit than
that of being the first appearance of a part of the Iliad in an English
dress."—Vol. iii. p. 440.

[687:B] Ritson appears to have confounded these two writers, Sir
William, and William Harbert, and classed them as one. The latter
speaks of his _unripened yeares_ in 1604.—Vide British Bibliographer,
No. IV. p. 300.

[687:C] Beside these Sonnets, amounting to twenty-three, Harvey was the
introducer of the miserable attempts to imitate the Latin metres, and
boasts in this publication of being the first who exhibited English
hexameters.

[687:D] The celebrated sister of Sir Philip Sydney.

[687:E] All that are printed of these, appear in the Paradise of
Daintie Devises, of the date annexed. He had previously translated
three tragedies from Seneca, and died in 1598.

[688:A] A writer known to greater advantage by his _Hierarchie of the
Blessed Angels_, folio, 1635; a work of singular curiosity and much
amusement.

[688:B] Higgins termed this the _first part_, merely in reference to
the collection by Baldwin in 1559, which, commencing at a much later
period, was afterwards called "the last part." Higgins's publication,
in 1575, contains 17 Legends from Albanact to Irenglas; but in 1587
he edited an edition of the Mirrour, including Baldwin's part, and
with the addition of 24 Legends of his own composition, which carries
forward his department to the death of Caracalla.

[688:C] In the Dedication of this work, the fashionable reading of
the times is thus reprobated:—"Novelties in these days delight
dainty eares, and fine filed phrases to fit some fantasy's, that no
book except it abound with the one or the other, or both of these, is
brooked of them. Some read _Gascoyne_, some _Guevasia_, some praise the
_Palace of Pleasure_, and the like, whereon they bestow whole days,
yea, some whole months and years, that scarce bestow one minute on the
Bible, albeit the work of God."

[688:D] For specimens of this volume, which is supposed to be unique,
see British Bibliographer, No. II. p. 105.

[689:A] An edition of this "famous old ballad" was published by Thomas
Gent of York, about 1740, who tells us, that it was "taken from an
antient manuscript, which was transcribed by Mr. Richard Guy, late
schoolmaster at Ingleton, in Yorkshire." Subsequent editions have been
published by Lambe and Weber.

[689:B] Printed in Ashmole's _Theatrum Chemicum Britannicum_.

[690:A] Perhaps the only piece above mediocrity in Kendall's Epigrams
is the following which I consider as very happily rendered:—

"MARTIAL.

_To Himselfe._

    MARTIAL, the thinges that do attaine
    The hapy life be these I finde:
    The riches left, not got with paine;
    The fruitefull ground, the quiet minde.

    The egall frend; no grudge no strife;
    No charge of rule, nor governaunce:
    Without disease the healthfull life;
    The household of continuance.

    The mean dyet, no delicate fare;
    True wisdome joynd with simplenes;
    The night discharged of all care,
    Where wine the wit may not oppresse.

    The faithfull wife without debate;
    Such sleepes as may beguile the night;
    Content thyself with thine estate,
    Ne wishe for death, nor feare his might."
                                                 Fol. 18, b.

[691:A] This writer transcends mediocrity in consequence of the
singular purity and harmony of his diction and versification. The
subsequent lines, forming the prior part of a sonnet, have the air of
being written rather in the 19th than the 16th century:—

    "Hard is his hap who never finds content,
       But still must dwell with heavy-thoughted sadnesse:
     Harder that heart that never will relent,
       That may, and will not turne these woes to gladnesse;

     Then joies adue, comfort and mirth, farewell;
       For I must now exile me from all pleasure,
     Seeking some uncouth cave where I may dwell,
       Pensive and solitarie without measure."

[691:B] For an account of this author, and of a poem of his printed in
1631, see Wood's Fasti, vol. i. col. 147; and Censura Literaria, vol.
i. p. 291.

[691:C] A poem in Alexandrines, printed at the end of the first edition
of his "Pilgrimage of Princes."

[692:A] The 200 Sonnets are followed by 100, entitled "Sundry
affectionate Sonets of a feeling conscience;" by 20, called "An
Introdution to peculiar prayers," and by 59, termed "Sonnets of the
Author to divers." In "The Return from Parnassus," Lok is thus, not
undeservedly, sentenced to oblivion:—"Locke and Hudson, sleep you,
quiet shavers, among the shavings of the press, and let your books lie
in some old nook amongst old boots and shoes: so, you may avoid my
censure."—Ancient British Drama, vol. i. p. 49.

[692:B] This is attributed to Markham on the authority of Mr.
Haslewood. See British Bibliographer, No. IV. p. 381.

[692:C] Mr. Park conceives this translation to be the production of
Robert Tofte, rather than of Markham.—Ritson's Bibliographia, p. 274,
note.

[693:A] It is to be regretted that no complete edition of the Works of
Montgomery has hitherto been published. Those printed by Foulis and
Urie in 1751 and 1754, are very imperfect; but might soon be rendered
faithful by consulting the manuscript collection of Montgomery's
Poems, presented by Drummond to the University of Edinburgh. This
MS., extending to 158 pages 4to., contains, beside odes, psalms, and
epitaphs, 70 sonnets, written on the Petrarcan model; and, if we may
judge from the six published by Mr. Irving, exhibiting a considerable
portion of poetic vigour. _The Cherrie and the Slae_, which, as the
critic just mentioned observes, "has maintained its popularity for the
space of two hundred years," must be pronounced in some of its parts,
beautiful, and, as a whole, much above mediocrity. Sibbald has printed
ten of our author's poems in the third volume of his Chronicle of
Scottish Poetry.

[694:A] The Sonnets of Murray appeared five years anterior to those
of Drummond, and though not equal to the effusions of the bard of
Hawthornden, are yet entitled to the praise of skilful construction and
frequently of poetic expression. A copy is now seldom to be met with;
but specimens may be found in Campbell's History of Poetry in Scotland,
and in Censura Literaria, vol. x. p. 374, 375.

[694:B] This poet, who, in the former part of his life, practised as a
physician, at Butley, in Cheshire, was a Latin poet of some eminence,
and one of the translators of Seneca's Tragedies, published in 1581.

[694:C] For a specimen of this poem, see Beloe's Anecdotes, vol. ii. p.
104.

[694:D] Though said to be the fourth edition, this copy is supposed by
Mr. Neve to be really the first impression. (See Cursory Remarks on
Ancient English Poets, 1789, p. 27.) Few poems have been more popular
than Overbury's "Wife;" owing partly to the good sense with which it
abounds, and partly to the interesting and tragic circumstances which
accompanied the author's fate. It was speedily and frequently imitated;
in 1614, appeared "_The Husband. A poeme expressed in a compleat man_,"
by an anonymous writer; in 1616, "_A Select Second Husband for Sir
Thomas Overburie's Wife_," by John Davies of Hereford; in 1619, "_The
Description of a Good Wife_," by Richard Brathwaite; and in the same
year, "_A Happy Husband, or Directions for a Maid to chuse her Mate_,"
by Patrick Hannay. These pieces are inferior to their prototype, which,
though not displaying much poetic inspiration, is written with elegance
and perspicuity.

[695:A] This work is a composition of verse and prose. Mr. Douce
terms Parkes a "writer of great ability and poetical talents, though
undeservedly obscure." Vide Illustrations, vol. ii. p. 75.

[695:B] Warton, in the Fragment of his fourth volume of the History of
English Poetry, remarks at p. 73, that many of Parrot's epigrams "are
worthy to be revived in modern collections." The _Laquei_ contain many
of the epigrams which he had previously published.

[696:A] Peele, who will afterwards be noticed as a dramatic poet,
may be classed with Scoggan, Skelton, and Tarleton, as a buffoon and
jester. He died before 1598, and his "Merrie conceited Jests" were
published in 4to. in 1627.

[696:B] An ample analysis of "The Historie of Lord Mandozze," has been
given in the British Bibliographer, No. X. p. 523.; and No. XI. p. 587.
Of the poetry of this very rare version, little laudatory can be said.

[696:C] Of this scarce poem, unknown to Ritson, the reader will find a
description by Mr. Haslewood in the British Bibliographer, No. III. p.
214.

[696:D] Mr. Beloe conjectures this "Commemoration," not noticed by
Ritson, to have been the production of a writer different from the
_John Phillip_ of the Bibliographia (p. 299.), and assigns for his
reason, the signature, at the conclusion, namely, _John Phyllips_; but
it is remarkable that the inscription, copied by Mr. Beloe, runs thus:
"To all Right Noble, Honorable, Godlye and Worshipfull Ladyes, _John
Phillip_ wisheth," &c. a variation in the orthography which warrants an
inference as to their identity. Vide Beloe, vol. ii. p. 111. et seq.

[697:A] Mr. Haslewood supposes this poem to have been written by
William Phiston, of London, Student; who is considered by Herbert, p.
1012., as the same person mentioned by Warton, vol. iii. p. 308. under
the appellation of W. Phist.—See Brit. Bibliogr. vol. v. p. 569.

[697:B] Ritson, in his Bibliographia, says, that no one except Warton
appears to have met with this publication; extracts from it, however,
may be found in the Monthly Mirror, vol. xiv. p. 17.

[697:C] These Flowers are the production of one of the most celebrated
agriculturists of the 16th century, the author of the "Jewell House of
Art and Nature;" the "Paradise of Flora;" the "Garden of Eden," &c.
&c.; but, in his poetical capacity, they prove, as Mr. Park remarks,
that he "did not attain to 'a plat of rising ground in the territory of
Parnassus.'"—Censura Lit. vol. viii. p. 7.

[697:D] These are printed in the latter part of the miscellany,
entitled "A Gorgeous Gallery of Gallant Inventions."

[697:E] Beside these verses in honour of Elizabeth, Puttenham wrote
the "Isle of Great Britain," a little brief romance; "Elpine," an
eclogue; "Minerva," an hymn; and, throughout his "Arte of Poesie,"
are interspersed a number of _verses_, _epigrams_, _epitaphs_,
_translations_, _imitations_, &c. Mr. Haslewood has prefixed a copy of
the _Partheniades_ to his reprint of "The Arte of English Poesie," 1811.

[698:A] For specimens of this poem, the British Bibliographer, No. II.
p. 153., may be consulted. Why it was called Dolarny's Primerose does
not appear. Reynolds possesses some merit as a descriptive poet.

[698:B] Of this work, not mentioned by Ritson, an account has been
given by Mr. Haslewood in Censura Literaria, vol. iv. p. 241. The
"Rewarde of Wickednesse" is written on the plan of the "Mirror for
Magistrates," and was composed during the author's night-watches as one
of the sentinels employed to guard the unfortunate Mary Queen of Scots.
Robinson is supposed to be author of "The ruffull tragedy of Hemidos
and Thelay," licensed in 1570.

[698:C] To Sibbald's Chronicle of Scottish Poetry, vol. iii. p. 287.,
and to _Restituta_, No. III. p. 177., I refer the reader for the only
account which I can recollect of this obscure writer. Irving and
Pinkerton merely mention the titles of his poems. Mr. Gillies, in
a very interesting article in the Restituta, has given us an ample
specimen of his "Seven Sages."

[699:A] Ritson says, that this is "a poem in 168 six-line stanzas,
of considerable merit, and with great defects: a 4to. MS. in the
possession of Francis Douce, Esq."—Vide Bibliographia Poetica, p. 315.

[699:B] Several extracts from this work, consisting of seven satires,
have been given by Warton in his Fragment of Vol. IV. See also Censura
Literaria, vol. vi. p. 277.; and Beloe's Anecdotes, vol. ii. p. 125.,
where further notices of this medley may be found. It went through
subsequent editions in 1607 and 1611.

[699:C] This poem and the three succeeding are not recorded by Ritson.
See Censura Lit. vol. ii. p. 150., in an article by Mr. Gilchrist.

[699:D] For a description of this copy see Brit. Bibliogr., No. V. p.
548.

[699:E] Curious specimens from this publication have been given by Mr.
Haslewood in the Brit. Bibliographer, No. X. p. 549.

[700:A] Of this voluminous pamphleteer, five more pieces are enumerated
by Ritson, published posterior to 1616. Though a rapid and careless
writer, he occasionally exhibits considerable vigour, and has often
satirized with spirit the manners and follies of his period. He may
be justly classed as surmounting mediocrity, and he is therefore
designated as such at the close of this article.

[700:B] This poem, and the Fisherman's Tale, are written in blank
verse, a species of composition in which Sabie had been preceded by
Surrey, Gascoigne, Turberville, Riche, Peele, Higgins, Blenerhasset,
Aske, Vallans, Greene, Breton, Chapman, Marlowe, &c. A copious analysis
of these pieces has been given by Mr. Haslewood in No. V. of the
British Bibliographer, from p. 488. to 503.; but neither the genius
nor the versification of Sabie merit much notice: his _Pan_, however,
contains some beautiful rhymed lines.

[700:C] Annexed, says Ritson, to his "Hours of Recreation or after
dinners," 1576, 8vo.

[700:D] The "Four Paradoxes" occupy four portions, each consisting of
18 six-line stanzas, and the whole is terminated by three additional
ones, entitled his "Resolution." The specimens of this poem adduced by
Mr. Park in Censura Literaria, vol. iii. and iv., speak highly in its
favour, and seem to justify the following encomium:—"There is much
manly observation, forcible truth, apt simile, and moral pith in the
poem itself; and it leaves a lingering desire upon the mind, to obtain
some knowledge of a writer, whose meritorious production was unheralded
by any contemporary verse-man, and whose name remains unrecorded by any
poetical biographer."—Vol. iii. p. 376.

[701:A] An accurate account of this volume, which was republished in
1622 and 1640, may be found in Censura Literaria, vol. iii, p. 381.
"From the great disparity of merit between this and the preceding
article," observes Mr. Park, "there is little reason to suppose them by
the same author, though they bear the same name."

[701:B] A perfect copy of this miserable collection of poems,
consisting of sonnets, elegies, odes, odellets, &c. was purchased,
at a sale, by Mr. Triphook for twelve guineas. The only copy before
known was without a title, from which Ritson has given a full account,
though, at the same time, he terms the author an "arrogant and absurd
coxcomb," and condemns him for his "wretched style, profligate
plagiarism, ridiculous pedantry, and unnatural conceit."—Vide Bib.
Poetica, p. 337. et seq.

[701:C] An ample and interesting description of Stanyhurst, and his
translation, will be found in Censura Literaria, vol. iv. pp. 225.
354., the production of Mr. Haslewood. Nash has not exaggerated when,
alluding to this poet, he says, "whose heroical poetry infired, I
should say inspired, with an hexameter furye, recalled to life whatever
hissed barbarism hath been buried this hundred yeare; and revived by
his ragged quill such carterly varietie, as no hedge plowman in a
countrie but would have held as the extremitie of clownerie: a patterne
whereof I will propound to your judgment, as near as I can, being part
of one of his descriptions of a tempest, which is thus:—

    "Then did he make heaven's vault to rebound
       With rounce robble bobble,
     Of ruffe raffe roaring,
       With thicke thwacke thurly bouncing."
                         Nash's Preface to Greene's Arcadia.

[702:A] Storer's Life of Wolsey, which is about to be reprinted, has
a claim upon our attention, both for its matter and manner: he was a
contributor also to "England's Helicon," and has been highly extolled
by his friend Fitzgeffrey, in Affanis, lib. i.

[702:B] The most interesting part of this volume, from the nature
of its subject, is "Ane schort Treatise conteining some Reulis and
Cautelis to be observit and eschewit in Scottis Poesie," in which the
regal critic observes, that "sindrie hes written of it in English," an
assertion which would lead to the supposition that some of our earliest
critics had perished; for Gascoigne's "Certayne Notes of Instruction
concerning the making of Verse or Rhyme," 1575, appears now to be the
only piece of criticism on poetic composition which preceded James's
"Essayes."

[702:C] The Poetical Exercises contain but two poems,—the "Furies,"
translated from Du Bartas, and "The Lepanto," an original piece.
Several minor poems, introduced into his own works and those of others,
some sonnets and a translation of the psalms, were written by James
after his accession to the English throne.

[702:D] Of this far-famed comedian and jester, Fuller says, that "when
Queen Elizabeth was serious (I dare not say sullen) and out of good
humour, he could undumpish her at his pleasure. Her highest favourites
would in some cases go to Tarlton before they would go to the Queen,
and he was their usher to prepare their advantageous accession to
her. In a word, he told the Queen more of her faults than most of her
chaplains, and cured her melancholy better than all her physicians."
Indeed, in the language of a contemporary,

    "Of all the jesters in the lande
       He bare the praise awaie."
                                   Vide Ritson Bibl. p. 359.

[703:A] Of this voluminous scribbler, whose rhyming spirit, remarks
Granger, did not evaporate with his youth, who held the pen much longer
than he did the oar, and who was the poetaster of half a century, I
have only been able to insert two of his earliest productions, the
remainder being subsequent to 1616, and extending to 1653. He was
thirty-two when Shakspeare died; and "the waterman," observes Mr.
Chalmers, "must have often _sculled_ Shakspeare, who is said to have
lived on _The Bankside_."—Apology, p. 101.

[703:B] _The Fruites of Jealousie_, a long poem in octave measure, may
be found at the close of _The Blazon of Jealousie_, translated from the
Italian of Varchi, of which an account is given in Censura Literaria,
vol. iv. p. 403.

[704:A] Beside these anthems, which were licensed to her printer,
Christ. Barker, Nov. 15., her Majesty wrote a variety of small pieces,
some of which have been preserved by Hentzner, Puttenham, and Soothern,
and reprinted by Percy, Ellis, and Ritson. The fourteenth Psalm also,
and the Speech of the Chorus in the second Act of the Hercules Œtæus
of Seneca, have been published by Mr. Park, the latter poem being a
specimen of blank verse.—Vide Park's Royal and Noble Authors, vol. i.
p. 102.

Of the execrable flattery which was systematically bestowed on
this monarch, the following eulogium upon her poetry, is a curious
instance. After enumerating the best poets of his age, Puttenham thus
proceeds:—"But last in recitall and first in degree is the Queene
our soveraigne Lady, whose learned, delicate, noble Muse, easily
surmounteth all the rest that have written before her time or since,
for sence, sweetnesse and subtillitie, be it Ode, Elegie, Epigram, or
any other kinde of poeme, Heroick, Lyricke, wherein it shall please
her Majestie to employ her penne, even by as much oddes as her owne
excellent estate and degree exceedeth all the rest of her most humble
vassalls."—The Arte of English Poesie, reprint, p. 51.

[704:B] A Collection of Epigrams.

[705:A] These poems were published in a tract entitled "The Right Way
to Heaven, and the true testimony of a faithfull and loyall subject,"
1601.

[705:B] This copy is without date, but a second edition was printed in
1617; it is a miserable paraphrase of Warner's exquisite episode.

[705:C] Of this Collection Lord Hailes published a specimen in 1765; in
1801, Mr. J. Gr. Dalyell reprinted the whole, with the Scotish poems of
the 16th century. Edin. 2 vols. 12mo.; and Mr. Irving has given some
notices of the author in his Scotish poets, 2 vols. 8vo. 1804.

[706:A] Wenman's Legend and Poems have lately been printed by Mr.
Fry, in an octavo volume, from a quarto manuscript of 52 leaves. The
Legend appears to have been intended for insertion in the _Mirror for
Magistrates_.

[706:B] For a very full account of "The Rocke of Regard," by Mr. Park,
see Censura Lit. vol. v. p. 1.

[706:C] This poem of 90 seven-line stanzas, is annexed to Bindley's
"Mirror of True Honour and Christian Nobility," &c. 1585. 4to.

[706:D] Of Whitney's Emblemes, which, being printed at Leyden, is a
very rare book, a description will be found in Censura Lit. vol. v. p.
233.

[706:E] Willet's Emblems were written before 1598, as Meres alludes to
them in his "Palladis Tamia."

[707:A] These biographical poems were added to the author's "True
use of Armorie," 1592, 4to. Of the first poem an extract is given in
Censura Lit. vol. i. p. 149, 150.

[707:B] A copy of these poems, apparently unique, is in the possession
of Mr. Park, who has communicated a description of it in Censura Lit.
vol. iii. p. 175.

[707:C] This romance, which abounds with poetry, is of the pastoral
species; it is written on the plan of Sidney's Arcadia, and, like it,
exhibits many beautiful passages both in prose and verse: twenty-seven
of its poetical effusions have been inserted in "England's Helicon,"
and several have been lately reprinted in "Restituta," No. VII.
accompanied by some interesting remarks from the pen of Sir Egerton
Brydges.

[707:D] For a specimen of this poem, which "is a concise geographical
description of three-quarters of the world, Asia, Africa, and Europe,
in the manner of Dionysius," and which Mr. Beloe believes to be unique,
see his Anecdotes, vol. ii. p. 74.

[710:A] Sidney's Works, 7th edit., fol., 1629, p. 561.

[711:A] May-Day; a wittie comedie. Divers times acted at "The Blacke
Fryers;" 4to. Act iii. fol. 39.

[711:B] A copy of this Miscellany, of the edition of 1580, sold at the
Roxburghe Sale, for 55_l._ 13_s._!

[713:A] Reprint by Sir Egerton Brydges, 1810. p. 44.

[714:A] Reprint, p. 42.

[714:B] Preface to his reprint, p. vi.

[714:C] Reprint, p. 55.

[714:D] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. xx. p. 222. Act iv. sc. 5.

[715:A] Reprint, p. 57, 58.

[715:B] Ibid. p. 66.

[715:C] Ibid. p. 14. 37. 87.

[716:A] Vide Heliconia, Part I. Advertisement.

[717:A] For a notable instance of this figure, we refer the reader to
"The Lover in Bondage," at p. 50. of Mr. Park's reprint. Not Holofernes
himself could more "affect the letter."

[717:B] Quoted by Mr. Park in the Advertisement to his reprint.

[718:A] Heliconia, Part II. p. 85.

[720:A] Heliconia, Part III. Advertisement.

[723:A] England's Helicon, reprint of 1812, Introduction, p. xx. xxi.
xxii.

[724:A] Preface, pp. 8, 9. This Collection of Hayward's had three
different titles; the last dated 1741. The second edition is called
"The Quintissence of English Poetry."

[727:A] The curious Preface, from which we have given this long
extract, is only to be found in the first edition of the Belvedere; its
omission in the second is a singular defect, as it certainly forms the
most interesting part of the impression of 1600.

[727:B] See Malone's Inquiry.

[728:A] Supplement to Shakspeare, vol. i. p. 732.

[730:A] See Censura Literaria, vol. i. p. 229.

[732:A] Vide Morley's Plaine and easie Introduction to Practical Musick.

[733:A] For specimens of these interesting collections, I refer my
reader to _Censura Literaria_, vol. ix. p. 1. et seq.; vol. x. pp. 179.
294.; and to the _British Bibliographer_, No. IV. p. 343.; No. V. p.
563.; No. VI. p. 59.; No. IX. p. 427.; No. XI. p. 652.; No. XII. p.
48.; and No. XV. p. 386. A well-chosen selection from the now scarce
volumes of these Professors of Vocal Music would be a valuable present
to the lovers of English poetry.


END OF THE FIRST VOLUME

  Printed by A. Strahan,
  Printers-Street, London.




INDEX.


*.* _The Roman Numerals refer to the Volumes; the Figures to the Pages
of each Volume._


A

  _Acheley_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 676.

  _Acting_, art of, consummately known to Shakspeare, i. 423.
    Parts chiefly performed by him, 424, 425.

  _Actors_, companies of, when first licensed, ii. 202.
    Placed under the superintendence of the masters of the revels, 203.
    Their remuneration, 204.
    Patronized by the court, 205,
      and also by private individuals, whose names they bore, 205, 206.
    Days and hours of their performance, 215, 216.
    Their remuneration, 223, 224.

  _Admission_ to the theatre, in the time of Shakspeare, prices of, ii.
      216, 217.

  _Adonis_, beautiful address of Venus to, ii. 25, 26.
    See _Venus and Adonis_.

  _Ægeon_, exquisite portrait of, in the Comedy of Errors, ii. 288.

  _Æschylus_, striking affinity between the celebrated trilogy of, and
      Shakspeare's Macbeth, ii. 472, 473.

  _Affection_ (maternal), exquisite delineation of, ii. 421.

  _Affections_ (sympathetic), account of, i. 373, 374.

  _Agate_ stone, supposed virtue of, i. 368.

  _Agnus Dei_, a supposed charm against thunder, i. 364.

  _Air_, spirits of, introduced into the Tempest, ii. 524.

  _Akenside_'s "Pleasures of the Imagination" quoted, i. 321, 322.

  _Alchemistry_, a favourite pursuit of the age of Shakspeare, ii. 154.

  _Alderson_ (Dr.), opinion of, on the cause of spectral visitations,
      ii. 405, 406.
    His application of them to the character of Hamlet, 408.

  _Ale_, synonymous with merry making, i. 175.
    Different kinds of Ales, 176.
    Leet-ale, 176.
    Clerk-ale, _ibid._
    Church-ales, 177-179.

  _Alehouses_, picture of, in Shakspeare's time, ii. 216-218.

  _Alfs_, or bright and swart elves of the Scandinavians, account of,
      ii. 308, 309.

  _All-Hallow-Eve_, festival of, i. 341.
    Fires kindled on that eve, _ibid._
    Prayers offered for the souls of the departed, 342.
    Supposed influence of fairies, spirits, &c. 342-344.
    Spells practised on that eve, 344-347.

  _Alliterations_, in the English language, satirised by Sir Philip
      Sidney, i. 444.

  _All's Well that Ends Well_, probable date of, ii. 422.
    Analysis of its characters,—the Countess of Rousillon, 423.
    Helen, _ib._ 424, 425.
    Remarks on the minor characters, 425.

    _Passages of this drama, which are illustrated in this work._

      Act   i. scene  3., ii. 424.
      Act  ii. scene  1.,  i. 108. 175. ii. 434.
               scene  2.,  i. 143. 159.
               scene  5., ii. 434.
               scene  7., ii. 434.
      Act iii. scene  2., ii. 107. 425.
      Act  iv. scene 10.,  i. 362.
               scene 12., ii. 192.

  _All Saints' Day_, festival of, i. 341.
    Superstitious observances on its vigil, 341-347.

  _Allot_ (Robert), "English Parnassus," i. 723.
    List of contributors to this collection of poems, 724.
    Critical remarks on the merits of his selection, _ibid._ 725.

  _Amadis of Gaul_ (Romance of), popularity of, i. 515.
    Notice of English translations of it, 546, 547.

  _Amusements_ of the fairies, ii. 342-345.

  _Amusements_, national, in the age of Shakspeare, enumerated, i. 246,
      247.
    Account of the itinerant stage, 247-252.
    The Cotswold games, 252-254.
    Hawking, 255.
    Hunting, 272.
    Fowling, 287.
    Bird-batting, 289.
    Fishing, 289.
    Horse-racing, 297.
    The Quintaine, 300.
    Wild-goose chace, 304.
    Hurling, 305.
    Shovel-board, 306.
    Shove-groat, 307.
    Juvenile sports, 308-312.
    Amusements of the metropolis and court, ii. 168.
      Card playing, 169.
      Tables and dice, 171.
      Dancing, 172.
      Bull-baiting and bear-baiting, 176.
      Archery, 178.
      Frequenting of Paul's Walk, 182.
      Sagacious horses, 186.
      Masques and pageants, 187.
      Royal progresses, 193.
      Dramatic performances, 201-226.

  _Anderson_ (James), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 676.

  _Andrewe_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 676.

  _Angels_, different orders of, i. 335.
    Account of the doctrine of guardian angels prevalent in Shakspeare's
        time, 336.
    Supposed number of angels, 337-339.
    Remarks on this doctrine by Bishop Horsley, 339, 340.
    The supposed agency of angelic spirits, as believed in Shakspeare's
        time, critically analysed, ii. 399-405.
    And applied to the introduction of the spirit in Hamlet, 407-416.
    Superiority of Shakspeare's angelic spirits over those of all other
        dramatists, ancient or modern, 417, 418.

  _Angling_, notice of books on the art of, i. 290, 291.
    Contemplations of an angler, 292, 293.
    His qualifications described, 294-296.
    Encomium on, by Sir Henry Wotton, 297.
    Beautiful verses on, by Davors, 614.

  _Anglo-Norman_ romances, account of, i. 523-531.

  _Animals_, sagacious, in the time of Shakspeare, notice of, ii. 186,
      187.

  _Anneson_ (James), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 676.

  _Ante-suppers_, when introduced, ii. 128.

  _Anthropophagi_, supposed existence of, i. 385, 386.
    Allusions to by Shakspeare, 385.

  _Antony and Cleopatra_, date of, ii. 492.
    Character and conduct of this drama, 493.

    _Passages of this drama which are illustrated in the present work._

      Act   i. scene  4., i. 129.
      Act  ii. scene  3., i. 338.
      Act iii. scene  9., i. 138.
      Act  iv. scene 10., i. 308.

  _Apemantus_, remarks on the character of, ii. 451, 452.

  _Apes_, kept as companions for the domestic fools, ii. 146.

  _Aphorisms_ of Shakspeare, character of, i. 517.

  _Apparitions_, probable causes of, ii. 406.
    Application of them to the character of Hamlet, 406-408.

  _Arcadia_ of Sir Philip Sidney, critical notice of, i. 548-552.
    Alluded to by Shakspeare, 573, 574.

  _Archery_, a favourite diversion in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 178.
    The knights of Prince Arthur's round-table, a society of archers,
        instituted by Henry VIII., 179.
    Encouraged in the reign of Elizabeth, 179, 180.
    Decline of archery, 181, 182.

  _Arden_ or _Ardern_ family, account of, i. 3.
    Shakspeare probably descended from, by the female line, _ibid._

  _Ardesoif_ (Mr.), terrific death of, i. 146. note.

  _Ariel_, analysis of the character of, ii. 506. 522, 523.

  _Ariosto_'s Orlando Furioso, as translated by Sir John Harington,
      remarks on, i. 629.
    His "Supposes," a comedy, translated by Gascoigne, ii. 233.

  _Armin_ (Thomas), complaint of, against the critics of his day, i.
      456.

  _Arms_, supposed grant of, to John Shakspeare, i. 1.
    Real grant and confirmation of, to him, 2, 3.

  _Arras Hangings_, an article of furniture, in the age of Shakspeare,
      ii. 114, 115.

  _Arthington_ (Henry), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 676.

  _Arthur_ and Hubert, beautiful scene between, in the play of King
      John, ii. 422.

  _Arthur's Chase_, account of, i. 377, 378.

  _Arthur's Round Table_, a society of archers, account of, i. 562, 563.

  _Arval_, or Funeral Entertainment, account of, i. 238.

  _Ascham_ (Roger), complaint of, on the little reward of schoolmasters,
      i. 27. _note_, 94.
    Improved the English language, 439.
    Remarks of, on the cultivation of classical literature in England,
        450.;
      and of Italian literature, 452.
    Notice of his "Scholemaster," 454.
    His censure of the popularity of "La Morte d'Arthur," 524, 525.
    Design of his "Toxophilus," ii. 181.

  _Aske_ (James), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 676.

  _Asses' Heads_, absurd recipe for fixing on the shoulders of man, ii.
      351, 352.

  _As You Like It_, date of, ii. 431.
    Remarks on the general structure of its fable, 431, 432.
    Analysis of the character of Jaques, 433, 434.

    _Passages of this drama which are illustrated in the present work._

      Act   i. scene 2.,  i. 301.
      Act  ii. scene 1.,  i. 367. 403.
               scene 7.,  i. 55. ii. 102.
      Act iii. scene 2., ii. 115.
               scene 3.,  i. 580.
               scene 4.,  i. 556.
      Act  iv. scene 1.,  i. 580. ii. 157.
      Act   v. scene 4.,  i. 288. ii. 159.
      The Epilogue,       i. 218.

  _Aubrey_, statement of, respecting Shakspeare's being a butcher, i.
      36.
    Probability of his account that Shakspeare had been a schoolmaster,
        45.
    His character of the poet, ii. 615.

  _Avale_ (Lemeke), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 676.

  _Autolycus_, remarks on the character of, ii. 500.


B

  _Bacon_ (Lord), character of his Henry VII., i. 476.,
    and of his "Essays," 512. 517.

  _Bag-Pipe_, the ancient accompaniment of the morris-dance and
      May-games, i. 164, 165.

  _Baldwyne_'s "Myrrour for Magistrates," account of, i. 708, 709.

  _Ballads_, early English, notice of a collection of, i. 574-576.
    Quotations from and allusions to them by Shakspeare, 577-593.

  _Balnevis_ (Henry), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 676.

  _Bandello_, principal novels of, translated by Paynter, i. 541.
    His novels wholly translated by Warner or Webbe, 543.

  _Banquets_, where taken, in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 144.

  _Barksted_ (William), encomiastic verses of, on Shakspeare's Venus and
      Adonis, ii. 30.

  _Barley-Break_, verses on, i. 309.
    How played, 310.
    Poetical description of, 311.
    Scottish mode of playing, 312.

  _Barnefielde_ (Richard), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, works
      of, i. 676, 677.
    Character of his affectionate shepherd, 677. _note_ [677:A].
    Verses of, on Shakspeare's Venus and Adonis, and Lucrece, ii. 29.

  _Barnes_ (Barnabe), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 677.
    Character of his Sonnets, _ibid._ _note_ [677:B].

  —— (Juliana), the book of St. Alban's of, reprinted by Markham, i.
      70. _note_.
    Dedication of it, _ibid._
    Account of the edition, with extracts, 71, 72. _notes_.
    The treatyse of Fishing not written by her, 290. and _note_.
    Different editions of this work, 291.

  _Baronets_, order of, when created, ii. 527.
    Their arms, 528.

  _Barry's_ "Ram Alley," illustrated, i. 224.

  _Barson_ or Barston, village, allusion to by Shakspeare, i. 51.

  _Bastard_ (Thomas), notice of the epigrams of, i. 677. and _note_.

  _Batman_ (Stephen), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 677.

  _Batman_'s translation of "Bartholome de Proprietatibus Rerum," well
      known to Shakspeare, i. 485.

  _Bear-baiting_, a fashionable amusement in the age of Elizabeth, ii.
      176.
    Prices of entrance to the bear-gardens, 178.

  _Beards_, fashions of, in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 102, 103.

  "_Beards Wag all_," the proverb of, explained, i. 143, 144.

  _Beaufort_ (Cardinal), dying scene of, i. 390.

  _Beaumont_ (Sir John), critical notices of, as a poet, i. 601, 602.
    His elegiac tribute to the memory of the Earl of Southampton, ii.
        17, 18.
    How far he assisted Fletcher, 558.

  _Beaumont and Fletcher_, illustrations of the plays of,
    Custom of the Country, i. 477.
    Fair Maid of the Inn, i. 329.
    Knight of the Burning Pestle, i. 477. ii. 282. _note_.
    Playhouse to Let, ii. 282. _note_.
    Scornful Lady, i. 224.
    Woman Pleased, act iv. sc. 1. i. 172, 173.

  _Beauty_, exquisite taste for, discoverable in Shakspeare's works, ii.
      616-618.

  _Bedchambers_, furniture of, in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 117.

  _Belemnites_, or Hag-Stones, supposed virtues of, i. 367.

  _Belleforest_'s and _Boisteau_'s "Cent Histoires Tragiques," a
      collection of tales, notice of, i. 544.

  _Bells_, why tolled at funerals, i. 232-234.
    Worn by Hawks, 268.

  _Beltein_, or rural sacrifice of the Scotch Highlanders on May-day, i.
      152.

  "_Bel-vedere_, or the Garden of the Muses," a collection of poems,
      critical notice of, i. 725, 726.
    List of contributors to it, 726, 727.

  _Benefices_ bestowed in Elizabeth's time on menial servants, i. 92.

  _Betrothing_, ceremony of, i. 220-223.

  _Betterton_ (Mr.), visits Stratford, in quest of information
      concerning Shakspeare, i. 34.

  _Beverley_ (Peter), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 677.

  _Bevis_ (Sir), of Southampton, notice of, i. 565.
    Allusions by Shakspeare to the romance of, 565, 566.

  _Bezoar_ stones, supposed virtues of, i. 367.

  _Bibliography_, cultivated by Queen Elizabeth, i. 428.
    Influence of her example, 433.
    Account of eminent bibliographers and bibliophiles of her court,
        433-436.

  _Bidford Topers_, anecdote of them and Shakspeare, i. 48-50.

  _Bieston_ (Roger), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 677.

  _Biographical Writers_, during the age of Elizabeth, notice of, i.
      482.

  _Birds_, different modes of taking in the 16th century, i. 287.
    By means of stalking-horses, 288.
    Bird-batting described, 289.

  _Blackfriars_, theatre in, account of, ii. 209, 210.

  _Black Letter_ books, chiefly confined to the time of Elizabeth, i.
      438.

  _Blenerhasset_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i.
      677.
    Additions made by him to the "Mirrour for Magistrates," 709.

  _Boar's-head_, anciently the first dish brought to table, i. 76.
    Ceremonies attending it, 201.
    Verses on, _ibid._ 202.

  _Boccacio_, principal novels of, translated by Paynter, i. 541.

  _Bodenham's_ (John), "Garden of the Muses," a collection of poems, i.
      725.
    Critical notice of, 726.
    List of contributors to it, 726, 727.

  _Bodley_ (Sir Thomas), an eminent book collector, notice of, i. 433.
    Observation of King James I. on quitting the Bodleian library, 434.

  _Bolton_ (Edward), critical notice of his "_Hypercritica_: or Rule of
      Judgment for writing or reading our Historys," i. 465, 470-471.

  _Bond_ (Dr. John), an eminent Latin philologer, i. 454.

  _Booke of St. Albans_, curious title and dedication of Markham's
      edition of, i. 70. _note_.
    Rarity of the original edition, 71. _note_.
      extract from, _ibid._, 72. _note_.

  _Book of Sports_, account of, i. 173, 174.

  _Books_, taste for, encouraged by Queen Elizabeth, i. 428. 433-435.
    Were anciently placed with their leaves outwards, 436.
    Were splendidly bound in the time of Elizabeth, 432. and _note_,
        436.
    Hints on the best mode of keeping books, 436, 437.
    Remarks on the style in which they were executed, 437, 438.

  _Boors_, or country clowns, character of, in the 16th century, i.
      120-122.

  _Boots_, preposterous fashions of, in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 106,
      107.

  _Bourcher_ (Arthur), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 677.

  _Bourman_ (Nicholas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 677.

  _Boys_ (Rev. John), an eminent Grecian, notice of, i. 454.

  _Bradshaw_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 677.

  _Brathwait_'s English Gentleman cited, i. 258, 259.

  _Brathwayte_ (Richard), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 677.

  _Brawls_, a fashionable dance in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 173.
    Different sorts of, _ibid._

  _Bread_, enumeration of different kinds of, in the age of Shakspeare,
      ii. 127.

  _Breeches_, preposterous size of, in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 104.
      and _note_.

  _Breton_ (Nicholas), critical notice of the poems of, i. 602, 603.

  _Brewer_'s "Lingua," illustration of, i. 477.

  _Brice_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 678.

  _Bridal Bed_, why blessed, i. 226.

  _Bride_, custom of kissing at the altar, i. 225.
    Supposed visionary appearances of future brides and bridegrooms, on
        Midsummer-Eve, 332-334.
      and on All-Hallow-Eve, 344-347.

  _Bride Ale_ (Rustic), description of, i. 227-229.

  _Britton_ (Mr.), remarks of, on the monumental bust of Shakspeare, ii.
      619, 620.

  _Broke_ (Arthur), account of his "Tragicall Historye of Romeus and
      Juliet," ii. 359. and _note_.

  _Brooke_ (Christopher), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 678.

  _Brooke_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 678.

  _Broughton_ (Rowland), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 678.

  _Browne_'s (William), Britannia's Pastorals, quotations from,
      illustrative of ancient customs:—on May-day, i. 155.
    Critical notice of his merits as a poet, 603, 604, 605.
    Causes of his being neglected, 605.

  _Brownie_, a benevolent Scottish fairy, account of, ii. 330-336.
    Resemblance between him and Shakspeare's Puck, 351.

  _Brutus_, character of, ii. 492.

  _Brydges_ (Sir Egerton), on the merits of Lodge, as a poet, i.
      633-635.
    Estimate of the poetical character of Sir Walter Raleigh, 640-642.
    Critical observations of, on the "Paradise of Daintie Devises," 714,
        715.
      And on "England's Helicon," 721-723.

  _Bryskett_ (Lodowick), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, notice
      of, i. 678. and _note_. [678:B]

  _Buck_ (Sir George), a minor poet in the time of Shakspeare, i. 678.

  _Buchanan_'s "Rerum Scoticarum Historia," character of, i. 477.

  _Bull-baiting_, a fashionable amusement in the age of Shakspeare, ii.
      176, 177.

  _Bullokar_'s "Bref Grammar for English," notice of, i. 455, 456.
    His innovations in English spelling, satirised by Shakspeare, 472.

  _Burbadge_, the player, notice of, i. 417.

  _Burial_, ceremony of, i. 232.
    Tolling the passing-bell, _ibid._ 233, 234.
    Lake wakes, described, 234-236.
    Vestiges of, in the north of England, 237.
    Funeral entertainments, 238.
    Garlands of flowers sometimes buried with the deceased, 240, 241.
    Graves planted with flowers, 242-244.

  _Burns_, poetical description by, of the spells of All-Hallow-Eve, i.
      346.

  _Burton_ (William), critical notice of his "History of
      Leicestershire," i. 481.

  _Burton_'s apology for May-games and sports, i. 174.
    Invective against the extravagance at inns, 219.
    His list of sports pursued in his time, 247.
    Portrait of the illiterate country gentlemen of that age, 430, 431.
    Eulogium on books and book collectors, 434, 435.
    The popular song of "Fortune my Foe," cited by him, 577.

  _Burton on the Heath_, allusion to, by Shakspeare, i. 50.

  _Bust_ of Shakspeare, in Stratford church, originality of, proved, ii.
      620.
    Its character and expression injured through Mr. Malone's
        interference, 621.

  _Buttes_ (John), "Dyets Dry Dinner," curious extract from, ii. 218.

  _Byrd_'s (William), collection of "Tenor Psalmes, Sonets, and Songs,
      of Pietie," &c. account of, i. 731.

  _Byron_'s (Lord), "Siege of Corinth" illustrated, ii. 411.


C

  _Cæsar_. See _Julius Cæsar_.

  _Caliban_, remarks on the character of, ii. 506. 523. 525.

  _Camden_ (William), character of his "Annals," i. 477.

  _Campbell_'s "Pleasures of Hope," character of, i. 599.

  _Campion_ (Thomas), critical notice of his "Observations on the Art of
      English Poesie," i. 468, 469.

  _Canary Dance_, account of, ii. 175.

  _Candlemas-day_, origin of the festival, i. 138.
    Why called "Wives' Feast Day," _ibid._
    Ceremonies for Candlemas-eve and day, 139, 140, 141.

  _Capel_ (Mr.), Erroneous notions of, concerning Shakspeare's marriage,
      i. 62.
    His text of Shakspeare, one of the purest extant, ii. 48. _note_.

  _Caps_ worn by the ladies, in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 95.

  _Carbuncle_, imaginary virtues of, i. 396.
    Allusions to it, _ibid._ 397-399.

  _Cards_, fashionable games of, in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 169, 170.
    Were played in the theatre by the audience before the performance
        commenced, 217.

  _Carew_ (Richard), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 679.

  _Carew_'s "Survey of Cornwall," notice of, i. 481.

  _Carols_ (Christmas), account of, i. 197-202.

  _Carpenter_ (John), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 679.

  _Castiglione_'s "Cortegiano" translated into English, i. 453.

  _Chair_ of Shakspeare, purchased by Princess Czartoryskya, i. 22, 23.

  _Chalkhill_ (John), critical notice of the poems of, i. 605. 607.
    Singular beauty of his pastorals, 606.

  _Chalmers_ (Mr.), probable conjecture of, on the authenticity of
      Shakspeare's will, i. 15, 16.
    His hypothesis, concerning the person to whom Shakspeare addressed
        his sonnets, disproved, ii. 61, 62.
    Examination of his conjectures respecting the date of Romeo and
        Juliet, 357, 358.
      Of Richard III. 370, 371.
      Of Richard II. 376.
      Of Henry IV. Parts I. and II. 379.
      Of the Merchant of Venice, 385.
      Of Hamlet, 391.
      Of King John, 419.
      Of All's Well that Ends Well, 422, 423.
    His opinion on the traditionary origin of the Merry Wives of Windsor
        controverted, 435, 436.
    His conjecture on the date of Troilus and Cressida, 438.
      Of Henry VIII. 442.
      Of Timon of Athens, 444.
      Of Measure for Measure, 452.
      Of King Lear, 457.
      Of the Tempest, 500-503.
      Of Othello, 528.
      Of Twelfth Night, 532, 533.

  _Chapman_ (George), critical merits of as a poet, i. 607, 608.
    His tribute to the memory of the Earl of Southampton, ii. 17.
    Estimate of his merits as a dramatic poet, 569, 570.

  _Characters_, notice of writers of, in the age of Elizabeth, i.
      509-511.
    Sketch of the public and private character of Queen Elizabeth, ii.
        146-151.
      and of James I. 151, 152.
    Of Shakspeare's drama, remarks on, ii. 545.

  _Charlcott-House_, the seat of Sir Thomas Lucy, notice of, i. 402.

  _Charms_ practised on Midsummer-Eve, i. 331-333.
    On All-Hallow-Eve, 344-347.
    Supposed influence of, 362-365.

  _Chaucer_, poetical description of May-day by, i. 153.
    Illustration of his "Assemblie of Fooles," 379, 380, 381.
    Description of the carbuncle, 396.
    Alluded to, by Shakspeare, ii. 79.
    Allusions by Chaucer to fairy mythology, 313. 317.

  _Chester_ (Robert), a minor poet, of the age of Shakspeare, i. 679.
    Critical notice of his "Love's Martyr," 728.

  _Chettle_ (Henry), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 679.

  _Children_, absurdity of frightening by superstitious tales, i. 317.
    Notice of legendary tales, of their being stolen or changed by
        fairies, ii. 325-327.

  _Chivalric Amusements_ of Shakspeare's age, described, i. 553-556.

  _Chivalry_, influence of, on the poetry of the Elizabethan age, i.
      596.
    Allusion to it, by Shakspeare, ii. 79.

  _Chopine_ or Venetian stilt, notice of, ii. 98.

  _Chrismale or Chrism-Cloth_, account of, i. 231.

  _Christenings_, description of, i. 230, 231.

  _Christian_ IV. (King of Denmark), drunken entertainment given to, ii.
      124, 125.

  _Christian Name_, the same frequently given to two successive children
      in the age of Queen Elizabeth, i. 4. _note_.

  _Christmas Brand_, superstitious notion concerning, i. 140.

  _Christmas_, festival of, i. 193.
    Of Pagan origin, 194.
    Ceremony of bringing in the Christmas block, _ibid._ 195.
    Houses decorated with ivy, &c. on Christmas-Eve, 195, 196.
    Origin of this custom, 196.
    Custom of singing carols in the morning, 197.
    Gambols, anciently in use at this season, 202-205, 206. _note_.
    Poetical description of, by Herrick, 206.
      and by Mr. Walter Scott, 207, 208.
    At present how celebrated, 208. _note_.

  _Church-Ales_, account of, i. 177, 178.

  _Churles_ and gentlemen, difference between, i. 71, 72.

  _Church-yard_ (Thomas), critical notice of the poems of, i. 608, 609.

  _Chute_ (Anthony), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 679.

  _Chronological list_ of Shakspeare's plays, ii. 261, 262.

  _Cinthio_ (Giraldi), principal novels of, translated in the time of
      Shakspeare, i. 543.

  _Citizens_ of London, dress of, in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 110,
      111.

  _Clapham_ (Henoch), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 679.

  _Classical literature_, diffusion of, in the reign of Elizabeth, i.
      28.
    Fashionable among country gentlemen, 82.
    Cultivated generally, 449, 450, 451.
    The knowlege of Greek literature greatly promoted by Sir Thomas
        Smith, and Sir Henry Savile, 453.;
      and Dr. Boys, 454.
    Latin literature promoted by Ascham, Grant, Bond, Rider, and others,
        454, 455.

  _Claudio_, remarks on the character of, in Measure for Measure, ii.
      455.

  _Cleanliness_, attention of Shakspeare's fairies to, ii. 346, 347.

  _Cleaton_ (Ralph, a clergyman), character of, i. 92.

  _Cleopatra_, remarks on the character of, ii. 493.

  _Clergymen_, anciently styled _Sir_, i. 87-90.
    Picture of country clergymen in the age of Elizabeth, 90, 91.
    Their degraded state under James I. 92, 93.
    The younger clergy, chiefly schoolmasters, 94.
    Bishop Hall's picture of their depressed state, 95.
    Prohibited from hawking, 259. _note_.

  _Clerk-ale_, notice of, i. 176.

  _Cloten_, remarks on the character of, in Cymbeline, ii. 468.

  _Clothes_, materials of, in the age of Elizabeth, ii. 91.
    How preserved, _ibid._ 92.

  _Clown_ (country), character of in the 16th century, i. 120-122.

  _Coaches_, when first introduced into England, ii. 146.
    Extravagant number of, used by the great, 147.

  "_Cock and Pye_," explanation of the phrase, i. 554.

  _Cockayn_ (Sir Aston), epigram of, on Wincot-ale, i. 48, 49.

  _Cock-fighting_, a favourite sport in Shakspeare's age, i. 145.
    Awful death of a cock-fighter, 146. _note_.

  _Cocks_, throwing at, a barbarous sport on Shrove-Tuesday, i. 145. and
      _note_.
    Ridiculed by Hogarth, _ibid._;
      and now completely put down, 146.

  _Colet_'s (Dean), Grammatical Institutes, notice of, i. 26.

  _Combe_ (Mr. John), satyrical epitaph on, by Shakspeare, ii. 605.
    His character, _ibid._

  _Combe_ (Mr. Thomas), notice of, ii. 629. _note_.
    Bequest to him by Shakspeare, 629.

  _Comedy_, "_Gammer Gurton's Needle_," the first ever performed in
      England, ii. 227.

  _Comedy of Errors_, probable date of, ii. 286.
    Mr. Steevens' opinion that this drama was not wholly Shakspeare's,
        controverted and disproved, 287, 288.
    Superior to the Menæchmi of Plautus, whence its fable is borrowed,
        286-288.
    Exquisite portrait of Ægeon, 288.
    General observations on this drama, 288, 289.

    _Passages of this drama, which are cited and illustrated in the
      present work._

      Act  i. scene 1., ii. 364.
      Act ii. scene 2.,  i. 394.
      Act iv. scene 2.,  i. 556.

  _Comic Painting_, exquisite, of Shakspeare's dramas, ii. 550.

  _Commentators_ in the age of Shakspeare, notice of, i. 470.

  _Compact_ of witches with the devil, account of, ii. 183-185.

  _Compliments_, extravagant, current in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 161,
      162.

  _Composition_ of the poetry of the Elizabethan age considered, i. 597,
      598.

  _Compton_ (Lady), moderate demands of, from her husband, ii. 145.

  _Conduct_ of Shakspeare's drama considered, ii. 541-544.

  _Conjurors_ and schoolmasters, frequently united in the same person in
      the 16th century, i. 95, 96.

  _Constable_ (Henry), critical notice of the poems of, i. 609, 610.
    Particularly of his sonnets, ii. 55.

  _Constance_, remarks on the character of, ii. 420, 421.

  _Cooks_, in Shakspeare's time, overlooked by their masters, i. 74.
    Were better paid than clergymen, 93.

  _Cooper_'s Latin and English Dictionary, used by Shakspeare, i. 26.
    The author preferred by Queen Elizabeth, 27.

  _Copley_ (Anthony), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 679.

  _Copyholder_, character of a poor one, in the time of Elizabeth, i.
      120.

  _Copyrights_ of plays, how disposed of in Shakspeare's time, ii. 224,
      225.

  _Cordelia_, beautiful character of, ii. 465.

  _Coriolanus_, date of the tragedy of, ii. 493.
    Critical remarks on its conduct and the characters introduced, 494.

    _Passages of this drama illustrated in the present work._

      Act  i. scene 4., i. 397.
      Act ii. scene 1., i. 554.

  _Cornwall_, May-day how celebrated in, i. 153.
    Observance of Midsummer-eve there, 334.

  _Corpse-Candles_, superstitious notions concerning, i. 358-360.

  _Coryate_'s "Crudities," critical notice of, i. 478.

  _Cotswold games_, account of, i. 252-254.
    Revived by Dover, 253.
    Similar sports in other places, 255.

  _Cottages_ of farmers or yeomen, in the time of Elizabeth, described,
      i. 99, 100.
    Their furniture and household accommodations, 102, 103.

  _Cottesford_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 679.

  _Cotton_ (Sir Robert), an eminent book collector, i. 438.

  _Cotton_ (Roger), a minor poet, of the age of Shakspeare, i. 680.

  _Country inns_, picture of, i. 216-218.

  _Country life_, manners and customs during the age of Shakspeare, i.
      68-122.
    Description of its holidays and festivals, amusements, 123-313.
    Superstitions, 314-400.
    Literature but little cultivated, 430, 431.

  _Country squires_, rank of, in Shakspeare's age, i. 68.
    Description of their mansion houses, 72, 73.
      And halls, 74, 77-79.
    Distinctions observed at their tables, 74, 75.
    Their diet, 75, 76.
    But little skilled in literature, 430, 431.
    Portrait of a country squire in the reign of Queen Anne, 88. _note_
        [86:B].

  _Courtiers_ of Elizabeth, sometimes wrote lyrics, for music, i. 731.
    Instances of her rough treatment of them, ii. 150, 151.

  _Courting chair_ of Shakspeare, notice of, i. 61.

  _Courtship_, how anciently conducted, i. 220.

  _Cox_ (Captain), an eminent book collector, i. 434.
    List of romances in his library, 518, 519.
    Remarks on it by Mr. Dibdin, 520.

  _Crab-tree_, Shakspeare's, still remaining at Bidford, i. 49.
    Roasted crabs and ale a favourite mess, 105, 106.

  _Credulity_ of the age of Shakspeare, instances of, i. 314-400. ii.
      154.

  _Criticism_, state of, in the age of Elizabeth and James I., i. 456.
    Severity of controversial criticism, 457.
    Lampooning critics, 459.
    Notice of the critical labours of Gascoigne, 461.
      Of James I. _ibid._ 462, 463.
      Of Webbe, 463, 464.
      Of Spenser, 464.
      Of Fraunce, 464.
      Of Hake, _ibid._ 465.
      Of Puttenham, 465, 466.
      Of Sir John Harrington, 466.
      Of Sir Philip Sidney, 467.
      Of Meres, 468.
      Of Campion, _ibid._
      and of Bolton, 470.

  _Crocodiles_, legendary tales concerning, noticed, i. 389.

  _Cromek_ (Mr.), accounts by, of the fairy superstitions in Scotland,
      ii. 325, 326.

  _Cross-bow_, chiefly used for killing game, ii. 182.

  _Culrose_ (Elizabeth), a minor poetess of the age of Shakspeare, i.
      680.

  _Curiosity_ of the age of Shakspeare, illustrations of, ii. 155.

  _Cutwode_ (T.), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 680.

  _Cymbeline_, probable date of, ii. 466.
    Beauty of its fable, _ibid._
    Remarks on the character of Imogen, 467.
    And of Cloten, 468.

    _Passages of this drama, illustrated in the present work._

      Act  ii. scene 2., ii. 115. 117.
               scene 4., ii. 113.
      Act iii. scene 2.,  i. 297.
               scene 4., ii. 91.
      Act  iv. scene 1.,  i. 243.
               scene 2.,  i. 214. 395.
      Act   v. scene 3.,  i. 308.
               scene 5.,  i. 397.

  _Czartoryska_ (Princess), the purchaser of Shakspeare's chair, i. 22,
      23.


D

  "_Damon and Pythias_," illustration of, i. 106.

  _Dancing_, a favourite amusement in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 174.
    Notice of different kinds of dances, The Brawl, 175.
      The Pavin, _ibid._ 176.
      Canary Dance, 177.
      Corantoes, _ibid._ 178.

  _Dancing Horse_, in the time of Shakspeare, notice of, ii. 186.

  _Danes_, massacre of, i. 149, 150.

  _Danger_, supposed omens of, i. 351-354.

  _Daniel_ (Samuel), critical notice of his "Defence of Ryme," i. 169,
      470.
    And of his poems, 611.
    Causes of the unpopularity of his poem on the "Civil Wars between
        the Houses of York and Lancaster," _ibid._
    General observations on his style and versification, 612.
    Notice of his sonnets, ii. 55.
    Was the prototype of Shakspeare's amatory verse, 57, 58.

  _Daniel_'s History of England, character of, i. 176, 477.

  _Darwin's_ (Dr.), poetical description of the night-mare, i. 348.
      _note_.

  _Davenant_ (Sir William), anecdote of his attachment to Shakspeare,
      ii. 589.

  _Davidstone_ (John), a minor poet of the age of Elizabeth, i. 680.

  _Davies_ (Sir John), notice of, i. 613.
    Critical merits of his poem, entitled "Nosce Teipsum," _ibid._

  _Davies_ (John), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, list of the
      pieces of, i. 680. and _note_ [680:B].

  _Davison_ (Francis and Walter), minor poets in the time of Shakspeare,
      i. 680, 681.
    Critical notice of their "Poetical Rapsodie," i. 728-730.

  _Davors_ (John), critical remarks on the poems of, i. 614.

  _Days_ (particular), superstitious notions concerning, i. 323.
    St. Valentine's-Day, 324.
    Midsummer-Eve, 329.
    Michaelmas-Day, 334.
    All-Hallow-Eve, 341.

  _Dead_, bodies, frequently rifled of their hair, ii. 92, 93.

  _Death_, account of supposed omens of, i. 351-362.
    Delineation of, ii. 455, 456.

  _Decker_ (Thomas), character of as a miscellaneous writer, i. 486.
    Notice of his "Gul's Horn Booke," 487.
      Of his "Belman in London," _ibid._
      Of his "Lanthern and Candlelight," _ibid._
    His quarrel with Ben Jonson, _ibid._
    Probable time of his death, 488.
    Estimate of his merits, as a dramatic poet, ii. 566, 567.
    Extract from his "Gul's Horn Book," on the fashions of that age, ii.
        102.

    _Passages of his Plays, which are illustrated or explained._

      The Honest Whore, i. 75.
      More Dissemblers besides Women, ii. 147.
      Seven Deadly Sinnes of London, i. 251.
      Villanies Discovered by Lantorne and Candle-light, i. 273. 396.

  _Dedications_ of plays, customary reward for, ii. 225.

  _Dee_ (Dr. John), an eminent book-collector, i. 434.
    And magician, ii. 510.
    Account of his singular character, 510-513.
    Catalogue of his library, 511, 512. _notes_.

  _Deer-stealing_, Shakspeare punished for, i. 404, 407, 408.

  _De la Casa_ (John), the "Galatea" of, translated into English, i.
      453.

  _Delone_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 681.
    Notice of his "Ballads," _ibid._ _note_ [681:A].

  _Demoniacal_ voices and shrieks, superstitious notions concerning, i.
      355.
    The presence of demons supposed to be indicated by lights burning
        blue, 358.

  _Dennys_, or Davors, (John), "Treatyse on Fishing," notice of, i. 291.
    Beautiful quotation from, 292, 293.
    His book translated into prose by Markham, 293, 294.

  _Derricke_ (John), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 681.

  _Descriptions_, exquisite, in Shakspeare's "Venus and Adonis," ii.
      21-26, 27.

  _Desdemona_, beautiful ditty quoted by, i. 592.
    Remarks on her character, ii. 531.

  _Desserts_, where taken, in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 144.

  _Devil_, supposed compact with, of witches, account of, ii. 483-485.

  _Dibdin_'s (Rev. T. F.), "Bibliomania," notice of, i. 432.
    His character of "Stubbes's Anatomie of Abuses," 502.
    Account of Dr. Dee's library, ii. 511, 512. _notes_.

  _Dicer's Oaths_, falsehood of, illustrated, ii. 171, 172.

  _Dictionaries_, list of, in use in Shakspeare's time, i. 25. _note_.
    Cooper's Latin and English Dictionary used by him, 26.

  _Diet_ of country squires in the age of Shakspeare, i. 75, 76.
    Of country gentlemen, 79, 80.
    Of farmers or yeomen, on ordinary occasions, 103-108.
    On festivals, 109.
    Of the sovereigns and higher classes during the age of Shakspeare,
        ii. 120-129.

  _Digby_ (Sir Kenelm), marvellous properties ascribed to his
      sympathetic powder, i. 375, 376.

  _Dinner_, hour of, in the time of Shakspeare, ii. 125.
    Account of the dinners of the higher classes, 126-129.
    Hands, why always washed before dinner, 145.

  _Dionysius_'s angelic hierarchy, account of, i. 335.

  _Distaff's_ (Saint) _Day_, festival of, i. 135.
    Verses on, _ibid._ 136.

  _Diversions_, in the age of Shakspeare, enumeration of, i. 246, 247.
    Account of the itinerant stage, 247-252.
    Cotswold games, 252-254.
    Hawking, 255.
    Hunting, 272.
    Fowling, 287.
    Bird-batting, 289.
    Fishing, 289.
    Horse-racing, 297.
    The Quintaine, 300.
    Wild-goose chace, 304.
    Hurling, 305.
    Shovel-board, 306.
    Shove-groat, 307, 308.
    Juvenile sports, 308.
    Barley breake, 309.
    Whipping a top, 312.
    Diversions of the metropolis and court, ii. 168.
      Card-playing, 169.
      Tables and dice, 171.
      Dancing, 172.
      Bull-baiting and bear-baiting, 176.
      Archery, 178.
      Frequenting of Paul's Walk, 182.
      Sagacious horses, 186.
      Masques and Pageants, 187.
      Royal Progresses, 193.
      The stage, 201-226.

  _Dives_, or evil genii of the Persians, ii. 303.

  _Dogberry_, origin of the character of, ii. 589.

  _Donne_ (Dr.), critical notice of the poems of, i. 615.

  _Doublets_, fashion of, in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 104, 105.

  _Douce_ (Mr.), beautiful version of a Christmas carol by, i. 200.
    On the source of Shakspeare's Merchant of Venice, ii. 385, 386.
    His vindication of Shakspeare's love of music, against Mr.
        Steevens's flippant censures, 390.
    Conjectures on the probable date of Shakspeare's Tempest, 504.
    His "Illustrations of Shakspeare" cited, _passim_.

  _Dowricke_ (Anne), a minor poetess of the age of Shakspeare, i. 681.

  _Dragon_, introduction of, into the May-games, i. 166.

  _Drake_ (Sir Francis), costly new year's gift of, to Queen Elizabeth,
      ii. 99. _note_.
    Tobacco first introduced into England by him, 135.

  _Drake_ (Lady), beautiful sonnet to, i. 621.

  _Drama_, patronized by Elizabeth and her ministers, ii. 202. 205.
    By private individuals, whose names they bore, 205.
    And by James I., 206.

  _Dramatic Poets_, remuneration of, in the time of Shakspeare, ii. 224,
      225.

  _Dramatic Poetry_, sketch of, from the birth of Shakspeare to the
      period of his commencing a writer for the stage, i. 227.
    Mysteries, moralities, and interludes, the first performances,
        _ibid._
    Ferrex and Porrex, the first regular tragedy, _ibid._
    Gammar Gurton's Needle, the first regular comedy, _ibid._
    Dramatic Histories, 228.
    Composite drama of Tarleton, 229.
    Account of eminent dramatic poets during this period, 230-251.
    Conjectures as to the extent of Shakspeare's obligation to his
        predecessors, 253-255.
    Brief view of dramatic poetry, and its principal cultivators, during
        Shakspeare's connection with the stage, ii. 556.
    Account of the dramatic works of Fletcher, 557.
      Massinger, 561.
      Ford, 563.
      Webster, 564.
      Middleton, 565.
      Decker, 566.
      Marston, 567.
      Heywood, 568.
      Chapman, 569.
      Rowley, 570.
      Other minor dramatic poets, 570, 571.
      Ben Jonson, 572-580.

  _Drant_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 681.

  _Drayton_ (Michael), notice of, i. 615.
    Critical remarks on his historical poetry, 615, 616.
      On his topographical, epistolary, and pastoral poems, 616, 617.
      And on his miscellaneous poetry, 617.
    Poetical description by him of the dress, &c. of young women, i. 83,
        84.
      Of Robin Hood, 159.
      Of Tom the Piper, 164.
      Sheep-shearing, 182.
      Of the carbuncle, 397.
    Encomium on Lilly's Euphues, 442.
    Commendatory verses by, on Shakspeare's Rape of Lucrece, ii. 39.
    His tragedies, totally lost, 571.
    Character of his Sonnets, ii. 56.

  _Dreams_, considered as prognostics of good or evil, i. 354, 355.

  _Dress_ of country gentlemen, in Shakspeare's time, i. 82, 83.
    Of farmers or yeomen, 110.
    Wedding dress of a rustic, 229.
    Proper for anglers, 293. _note_.
    Of the inhabitants of London, during the age of Shakspeare, ii.
        87-89.
    Of Queen Elizabeth, 89, 91.
    Of the ladies of that time, 91, 92. 100.
    Of the gentlemen, 87, 88, 89. 101-109.
    Of the citizen, 110, 111.
    Of servants, 138.

  _Drinking_ of healths, origin of, i. 127, 128.

  _Drummond_ (William), biographical notice of, i. 617.
    His merits as a poet, considered, 618.

  _Drunkenness_, propensity of the English to, in the age of Shakspeare,
      ii. 128, 129.

  _Dryden_'s testimony to the priority of Shakspeare's Pericles,
      considered, ii. 280, 281.

  _Duelling_, prevalence of, in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 158.

  _Dunlop_ (Mr.), opinion of on the source of Shakspeare's Romeo and
      Juliet, ii. 360-362.
    And of Measure for Measure, 453.

  _Durham_, Easter gambols at, i. 148. _note_.

  _Dyer's_ "Fleece," illustration of, i. 183.

  _Dying_, form of prayers for, i. 233.
    Superstitious notions concerning the last moments of persons dying,
        i. 390, 391.


E

  _Earle_ (Bishop), character of his "Microcosmography," i. 511.
    His portrait of an upstart country squire or knight, i. 84.
      Of a country fellow, or clown, 120-122.

  _Earthquake_ of 1580, alluded to by Shakspeare, i. 52.
    Account of, _ibid._ 53.

  _Easter-tide_, festival of, i. 146.
    Early rising on Easter Sunday, _ibid._
    Amusements, _ibid._
    Handball, 147, 148.
    Presenting of eggs, 148.

  _Edgar_, remarks on the assumed madness of, i. 588.
    Contrast between his insanity and the madness of Lear, ii. 462. 464.

  _Education_, state of, during Shakspeare's youth, i. 25-28.

  _Edwardes_ (C.), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 681.

  _Edward_ (Richard), specimen of the poetical talents of, i. 713, 714.
    Character of his dramatic compositions, ii. 231, 232.

  _Eggs_, custom of giving, at Easter, i. 148.

  _Elderton_ (William), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 681.

  _Elizabeth_ (Queen), school books commanded by, to be used, i. 26.
    Visit of, to the Earl of Leicester, at Kenelworth Castle, 37, 38,
        39. ii. 191-199.
    Account of presents made to her on New-Year's Day, i. 125, 126.
    Magnificent reception of her, at Norwich, 192. _note_.
    Her wisdom in establishing the Flemings in this country, 192.
        _note_.
    A keen huntress, 285, 286.
    Touched persons for the evil, 371.
    Cultivated bibliography, 428.
    The ladies of her court skilled in Greek equally with herself, 429.
    Classical literature encouraged at her court, _ibid._ 431, 432.
    Notice of her Prayer-book, 432.
    Influence of her example, 433.
    Notice of her works, 451.
    Deeply skilled in Italian literature, _ibid._
    Notice of her poetical pieces, 704. _note_.
    Proof that Shakspeare's Sonnets were not, and could not be addressed
        to her, ii. 61, 73. _note_.
    Instances of her vanity and love of dress, 90, 91.
    Description of her dress, 89, 90.
    Amount of her wardrobe, 91, 92.
    Silk stockings first worn by her, 98.
    Costly New-Year's gifts made to her, 99.
    Furniture of her palaces, 111, 112.
    Description of the mode in which her table was served, 122, 123.
    Her character as a sovereign, 145, 146.
    Her industry, 146.
    Instances of her vanity and coquetry, 147.
    Affectation of youth, 148.
    Artfulness, 149.
    Extreme jealousy, 150.
    Ill treatment of her courtiers, 150, 151.
    Excelled in dancing, 172.
    Delighted with bear-baiting, 176.
    Account of her progresses, 193-199.
    Passionately fond of dramatic performances, 202, 205.
    Ordered Shakspeare's "Merry Wives of Windsor," 435.
    And bestowed many marks of her favour upon him, 590.

  _Elfland_ or Fairy Land, description of, ii. 318, 319.

  _Elves_ or fairies of the Scandinavians, ii. 308.
    Account of the Bright Elves, or benevolent fairies, 308, 309.
    Of the Swart Elves, or malignant fairies, 309, 310.
    And of the Scottish Elves, 314-336.

  _Elviden_ (Edmond), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 681.

  "_England's Helicon_," a collection of poems, critical notice of, i.
      721-723.

  _English Language_ but little cultivated prior to the time of Ascham,
      i. 439.
    Improved by the labours of Wilson, 440.
    Corrupted by Lilly, in the reign of Elizabeth, 441.
      And by the interlarding of Latin quotations in that of James I.,
          442.
        This affectation satyrised by Sir Philip Sidney, 444, 445.
          And by Shakspeare, 445, 446.
    The English language improved by Sir Walter Raleigh and his
        contemporaries, 446, 447.
    Remarks on the prose writers of the reign of James I., 447, 448.
    Notice of Mulcaster's labours for improving it, 455.
      And of Bullokar's, _ibid._ 456.

  _English Mercury_, the first newspaper ever published, i. 508.
    Specimen of, _ibid._

  _English nation_, character of, ii. 154.

  "_Epicedium_," a funeral song on the death of Lady Branch, ii. 38.
      _note_.
    Extract from, in commendation of Shakspeare's Rape of Lucrece, 39.
        _note_.

  _Epilogue_, concluded with prayer in the time of Shakspeare, ii. 222,
      223.

  _Epitaph_ on Shakspeare, in Stratford church, ii. 619.

  _Epitaphs_ by Shakspeare:—a satirical one on Mr. Combe, ii. 605.
    On Sir Thomas Stanley, 607.
    And on Elias James, 607. _note_.

  _Erskine_ (Mr.) exquisite poetical allusions of, to fairy mythology,
      ii. 327, 328, 336.

  _Espousals_, ceremony of, i. 220-223.

  _Essays_, critical account of the writers of, in the age of Elizabeth,
      i. 511-517.

  _Evans_ (Lewes and William), minor poets of the age of Shakspeare, i.
      682.

  _Evergreens_, why carried at funerals, i. 239.

  _Evil spirits_, supposed to be driven away by the sound of the
      passing-bell, i. 232, 233.


F

  _Facetiæ_, notice of writers of, during the age of Shakspeare, i.
      515-517.

  "_Faerie Queene_" of Spenser, critical remarks on, i. 646-649.

  _Fairefax_ (Edward), biographical notice of, i. 619.
    Examination of his version of Tasso, _ibid._
    His original poetry lost, 620.

  _Fairies_, superstitious traditions concerning, i. 320.
    Their supposed influence on All-Hallow-Eve, 333.
    Supposed to haunt fountains and wells, 392.
    Critical account of the fairy mythology of Shakspeare, ii. 302.
    Oriental fairies, 302, 303.
    The knowledge of the oriental fairy mythology introduced from the
        Italians, 303.
    Origin of the Gothic system of fairy mythology, 304.
    Known in England in the eleventh century, 306.
    Scandinavian system of fairy mythology, 308-312.
    Scandinavian system current in England in the thirteenth century,
        313.
    Scottish elves, _ibid._ 314.
      Their dress and weapons, 315.
    Lowland fairies, 316.
    Allusions to fairy superstitions by Chaucer, 313. 317.
    Description of Elf or Fairy-land, 318, 319.
      Allusions to it by various poets, 319-321.
    Fairy processions at Roodsmass, 322.
    Fairies in Scotland supposed to appear most commonly by moonlight,
        323.
      Their supposed influence on pregnant women, 324.
      Children said to be stolen and changed by them, 325, 326.
        Expedients for recovering them, 326, 327.
      Their speech, food, and work, 328, 329.
    Account of the malignant fairy called the _Wee Brown Man of the
        Muirs_, 329, 330.
    Traditions relative to the benevolent sprite, Brownie, 330-336.
    The fairy mythology of Shakspeare, though partly founded on Scottish
        tradition, yet, from its novelty and poetic beauty, meriting the
        title of the _English System_, 337, 338.
      Critical illustrations of his allusions to fairies and Fairy-land,
          337-353.
    Scandinavia the parent of our popular fairy mythology, which has
        undergone various modifications, 353-355.

  _Fairs_, how celebrated antiently, i. 214-216.

  _Falconer_, an important officer in the households of the great, i.
      265, 266.
    His qualifications, 266.

  _Falconry_, when introduced into England, i. 255.
    Universal among the nobility and gentry, _ibid._ 256.
    Notices of books on, 257. _note_.
    Falconry an expensive diversion, 257-259.
    Prohibited to the clergy, 259. _note_.
    Remarks on this sport, 260-262.
    Poetical description of it by Massinger, 262, 263.
    A favourite diversion of the ladies, 265.

  _Falcons_, different sorts of, i. 263, 264.
    Account of their training, 266-271.

  _Falstaff_, analysis of the character of, as introduced in
      Shakspeare's plays of Henry IV., Parts I. and II., ii. 381-384.
    And in the Merry Wives of Windsor, 436.

  _Fans_, structure and fashion of, in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 98,
      99.

  _Fare_ of country squires in the age of Shakspeare, i. 73, 76.
    Of country gentlemen, 79, 80.
    And of the sovereign and higher classes, ii. 120-129.

  _Farmers_, character of, in the time of Edward VI., i. 100, 101.
    In Queen Elizabeth's time, 98.
    Description of their houses or cottages, 99, 100.
      Their furniture and household accommodations, 101. 103.
      Their ordinary diet, 103-108.
        Diet on festivals, 109.
    Dress, 110.
    Qualifications of a good farmer's wife, 111, 112.
    Occupations, &c. of their servants, 113.
    Manners, &c. of Scottish farmers during the same period, 117, 118.
    Progress of extravagance among this class of persons, 119.

  _Farmer_ (Dr.), conclusion of, as to the result of Shakspeare's school
      education, i. 29, 30.
    His conclusion controverted, 30, 31.
    His opinion as to the extent of Shakspeare's knowledge of French and
        Italian literature considered, 54-56, 57.

  _Faulconbridge_, analysis of the character of, ii. 120.

  _Feasts_ (ordinary), curious directions for, i. 80. _note_.

  _Felton_'s portrait of Shakspeare, authenticity of, ii. 623.

  _Fenner_ (Dudley), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 682.

  _Fenton_'s (Geffray), account of his "Certain Tragicall Discourses," a
      popular collection of Italian novels, i. 542.

  _Fern-seed_, supposed to be visible on Midsummer-Eve, i. 329.

  "_Ferrex and Porrex_," the first regular tragedy ever performed in
      England, i. 227.

  _Ferrers_ (George), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 682.

  _Ferriar_ (Dr.), theory of apparitions of, ii. 406.
    Application of it to the character of Hamlet, 407.
    His opinion of the merits of Massinger as a dramatic poet
        controverted, 562.

  _Festivals_, account of those observed in Shakspeare's time, i. 123.
    New-Year's Day, 123-126.
    Twelfth Day, 127-134.
    St. Distaff's Day, 135.
    Plough Monday, 136-138.
    Candlemas Day, 138-140.
    Shrove Tide, 141-145.
    Easter Tide, 146-148.
    Hock Day, 149-151.
    May Day, 152-174.
    Whitsuntide, 175-180.
    Sheep-shearing, 181-185.
    Harvest-home, 185-190.
    Martinmas, 192.
    Christmas, 193-208.
    Wakes or fairs, 209-249.
    Weddings, 219-229.
    Christenings, 230, 231.
    Burials, 232-245.

  _Fete_, magnificent, at Kenelworth Castle, given to Queen Elizabeth,
      i. 37-39.

  _Fetherstone_ (Christopher), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i.
      682.

  _Fires_ kindled on Midsummer-Eve, of Pagan origin, i. 328, 329;
    and on All-Hallow-Eve, 341.

  _Fire Spirits_, machinery of, introduced in the Tempest, ii. 521, 522.

  _Fishing_, pursued with avidity, in the 16th century, i. 289.
    Account of books on this sport, 290, 291.
    Poetical description of, 292, 293.
    Qualifications requisite for, 294-297.

  _Fitzgeffrey_ (Charles), Biographical notice of, i. 620.
    Specimen of his poetical talents, 621.

  _Fitzherbert_ (Sir Anthony), notice of his agricultural treatises, i.
      115. _note_.
    His precepts to a good housewife, 116, 117. _notes_.

  _Fleming_ (Abraham), a miscellaneous writer, account of, i. 504.
    Character of his style, 505.
    Poems of, 682.

  _Fletcher_ (Robert), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 682.

  _Fletcher_ (Giles), critical remarks on the poetry of, i. 621, 622.

  _Fletcher_ (Phineas), notice of, i. 622.
    Critical observations on his "Purple Island," 623.;
      and on his "Piscatory Eclogues," _ib._

  _Fletcher_ (John), the chief author of the plays extant under his
      name, ii. 557.
    How far he was assisted by Beaumont, 558.
    Critical estimate of his character as a dramatic poet, 558-560.
    His feeble attempts to emulate Shakspeare, 560, 561.
    His Faithful Shepherdess (act v. sc. 1.) illustrated, i. 130.
    See also _Beaumont_, in this index.

  _Floralia_ (Roman), perpetuated in May-Day, i. 152.

  _Florio_ (John), pedantry of, satyrised by Shakspeare, i. 415.
    Appointed reader of the Italian language to the Queen of James I.,
        451.

  _Flowers_, antiently scattered on streams at sheep-shearing time, i.
      185.
    Garlands of flowers carried at funerals, and buried with the
        deceased, 240-242.
    Graves in Wales still decorated with flowers, 242-244.
    Allusions to this custom by Shakspeare, 243.

  _Fools_ of Shakspeare's plays, &c. remarks on, i. 587. ii. 550.
    Description of their apparel and condition, ii. 141, 142.
    Apes or monkies kept as companions for them, 145, 146.

  _Ford_, merits of, as a dramatic poet, considered, ii. 563, 564.

  _Forks_, when introduced into England, ii. 126.

  _Fortescue_'s (Thomas), "Forest of Historyes," a popular collection of
      novels, notice of, i. 543.

  "_Fortune my Foe_," a popular song, quoted by Shakspeare, i. 477.

  _Fountains_ and wells, why superstitiously visited, i. 391.
    Supposed to be the haunts of fairies and spirits, 392.
    Pilgrimages made to them, 393.

  _Fowling_, how pursued in the sixteenth century, i. 287-289.

  _Fox_'s "Acts and Monuments," character of, i. 482.

  _Fraunce_ (Abraham), notice of his "Arcadian Rhetoricke," i. 464.
    List of his poetical works, 682, 683.

  _Freeman_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 683.

  _French Language_, Shakspeare's knowledge of, when acquired, i. 53,
      54.
    Proofs that he had some acquaintance with it, 55, 56.
    List of French grammars which he might have read, 57.

  "_Friar of Orders Grey_," a beautiful ballad, notice of, i. 579, 580.
    Quoted by Shakspeare, 589, 590.

  _Friend_, absence from, exquisitely pourtrayed by Shakspeare, ii. 78.

  _Friendship_, beautiful delineation of, ii. 389.

  _Fulbeck_'s account of Roman factions, i. 476.

  _Fulbroke Park_, the scene of Shakspeare's deer-stealing, i. 402, 403.

  _Fuller_ (Thomas), character of Shakspeare, i. 29.;
    and of Dr. Dee, and his assistant Kelly, ii. 512, 513.

  _Fullwell_ (Ulpian), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 683.

  _Funeral ceremonies_ described, i. 232-237.
    Entertainments given on those occasions, 238.

  _Furniture_, splendid, of Queen Elizabeth's palaces, ii. 111, 112.
    Of the inhabitants of London, 112-120.
    Of the halls of country gentlemen, i. 77-79.

  _Fuseli_'s picture of the night-mare, description of, i. 348. _note_
      [348:B].


G

  _Gale_ (Dunstan), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 683.

  _Gamage_ (William), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 684,
       and _note_ [684:A].

  _Games_ (Cotswold), account of, i. 252-254.

  _Gaming_, prevalence of, in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 157, 158.

  "_Gammer Gurton's Needle_," illustration of, i. 106.
    The earliest comedy ever written or performed in England, ii. 227.
    Critical remarks on, 233.

  _Garlands_, anciently used at funerals, and buried with the deceased,
      i. 240-242.

  _Garnier_'s Henriade probably seen by Shakspeare, i. 54, 55.

  _Garter_ (Barnard), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 684.

  _Garter_ (Thomas), a dramatic poet in the reign of Elizabeth,
      character of, ii. 235.

  _Gascoigne_ (George), notice of the "Posies" of, i. 461.
    Biographical sketch of, 623, 624.
    Remarks on his poetry, 624, 625.
    Character of, as a dramatic poet, ii. 233, 234.

  _Gastrell_ (Rev. Francis), purchases Shakspeare's house at Stratford,
      ii. 584. _note_.
    Cuts down his mulberry tree, _ibid._
    And destroys the house itself, 585. _note_.

  _Gay_'s Trivia, quotation from, on the influence of particular days,
      i. 323. _note_.
    Poetical description of spells, 332.

  _Genius_ of Shakspeare's drama considered, ii. 536-541.

  _Gentlemen_, different sorts of, in the age of Shakspeare, i. 69.
    Their virtues and vices, _ibid._ 70.
    Description of the mansion houses of country gentlemen, 72-74.
    Their usual fare, 79, 80-82.
    Employments and dress of their daughters, 83, 84.
    Character of country gentlemen towards the commencement of the 17th
        century, 84, 85.
    When they began to desert their halls for the metropolis, 85.
    Portraits of, in the close of the 17th, and at the beginning of the
        18th century, 86, 87. _notes_.
    Dress of gentlemen in the metropolis, ii. 87, 88, 89. 101-109.

  _Gerbelius_ (Nicholas), rapturous declamation of, on the restoration
      of some Greek authors, i. 435.

  _Gerguntum_, a fabulous Briton, notice of, i. 192. _note_.

  _Germans_, fairy mythology of, ii. 312.

  _Gesta Romanorum_, a popular romance in Shakspeare's time, i. 534.
    Different translations of the _continental Gesta_, _ibid._ 535.
    Critical account of the _English Gesta_, 535, 536. ii. 386.
    Notice of its different editions, i. 537, 538.
    Long continuance of its popularity, 538.

  _Ghosts_, superstitious notions concerning, prevalent in the age of
      Shakspeare, i. 318, 319.
    Remarks on the supposed agency of ghosts, as received at that time,
        ii. 399-405.
    Considerations on the introduction of the ghost in Hamlet, and its
        strict consonance to the popular superstitions shewn, 411-417.
    Its superiority over all other ghostly representations, ancient or
        modern, 417, 418.

  _Gifford_ (Humphrey), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 684.

  _Gifford_ (Mr.), conjecture of, on the date of Shakspeare's Henry
      VIII. ii. 442, 443.
    Observations on the excellent plan of his notes on Massinger, 561.
        _note_.
    His estimate of the merits of Ben Jonson, as a dramatic poet, 575,
        576.
    Vindicates Jonson from the cavils of Mr. Malone, 578. _note_.

  _Gilchrist_ (Mr.) on the character of Puttenham's "Arte of English
      Poesie," i. 466.

  _Gleek_, a fashionable game at cards, notice of, ii. 170.

  _Glen Banchar_, anecdote of a peasant of, i. 233, 234.

  _Globe_ Theatre, license to Shakspeare for, ii. 207, 208.
    Account of it, 208, 209.
    Description of its interior, 210-214.

  _Gloves_, costly, presented to Elizabeth, ii. 99.

  _Goblins_ and spectres, superstitious notions concerning, i. 316, 317.
    Machinery of goblins or spirits of earth, introduced into the
        Tempest, ii. 523, 524.

  _Goder Norner_, or beneficent elves of the Goths, notice of, ii. 308.

  _Godwin_ (Mr.), remarks of, on Shakspeare's Troilus and Cressida, ii.
      440, 441.
    His estimate of the merits of Ben Jonson, as a dramatic poet,
        574-579.

  _Golding_ (Arthur), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 684.

  _Googe_ (Barnaby), description of Midsummer-Eve superstitions, i. 328.
    Notice of his poetical works, 684.

  _Gorboduc_, critical remarks on Sackville's tragedy of, ii. 230, 231.

  _Gordon_ (Patrick), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 684.

  "_Gorgeous Gallery of Gallant Inventions_," a collection of poems,
      critical account of, i. 715-717.

  _Gorges_ (Sir Arthur), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 684,
      685. and _notes_.

  _Gossipping_, prevalence of, in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 159, 160.

  _Gosson_ (Stephen), a Puritanical wit, in Shakspeare's time, account
      of, i. 500, 501.
    Notice of his "_Speculum humanum_," 685. and _note_ [685:C].

  _Gowns_, materials and fashions of, in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 97,
      98.

  _Grammars_ and dictionaries, list of, in use in Shakspeare's time, i.
      25. _note_.
    Henry VII.'s grammar learned by Shakspeare, 26.
    The English grammar but little cultivated, previous to the time of
        Ascham, 439.
      Improved by him, _ibid._;
        and by Wilson, 440.
    Notice of eminent Latin grammarians, 454, 455.
    English grammar of Ben Jonson, 456.

  _Grange_ (John), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 685.

  _Grant_ (Edward), an eminent Latin philologer, notice of, i. 454.

  _Graves_, why planted with flowers, i. 242-244. and _note_.
    Allusions to this custom by Shakspeare, 243.

  _Grave-digger_ in Hamlet, songs mis-quoted by, probably by design, i.
      591.

  _Greek_ literature, cultivated and encouraged at the court of Queen
      Elizabeth, i. 429-431, 432.
    Promoted essentially by the labours of Sir Thomas Smith, Sir Henry
        Savile, and Dr. Boys, 453, 454.
    List of Greek authors, translated into English in the time of
        Shakspeare, 483.

  _Greene_ (Thomas), the barrister, an intimate friend of Shakspeare's,
      ii. 600.

  _Greene_ (Thomas), the player, notice of, i. 417.
    Character of, _ibid._
    Whether a townsman and relation of Shakspeare, 420.

  _Greene_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 685.

  _Greene_ (Robert), a miscellaneous writer in the time of Shakspeare,
      biographical account of, i. 486.
    Studies and dissipations of his early years, 486, 487.
    His marriage, 487.
    Pleasing sketch of his domestic life, 488.
    Returns to the dissipations of the metropolis, 489.
    Affectionate demeanour of his wife, 490.
    His beautiful address, "By a Mother to her Infant," 492, 493.
    Becomes a writer for bread, 494.
    Character of Greene as a prose writer, 494.
    List of his principal pieces, 495.
    Poetical extract from his "Never Too Late," 496.
    Extract entitled "The Farewell of a Friend," 497.
    His death, _ibid._
    Miserable state of his latter days, 498.
    Satirical sonnet addressed to him, 499.
    Critical notice of his poetry, 627.
    List of his dramatic productions, with remarks, ii. 249-251.

  "_Green Sleeves_," a popular song, quoted by Shakspeare, i. 477.

  _Greepe_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 686.

  _Greville_ (Sir Fulke), list of the poems of, i. 686.

  _Griffin_ (B.), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 686.

  _Griffith_ (William), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 686.

  _Grove_ (Matthew), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 686.

  _Grymeston_ (Elizabeth), a minor poetess of the age of Shakspeare, i.
      686.

  _Guardian angels_, superstitious notions concerning, i. 336-339.
    Observations on, by Dr. Horsley, 339, 340.

  _Guests_, ranks of, how distinguished at table, i. 74.

  _Guteli_, or benevolent fairies of the Germans, notice of, ii. 312.

  _Guy of Warwick_, allusions by Shakspeare to the legend of, i. 566.


H

  _Haggard-Hawk_, notice of, i. 270.

  _Hair_, fashion of, in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 92.
    The dead frequently plundered for, _ibid._ 93.
    The hair thus obtained, dyed of a sandy colour, 93.
    Hair of unmarried women, how worn, _ibid._
    Various coverings for, 94.
    The fashions for dressing hair, imported from Venice and Paris,
        _ibid._ 95.

  _Hake_ (Edward), notice of his "Touchstone of Wittes," i. 464, 465.
    List of his poetical pieces, 686, 687.

  _Hakluyt_'s Collection of Voyages and Travels, critical notice of, i.
      477.

  _Hall_ (Arthur and John), minor poets of the age of Shakspeare, i.
      687.

  _Hall_ (Bishop), portraits by, of a domestic chaplain and tutor, i.
      95.
      Of an extravagant farmer's heir, 119.
      Of a poor copyholder, 120.
      Of horse-racing, 298.
    List of his poems, 627.
    Critical remarks on his satires, ii. 6.

  _Hall_ (Dr.), marries Shakspeare's daughter Susanna, ii. 598, 599.
    Birth of his daughter Elizabeth, 599.
      Notice of her, 629. _note_.
    The executorship of Shakspeare's will, why intrusted to Dr. Hall,
        613.
    Epitaph on him, 631, 632. _notes_.

  _Halls_ of country squires and gentlemen, in Shakspeare's age, i. 73,
      74.
    Of the nobility, how illuminated, ii. 116.

  _Hamlet, Prince of Denmark_, date of, ii. 391.
    Analysis of the character of Hamlet, 392-398.
    Remarks on the agency of spirits, as connected with the Ghost in
        this play, 399-405.
    On the nature of Hamlet's lunacy, 406-409.
    The introduction of the Ghost critically considered, 411.
    Its strict consistency with the superstition of the times, 412-417.
    Superiority of Shakspeare's introduction of spirits over ancient and
        modern dramatists, 417, 418.

    _Passages of this drama illustrated in this work._

      Act   i. scene 1.,  i. 352. ii. 414.
               scene 2.,  i. 238.
               scene 4.,  i. 129. ii. 412, 413.
               scene 5.,  i. 379. 394. ii. 414. 417.
      Act  ii. scene 2.,  i. 250. 397. 582. ii. 394.
      Act iii. scene 1.,  i. 571. ii. 392. 395.
               scene 2.,  i. 171. 583. ii. 106. 221.
               scene 3., ii. 114.
               scene 4.,  i. 424. ii. 409.
      Act  iv. scene 5.,  i. 224. 240. 326. 590, 591.
      Act   v. scene 1.,  i. 242, 243. ii. 395.
               scene 2.,  i. 35, 36.

  _Hand-ball_, playing at, a favourite sport at Easter, i. 146, 147.
    Tansy cakes the constant prize, 147.

  "_Handfull of Pleasant Delites_," a collection of poems, critical
      notice of, i. 717, 718.

  _Hands_, why always washed before dinner, ii. 145.

  _Harbert_ (Sir William), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i.
      687.

  _Harbert_ (William), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 687.

  _Harington_ (Sir John), critical notice of his "Apologie of Poetry,"
      i. 466, 467.
    His "New Discourse of a stale Subject," 515.
    And of his "Metamorphosis," 516.
    Remarks on his poetry, 629, 630.
    Ludicrous account of a carousal given to the King of Denmark, ii.
        124, 125.
    The inventor of water-closets, 135. _note_.
    His "Orders for Household Servantes," 139, 140.

  _Harmony of the spheres_, doctrine of, a favourite source of
      embellishment, i. 381.
    Allusions to, by Shakspeare, 381, 382.
      And Milton, 382.

  _Harrison_ (Rev. William), character of his "Description of England,"
      i. 475.
    Picture of rural mansions in the time of Elizabeth, 73.
    Delineation of country-clergymen, 90, 91.
      Of farmers, 99, 100.
        And of their cottages and furniture, 101-103.
      Of country-inns and ale-houses, 216-218.
      Of the fashionable mode of dress in the age of Shakspeare, ii.
          87-89.
      Of the hospitality and style of eating and drinking in the higher
          classes, 120-122.

  _Hart_ (Joan), Shakspeare's sister, bequest to, ii. 629.

  _Harte_ (William), Shakspeare's nephew, not the person to whom his
      sonnets were addressed, ii. 60.

  _Harvest-Home_, festival of, how celebrated, i. 185.
    Distinctions of society then abolished, 186.
    The last load of corn accompanied home with music and dancing, 187.
    Alluded to by Shakspeare, _ibid._
    Poetical description of, by Herricke, 188, 189.
    Thanksgivings offered in Scotland for the safe in-gathering of the
        harvest, 341.

  _Harvey_ (Gabriel), notice of, i. 457.
    His quarrel with Nash, 458.
    Rarity of his works, _ibid._
    His account of Greene's last days, 498.
    Satirical sonnet, addressed by him to Greene, 499.
    Notice of his sonnets, 687. _and note_ [687:C].

  _Hastings_ (Henry), account of, i. 86, 87. _note_.

  _Hathaway_ family, account of, i. 60.
    Their cottage still standing at Shottery, 61.

  _Hathaway_ (Anne), the mistress of Shakspeare, spurious sonnet
      ascribed to, i. 58. _note_.
    Married to Shakspeare with her parents' consent, 62, 63.
    His bequest to her, ii. 631.
      Remarks thereon, 613.
    Her epitaph, 631. _note_. i. 60. _note_.

  _Hats_, fashion of, in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 102.

  _Hatton_ (Sir Christopher), promoted for his skill in dancing, ii.
      172.

  _Haunted houses_, superstitious notions concerning, in the sixteenth
      century, i. 320, 321.

  _Hawking_, when introduced into England, i. 255.
    Universal among the nobility and gentry, 255, 256.
    Notice of books on Hawks and Hawking, 257. and _note_.
    Expense attending this pursuit, 257-259.
    Forbidden to the clergy, 259. _note_.
    Observations on this sport, 260-262.
    Poetical description of, 262, 263.
    Land and water hawking, 264.
    A favourite pursuit of the ladies, 265.
    Allusions to hawking by Shakspeare, 270, 271.

  _Hawks_, different sorts of, i. 263, 264.
    Penalties for destroying their eggs, 264.
    Account of their training, 265-270.

  _Hazlewood_ (Mr.), character of, i. 71. _note_.
    Notice of his edition of Puttenham's "Arte of English Poesie," 465.
    His character of that work, 466.
      And of Wright's Essays, 511-513.
    Account of the "World's Folly," a collection of ballads, 574-576.
    Bibliographical notice of "Polimanteia," ii. 39. _note_ [39:B].
    Account of Brokes' "Tragicall Historie of Romeus and Juliet," 359.
        and _note_.

  _Hayward_ (Sir John), character of his Histories, i. 476.

  _Healths_, origin of drinking, i. 128.

  _Helen_, analysis of the character of, in All's Well that Ends Well,
      ii. 423-425.

  _Hell_, legendary punishments of, i. 378-381.
    The lower part of the stage so called in Shakspeare's time, ii. 214.

  _Heminge_, the player, notice of, and of his family, i. 417.
    Probably a countryman of Shakspeare's, _ibid._

  _Hemp-seed_, why sown on Midsummer Eve, i. 332.

  _Henry_ IV., Parts I. and II., probable date of, ii. 379.
    Critical analysis of its principal characters, 380.
    Contrast between Hotspur and Prince Henry, 380.
    Analysis of the character of Falstaff, 381-384.
    And of the general construction of the fable of these plays, 384,
        385.

    _Illustrations of King Henry IV. Part I. in the present work._

      Act   i. scene 2.,  i. 570.
      Act  ii. scene 3.,  i. 329. 556.
               scene 4., ii. 105. 114. 131.
      Act iii. scene 1.,  i. 354. ii. 117.
      Act  iv. scene 1.,  i. 298.
      Act   v. scene 3.,  i. 581.
               scene 4.,  i. 406.

    _Illustrations of King Henry IV. Part II._

      Act   i. scene 1.,  i. 232.
               scene 2.,  i. 338.
      Act  ii. scene 2.,  i. 193.
               scene 4.,  i. 308. 338. 585. ii. 107.
      Act iii. scene 2.,  i. 254. 562.
      Act   v. scene 1.,  i. 156. 201. 554.
               scene 2.,  i. 74.
               scene 3.,  i. 585, 586.
      The epilogue,      ii. 222, 223.

  _Henry_ V. Prince of Wales, character of, ii. 380.
    Probable date of the play of, 425.
    Analysis of the admirable character of the King, 426-428.
    Remarks on the minor characters and general conduct of the play,
        429.

    _Passages of Henry V. illustrated in the present work._

      Act  ii. scene 2., ii. 426, 427.
               scene 3.,  i. 231.
               scene 4.,  i. 175.
      Act iii. scene 1., ii. 428.
               scene 3., ii. 428.
      Act  iv. scene 1., ii. 427.
               scene 2., ii. 116.
      Act   v. scene 1.,  i. 567.
               scene 2.,  i. 308.

  _Henry_ VI., Parts I., II., and III.—The First Part of Henry VI.,
      usually ascribed to Shakspeare, spurious, ii. 292.
      Alterations probably made in it by him, 293.
    Date of these two Parts, 294, 295.
    Exquisite contrast between the characters of Henry VI. and Richard
        of Gloucester, 296.
    The spurious play fit only for an appendix to Shakspeare's works,
        297.
    Illustrations of Henry VI. Part I. act i. scene 4., ii. 259.

    _Illustrations of Henry VI. Part II._

      Act   i. scene 2., ii. 183.
      Act  ii. scene 1.,  i. 389.
               scene 3.,  i. 565.
      Act iii. scene 1.,  i. 164.
               scene 2.,  i. 374.
      Act  iv. scene 2.,  i. 406.
      Act   v. scene 3.,  i. 583. _note_.

    _Illustrations of Henry VI. Part III._

      Act   i. scene 1., ii. 374.
               scene 2.,  i. 372.
      Act iii. scene 5.,  i. 423.
      Act   v. scene 3.,  i. 363.
               scene 6.,  i. 354. ii. 372. _note_. 373.
               scene 7., ii. 372. _note_.

  _Henry_ VIII.'s Latin Grammar, exclusively taught in schools, i. 26.

  _Henry_ VIII., probable date of the play of, ii. 442-445.
    Remarks on its characters, 445, 446.

    _Illustrations of this drama in the present work._

      Act  i. scene 1.,  i. 289.
              scene 3., ii.  99.
      Act ii. scene 3.,  i. 397.
      Act iv. scene 1.,  i. 156.
      Act  v. scene 1., ii. 169.
              scene 2.,  i.  74.

  _Hentzner_'s (Paul), description of the dress of Queen Elizabeth, ii.
      89, 90.
    Of the manner in which her table was served, 122, 123.
      And of the dress of servants, 138.
    Character of the English nation, 154.
    Description of an English bull-baiting and bear-whipping, 177.

  _Herbert_ (Mary), a minor poetess of the age of Shakspeare, i. 687.

  _Herrick_, verses of, on Twelfth Night, i. 133, 134.
    On Rock or St. Distaff's Day, 135, 136.
    On Candlemas Eve, 139-141.
    And on Candlemas Day, 140.
    On May Day, 156, 157.
    On Harvest-home, 188, 189.
    On Christmas, 195-206.

  _Hesiod_, beautiful passage of, on the ministry of spirits, ii. 400.

  _Heywood_ (Jasper), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 687.

  _Heywood_ (Thomas), complaint of, against the critics of his day, i.
      456.
    Notice of his _Troia Britannica_, a poem, 688. ii. 44.
    Vindicates Shakspeare from the charge of plagiarism, 44, 45.
    Notice of his apology for actors, 44.
    Estimate of his merits as a dramatic poet, ii. 568, 569.
    Illustration of his "Woman killed with Kindness," i. 213. 269.

  _Higgins_ (John), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 688, and
      _note_ [688:B].
   Additions made by him to the "Mirrour for Magistrates," 709.

  _Historical Writers_ of the age of Shakspeare, notice of, i. 475, 476.

  _Hobby horse_, when introduced into the May games, i. 166. 170.
      _note_.

  _Hock Cart_, poem on, i. 188, 189.

  _Hock Day_, or _Hoke Day_, origin of, i. 149.
    Amusements of this festival, _ibid._
    Derivation of the term _Hock_, _ibid._ 150.
    Diversions of, continued at Coventry, till the end of the 17th
        century, 150, 151. and _note_.

  _Holinshed_'s description of the earthquake of 1580, i. 52, 53.
    Proof that Shakspeare was conversant with his history, 56.
    Character of his "Chronicle", 475.

  _Holland_ (Robert), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 688.

  _Holme_ (Randal), list of sports by, i. 246.

  _Homer_, as translated by Chapman, critical observations on, i. 607,
      608.

  _Hooding_ of Hawks, i. 267, 268.

  _Hoppings_, or country dances at wakes, i. 213, 214.

  _Horse_, beautiful poetical description of, ii. 24.

  _Horsemanship_, directions for, i. 299, 300.

  _Horse-racing_, a fashionable sport in the age of Shakspeare, i. 297,
      298.

  _Horsley_ (Bishop), remarks of, on the ministry of angels, i. 339,
      340. ii. 399.
    And on the resurrection, 403.

  _Hospitality_ of the English in the age of Elizabeth, ii. 120-122.

  _Hotspur_, contrast between the character of, and that of Henry V.,
      ii. 380.

  _Hounds_, different kinds of, in the 16th century, i. 283, 284.
    Beautiful allusions to, by Shakspeare, 284.

  _House_, where Shakspeare was born, described, i. 21, 22.

  _Household Servants_, economy of, in the age of Shakspeare, ii.
      138-140.

  _Housewife_, portrait and qualifications of a good English one, i.
      110, 111.
    Precepts for the regulation of her conduct, 112, 113. 116. _note_,
        117. _note_.

  _Howard_ (Lady), rude treatment of, by Queen Elizabeth, ii. 91.

  _Howel_ (Mr.), marvellous cure of, by sympathetic powder, i. 375, 376.

  _Howell_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 688.

  _Hubbard_ (William), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 688.

  _Hudson_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 689.

  _Hughes_ (Thomas), a dramatic writer of the Elizabethan age, notice
      of, ii. 242, 243.

  _Hughes_ (William), not the person to whom Shakspeare's sonnets were
      addressed, ii. 60.

  _Hume_, (Alexander), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 689.

  _Hundred Merry Tales_, a popular collection of Italian novels,
      translated in the reign of Elizabeth, i. 539.
    Alluded to by Shakspeare, 540.

  _Hunnis_ (William), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 689.
    Specimen of his contribution to the "Paradise of Daintie Devises,"
        714, 715.

  _Hunting_, account of, in the time of Elizabeth and James I., i. 272,
      273.
    Description of hunting in inclosures, 274-276.
    Stag-hunting, 278, 279.
    Frequently attended with danger, 280.
    Explanation of hunting-terms, 278. _note_, 279. _note_.
    Frequently practised after dinner, 285.

  _Huntsman_, character and qualifications of, in the 16th century, i.
      281, 282.

  _Huon of Bourdeaux_, allusions by Shakspeare to the romance of, i.
      564.

  _Hurling_, a rural sport, account of, i. 305.

  _Husbands_, supposed visionary appearance of future, on Midsummer Eve,
      i. 331-333.
    And on All Hallow Eve, 344-347.
    Advice to them, 513.


I

  _Iago_, remarks on the character of, ii. 531.

  _Illar Norner_, or malignant elves of the Goths, ii. 308.

  _Imagination_, brilliant, displayed in Shakspeare's dramas, ii. 551.

  _Imogen_, analysis of the character of, ii. 467.

  _Incubus_, or night-mare, poetical description of, i. 348. _note_.
    Supposed influence of Saint Withold against, 347-349.

  _Indians_, exhibited in England as monsters, i. 387.

  _Inns_ (country), picture of, in Shakspeare's time, i. 216-218.

  _Inns of Court_, account of a splendid masque given by the gentlemen
      of, ii. 190.

  _Interest_, exorbitant, given for money in the age of Shakspeare, ii.
      156.

  _Ireland_ (Mr. Samuel), his description of the birth-place of
      Shakspeare, i. 21, 22.
    Anecdote of Shakspeare's toping, preserved by him, 48-50.

  _Isabella_, remarks on the character of, in Measure for Measure, ii.
      454, 455.

  _Italian_ language and literature, considerations on Shakspeare's
      knowledge of, i. 53, 54.
    List of Italian grammars and dictionaries, which he might have read,
        57.
    Greatly encouraged in the age of Elizabeth and James I., 451-453.
    Account of Italian Romances, 538-544.
    The Italian Sonnet, the parent of English Sonnets, ii. 53.

  _Itinerant Stage_, and players, account of, i. 247-252.

  _Ivory Coffers_, an article of furniture, in the age of Shakspeare,
      ii. 118.


J

  _Jack o'Lantern_, superstitious notions concerning, i. 399.
    Probable causes of, 400.

  _Jackson_ (Richard), notice of his battle of Flodden, i. 689. and
      _note_ [689:A].

  _Jaggard_'s editions of the "Passionate Pilgrim," published without
      Shakspeare's privity or consent, ii. 43. 45.
    Vindication of the poet from the charge of imposing on the public in
        these editions, 46-48.

  _James_ I., book of sports, issued by, i. 173.
    Partiality of, for hunting, 287.
    Exclamation of, on quitting the Bodleian library, 434.
    Account of his treatise on "Scottish Poesie," 461, 462.
    Notice of his Poetical Works, i. 702. and _notes_ [702:B], [702:C].
    Expense in dress, encouraged by him, though niggardly in his own,
        ii. 101, 102.
    Drunken excesses of the King, and his courtiers, 124, 125.
    His philippic against tobacco, 135. 137.
    Sketch of his character, 151, 152.
    Cruel act passed by him against witchcraft, 477.
    His description of the feats of supposed witches, 483. 485.
    Wrote a letter of acknowledgement to Shakspeare, 595.

  _James_ (Dr.), an eminent bibliographer, notice of, i. 433, 434.

  _James_ (Elias), epitaph on, by Shakspeare, ii. 607, _note_.

  _Jaques_, analysis of the character of, in As You Like It, ii. 433,
      434.

  _Jeney_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 689.

  _Jenynges_ (Edward), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 689.

  _Jerome_ (St.), doctrine of, concerning angels, i. 336.

  _Jestours_, or minstrels, in the age of Elizabeth, account of, i.
      556-560.
    Deemed rogues and vagabonds by act of parliament, 561.

  _Jewels_, fashions of, in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 103.

  _Job_, beautiful passage from, on the agency and ministry of spirits,
      ii. 400.

  _John_ (King), probable date of, ii. 419.
    Its general character, _ibid._
    Analysis of the particular characters of Faulconbridge, 420.
      Of Arthur, 420. 422.
      Of Constance, 421.
    Exquisitely pathetic scene of Hubert and the executioners, 422.

    _Passages of this drama illustrated in the present work._

      Act   i. scene 1.,  i. 566. ii. 161.
      Act  ii. scene 2.,  i. 222.
      Act iii. scene 1.,  i. 351. ii. 420.
               scene 2., ii. 421.
      Act  iv. scene 1., ii. 414.
               scene 2.,  i. 384.

  _John's Eve_ (St.), superstitious observances on, i. 328.
    Fires lighted then, of Pagan origin, 328, 329.
    Fern seed supposed to be visible only on that eve, 329.
    Spirits visible, of persons who are to die in the following year,
        330, 331.
    Visionary appearances of future husbands and wives on that eve, 332.

  _Johnson_ (Richard), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 689.

  _Johnson_ (Dr.), his unjust censure of Cymbeline, ii. 466.

  _Jones_ (Rev. William), sermon of, on the death of the Earl of
      Southampton, i. 19. _note_.

  _Jonson_ (Ben), notice of the Latin Grammar of, i. 456.
    Critical remarks on his minor poems, 631.
    His account of a splendid masque, ii. 188.
    Began to write for the stage in conjunction with other dramatic
        poets, 572.
    Enumeration of his pieces, 573.
    Critical estimate of his merits as a dramatic poet, by Mr. Godwin,
        574.
      By Mr. Gifford, 575, 576.
    Causes of Jonson's failure in tragedy, 577.
    Unrivalled excellence of his masques, 578.
    Jonson, the favourite model, studied by Milton, 579, 580.
    Repartees ascribed to Jonson and Shakspeare, 593, 594. _notes_.
      The story of their quarrel, disproved, 595-598.
    Verses of Jonson on Shakspeare's engraved portrait, 623.

    _Passages of Ben Jonson's works illustrated or explained._

      Bartholomew Fayre, i. 173. 252.
      Christmas, a masque, i. 130. 203.
      Cynthia's Revells, Act i. sc. 2., i. 75.
        —— Act ii. sc. 5., ii. 120.
      Devil is an Ass, ii. 126.
      Entertainment of the Queen and Prince at Althorpe, i. 172.
      Epigrammes, i. 130. ii. 186.
      Every Man in his Humour, Act i. sc. 1., i. 82. 256. 308.
      Every Man out of his Humour, Act v. sc. 10., i. 441.
        —— Act ii. sc. 3., ii. 156.
      Masque of Queens, i. 179.
      New Inn, i. 329.
      Poetaster, i. 250.
      Sad Shepherd, i. 281.
      Staple of Newes, i. 96. 508, 509.
      Sejanus, i. 366.
      Silent Woman, ii. 126.
      Tale of a Tub, i. 229.

  _Julia_, remarks on the character of, in the Two Gentlemen of Verona,
      ii. 368, 369.

  _Julio Romano_, Shakspeare's eulogium on, ii. 617.

  _Julius Cæsar_, date of, ii. 491.
    Remarks on the character of Cæsar, 491.
      And of Brutus, 492.
    General conduct of this drama, 492.

    _Passages of this drama illustrated in the present work._

      Act ii. scene 2.,  i. 352.
      Act  v. scene 2.,  i. 230.
              scene 3.,  i. 230.
              scene 5., ii. 492.

  _Justices_ of the peace, venality of, in the time of Elizabeth, ii.
      166.


K

  _Kelly_, the magical associate of Dr. Dee, account of, ii. 512, 513.
    His death, 513.
    And character, 514, and _note_.

  _Kellye_ (Edmund), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 689.

  _Kempe_ (William), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 689.

  _Kendal_ (Timothy), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 690, and
      _note_.

  _Kenelworth Castle_, visit of Queen Elizabeth to, i. 37.
    Account of her magnificent reception there, 38, 39. ii. 195-197.
    Quaint description of the castle and grounds, i. 40-42, _notes_.
    Observation of Bishop Hurd on, ii. 200.

  _King and Queen_, origin of chusing, on Twelfth Night, i. 127.
      Still retained, 134, _note_.
    Anciently chosen at sheep-shearing, 184, _note_.

  _Kings_, supposed omens of the death or fall of, i. 353, 354.

  _King's Evil_, supposed to be cured by royal touch, i. 370, 371.

  _Kirk_ (Mr.), notice of his "Nature, &c. of fairies," ii. 314. and
      _note_.
    Extracts from it, relative to the fairy superstitions of Scotland,
        315, 316. 322. 324.

  _Kirke White_ (Henry), poetical description of a Winter's Evening
      Conversation, i. 322.

  _Kiss_, beautiful sonnet on one, ii. 54, 55.

  _Knell_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 690.

  _Knights_, tournaments of, in the 16th century, i. 553.
    Their vows how made, 554.
    Tilting at the ring, 555.

  _Knights of Prince Arthur's Round Table_, a society of archers,
      account of, ii. 178-180.

  _Knives_, when introduced into England, ii. 126.

  _Knolles_'s History of the Turks, character of, i. 476.

  _Kyd_ (Thomas), a dramatic writer, in the reign of Elizabeth, notice
      of, ii. 243, 244.

  _Kyffin_ (Maurice), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 690.


L

  _Ladies_, dress of, in the time of Queen Elizabeth, ii. 92-100.
    Their accomplishments, 153.
    Manually corrected their servants, _ibid._

  _Lake Wakes_, derivation of, i. 234.
    Description of, 235, 236.
    Vestiges of, in the North of England, 237.

  _Lamb Ale_, account of, i. 181.
    Poetical description of, by Tusser, _ibid._
      By Drayton, _ibid._
    Allusions to it by Shakspeare, 183-185.

  _Lambarde_'s "Archaionomia," critical notice of, i. 480.

  _Lane_ (John), a poet of the Elizabethan age, critical notice of, i.
      673.

  _Laneham_'s description of Kenelworth castle and grounds, i. 40-42.
      _notes_.
    Cited, 371.
    Description of the shews exhibited to Queen Elizabeth, 518, 519. ii.
        195, 196.
    Account of his mode of spending his time, 198, 199.

  _Latin literature_, promoted in the age of Elizabeth, by the labours
      of Ascham and others, i. 454, 455.
    List of Latin writers translated into English in the time of
        Shakspeare, 483.

  _Lavaterus_, remarks of, on the absurdity of terrifying children, i.
      317, 318.
    On the ministry of angels, 336, 337.
    On corpse candles, 358.
    And sudden noises, as forerunners of death, 361.

  _Law terms_, collection of, found in Shakspeare's plays, i. 43, 44.
      _notes_.

  _Lear_ (King), probable date of, ii. 457-459.
    And sources, 459.
    Observations on the general conduct of the play, 460, 461.
    Analysis of the character of Lear, 461-463.
      Of Edgar, 462, 464.
      And of Cordelia, 465.

    _Passages of this drama illustrated in the present work._

      Act   i. scene 2.,  i. 384.
               scene 5., ii. 462.
      Act  ii. scene 4., ii. 462.
      Act iii. scene 1., ii. 462.
               scene 2., ii. 464.
               scene 4.,  i. 347. 566. 588. ii. 463, 464.
               scene 6.,  i. 588, 589.
      Act  iv. scene 3.,  i. 592.
               scene 6.,  i. 308.
               scene 7., ii. 465, 466.

  _Leet Ale_, account of, i. 176.

  _Legge_ (Thomas), a dramatic writer in the Elizabethan age, character
      of, ii. 251.

  _Leicester_ (Robert Dudley, Earl of), his magnificent reception of
      Queen Elizabeth, i. 37-39. ii. 195-199.

  _Leighton_ (Sir William), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i.
      691.

  _Lever_ (Christopher), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 691.

  _Lexicographers_, but little rewarded, i. 27. _note_.

  _Leyden_ (Dr.), beautiful poetical allusions of, to Scottish
      traditions concerning fairies, ii. 320, 321. 323.
    Fine apostrophe to Mr. Scott, 321. _note_.

  _Lhuyd_ (Humphry), notice of his topographical labours, i. 479, 480.

  _Libel_ of Shakspeare on Sir Thomas Lucy, i. 405, 406.

  _Library_, hints for the best situation of, i. 437.
    Notice of Captain Cox's library of romances, 518, 519, 520.
      And of Dr. Dee's library of magical and other books, ii. 511, 512.
          _notes_.

  _Lights_, burning blue, a supposed indication of the presence of
      spirits, i. 358.

  _Lilly_ (John), notice of his "_Euphues_," a romance, i. 441, 442.
    Encomiums on it, 442.
    Estimate of its real character, 443.
    His style corrupted the English language, _ibid._
    Satirised by Shakspeare, 445, 446.
    Character of his dramatic pieces, ii. 240-242.

  _Lilye_, a dextrous repairer of old books, i. 433.

  _Linche_ (Richard), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 691.
    Specimen of his verses, _ibid._ _note_.

  _Lisle_ (William), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 691.

  _Literature_ (polite), outline of, during the age of Shakspeare, i.
      428.
    Encouraged by Queen Elizabeth, 428-432.
      Influence of her example, 433-437.
    State of philological or grammatical literature, 439.
    Innovations in the English language by Lilly, 442-445.
    Improvements in the language, by the great writers in the reigns of
        Elizabeth and James, 446-448.
    Classical literature greatly encouraged, 449. 453-455.
    Modern languages then cultivated, 451, 452.
    State of criticism, 456-460.
    Of history, 475.
    Voyages and travels, 477-479.
    Topography and antiquities, 479-481.
    Biography, 481, 482.
    Translations of classical authors extant in this period, 483.
    Natural history, 484, 485.
    Miscellaneous literature:—of the wits of that age, 485-499.
      Of the Puritans, 500-502.
      Sober writers, 503-507.
      Origin of newspapers, 508.
      Writers of characters, 509-511.
      Essayists, 511-514.
      Writers of facetiæ, 515-517.
      State of romantic literature, 518-593.
    Of poetry in general, 461-474. 594-675.
    Table of miscellaneous minor poets during the age of Shakspeare,
        676-707.
    Collections of poetry and poetical miscellanies, 708-731.
    State of literature in the Elizabethan age highly favourable to the
        culture of poetic genius, 596.

  _Literature_ (juvenile), state of, during Shakspeare's youth, i.
      25-28.

  _Lithgow_ (William), critical notice of his "Travels," i. 478.

  _Littlecote House_, description of, and of its ancient furniture, i.
      77-79.

  _Little John_, the companion of Robin Hood, account of, i. 163.

  _Lloyd_ (Lodowick), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 691.

  _Lobeira_ (Vasco), the author of "Amadis of Gaul," i. 545.
    Popularity of his romance, 545, 546.

  _Lodge_ (Dr. Thomas), a miscellaneous and dramatic writer, account of,
      i. 503.
    His principal works, _ibid._
    Defects in his literary character, _ibid._ 504.
    Remarks of, on the quarrelsome temper of Nash, 459, 460.
    Remarks on his poetry, 632-635.
    Character of his dramatic productions, ii. 249.

  _Lofft_ (Mr. Capel), opinion of, on the sources of Shakspeare's
      wisdom, i. 32. _note_.
    On the extent of his knowledge of Italian literature, 54. _note_.
    Notice of his edition of Shakspeare's "Aphorisms," 517.

  _Lok_ (Henry), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 691, 692, and
      _note_ [692:A].

  _London_, when first resorted to by country-gentlemen, i. 85, 86.
    Dress of the inhabitants of the metropolis, ii. 87-111.
    Their houses, how furnished, 111-120.
    Food and drinking, 120-137.
    Servants, 138-142.
    Miscellaneous household arrangements, 143-145.
    Peculiarities in their manners, 145-162.
    Police of London during the age of Shakspeare, 162-167.
    Their manners, 153.
    Credulity and superstition, 154.
    Curiosity for seeing strange sights, 155.
    Passion for travelling, 156.
    Love of gaming, 157.
    Duelling, 158.
    Love of quarrelling, _ibid._ 159.
      Lying, 159.
      Gossipping, _ibid._
      Swearing, 160.
    Complimentary language, 160, 161.
    Ceremonies of inaugurating the Lord Mayor, 162-164.
    Regulation of the police of the city, 164-166.
    Diversions of the court and city, 168-200.
    Account of a splendid masque given by the citizens, 189, 190.

  _Lord Mayor_, ceremony of inaugurating described, ii. 162-164.

  _Lovell_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 692.

  _Lovelocks_ worn by gentlemen in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 103.

  "_Lover's Complaint_," a minor poem of Shakspeare, critical analysis
      of, ii. 82-84.

  _Love's Labour's Lost_, date of this drama of Shakspeare's, ii. 289.
    Proofs that it is one of Shakspeare's earliest compositions, 290,
        291.
    The first edition of it lost, 290.
    Critical remarks on it, 291, 292.

    _Passages of this drama illustrated in the present work._

      Act   i. scene 2., ii. 186.
      Act iii. scene 1.,  i. 171. 580. ii. 173. 175.
      Act  iv. scene 1.,  i. 580, ii. 182.
               scene 2.,  i. 27. _note_. 445, 446.
      Act   v. scene 1.,  i. 96. 308.
               scene 2.,  i. 105. 130. 515. 556. ii. 171.

  _Lucrece_, beautiful picture of, ii. 36, 37.
    See _Rape of Lucrece_.

  _Lucy_ (Sir Thomas), biographical notice of, i. 402.
    His deer stolen by Shakspeare, 403.
      Whom he reprimands and exposes, 404.
    Is libelled by Shakspeare, 404-407.
      Prosecutes him, 407, 408.
    Ridiculous portrait of Sir Thomas, 409.

  _Luders_ (Mr.), notice of his essay on the character of Henry V., ii.
      381.

  _Luigi da Porta_, the Giuletta of, the source of Shakspeare's Romeo
      and Juliet, ii. 360-362.

  _Lunacy_ (latent), philosophical and medical remarks on, ii. 406, 407.
    Application of them to the character of Hamlet, 407, 408.

  _Lupton_ (Thomas), a dramatic writer in the time of Elizabeth, notice
      of, ii. 237.

  _Luring_ of Hawks, i. 266, 267. _note_.


M

  _Mab_, queen of the fairies, exquisite picture of, ii. 341, 342.

  _Macbeth_, date of, ii. 469.
    Analysis of the character of Macbeth, 469-471.
    Remarks on the management of the fable, 471.
    Its striking affinity to the tragedy of Æschylus, 472-474.
    Critical remarks on the supernatural machinery of this play, 474.
    Account of the popular superstitions concerning witchcraft, current
        in Shakspeare's time, 475-486.
    Instances of his admirable adaptation of them to dramatic
        representation in Macbeth, 487, 488.

    _Passages of this drama, illustrated in the present work._

      Act   i. scene 3., ii. 299. 488.
               scene 7.,  i. 129.
      Act  ii. scene 1.,  i. 82.
               scene 2., ii. 470.
               scene 3.,  i. 354.
      Act iii. scene 1.,  i. 388.
               scene 5.,  i. 386.
      Act  iv. scene 3.,  i. 371.

  _Machin_ (Lewis), "The Dumb Knight" of, illustrated, ii. 31. _note_.

  _Madmen_, in Shakspeare's plays, remarks on, i. 587.
    Characteristic madness of Edgar, in the play of Lear, 588.
    Affecting madness of Ophelia in Hamlet, 589-591.
    Contrast between the madness of Lear and Ophelia, ii. 396.
    The madness of Edgar and Lear considered, 462-464.

  _Madrigals_, collections of, in the time of Shakspeare, i. 730-733.

  _Magic_, state of the art of, in the time of Queen Elizabeth, ii. 509,
      510.
    Notice of eminent magicians at that time, 511-514.
    Different classes of magicians, 515.
    Prospero, one of the higher class, _ibid._
      Description of his dress and spells, 515-517.
    Mode of conjuring up the spirits of the dead, 518-520.
    Different orders of spirits under magical power, 521-526.

  _Maid Marian_, origin of, i. 161.
    One of Robin Hood's associates in the May-games, _ibid._ 162.

  _Malone_ (Mr.), opinion of, on the authenticity of John Shakspeare's
      will, i. 15.
    On the probability of William Shakspeare's being placed with an
        attorney, 43-45.
    His conjecture as to the person to whom Shakspeare's sonnets were
        addressed, ii. 61.
      Refuted, 62-73.
    Strictures on his inadequate defence of Shakspeare's sonnets,
        against Mr. Steevens's censure, 74, 75.
    Conjecture of, as to the amount of Shakspeare's income, 225.
    Ascribes Pericles to him, 265.
    His opinion on the date of Love's Labour's Lost, 289.
    On the spuriousness of Henry VI. Part I., 293.
    His able discrimination of genuine from the spurious passages, 295.
    On the probable date of Romeo and Juliet, 357, 358.
      Of the Taming of the Shrew, 364.
      Of Richard III. 370.
      Of Henry IV. Parts I. and II., 379.
      Of Hamlet, 391.
      Of King John, 419.
      Of All's Well That Ends Well, 422, 423.
      On the date of Troilus and Cressida, 438.
      Of Henry VIII. 442-445.
      Of Timon of Athens, 446, 447.
      Of Measure for Measure, 452.
      Of King Lear, 457-459.
      Of The Tempest, 500-503.
      Of Othello, 527, 528.
      Of Twelfth Night, 535.
    Strictures on his splenetic censure of Ben Jonson, 578. _note_.
    Remarks of, on the epitaphs ascribed to Shakspeare, 607. and _note_.
    Character and expression of the poet's bust injured through his
        interference, 621.
    His illustrations of Shakspeare cited, _passim_.

  _Malory_ (Sir Thomas), account of his translation of the romance of
      "La Morte D'Arthur," i. 524.

  _Mandrake_, fable concerning, i. 374.

  _Manners_ of the metropolis during the age of Shakspeare, ii. 149.
    Influence of Elizabeth and James I. upon them, 153, 154.
    Credulity and superstition, 154.
    Love of strange sights, 155.
    Passion for travelling, 156.
    Love of Gaming, 157.
    Duelling and quarrelling, 158, 159.
    Lying and gossipping, 159, 160.
    Complimentary language, 160-162.

  _Manning_ of hawks, i. 266, 267. _note_.

  _Manningtree_, celebrated for its fairs and stage plays, i. 251.

  _Mansions_ of country squires and gentlemen, in Shakspeare's age,
      description of, i. 72-74.

  _Mantuanus_, Eclogues of, probably one of Shakspeare's school books,
      i. 27. _note_.
    Quoted and praised by him, _ibid._
    Translations of them noticed, 28. _note_.

  _Marbeck_ (John), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 692.

  _Marlow_ (Christopher), character of, as a poet, i. 635, 636.
    And as a dramatic writer, with specimens, ii. 245-248.
    His wretched death, 249, and _note_.
    His "Passionate Shepherd," cited by Shakspeare, i. 578.

  _Marston_ (John), biographical notice of, i. 636.
    Character of his satires, 637.
    Estimate of his merits as a dramatic poet, ii. 567, 568.
    His "Scourge of Villanie," cited and illustrated, ii. 160.

  _Mark's Day_ (St.), supposed influence of, on life and death, i. 323.

  _Markham_ (Gervase), a miscellaneous writer in the time of Shakspeare,
      biographical account of, i. 505.
    List of his works, 506, 507. _notes_.
      Their great popularity, 506, 507.
    Notice of his "Gentleman's Academie, or Book of St. Alban's," i. 70.
        _note_. 257. _note_.
    Dedication to, 70.
    His difference between churles and gentlemen, 71, 72. _note_.
    His edition seen by Shakspeare, 71. _note_.
    Directions of, for an _ordinary_ feast, 80. _note_.
    His explanation of terms in hawking, 267-269. _note_.
    On different sorts of hounds, 283, 284.
    Description of the qualifications of an angler, 294-296.
    Notice of his "Discource of Horsemanshippe," 299. _note_.
      Precepts for learning to ride, 299, 300.
    List of his poems, 692, 693.
    His address to the Earl of Southampton, ii. 17. _note_.

  _Marriage_, ceremony of, in Shakspeare's time, i. 223.
    Procession, _ibid._ 224.
    Rosemary strewed before the bride, 224.
    Ceremonies in the church, 225.
    Drinking out of the bride cup, _ibid._ 226.
    Blessing the bridal bed, _ib._
    Description of a rustic marriage, 227-229.
    How celebrated in the North of England in the 18th century, 229.
        _note_.

  _Martial_, epigram of, happily translated, i. 690. _note_.

  _Martinmas_, or the festival of St. Martin, i. 190.
    Winter provision then laid in, _ibid._
    Poetical description of, 191-193.
    Universally observed throughout Europe, 191.
    Allusion to this day, by Shakspeare, 193.

  _Martin Mar-Prelate_, notice of, i. 457.

  _Mascall_'s (Leonard), "Booke of Fishing," notice of, i. 291, and
      _note_.

  _Masks_ generally used in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 95.

  _Masques_, splendid, in the age of Shakspeare, account of, ii.
      187-190.
    Allusions to them by Shakspeare, 191-193.
    Unrivalled excellence of Ben Jonson's masques, 578.

  _Massinger_ (Philip), merits of, as a dramatic poet, considered, ii.
      561, 562.

    Illustrations of several of his plays, viz.

      City Madam, i. 75.
        ——, Act ii. scene 1., i. 180.
      Guardian, i. 262, 263.
      Virgin Martyr, i. 310.

  _Master of the Revels_, office of, when instituted, ii. 202.
    The superintendance of the stage and of actors, committed to them,
        203.
    Players sometimes termed children of the revels, 204.

  _Maxwell_ (James), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 693.

  _May-Day_, anciently observed throughout the kingdom, i. 152.
    A relic of the Roman Floralia, _ibid._
    Poetical description of, in Henry VIII.'s time, 153.
    Cornish mode of celebrating, _ibid._
    How celebrated in the age of Shakspeare, 154, 155.
    Allusions to it by the poet, 155, 156.
    Verses on, by Herrick, 156, 157.
    Morris-dances, the invariable accompaniment of May-day, 157, 158.
    Robin Hood and his associates, when introduced, 159-163.
    Music accompanying May-games, 164, 165.
    Introduction of the hobby-horse and dragon, 156.
    Description of the May-games, as celebrated in Shakspeare's time,
        167-171.
    Opposition made to them by the Puritans, and their consequent
        decline, 171-173.
    Revived by King James's "Book of Sports," 173, 174.
    Their gradual disuse, 174, and _note_.

  _Maying_, custom of going a Maying, i. 155.
    Verses on, 156, 157.

  _Mayne_'s "City Match," illustration of, i. 388.

  _Maypole_, ceremony of setting up described, i. 154.

  _Measure for Measure_, probable date of, ii. 452.
    Its primary source, 453.
    Analysis of its characters, 454-456.

    _Passages of this drama illustrated in the present work._

      Act  ii. scene 1., ii. 125.
      Act iii. scene 1.,  i. 378. ii. 455, 456.
      Act   v. scene 1.,  i. 222.

  _Menæchmi_ of Plautus, the basis of Shakspeare's Comedy of Errors, ii.
      286-288.

  _Merchant of Venice_, date of, ii. 385.
    Probable source of its fable, 385, 386.
    Analysis of it, 387, 388.
      And of its characters, 388-390.
        Particularly that of Shylock, 388, 389.

    _Illustrations of this drama._

      Act  ii. scene 8., ii. 389.
      Act iii. scene 2., ii. 93.
      Act  iv. scene 1.,  i. 374.
      Act   v. scene 1.,  i. 187. 381. ii. 390.

  _Meres_ (Francis), critical notice of his "Comparative Discourse of
      our English Poets, with the Greeke, Latine, and Italian Poets," i.
      468.
    His censure of the popularity of "La Morte D'Arthur," 525.
    Encomium on Shakspeare's Venus and Adonis, ii. 29.
      And on several of his dramas, 287.

  _Merry Pin_, explanation of the term, i. 131. _note_.

  _Merry Wives of Windsor_, tradition respecting the origin of, ii. 435,
      436.
    Analysis of its characters, 436, 437.

    _Passages of this drama illustrated in the present work._

      Act   i. scene 1.,  i. 252. 307. 409, ii. 178.
               scene 4.,  i. 82.
      Act  ii. scene 1.,  i. 577.
               scene 2., ii. 134.
      Act iii. scene 3.,  i. 271. 577. ii. 94. 114.
               scene 5., ii. 132.
      Act  iv. scene 2.,  i. 362.
               scene 5., ii. 117. 169.
      Act   v. scene 5.,  i. 82. ii. 340. 341. 343. 347.

  _Metrical Romances_, origin of, i. 522, 523.

  _Michael_ (St.) _and All Angels_, festival of, i. 334.
    Superstitious doctrine of the ministry of angels, 334-340.
    Michaelmas-geese, 340, 341.

  _Middleton_ (Christopher), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i.
      693.

  _Middleton_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 693.
    Wrote several pieces for the stage, in conjunction with other
        dramatic poets, ii. 565.
    Estimate of his merits as a dramatist, 565, 566.
    Illustrations of his "Fair Quarrel," i. 224.
      And "No Wit, No Help like a Woman's," i. 226.

  _Midsummer-Eve_, superstitious observances on, i. 328.
    Midsummer-Eve fire, of Pagan origin, _ibid._ 329.
    Fern-seed only visible on that eve, 329.
    Spirits visible of persons, who are to die in the following year,
        330, 331.
    Recent observance of Midsummer-Eve in Cornwall, 331.
    Visionary appearance of future husbands and wives supposed to take
        place on this Eve, 332, 333.
    Plays and masques performed then, 333, 334.

  _Midsummer-Night's Dream_, composed for Midsummer-Eve, i. 333, 334.
    Its probable date, ii. 298, 299.
    One of Shakspeare's earlier pieces, 299.
    Critical remarks on some of its characters, 300-302.
      And on the fairy mythology of this play, 302. 337-355.
    (_See also the article "Fairies," in this Index._)

    _Passages of this drama illustrated in this work._

      Act   i. scene 1.,  i. 155.
               scene 2., ii. 221.
      Act  ii. scene 1.,  i. 106. ii. 341. 343, 344. 349.
               scene 2.,  i. 308. 384. ii. 337, 338. 341, 342. 344. 354,
                             355.
               scene 3., ii. 341. 355.
      Act iii. scene 1., ii. 170. 341. 346.
               scene 2.,  i. 158. ii. 301. 354.
      Act  iv. scene 1.,  i. 156. 284. 324. ii. 339. 352.
               scene 2., ii. 353.
      Act   v. scene 2.,  i. 226. ii. 329. 346.

  _Milan Bells_ for hawks, notice of, i. 268, 269.

  _Milk Maids_, procession of, on May-day, i. 155. _note_ [155:A].

  _Milton_'s "Comus," illustration of, i. 131.
    Illustrations of "Paradise Lost," i. 339, 381.
    Proof that he imitated Shakspeare's Pericles, ii. 279, 280. _note_
        [279:C].
    Exquisite passage from his "Paradise Lost," on the ministry of
        angels, 401.
    Ben Jonson the favourite model studied by Milton, 578, 579.
    Whether he and Shakspeare were acquainted with each other, 672.

  _Ministry of Angels_, superstitious notions concerning, i. 334-339.
    Remarks of Bishop Horsley on, 339, 340.

  _Minstrels_ better paid than clergymen, i. 93.
    Their condition in the age of Elizabeth, 557.
    Their costume described, 558, 559.
    Dissolute morals of, 559, 560.
    Allusions to them by Shakspeare, 560, 561.
    Their profession annihilated by act of parliament, 561.
    Allusions to their poetry by Shakspeare, 574-593.

  _Miranda_, remarks on the character of, ii. 506.

  "_Mirrour for Magistrates_," a collection of poetical legends, planned
      by Sackville, i. 708.
    Account of its various editions, 709, 710.
    Its character, 710.
    Influence on our national poetry, _ibid._

  _Monkies_, kept as the companions of the domestic fool, ii. 145, 146.

  _Monsters_, supposed existence of, i. 384-389.

  _Montgomery_ (Alexander), notice of the poems of, i. 693, and _note_.

  _Monument_ of Shakspeare, in Stratford church, described, ii. 618.
    Remarks on the bust erected on it, 619-622.

  _Moon_, supposed influence of, i. 382-384.
    Exquisite picture of moonlight scenery, ii. 390.

  _Morality_ of Shakspeare's dramas, ii. 552.

  _Morgan_ (Mr.), vindicates Shakspeare from the calumnies of Voltaire,
      ii. 553, 554.

  _Morley_'s (Thomas), Collection of Madrigals, quotations from,
      illustrative of May-games, i. 165, 166.
    Account of his "Collections," 731-733.

  _Morris-dance_, origin of, i. 157.
    Dress of the Morris-dancers, 158.
    Morris dances performed at Easter, i. 147. _note_.
    And especially at May-day, 158, 159.
    Music by which these dances were accompanied, 164, 165.
    Morris-dances introduced also at Whitsuntide, 175.

  "_Morte D'Arthur_," a celebrated romance, account of, i. 524.
    Its popularity censured by Ascham and Meres, 524, 525.
    Notice of its principal editions, 526, 527.
    Specimen of its style, 528.
    Furnished Spenser with many incidents, 528, 529.
    Allusions to it by Shakspeare, 562.

  _Moseley_ (Mr.), discovers John Shakspeare's will, i. 9.

  _Moryson_ (Fynes), critical notice of his "Itinerary," i. 479.
    His character of "Amadis of Gaul," 546.

  _Much Ado about Nothing_, date of, ii. 430.
    Strictures on its general character, and on the conduct of its
        fable, _ibid._ 431.
    Original of the character of Dogberry in this play, 589.

    _Passages of this drama illustrated in the present work._

      Act   i. scene 1.,  i. 308.
               scene 3., ii. 114.
      Act  ii. scene 1.,  i. 540. 564. ii. 175.
               scene 3.,  i. 288. 472. ii. 92.
      Act iii. scene 1.,  i. 296.
               scene 2.,  i. 573.
      Act   v. scene 2.,  i. 580.

  _Mufflers_, an article of female dress in the age of Shakspeare, ii.
      95.

  _Mulberry-tree_, when planted by Shakspeare, ii. 599, 600.
    Cut down, ii. 584. _note_.

  _Mulcaster_ (Richard), notice of the grammatical labours of, i. 455.

  _Muncaster_ (Richard), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 693.

  _Munday_ (Anthony), notice of his Versions of "Palmerin of England,"
      i. 547.
    "Palmerin d'Oliva," and "Historie of Palmendo," 548.
    List of his poems, 693, 694.

  _Murdered_ persons, blood of, supposed to flow on the touch or
      approach of the murderer, i. 372, 373.

  _Murray_ (David), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 694, and
      _note_.

  _Music_ of the Morris-dance and May-games, i. 164, 165.
    Description of the music of the fairies, ii. 342, and _note_.
    Shakspeare passionately fond of music, 390.

  "_Myrrour of Knighthood_," a popular romance, alluded to by
      Shakspeare, i. 570.

  _Mythology_ of the ancients, a favourite study in the time of
      Elizabeth and James I., i. 419.
    Critical account of the fairy mythology of Shakspeare, ii. 302-337.


N

  _Name_ of Shakspeare, orthography of, ascertained, i. 17-20.

  _Nash_ (Thomas), "Quarternio" of, cited, i. 260-262.
    His quarrel with Harvey, 458.
    His books, why scarce, _ibid._
    Character of him, 459. 486.

  _Nashe_'s "Choosing of Valentines" cited, i. 251.

  _Natural History_, works on, translated in the time of Shakspeare, i.
      485.

  _Needlework_, admirable, of the ladies, in the age of Shakspeare, ii.
      146. and _note_, 153.

  _Newcastle_, Easter amusements at, i. 149.

  _Newspapers_, origin of, i. 506.

  _Newton_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 694.

  _Newton_'s "History of the Saracens," notice of, i. 476.

  _New-Year's Day_, ceremonies observed on, i. 123.
    Presents usually made then, 124.
    Account of those made to Queen Elizabeth, 125, 126.

  _Nicholson_ (Samuel), a minor poet in the time of Shakspeare, i. 694.

  _Niccols_ (Richard), critical notice of the poetical works of, i. 637,
      638.
    Additions to the "Mirrour for Magistrates," 709, 710.

  _Nightmare_, poetical description of, i. 348, _note_.
    Supposed influence of St. Withold, against it, 347-349.

  _Nixon_ (Anthony), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 694.

  _Noises_, sudden and fearful, supposed to be forerunners of death, i.
      361.

  _Norden_ (John), notice of the topographical works of, i. 480, 481.
    And of his poetical productions, 694.

  _Novels_ (Italian), account of, translated in Shakspeare's time, i.
      538-544.
    List of those most esteemed in the 15th and 16th centuries, 544,
        _note_.

  _Nutcrack Night_, i. 341.


O

  _Oberon_, the fairy king of Shakspeare, derivation of his name, ii.
      337, _note_.
    Analysis of his character, 337-340.

  _Ockland_'s ΕΙΡΗΝΑΡΧΙΑ _sive Elizabetha_, a school-book in
      Shakspeare's time, account of, i. 26.

  _Omens_, prevalence of, in Shakspeare's time, i. 349-351.
    Warnings of danger or death, 349-354.
    Dreams, 354.
    Demoniacal voices, 355.
    Corpse-candles, and tomb-fires, 358.
    Fiery and meteorous exhalations, 360.
    Sudden noises, 361, 362.

  _Ophelia_, remarks on the affecting madness of, i. 589-591.
    And also on Hamlet's passion for her, ii. 394-396.

  _Ordinaries_, account of, in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 134, 135.

  _Oriental_ romances, account of, i. 531-538.
    Allusions to them by Shakspeare, 568, 569.

  _Orthography_ of Shakspeare's name, i. 17-20.
    Instances of want of uniformity in, 19. _note_.

  _Othello_, probable date of, ii. 527, 528.
    General remarks on this drama, 529.
    Vindication of it from the extraordinary criticism of Mr. Steevens,
        529, 530.
    On the execution of the character of Othello, 530.
      Iago, 531.
      And Desdemona, _ibid._

    _Passages of this tragedy illustrated in the present work._

      Act   i. scene 3.,  i. 385. ii. 155.
      Act  ii. scene 3.,  i. 583. ii. 128.
      Act iii. scene 3.,  i. 270.
               scene 4., ii. 527.
      Act  iv. scene 1.,  i. 389.
      Act   v. scene 2.,  i. 384.

  _Overbury_ (Sir Thomas), the first writer of "Characters," i. 509.
    Character of his productions, _ibid._
      Especially his poem on the choice of a wife, 510.
        Imitation of it, _ibid._
        Notice of editions of it, 694, and _note_ [694:D].
    Mrs. Turner executed for his murder, ii. 96.

  _Owls_, superstitious notions concerning, i. 393, 394.


P

  _Pageants_, splendid, in the age of Shakspeare, account of, ii.
      187-190.
    Allusions to them by the poet, 191-193.

  _Paint_, used by the ladies in Shakspeare's time, ii. 95.

  _Palaces_ of Queen Elizabeth, account of the furniture of, ii. 111,
      112.

  "_Palmerin d'Oliva_," romance of, translated by Munday, i. 548.
    Alluded to by Shakspeare, 571.

  "_Palmerin of England_," a popular romance, critical notice of, i.
      547.

  _Palmistry_, allusions to by Shakspeare, i. 363.

  _Pancake Bell_, account of, i. 143. _note_.

  _Pancakes_, the invariable accompaniment of Shrove-Tuesday, i. 141,
      142.

  "_Paradyse of Daynty Devises_," account of the different editions of,
      i. 711, 712.
    And of the different contributors to this collection of poems,
        713-715.

  _Paris_, fashions of, imported into England, in the age of Shakspeare,
      ii. 94.

  _Park_ (Mr.), remarks of, on the style of our elder poetry, i. 719,
      720.

  _Parish Tops_, notice of, i. 312.

  _Parker_ (Archbishop), a collector of curious books, i. 433.

  _Parkes_ (William), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 695.

  _Parnassus_—"The Great Assizes holden in Parnassus," &c. cited, i.
      19. _note_.

  _Parrot_ (Henry), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 695.

  _Partridge_ (John), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 695.

  _Pasche Eggs_, given at Easter, i. 148.

  _Pasquinade_ of Shakspeare, on Sir Thomas Lucy, i. 405, 406.

  _Passing Bell_, supposed benefit of tolling, i. 232, 233, 234.

  _Passions_, exquisite delineations of, in Shakspeare's dramas, ii.
      546-549.

  "_Passionate Pilgrim_," a collection of Shakspeare's minor pieces,
      when first printed, ii. 41.
    Probable date of its composition, 42.
    An edition of this work published by Jaggard, without the poet's
        knowledge or consent, 43-45.
    Shakspeare vindicated from the charge of imposing on the public, in
        this edition, 45-48.
    Critical remarks on the Passionate Pilgrim, 49.

  _Pastoral_ romances, account of, i. 548-552.

  _Paul's_ (St.) Day, supposed influence of, on the weather, i. 323. and
      _note_.

  _Paul's Walk_, a fashionable lounge in St. Paul's Cathedral, during
      the age of Shakspeare, ii. 182-185.

  _Pavin_ or _Pavan_, a fashionable dance in the time of Shakspeare,
      account of, ii. 173, 174.

  _Payne_ (Christopher), "Christmas Carrolles" of, i. 695.

  _Paynter_'s (William), "Pallace of Pleasure," a popular collection of
      romances, i. 541.
    Probable cause of its being discontinued, _ibid._ 542.
    Constantly referred to by Shakspeare, 542.

  _Peacham_ (Henry), a minor poet in the time of Shakspeare, i. 695.

  _Peacham_'s description of country-schoolmasters, i. 97, 98.
    Instruction on the best mode of keeping books, and on the best scite
        for a library, 436, 437.
      And on the choice of style, 447, 448.

  _Peacock Pies_, anciently eaten at Christmas, i. 200.

  _Pearson_ (Alison), executed for supposed intercourse with fairies,
      ii. 318, 319.

  _Peasantry_, or Boors, character of, in the age of Elizabeth, i.
      120-122.

  _Peele_ (George), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 695, 696.
    Character of his dramatic productions, ii. 239, 240.

  _Peend_ (Thomas de la), a minor poet in the age of Shakspeare, i. 696.

  _Peg Tankard_, origin of, i. 131. _note_.
    Explanation of terms borrowed from it, _ibid._

  _Percy_ (Bishop), notice of his "Friar of Orders Grey," i. 579, 580.
    Ascribes Pericles to Shakspeare, ii. 265.

  _Percy_ (William), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 696.

  _Perdita_, remarks on the character of, in the Winter's Tale, ii. 499,
      500.

  _Peri_, or benevolent fairies of the Persians, notice of, ii. 302.

  _Periapts_, a sort of spell, supposed influence of, i. 364.

  _Pericles_, the first of Shakspeare's plays, ii. 262.
    Proofs, that the greater part, if not the whole of it, was his
        composition, 262, 263. 265, 266.
    Its omission in the first edition of his works, accounted for, 264.
    Its inequalities considered, 265-267.
    In what parts his genius may be traced, 268.
    Examination of the minor characters, 270, 271.
      Of the personage of Pericles, 272, 273.
    Admirable scene of his recognition of Marina, 274.
      And of his wife Thaisa, 275.
    Character of Marina, examined, 276-279.
    Strict justice of the moral, 279.
    This play imitated by Milton, _ibid._ _note_.
    Dryden's testimony to the genuineness and priority of Pericles, 281.
      Internal evidences to the same effect, 282.
    This play probably written in the year 1590, 282, 283.
    Objections to its priority considered and refuted, 285, 286.
    Probability of Mr. Steevens's conjecture that the hero of this drama
        was originally named Pyrocles, after the hero of Sidney's
        Arcadia, 283, 284.

    _Passages of this drama illustrated in the present work._

      Act   i. scene 2., ii. 272.
      Act  ii. scene 1., ii. 273.
               scene 5., ii. 268, 269. _notes_.
      Act iii. scene 2., ii. 270, 271.
               scene 4., ii. 276.
      Act  iv. scene 1., ii. 276, 277.
               scene 3., ii. 278. _note_.
               scene 6., ii. 278.
      Act   v. scene 1., ii. 273, 274. 279.
               scene 3., ii. 275.

  _Periwigs_, when introduced into England, ii. 93.

  _Petowe_ (Henry), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 696.

  _Pett_ (Peter), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 696.

  _Pewter_, a costly article in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 118.

  _Phillip_ (John), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 696.

  _Phiston_ (William), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 697.

  "_Phœnix Nest_," a collection of poems, in the time of Elizabeth,
      critical notice of, i. 718-720.

  _Pictures_, an article of furniture in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 119.

  _Pilgrimages_ made to wells, i. 393.

  _Pilpay_, notice of the fables of, i. 533, 534.

  _Pipe and Tabor_, the ancient accompaniment of the Morris-dance and
      May-games, i. 164, 165.

  _Plautus_, the Menæchmi of, the basis of Shakspeare's Comedy of
      Errors, ii. 286-288.

  _Pits_ (John), the biographer, character of, i. 482.

  _Plague_, ravages of, at Stratford, i. 24.

  _Plantain roots_, why dug up on Midsummer Eve, i. 333.

  _Plat_ (Hugh), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 697.

  _Players_ (strolling), state of, in the sixteenth century, i. 248-250.
    Difference between them and licensed performers, 250.
    Exhibited at country fairs, 251.
    Companies of players, when first licensed, ii. 202.
    Placed under the direction of the Master of the Revels, 203.
    Patronized by the court, and also by private individuals, 205, 206.
    The amount of their remuneration, 204.
    Days and hours of their performance, 215.
    Concluded their performances always with prayers, 222, 223.
    How remunerated, 223, 224.

  _Play-bills_, notice of, in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 214, 215.

  _Plays_, number of, performed in one day, ii. 217.
    Amusements of the audience, prior to their commencement, 217-219.
    Disapprobation of them, how testified, 221, 222.
    Authors of, how rewarded, 224, 225.
    List of anonymous plays extant previously to the time of Shakspeare,
        252, 253.
    Chronological list of his genuine plays, 261, 262.
      Observations on each, 263-534.
      (_And see their respective titles in this Index._)
    Humorous remark of Mr. Steevens on the value and high price of the
        first edition of Shakspeare's plays, 535. _note_.
      Remarks on the spurious plays attributed to him, 536, 537.

  _Plough Monday_, festival of, i. 136.
    Sports and customs usual at that season, 137.

  "_Poetical Rapsodie_," a collection of poems of the age of Shakspeare,
      account of, i. 728-730.

  _Poets_, list of, who were rewarded by English sovereigns, i. 514,
      515.
    Table of English poets, classed according to the subjects of their
        muses, 734.

  _Poetry_ (English), notice of treatises on, during the age of
      Shakspeare, i. 461-470.
    Allusions to or quotations from the poetry of the minstrels, with
        remarks, 574-593.
    State of poetry (with the exception of the drama) during the time of
        Shakspeare, 594, _et seq._
    Influence of superstition, literature, and romance on poetical
        genius, 595, 596.
    Versification, economy, and sentiment of the Elizabethan poetry,
        597-599.
    Defects in the larger poems of this period, 599-601.
    Biographical and critical notices of the more eminent poets,
        601-674.
    Table of miscellaneous minor poets, exhibiting their respective
        degrees of excellence, mediocrity, or worthlessness, 676-707.
    Critical notices of the collections of poetry, and poetical
        miscellanies, published during this period, 708-731.
    Brief view of dramatic poetry from the birth of Shakspeare to the
        year 1590, ii. 227-255.

  _Police_ of London, neglected in the time of Elizabeth, ii. 165.
    Regulations for it, 166.

  "_Polimanteia_," or the means to judge of the fall of a commonwealth,
      bibliographical notice of, ii. 39. _note_ [39:B].

  _Porta_ (Luigi da), the "Giuletta" of, the source of Romeo and Juliet,
      ii. 360-362.

  _Portuguese_ romances, account of, i. 545-548.

  _Possessed_, charm for, i. 364.

  _Possets_, prevalence of, in Shakspeare's time, i. 82.

  _Powder_ (sympathetic), marvellous effects ascribed to, i. 375, 376.

  _Powell_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 697.

  _Prayer Book_ of Queen Elizabeth, i. 432.

  _Pregnant women_, supposed influence of fairies on, ii. 324.

  _Presents_, anciently made on New-Year's Day, i. 124.
    Account of those made to Queen Elizabeth, 125, 126.

  _Preston_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 697.
    Character of his dramatic pieces, ii. 236, 237.

  _Prices_ of admission to the theatre, ii. 216, 217.

  _Pricket_ (Robert), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 697.

  _Primero_, a fashionable game of cards in Shakspeare's time, how
      played, ii. 169.

  _Printing_, observations on the style of, in Queen Elizabeth's reign,
      i. 437, 438.

  _Proctor_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 697.
    Notice of his "Gorgeous Gallery of Gallant Inventions," 715-717.

  _Prologues_, how delivered in the time of Shakspeare, ii. 219.

  _Prose writers_ of the age of Shakspeare, observations on, i. 439-447.
    Causes of their defects, 448.

  _Prospero_, analysis of the character of, ii. 505. 515.

  _Provisions_, annual stock of, anciently laid in at fairs, i. 215.

  _Prudentius_, passage of, supposed to have been imitated by
      Shakspeare, ii. 415.

  _Puck_, or Robin Goodfellow, analysis of the character of, ii. 347.
    Probable source of it, 348-350.
    Description of his functions, 349, 350.
    Resemblance between Puck and the Cobali or benevolent elves of the
        Germans, 350.
      And to the Brownie of the Scotch, 351.
    Other functions of Puck, 352, 353.

  _Puppet-shows_, origin of, i. 253.

  _Purchas_'s "Pilgrimage," critical notice of, i. 477.

  _Purgatory_, Popish doctrine of, ii. 415, 416.
    Seized and employed by Shakspeare with admirable success, 416, 417.
        455, 456.

  _Puritans_ opposition to May-games, ridiculed by Shakspeare, i. 171.
    By Ben Jonson, 172, 173. _note_.
    And Beaumont and Fletcher, 172.

  _Puttenham_ (George), remarks of, on the corruptions of the English
      language, i. 441.
    Critical notice of his "Arte of English Poesie," 465, 466.
    And of his smaller poems, 697. and _note_.


Q

  _Quarrelling_ reduced to a system in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 159.

  _Quiney_ (Mr. Thomas), married to Shakspeare's daughter Judith, ii.
      609.
    Their issue, 610.

  _Quintaine_, a rural sport in the sixteenth century, i. 300.
    Its origin, 301.
    Description of, 301-304.

  "_Quippes for upstart newfangled Gentlewomen_," cited and illustrated,
      ii. 95, 98.


R

  _Race-horses_, breeds of, highly esteemed, i. 298.

  _Raleigh_ (Sir Walter), improved the English language, i. 416, 417.
    Character of his "History of the World," 476.
    His "Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd," cited by Shakspeare, 578.
    Notice of his poetical pieces, 639.
      Remarks on them, _ibid._ 640.
    Estimate of his poetical character, 640-642.

  _Ramsey_ (Laurence), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 698.

  _Rankins_ (William), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 698.

  _Rape of Lucrece_, a poem of Shakspeare's, when first printed, ii. 32.
    Dedicated to the Earl of Southampton, 3.
    Construction of its versification, 33.
    Probable sources whence Shakspeare derived his fable, _ibid._
    Exquisite specimens of this poem, for their versification,
        descriptive, pathetic, and sublime excellences, 34-38.
    Complimentary notices of this poem by contemporaries of the poet,
        38-40.
    Notice of its principal editions, 41.

  _Rapiers_, extraordinary length of, in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 108,
      109.

  _Ravenscroft_ (Thomas), hunting song preserved by, i. 277.

  _Reynolds_ (John), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 698.

  _Reed_ (Mr.), his Illustrations of Shakspeare cited, _passim_.

  _Register_ (parochial), of Stratford-upon-Avon, extracts from, i. 4.
    Births, marriages, and deaths of Shakspeare's children recorded
        there, 414, 415. _note_.

  _Remuneration_ of actors and dramatic poets in the time of Shakspeare,
      ii. 223-225.

  _Repartees_ of Shakspeare and Tarleton the comedian, i. 66.
    Ascribed to Shakspeare and Ben Jonson, ii. 593. _note_.

  _Rice_ (Richard), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 698.

  _Richard_ I. (King), why surnamed _Cœur de Lion_, i. 566, 567.

  _Richard_ II., probable date of, ii. 375, 376.
    Analysis of his character, 377, 378.
    Remarks on the secondary characters of this play, 378.
    Performed before the Earl of Southampton in 1601, ii. 10, 11.
    Illustration of act ii. scene 4. of this drama, i. 384.

  _Richard_ of Gloucester, exquisite portrait of, in Shakspeare's Henry
      VI. Part II., ii. 297.

  _Richard_ III., date of, ii. 370-372.
    Analysis of Richard's character, 373-375.

    _Illustrations of passages of this drama in the present work._

      Act iii. scene 2., ii. 377.
               scene 3., ii. 377.
      Act   v. scene 2., ii. 378.
               scene 3.,  i. 358.

  _Rickets_, singular cures of, i. 371, 372.

  _Rider_ (Bishop), an eminent philologer, notice of, i. 455.

  _Riding_, art of, highly cultivated in the sixteenth century, i. 298.
    Instructions for, 299, 300.

  _Rings_, fairy, allusions to, by Shakspeare, ii. 342, 343.

  _Robin Hood_ and his associates, when introduced in the gambols of
      May Day, i. 159.
    Account of them and their dresses, &c., 160-164.

  _Robin_, why a favourite bird, i. 394, 395.

  _Robinson_ (Clement), critical notice of his "Handefull of Pleasant
      Delites," i. 717, 718.

  _Robinson_'s (Richard), "Auncient Order, &c. of the Round Table,"
      account of, i. 562, 563., ii. 178-180.
    Notice of his poems, i. 698. and _note_ [698:B].

  _Rock Day_ festival, account of, i. 135.
    Verses on, _ibid._, 136.

  _Rolland_ (John), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 698.

  _Roman literature_, progress of, during the reign of Elizabeth, i.
      454, 455.
    List of Roman classic authors translated into English in
        Shakspeare's time, 483.

  _Romances_, list of popular ones in the age of Shakspeare, i. 519-522.
    Origin of the metrical romance, 522, 523.
    Anglo-Norman romances, 523-531.
    Oriental romances, 531-538.
    Italian romances, 538-544.
    Spanish and Portuguese romances, 545-548.
    Pastoral romances, 548-552.
    Influence of romance on the poetry of the Elizabethan age, 596.
    Observations on the romantic drama, ii. 539-541.

  _Romeo and Juliet_, probable date of, ii. 356-358.
    Source whence Shakspeare derived his plot, considered, 359-361.
    Analysis of the characters of this drama, 362, 363.
    Eulogium on it by Schlegel, 363, 364.

    _Passages of this drama illustrated in the present work._

      Act   i. scene 3.,  i. 52. 436. ii. 356.
               scene 4.,  i. 368. ii. 118. 342. 347. 358.
               scene 5., ii. 116.
      Act  ii. scene 1.,  i. 583.
               scene 2.,  i. 271.
               scene 4.,  i. 304. 583. _note_. ii. 116.
      Act iii. scene 1.,  i. 556.
               scene 2.,  i. 272.
      Act  iv. scene 3.,  i. 374.
               scene 5.,  i. 240. 243. 583. _note_. ii. 170.
      Act   v. scene 1.,  i. 355.
               scene 2., ii. 581.
               scene 3., ii. 107.

  _Roodsmass_, procession of fairies at the festival of, ii. 322.

  _Rosemary_ strewed before the bride at marriages, i. 224.

  _Rosse_ (John), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 698.

  _Rous_ (Francis), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 699.

  _Rousillon_ (Countess), exquisite character of, ii. 423.

  _Rowe_ (Mr.), mistake of, concerning the priority of Shakspeare's
      birth, corrected, i. 4, 5.
    His conjecture concerning the trade of Shakspeare's father, 7.
      Disproved, _ibid._, _note_.

  _Rowena_ and Vortigern, anecdote of, i. 127, 128.

  _Rowland_ (Samuel), list of the poems of, i. 699, 700. and _note_
      [700:A].

  _Rowley_ (William), wrote several pieces in conjunction with Massinger
      and other dramatists, ii. 570.
    Estimate of his merits as a dramatic poet, _ibid._

  _Ruddock_, or red-breast, popular superstitions in favour of, i. 395.

  _Ruffs_ worn in the age of Elizabeth, account of, ii. 90. 95-97. 103.

  _Ruptures_, singular remedies for, i. 371, 372.

  _Rushes_, anciently strewed on floors, ii. 119, 120.


S

  _Sabie_ (Francis), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 700. and
      _note_ [700:B].

  _Sack_, a species of wine much used in the time of Shakspeare, ii.
      130.
    Different kinds of, 131.
    The sack of Falstaff, what, _ibid._ 132.
    Sack and sugar much used, 132.
      And frequently adulterated, _ibid._

  _Sackville_ (Thomas), Lord Buckhurst, character of the poetical works
      of, i. 642, 643.
    The model adopted by Spenser, 643.
    The "Myrrour for Magistrates," planned by him, 708.
    Character of his dramatic performances, ii. 230, 231.

  _Saker_ (Aug.), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 700.

  _Sampson_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 700.

  _Sandabar_, an oriental philosopher, i. 531.
    Account of his "Book of the Seven Counsellors," _ibid._
      Numerous versions of it, _ibid._, 532.
      English version exceedingly popular, 531.
      Scottish version, 532, 533.

  _Sandford_ (James), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 700.

  _Satires_ of Bishop Hall, remarks on, i. 628, 629.

  _Savile_ (Sir Henry), greatly promoted Greek literature, i. 453.
    Notice of his works, _ibid._, 454.

  _Scandinavian_ mythology of fairies, account of, ii. 308-312.

  _Schlegel_ (M.), eulogium of, on Shakspeare's Romeo and Juliet, ii.
      363, 364.
    On his Cymbeline, 466, 467.
    Macbeth, 471-473.
    On the romantic drama of Shakspeare, 539, 540.
      And on his moral character, 614.

  _School-books_, list of, in use in Shakspeare's time, i. 25. _note_.
    Account of those most probably used by him, 26-28.
    French and Italian grammars and dictionaries, 57.

  _Schoolmasters_ but little rewarded in Shakspeare's time, i. 27. _note_ [27:A].
      94.
    In the sixteenth century were frequently conjurors, 95, 96.
    Picture of, by Shakspeare, 96.
    Their degraded character and ignorance in his time, 97.

  _Scoloker_ (Anthony), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 700.

  _Scot_ (Reginald), account of the doctrine of angelic hierarchy and
      ministry, i. 337, 338.
    On the prevalence of omens, 349, 350.
    Recipe for fixing an ass's head on human shoulders, ii. 351. _note_.
    His account of the supposed prevalency of witchcraft in the time of
        Shakspeare, 475.
      And of the persons who were supposed to be witches, 478-480.
        And of their wonderful feats, 481, 482.

  _Scot_ (Gregory), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 700.

  _Scott_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 700. and
      _note_ [700:D]. 701. and _note_ [701:A].

  _Scott_ (Mr. Walter), beautiful picture of Christmas festivities, i.
      207, 208.
    Picture of rustic superstition, 322, 323.
    Illustrations of his Lady of the Lake, i. 356-358.
    Causes of his poetical excellence, 600, 601.

  _Scottish_ farmers, state of, in the sixteenth century, i. 118.
    Late wakes of the Highlanders described, 234-236.
    Thanksgivings offered by them on getting in the harvest, 341.
    Account of the Scottish system of fairy mythology, ii. 314-336.

  _Sculpture_ highly valued by Shakspeare, ii. 617, 618.

  _Seed-cake_, a rural feast-day in the time of Elizabeth, i. 190.

  _Selden_ (John), notice of his Commentary on Drayton, i. 471.

  _Sentiment_ of the Elizabethan poetry considered, i. 598, 599.

  _Servants_, pursuits, diet, &c. of, in the time of Shakspeare, i.
      113-115.
    Benefices bestowed on them in the reign of Elizabeth, 92.
    Their dress, ii. 138.
    Regulations for, 139, 140.
    Prohibited from entering the kitchen till summoned by the cook, 143.
    Were corrected by their mistresses, 153.

  "_Seven Champions of Christendome_," a popular romance in Shakspeare's
      time, account of, i. 529, 530.

  "_Seven Wise Masters_," a popular romance of Indian origin, i. 531.
    Notice of its different translations, _ibid._, 532.
    Translated into Scottish rhyme, 533.

  _Sewell_ (Dr.), conjecture of, respecting Shakspeare's sonnets, ii.
      59.

  _Shakspeare Family_, account of, i. 1.
    Supposed grant of arms to, _ibid._
    Examination of the orthography of their name, 17-20.

  _Shakspeare_ (Edmund), a brother of the poet, buried in St. Saviour's
      Church, i. 416. ii. 598.

  _Shakspeare_ (Mrs.), wife of the poet, epitaph on, ii. 631. _note_.
    His bequests to her, 631.
      Remarks on it, 613.

  _Shakspeare_ (John), father of the poet, supposed grant of property
      and arms to, i. 1.
    Account of, 2.
    Arms confirmed to him, _ibid._
    His marriage, 3.
    List of children ascribed to him in the baptismal register of
        Stratford-upon-Avon, 4.
      Correction of Mr. Rowe's mistakes on this point, 5.
    Declines in his circumstances and is dismissed from the corporation,
        6, 7.
    Supposed to have been a wool-stapler, 7. 34.
      But not a butcher, 36.
    Discovery of his confession of faith or will, 8.
    Copy of his will, 9-14.
      Its authenticity doubted by Mr. Malone, 15.
      Supported by Mr. Chalmers, _ibid._
      Circumstances in favour of its authenticity, 16.
    John Shakspeare probably a Roman Catholic, _ibid._
    His death, _ibid._ ii. 590.

  _Shakspeare_ (William), birth of, i. 1.
    Description of the house where he was born, 21, 22.
    His chair purchased by the Princess Czartoryska, 22, 23.
    Escapes the plague, 24.
    Educated for a short time at the free-school of Stratford, 25.
    Account of school-books probably used by him, 26, 27.
    Taken from school, in consequence of his father's poverty, 28.
    Probable extent of his acquirements as a scholar, 29-33.
    On leaving school, followed his father's trade as a wool-stapler,
        and probably also as a butcher, 34.
      Proofs of this, 35, 36.
    Probably present, in his twelfth-year, at Kenelworth Castle, at the
        time of Queen Elizabeth's visit there, 37, 38.
    Probably employed in some attorney's office, 43-47. and _notes_, 48.
    Whether he ever was a school-master, 45.
    Anecdote of him at Bidford, 48, 49.
    Whether and when he acquired his knowledge of French and Italian,
        53, 54.
    Probable that he was acquainted with French, 55, 56.
      And Italian, 56, 57.
    Probable estimate of his real literary acquirements, 57, 58.
    His courting-chair, still in existence, 61.
    Marries Anne Hathaway, 59. 62, 63.
    Birth of his eldest daughter, 64.
      And of twins, 65.
    Repartee of Shakspeare, _ibid._ 66.
    He becomes acquainted with dissipated young men, 401.
    Caught in the act of deer-stealing, 402.
    Confined in Daisy Park, 403.
    Pasquinades Sir Thomas Lucy, 404-406. 409.
      By whom he is prosecuted, 407, 408.
    Is obliged to quit Stratford, 410.
      And departs for London, 411, 412.
    Visits his family occasionally, 414.
    Was known to Heminge, Burbadge, and Greene, 417.
    Introduced to the stage, 419.
      Though with reluctance, ii. 582.
    Was not employed as a waiter or horse-keeper at the play-house door,
        i. 519.
    Esteemed as an actor, 421, 422.
    Proofs of his skill in the histrionic art, 423.
    Performed the character of Adam in his own play of As You Like It,
        424.
    Appeared also in kingly parts, 425.
    Excelled in second rate characters, _ibid._
    Struggles of Shakspeare with adversity, ii. 583.
    Loses his only son, 584.
    Purchases a house in Stratford, _ibid._
      History of its fate, 584, _note_.
    His acquaintance with Ben Jonson, 585-587.
    Improbability of his ever having visited Scotland, 587, 588.
    Annually visited Stratford, 589.
    Receives many marks of favour from Queen Elizabeth, 590.
    Obtains a licence for his theatre, 591.
    Purchases lands in Stratford, 591.
    And quits the stage as an actor, 591.
    Forms a club of wits with Ben Jonson and others, 592.
    Flatters James I. who honoured him with a letter of acknowledgement,
        593.
    The story of Shakspeare's quarrel with Ben Jonson, disproved,
        595-598. and _notes_.
    Birth of his grand-daughter Elizabeth, 599.
    Planted the celebrated Mulberry Tree in 1609, 599, 600.
    Purchases a tenement in Blackfriars, 601.
    And prepares to retire from London, 601, 602.

    Account of Shakspeare in retirement, ii. 603.
    Origin of his satirical epitaph on Mr. Combe, ii. 604-606.
    His epitaph on Sir Thomas Stanley, 606, 607.
    And on Elias James, 607, _note_.
    Negociations between Shakspeare and some of his townsmen relative to
        the inclosure of some land in the vicinity of Stratford, 608,
        609.
    Marries his youngest daughter to Mr. Thomas Quincey, 609.
    Makes his will, 610.
    His death, 611.
    Funeral, 612.
    Copy of his will, 627-632.
      Observations on it, 612-614.
    And on the disposition and moral character of Shakspeare, 614.
    Universally beloved, 615.
    His exquisite taste for all the forms of beauty, 616, 617.
    Remarks on the monument erected to his memory, 618-620.
      And on the engraving of him prefixed to the folio edition of his
          plays, 622-624.

    Account of Shakspeare's commencement of poetry, i. 426.
    Probable date of his Venus and Adonis, 426, 427.
    Proofs of his acquaintance with the grammatical and rhetorical
        writers of his age, 472-474.
      With the historical writers then extant, 484.
      With Batman's "Bartholome de Proprietatibus Rerum," 485.
      With the Facetiæ published in his time, 516, 517.
      And with all the eminent romances then in print, 562-573.
      And with the minstrel-poetry of his age, 574-593.
    Dedicates his Venus and Adonis, and Rape of Lucrece, to the Earl of
        Southampton, ii. 3.
      Analysis of this poem, with remarks, 21-32.
    Analysis of the Rape of Lucrece, 33-37.
    Intimate knowledge of the human heart displayed by Shakspeare, 38.
    Account of his "Passionate Pilgrim," 41-49.
    Elegant allusions of Shakspeare to his own age, in his Sonnets,
        50-52.
    Critical account of his Sonnets, 53-82. 84-86.
      And of his Lover's Complaint, 82-84.
    Licence to Shakspeare for the Globe Theatre, 207.
    Probable amount of his income, 225.
    And of his obligations to his dramatic predecessors, 253-255.

    The commencement of Shakspeare's dramatic career, considered and
        ascertained, ii. 256-260.
    Chronological Table of the order of his genuine plays, 261.
      Observations on them. 262-534.
      (_And see their respective Titles in this Index._)
    Remarks on the spurious pieces attributed to Shakspeare, 536, 537.
    Whether he assisted other poets in their dramatic composition, 537,
        538.
    Considerations on the genius of Shakspeare's drama, 538-541.
      On its conduct, 541-544.
    Characters, 545.
    Passions, 546-549.
    Comic painting, 550.
    And imaginative powers, 551.
    Morality, 552.
    Vindication of his character from the calumnies of Voltaire,
        552-554.
    Popularity of Shakspeare's dramas in Germany, 554.
    Reprinted in America, 555.

  _Shakspeare_ (Judith), youngest daughter of the poet, birth of, i. 65.
    Her marriage, ii. 609.
    And issue, 610.
    His bequests to her, and her children, 627-629.

  _Shakspeare_ (Susannah), eldest child of the poet, birth of, i. 64.
    Marriage of, to Dr. Hall, ii. 598, 599.
    Her father's bequests to her, 630, 631.
    Why her father's favourite, 613.
    Probable cause of his leaving her the larger portion of his
        property, 614.

  _Sheep-shearing Feast_, how celebrated, i. 181.
    Description of, by Tusser, 182.
      By Drayton, _ibid._
    Allusions to, by Shakspeare, 183-185.

  _Shepherd King_, elected at sheep-shearing, i. 181. 184. _note_.

  _Shepherd_ (S.), commendatory verses of, on Shakspeare's Rape of
      Lucrece, ii. 40.
    On his Pericles, 263.

  _Ship-tire_, an article of head-dress, notice of, ii. 91.

  _Shirley's_ Play, the "Lady of Pleasure," illustrated, Act i., i. 179.

  _Shivering_ (sudden), superstitious notion concerning, i. 375.

  _Shoes_, fashion of, in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 98. 105, 106.

  _Shot-proof_ waistcoat, charm for, i. 364.

  _Shottery_, cottage of the Hathaways at, still in existence, i. 61.

  _Shovel-board_, or Shuffle-board, account of, i. 306.
    Mode of playing at, 306, 307.
    Its origin and date, 307.

  _Shove-Groat_, a game, notice of, i. 307, 308.

  _Shrewsbury_ (Countess of), termagant conduct of, ii. 153.

  _Shrove Tuesday_ or _Shrove Tide_, origin of the term, i. 141.
    Observances on that festival, 142.
    Threshing the hen, _ibid._
    Throwing at cocks, 144, 145.

  _Shylock_, analysis of the character of, ii. 384, 385.

  _Sidney_ or _Sydney_ (Sir Philip), biographical notice of, i. 652.
    Satire of, on the affected style of some of his contemporaries, i.
        444, 445.
    Notice of his "Defence of Poesie," 467.
    Critical account of his "Arcadia," 548-552.
    Alluded to by Shakspeare, 573, 574.
    Remarks on his poetical pieces, 652, 653.
      Particularly on his Sonnets, ii. 54.
    The Pyrocles of his Arcadia, probably the original name of
        Shakspeare's Pericles, 283.

  _Sign-posts_, costly, of ancient inns, i. 217.

  _Silk-Manufactures_, encouraged by James I., ii. 600.

  _Silk Stockings_, first worn by Queen Elizabeth, ii. 98.

  _Similes_, exquisite, in Shakspeare's Venus and Adonis, ii. 26.

  _Sir_, title of, anciently given to clergymen, i. 88-90.

  _Sly_, remarks on the character of, in the Taming of the Shrew, ii.
      365.

  _Smith_ (Sir Thomas), greatly promoted Greek and English literature,
      i. 453.

  _Snuff-taking_ and _Snuff-boxes_, when introduced into England, ii.
      137.

  _Sommers_ (Sir George), shipwreck of, ii. 503, 504.

  _Songs_ (early English), notice of a curious collection of, i.
      574-576.
    Quotations from, and allusions to the most popular of them, by
        Shakspeare, with illustrative remarks, 577-593.

  _Sonnet_, introduced into England from Italy, ii. 53.
    Brief notice of the sonnets of Wyat, _ibid._
    Elegant specimen from those of the Earl of Surrey, _ibid._
    Notice of the Sonnets of Watson, i. 66. ii. 54.
      Of Sir Philip Sidney, _ibid._
      Of Daniel, 55.
      Of Constable, _ibid._
      Of Spencer, _ibid._
      Of Drayton, 56.
      And of other minor poets, _ibid._
    Beautiful sonnet, addressed to Lady Drake, i. 621.
    An exquisite one from Shakspeare's Passionate Pilgrim, ii. 49.
    On a kiss, by Sidney, 54.

  _Sonnets of Shakspeare_, when first published, ii. 50.
    Probable dates of their composition, _ibid._ 51.
    Daniel's manner chiefly copied by Shakspeare, in the structure of
        his sonnets, 57, 58. 77.
    Discussion of the question to whom they were addressed, 58-60.
    Proofs that they were principally addressed to the Earl of
        Southampton, 62-73.
    Vindication of Shakspeare's sonnets from the charge of affectation
        or pedantry, 75. 80.
    Circumlocutory they are to a certain extent, 76.
      But this less the fault of Shakspeare than of his subject, _ibid._
          77.
    Specimens, illustrating the structure and versification of
        Shakspeare's sonnets, with remarks, 77-82.
    Vindication of them from the hyper-criticism of Mr. Steevens, 60.
        74. 84-86.

  _Soothern_ (John), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 701. _and
      note_ [701:B].

  _Southampton_, (Earl of), See _Wriothesly_.

  _Southey_'s (Mr.), translation of "Amadis of Gaul," notice of, i. 546.

  _Southwell_ (Robert), biographical notice of, i. 643, 644.
    List of his poetical works, with critical remarks, 644, 645.

  _Spanish_ romances, account of, i. 545-548.
    Allusions to them by Shakspeare, 570, 571.

  _Spectral Impressions_, probable causes of, philosophically
      considered, ii. 406-408.
    Singular instance of a supposed spectral impression, 407. _note_.
    See _Spirits_.

  _Speed_'s "History of Great Britain," character of, i. 476.

  _Spells_, account of, on Midsummer-Eve, i. 331-333.
    On All-Hallows-Eve, 344-347.
    Supposed influence of, 362-365.

  _Spenser_'s "English Poet," notice of, i. 463.
    Critical notice of, commentary on his "Shepheards Calender," 471.
    Many incidents of his "Faerie Queene" borrowed from the romance of
        "La Morte d'Arthur," 529.
      And from "The Seven Champions of Christendom," _ibid._
    Sackville's "Induction" the model of his allegorical pictures, 643.
    Critical remarks on his "Shepheard's Calendar," 644.
      And on his "Faerie Queene," 644-647.
    The portrait prefixed to his works, probably spurious, 649. _note_.
    Critical notice of his, "Amoretti," a collection of sonnets, ii. 55,
        56.
    Beautiful quotation from his "Faerie Queene" on the agency of
        Spirits, 400, 401.
    Admirable description of a witch's abode, 480.

  _Spirits_, different orders of, introduced into the Tempest, ii.
      521-526.
    Critical analysis of the received doctrine in Shakspeare's time,
        respecting the supposed agency of angelic spirits, 399-405.
    And of its application to the introduction of the ghost in Hamlet,
        407-416.
    Superiority of Shakspeare's spirits over those introduced by all
        other dramatists, ancient or modern, 417, 418.

  _Spoons_, anciently given by godfathers to their godchildren, ii. 230,
      231.

  _Sports_ (Rural), in the age of Shakspeare, Enumeration of, i. 246,
      247.
    Cotswold Games, 252-254.
    Hawking, 255.
    Hunting, 272.
    Fowling, 287.
    Bird-batting, 289.
    Horse-racing, 297.
    The Quintaine, 300.
    Wild Goose Chace, 304.
    Hurling, 305.
    Shovel-board, 306.
    Shove-groat, 307, 308.
    Juvenile sports, 308.
    Barley-Breake, 309.
    Parish Whipping-top, 312.

  _Spurs_, prohibited in St. Paul's Cathedral, during divine service,
      ii. 185.

  "_Squire of Low Degree_," allusions to the romance of, i. 567.

  _Stag-hunting_, description of, in the time of Shakspeare, i. 276-280.
    Ceremony of cutting up, 280, 281.
    Part of, given to the ravens, 281.
    Beautiful picture of a hunted stag, 403.

  _Stage_, state of, in the time of Shakspeare, ii. 201-206.
    Resorted to by him, on his coming to London, i. 419.
    Employed in what capacity there, _ibid._ 420.
    Esteemed there as an actor, 421, 422.
    Proofs of his skill in the management of the stage, 423.
    Excelled in second-rate parts, 425.
    Divisions of the stage, in Shakspeare's time, ii. 214-215.
    Was generally strewed with rushes, 217.
    Its decorations, 218.

  _Stalking-horses_, account of, and of their uses, i. 287, 288.

  _Stanyhurst_'s (Richard), translation of Virgil, i. 701.
    Strictures on, _ibid._ _note_ [701:C].

  _Starch_, use of, when introduced into England, ii. 96.
    Dyed of various colours, _ib._

  _Steevens_ (Mr.), his "Illustrations of Shakspeare," cited, _passim_.
    Remarks of, on Shakspeare's Sonnets, ii. 60. 74-76. 84-86.
    Ascribes Pericles to Shakspeare, 265.
    Probability of his conjecture, that Pericles was originally named
        Pyrocles, after the hero of Sidney's "Arcadia," 283, 284.
    His opinion that the Comedy of Errors was not wholly Shakspeare's,
        controverted and disproved, 287, 288.
    Remarks on his flippant censure of Shakspeare's love of music, 390.
    His opinion on the date of Timon of Athens, 446.
    Humorous remarks of, on the value and price of the first edition of
        Shakspeare, 535. _note_.

  _Still_ (Bishop), character of, as a dramatic writer, ii. 232, 233.

  _Stirling_ (William Alexander, Earl of), biographical notice of, i.
      649.
    Critical notice of his "Aurora," a collection of sonnets, 650.
      Of his "Dooms-day," 651.
      And of his other poems, _ib._

  _Stockings_, fashions of, in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 105.
    Silk stockings first worn by Queen Elizabeth, 98.

  _Stomacher_, an article of female dress, notice of, ii. 90.

  _Stones_, extraordinary virtues ascribed to, i. 366. 369, 370.
    Particularly the Turquoise stone, 366, 367.
    Belemnites, 367.
    Bezoar, _ibid._
    Agate, 368.

  _Storer_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 702.

  _Stowe_'s "History of London," notice of, i. 480.

  _Stratford-upon-Avon_, the native place of William Shakspeare, i. 1.
    His father a member and officer of the corporation of, 2.
      Dismissed from it, 6.
      Probable causes of such dismission, _ibid._ 7.
    Extract from the baptismal register of the parish, 4.
    Description of the house there, where Shakspeare was born, 21, 22.
    Ravages of the plague there, 24.
    Visited by Mr. Betterton, for information concerning Shakspeare, 34.
    Allusions to scenery, and places in its vicinity, 50, 51.
    Quitted by Shakspeare, 410-416.
    Whose family continued there, 412.
    New Place, purchased there by Shakspeare, ii. 584.
      History of its demolition, _ib._ _note_.
    Additional land purchased there by the poet, 591.
      And also tithes, 594.
    Proceedings relative to the inclosure of land there, by Shakspeare,
        608, 609.
    Description of his monument and epitaph, in Stratford church, 618,
        619.
      Remarks on his monumental bust, 619-622.

  _Strolling Players_, condition of, in the age of Shakspeare, i.
      247-252.

  _Strutt_ (Mr.), accurate description by, of May-day and its amusements
      i. 167-171.
    Of Midsummer-eve superstitions, 332.

  _Stubbes_ (Philip), account of his "Anatomie of Abuses," i. 501.
    Extreme rarity of his book, _ibid._
    Quotations from, against Whitsun and other ales, i. 179.
    On the neglect of "Fox's Book of Martyrs," 502.
    General character of his book, _ibid._
    His "View of Vanitie," 702.
    Philippic against masques, ii. 95.
      And ruffs, 96, 97.

  _Sturbridge Fair_, account of, i. 215, 216.

  _Summer_'s "Last Will and Testament," illustration of, i. 106.

  _Sun_, beautiful description of, in its course, ii. 77.

  _Superstitions_ of the 16th century, remarks on, i. 314, 315.
    Sprites and goblins, 316. 321, 322.
    Ghosts and apparitions, 320.
    Prognostications of the weather from particular days, 323.
    Rites of lovers on St. Valentine's Day, 324.
    On Midsummer-Eve, 329.
      Michaelmas, 334.
      All-Hallow-Eve, 341.
    Superstitious cures for the night-mare, 347.
    Omens and prodigies, 351.
    Demoniacal voices and shrieks, 355.
    Fiery and meteorous exhalations, 360.
    Sudden noises, 361.
    Charms and spells, 362.
    Cures, preventatives and sympathies, 366.
    Stroking for the king's evil, 370.
    Sympathetic powders, 375.
    Miscellaneous superstitions, 377-400.
    Influence of superstition on the poetry of the Elizabethan age, 595,
        596.
    Account of the fairy superstitions of the East, ii. 302, 303.
      Of the Gothic and Scandinavian fairy superstitions, 304-312.
      And of the fairy superstition prevalent in Scotland, 314-336.
    The fairy superstition of Shakspeare, of Scottish origin, 336, 337.
    Account of the superstitious notions then current respecting witches
        and witchcraft, 474-489.

  _Suppers_ of country gentlemen, in Shakspeare's time, i. 81.

  _Suppertasse_, a species of female dress, notice of, ii. 96.

  _Surrey_ (Earl of), quoted and illustrated, i. 380.
    Character of his "Sonnets," with an exquisite specimen, ii. 53.

  _Svegder_ (King of Sweden), fabulous anecdotes of, ii. 305.

  _Swart-Elves_, or malignant fairies of the Scandinavians, account of,
      ii. 309, 310.
    Their supposed residence, 311, 312.

  _Swearing_, prevalence of, in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 160.

  "_Sweet Swan of Avon_," an appellation given to Shakspeare by his
      contemporaries, i. 415.

  _Swithin_ (St.), supposed influence of, on the weather, i. 328.
    And on the night-mare, 349.

  _Sword-dance_ on Plough-Monday, notice of, i. 137.

  _Sydney_. See _Sidney_ (Sir Philip).

  _Sylvester_ (Joshua), furnished Milton with the _prima stamina_ of his
      "Paradise Lost," i. 653.
    Poetical works of, 653.
      Specimen of them, with remarks, 654.

  _Sympathies_, extraordinary, accounts of, i. 372-376.


T

  _Tables_, a species of gambling in Shakspeare's time, notice of, ii.
      171.

  _Tables_, form of, in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 118.

  _Tales_, relation of, a favourite amusement, i. 107.

  _Taming of the Shrew_, probable date of, ii. 364.
    Source of its fable, 364, 365.
    Remarks on the character of Sly, 365.
    And on the general character of the play, 366.

    _Passages of this drama illustrated in the present work._

      The Induction, scene 1., i. 248, 249.
      Act  i.        scene 1., i. 556.
                     scene 2., i. 50, 176.
                     scene 3., i. 581.
      Act ii.        scene 1., i. 69. ii. 117, 118.
                     scene 2., i. 225.
      Act iv.        scene 1., i. 271. 581. ii. 118. 138. 143.

  _Tansy Cakes_, why given at Easter, i. 147.

  _Tapestry Hangings_, allusions to, by Shakspeare, ii. 114, 115.

  _Tarlton_ (Richard), the comedian, repartee of, i. 66.
    His influence over Queen Elizabeth, 702. _note_ [702:D].
    Notice of his poems, 702.
    Plan of his "Seven Deadlie Sins," a composite drama, ii. 229.

  _Tarquin_, beautiful soliloquy of, ii. 35.

  _Tasso_'s "Jerusalem Delivered," translated by Fairefax, notice of, i.
      619.

  _Tatham_'s (J.), censure of Shakspeare's Pericles, ii. 263.

  _Taverner_'s (John), "Certain Experiments concerning Fish and Fruit,"
      notice of, i. 291. and _note_.

  _Taverns_, description of, in Shakspeare's time, i. 218.
    List of the most eminent taverns, ii. 133.
    Account of their accommodations, 134, 135.

  _Taylor_ (John), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 703.

  _Tempest_, conjectures on the probable date of, ii. 500. 502. 504.
    Sources whence Shakspeare drew his materials for this drama, 503.
    Critical analysis of its characters: Prospero, 505. 515.
      Miranda, 506.
      Ariel, 506, 522, 525.
      Caliban, 506. 523. 525.
    Remarks on the notions prevalent in Shakspeare's time respecting
        magic, 507-514.
    Application of magical machinery to the Tempest, 515-526.
    Superior skill of Shakspeare in this adaptation, 527.

    _Passages of this drama illustrated in the present work._

      Act   i. scene 1., ii. 525.
               scene 2.,  i. 358. 386. ii. 506. 516. 522, 523. 525.
      Act  ii. scene 1.,  i. 576.
               scene 2.,  i. 383. ii. 155. 524.
      Act iii. scene 1., ii. 517.
               scene 2., ii. 517. 524.
               scene 3.,  i. 252. 385. ii. 156.
               scene 4., ii. 526.
      Act  iv. scene 1.,  i. 377, 378. 400. ii. 192, 193. 517. 524.
      Act   v. scene 1., ii. 341, 342. 344. 505. 516. 525, 526.

  _Theatre_, the first, when erected, ii. 203.
    List of the principal play-houses during the age of Shakspeare, 206.
    Licence to him for the Globe Theatre, from James I., 207.
      Account of it, 208.
      And of the theatre in Blackfriars, 209.
    Interior economy of the theatre in Shakspeare's time, 210.
    Divisions of the stage, 211-214.
    Hours and days of acting, 215, 216.
    Prices of admission, 216.
    Number of plays performed in one day, 217.
    Amusements of the audience previously to the commencement of plays,
        217-219.
    Tragedies, how performed, 220.
    Wardrobe of the theatres, _ibid._
    Female characters personated by men or boys, 221.
    Plays, how censured, _ibid._ 222.

  _Thomson_'s "Winter," quoted, i. 321.

  _Threshing the Hen_, custom of, explained, i. 142.

  _Tilting at the Ring_, and in the water, description of, i. 555.
    Allusions to this sport by Shakspeare, 556.

  _Time_, effects of, exquisitely portrayed by Shakspeare, ii. 78.

  _Timon of Athens_, probable date of, ii. 446, 447.
    Analysis of his character, 448-452.

    _Passages of this drama illustrated in this work._

      Act  ii. scene 2.,  i. 285.
      Act iii. scene 3., ii. 451.
      Act   v. scene 1., ii. 449.

  _Tire-valiant_, an article of female head-dress, account of, ii. 94.

  _Titania_, the fairy queen of Midsummer-Night's Dream, analysis of the
      character of, ii. 337-345.

  "_Titus Andronicus_," illustration of, act 2., scene iv., i. 397.
    This play evidently not Shakspeare's, ii. 536.

  _Tobacco_, the taking of, when first introduced into England, ii. 135.
    Philippic of James I. against it, _ibid._ 138.
    Prejudices against it, 136, 137.

  _Tofte_ (Robert), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, list of the
      pieces of, i. 703.

  _Tolling_ the passing-bell, supposed benefit of, i. 232-234.

  _Tombfires_, superstitious notions concerning, i. 360.

  _Tompson_ (Agnis), a supposed witch, confessions of, ii. 476. 485.

  _Topographers_ (English), account of, during the age of Shakspeare, i.
      479-481.

  _Torments_ of hell, legendary accounts of, i. 378-381.

  _Tottel_'s "Poems of Uncertaine Auctors," i. 708.

  _Touch_ (royal), a supposed cure for the king's evil, i. 370, 371.

  _Tournaments_ in the reign of Elizabeth, account of, i. 553.
    Allusions to by Shakspeare, 554.

  _Tragedy_, how performed in the time of Shakspeare, ii. 220.
    "Ferrex and Porrex," the first tragedy ever acted in England, 227.

  "_Tragique History of the Fair Valeria of London_," cited and
      illustrated, i. 238.

  _Translations_ into English from Greek and Roman authors in the time
      of Shakspeare, list of, i. 483.

  _Travelling_, passion for, in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 156, 157.

  _Treego_ (William), a minor poet of the age of Elizabeth, i. 704.

  _Troilus and Cressida_, probable date of, ii. 437, 438.
    Source of its fable, 439, 440.
    Analysis of its characters, 440, 441.
    Its defects, 441.

    _Illustrations of this drama in the present work._

      Act  ii. scene 3., ii. 162.
      Act iii. scene 2., ii. 117.
      Act  iv. scene 3.,  i. 582.
               scene 4.,  i. 355.
      Act   v. scene 3.,  i. 355.

  _Trulli_, or benevolent fairies of the Germans, notice of, ii. 312.

  _Trump_, a fashionable game of cards in Shakspeare's time, i. 270.

  _Tuck_ (Friar), the chaplain of Robin Hood, account of, i. 162, 163.

  _Tumours_, cured by stroking with a dead man's hand, i. 370.

  _Turberville_ (George), biographical sketch of, i. 655.
    Notice of his "Booke of Faulconrie," i. 257. _note_.
    His description of hunting in inclosures, 275, 276.
    List of his poetical works, 655.
    Critical estimate of his poetical character, 656.

  _Turner_ (Mrs.), executed for the murder of Sir Thomas Overbury, ii.
      96.
    The inventress of yellow starch, _ibid._

  _Turner_ (Richard), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 704.

  _Turquoise Stone_, supposed virtues of, i. 366, 367.

  _Tusser_ (Thomas), biographical notice of, i. 656.
    Critical remarks on his "Five Hundreth Good Points of Husbandry,"
        657.
    His character as a poet, 657, 658.
    Quotations from Tusser, illustrative of old English manners and
        customs, i. 100. 108. 110. 112-115. 136. 142. 182. 188. 190.
        202. 215.

  _Twelfth-Day_, festival of, i. 127.
    Its supposed origin, _ibid._
    The twelfth-cake accompanied by wassail-bowls, _ibid._ 128-130.
    Meals and amusements on this day, 132, 133.

  _Twelfth-Night_ observed with great ceremony in the reigns of
      Elizabeth and James I., i. 131, 132.
    Verses on, by Herrick, 133, 134.

  _Twelfth-Night_, the last of Shakspeare's dramas, probable date of,
      ii. 531-533.
    Its general character, and conduct of the fable, 534.

    _Illustrations of this drama in the present work._

      Act   i. scene 4.,  i. 436.
               scene 5., ii. 117.
      Act  ii. scene 3.,  i. 578.
               scene 4.,  i. 574. ii. 534.
               scene 5., ii. 533.
      Act iii. scene 1.,  i. 270.
               scene 4.,  i. 334. ii. 118. 532, 533.
      Act  iv. scene 3.,  i. 221.
      Act   v. scene 1.,  i. 221.

  _Two Gentlemen of Verona_, date of, ii. 367.
    Probable source of its fable, _ibid._ 368.
    Remarks on the delineation of its characters, particularly that of
        Julia, 368, 369.

    _Illustrations of this drama in the present work._

      Act   i. scene 2., ii. 360.
      Act  ii. scene 1.,  i. 341. ii. 581.
               scene 2.,  i. 220.
               scene 6.,  i. 175.
               scene 7., ii. 370.
      Act iii. scene 1., ii. 97.
      Act  iv. scene 1.,  i. 163. ii. 369.
               scene 4., ii. 93.

  _Twyne_ (John), the topographer, notice of, i. 480.

  _Twyne_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 704.

  _Tye_ (Christopher), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 704.

  _Typography_, remarks on the style of, in Queen Elizabeth's reign, i.
      437.
    Beautiful specimens of decorative printing, 438.

  _Tyrwhitt_ (Mr.), conjecture of, respecting the date of Shakspeare's
      Romeo and Juliet, ii. 356, 357.
    And of Twelfth-Night, 531, 532.


U

  _Underdonne_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 704.

  _Upstart_ country-squire or knight, character of, i. 81.


V

  "_Valentine and Orson_," romance of, cited by Shakspeare, i. 572.
    Notice of a curious edition of, 571, 572.
    Its extensive popularity, 572.

  _Valentine's Day_, origin of the superstitions concerning, i. 324.
    Custom of choosing lovers ascribed to Madame Royale, 324, 325.
    Supposed to be of pagan origin, 325.
    Modes of ascertaining Valentines for the current year, 326.
    The poor feasted on this day, 327.

  _Vallans_ (William), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 705.

  _Vaughan_'s (W.) "Golden Grove," a collection of essays, i. 513.
    Character of, with specimens of his style, 514.

  _Vaux_ (Lord), specimen of the poems of, i. 713.

  _Vennard_ (Richard), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 705.

  _Venice_ one of the sources of English fashions in the age of
      Shakspeare, ii. 94.

  _Venus and Adonis_, a poem of Shakspeare, probable date of, i. 426,
      427.
    Notice of the "Editio Princeps," ii. 20, 21.
    Dedicated to the Earl of Southampton, 3.
    Proofs of its melody and beauty of versification, 21-23.
    Singular force and beauty of its descriptions, 24-26.
    Similes, 26.
    And astonishing powers of Shakspeare's mind, 27.
    This poem inferior to its classical prototypes, _ibid._
    Complimentary verses on this poem, addressed to Shakspeare, 28-30.
    Its meretricious tendency censured by contemporary writers, 31.
    Popularity of this poem, 31. _note_ [31:A].
    Notice of its principal editions, 32.

  _Versification_ of the poetry of the Elizabethan age examined, i. 597.
    Remarks on the versification of Sir John Beaumont, 601.
      Of Browne, 603.
      Of Chalkhill, 606.
      Of Chapman, 608.
      Of Daniel, 612.
      Of Davies, 613.
      Of Davors, 614.
      Of Donne, 615.
      Of Drayton, 616, 617.
      Of Drummond, 618.
      Of Fairefax, 619.
      Of the two Fletchers, 620, 621.
      Of Gascoigne, 626.
      Of Bishop Hall, 628, 629.
      Of Dr. Lodge, 632-635.
      Of Marston, 637.
      Of Spenser, 648.
      Of the Earl of Stirling, 651.
      Of Sylvester, 653.
      Of Watson, 661.
      Of Willobie, 665, 666.
      Of Shakspeare's Venus and Adonis, ii. 21-23.
      Of his Rape of Lucrece, 33-36.
      Of Spenser's sonnets, 55.
      Of Shakspeare's sonnets, 77-82.
      Of Peele, 240. _note_.
      Of the Two Gentlemen of Verona, 369.

  _Verstegan_ (Richard), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 705.

  _Vincent_ (St.), supposed influence of his day, i. 350.

  _Virtue_ loved and cherished by Shakspeare's fairies, ii. 339, 340.

  _Virtus post funera vivit_, whimsical translation of, i. 238, 239.

  _Voltaire_'s calumnies on Shakspeare refuted, ii. 553, 554.

  _Volumnia_, remarks on the character of, ii. 494, 495.

  _Vortigern and Rowena_, anecdote of, i. 127, 128.

  _Vows_, how made by knights in the age of chivalry, i. 552.

  _Voyages and Travels_, collections of, published in the time of
      Shakspeare, i. 477-479.


W

  _Wager_ (Lewis), a dramatic poet, notice of, ii. 234.

  _Waists_ of great length, fashionable in the age of Shakspeare, ii.
      97.

  _Wakes_, origin of, i. 209.
    Degenerate into licentiousness, 210.
    Verses on, by Tusser, _ibid._
      And by Herrick, 211, 212.
    Frequented by pedlars, 212.
    Village-wakes still kept up in the North, 213.

  _Walton_'s "Complete Angler," errata in, i. 293. _note_.
    Encomium on, 297. _note_.

  _Wapul_ (George), a dramatic writer in the time of Elizabeth, ii. 237.

  _Wardrobes_ (ancient), account of, ii. 91, 92.
    Notice of theatrical wardrobes, in the time of Shakspeare, 220, 221.

  _Warner_ (William), biographical notice of, i. 658.
    Critical remarks on his "Albion's England," 659, 660.
    Quotations from that poem illustrative of old English manners and
        customs, i. 104, 105. 118, 119. 135. 143. _note_. 147. _note_.

  _Warnings_ (preternatural) of death or danger, i. 351-354.

  _Warren_ (William), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 705.

  _Warton_ (Dr.), observations of, on the "Gesta Romanorum," i. 536,
      537.
    On Fenton's collection of Italian novels, 542.
    On the satires of Bishop Hall, 628, 629.
    On the merits of Harington, 629.
    On the satires of Marston, 637.

  _Washing_ of hands, why necessary before dinner in the age of
      Elizabeth, ii. 145.

  _Wassail_, origin of the term, i. 127.
    Synonymous with feasting, 129.

  _Wassail-bowl_, ingredients in, i. 127.
    Description of an ancient one, 128.
    Allusions to, in Shakspeare, 129, 130.
    And by Milton, 131.
    The peg-tankard, a species of wassail-bowl, 131. _note_.

  _Watch-lights_, an article of furniture in Shakspeare's time, ii. 117.

  _Water-closets_, by whom invented, ii. 135. _note_.

  _Water-spirits_, different classes of, ii. 522, 523.

  _Watson_ (Thomas), a poet of the Elizabethan age, critical notice of
      his works, particularly of his sonnets, i. 660-662., ii. 54.
    Said by Mr. Steevens to be superior to Shakspeare as a writer of
         sonnets, i. 663.
    List of his other poems, _ibid._

  _Weather_, prognostications of, from particular days, i. 323.

  _Webbe_ (William), account of his "Discourse of English Poetrie," i.
      463, 464.
    Its extreme rarity and high price, 463. _note_.
    First and second Eclogues of Virgil, 705.

  _Webster_ (William), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 705.

  _Webster_ (John), estimate of the merits of, as a dramatic poet, ii.
      564, 565.
    Illustrations of his plays, viz.:
      Vittoria Corombona, i. 233, 234. 237, 238. 396.
      Dutchess of Malfy, i. 351.

  _Wedderburn_, a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 705.

  _Weddings_, how celebrated, i. 223-226.
    Description of a rustic wedding, 227-229.

  _Weever_ (John), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 705.
    Bibliographical notice of his "Epigrammes," ii. 371.
    Verses of, on Shakspeare's Venus and Adonis, ii. 28.
    Epigram of, on Shakspeare's poems and plays, 372.

  _Wells_, superstitious notions concerning, i. 391-393.

  _Wenman_ (Thomas), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 706.

  _Wharton_'s "Dreame," a poem, i. 706.

  _Whetstone_'s (George), collection of tales, notice of, i. 543.
    His "Rocke of Regard," and other poems, 706.
    Account of the prevalence of gaming in his time, ii. 157, 158.
    Notice of his dramatic productions, 238.
    His "Promos and Cassandra," the immediate source of Shakspeare's
        Measure for Measure, 453.

  _Whipping-tops_ anciently kept for public use, i. 312.

  _Whitney_ (George), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 706.

  _Whitsuntide_, festival of, how celebrated, i. 175-180.
    Morris-dance, its accompaniment, _ibid._
    With Maid Marian, 179.
    Whitsun plays, 181.

  _Wieland_'s "Oberon," character of, i. 564. _note_.

  _Wild-goose-chace_, a kind of horse race, notice of, i. 304, 305.

  _Wilkinson_ (Edward), a minor poet of the age of Shakspeare, i. 706.

  _Will_ of John Shakspeare, account of the discovery of, i. 8, 9.
    Copy of it, 9-14.
    First published by Mr. Malone, _ibid._
    Its authenticity subsequently doubted by him, 15.
      Confirmed by Mr. Chalmers, _ibid._
    Additional reasons for its authenticity, 16.
    Its probable date, _ibid._

  _Will_ of William Shakspeare, ii. 627-632.
    Observations on it, 612-614.

  _Willet_ (Andrew), "Emblems" of, i. 706.

  _Willobie_ (Henry), a poet of the Elizabethan age, critical notice of,
      i. 663, 664.
    Origin of his "Avisa," 665.
    Character of that work, 665, 666.
    Commendatory verses in, on Shakspeare's Rape of Lucrece, ii. 40.

  _Will-o'-wisp_, superstitious notions concerning, i. 399, 400.

  _Willymat_'s (William) "Prince's Looking Glass," i. 706.

  _Wilmot_ (Robert), a dramatic poet in the reign of Elizabeth,
      character of, ii. 234, 235.

  _Wilson_ (Thomas), observations of, on the corruptions of the
      English language, in the time of James I., i. 440, 441.
    Proofs that his "Rhetoricke" had been studied by Shakspeare,
        472-474.

  _Wincot_ ale celebrated for its strength, i. 48.
    Epigram on, 48, 49.
    Allusions to this place in Shakspeare's plays, 50.

  _Wine_, enormous consumption of, in the age of Shakspeare, ii. 129.
    Foreign wines then drunk, 130-132.
    Presents of, usually sent from one room in a tavern to another, 134.

  _Winter evening's conversations_ of the sixteenth century,
      superstitious subjects of, i. 316-322.

  _Winter's Tale_, probable date of, ii. 495-497.
    Its general character, 497-500.
    And probable source, 498.

    _Passages of this drama illustrated in the present work._

      Act  i. scene 2.,  i. 223. ii. 171. 495.
      Act ii. scene 1.,  i. 107. 316.
      Act iv. scene 2.,  i. 35. 183. 582.
              scene 3.,  i. 165. 181. 184. 212. 213. 582-584. ii. 499,
                            500.
      Act  v. scene 2.,  i. 584. ii. 499.
              scene 3., ii. 99.

  _Wit-combats_ of Shakspeare and Jonson, and their associates, notice
      of, ii. 592, 593.

  _Witchcraft_ made felony by Henry VIII., ii. 474.
    Supposed increase of witches in the time of Queen Elizabeth, ii.
        474, 475.
    General prevalence of this infatuation, 475.
    Increased under the reign of James I., 476.
    Cruel act of parliament against witches, 477.
    Description of the wretched persons who were ordinarily supposed to
        be witches, 478-480.
    Exquisite description of a witch's abode by Spenser, 480.
    Enumeration of the feats witches were supposed to be capable of
        performing, 481-483.
    Nature of their supposed compact with the devil, 483-485.
    Application of this superstition by Shakspeare to dramatic purposes
        in his Macbeth, 487-489.

  _Wither_ (George), biographical notice of, i. 666.
    Critical observations on his satires, 667.
    And on his "Juvenilia," 668, 669.
    List of his other pieces, with remarks, 669-671.
    Verses of, on Hock-Day, i. 151. _note_.

  _Withold_ (St.), supposed influence of, against the nightmare, i.
      347-349.

  _Wives_, supposed appearance of future, on Midsummer-Eve, i. 332-334.
    And on All-Hallow-Eve, 344-347.

  _Wives' Feast Day_, Candlemas Day, why so called, i. 138.

  _Wolsey_'s (Cardinal) _Rudimenta Grammatices_, notice of, i. 26.

  _Women_, employments and dress of the younger part of, in Shakspeare's
      time, i. 83, 84.
    Characters of women, personated by men and boys, 221.

  _Wood_ (Nathaniel), a dramatic writer in the reign of Elizabeth,
      notice of, ii. 238.

  _Wool-trade_, allusions to, i. 35.
    Promoted by Queen Elizabeth, 192. _note_.

  "_World's Folly_," a collection of old ballads, notice of, i. 474-476.

  _Wotton_ (Sir Henry), encomium of, on angling, i. 297.
    Character of his poetical productions, 672, 673.

  _Wright_ (John), character of his "Passions of the Minde," a
      collection of essays, i. 511.

  _Wright_ (Leonard), character of his "Display of Dutie," i. 512, 513.

  _Wriothesly_ (Thomas), Earl of Southampton, biographical notice of,
      ii. 1, 2.
    A passionate lover of the drama, 2.
    Shakspeare's Venus and Adonis, and Rape of Lucrece, dedicated to
        him, 3.
    His liberality to the poet, 4.
    Joins the expedition to the Azores, 5.
    In disgrace with Queen Elizabeth, 6.
    Goes to Paris, and is introduced to King Henry IV., 7.
    Marries Elizabeth Vernon without consulting the Queen, 7, 8.
      Who imprisons them both, 8.
    Goes to Ireland with the Earl of Essex, who promotes him, _ibid._
    Is recalled and disgraced, 8, 9.
    Quarrels with Lord Gray, 9, 10.
    Joins Essex in his conspiracy against the Queen, 10.
    And is sentenced to imprisonment, _ibid._
    Released by James I., 11.
      Who promotes him, 12, 13.
    Birth of his son, 12.
    Embarks in a colonising speculation, 13.
    Patronises literature, 14.
    Opposes the court, 15.
    Dies in Holland, 16.
    Review of his character, _ibid._
    Tributes to his memory by the poets and literary men of his time,
        17-19.
    Shakspeare's sonnets principally addressed to him, 62-73.

  _Wyat_ (Sir Thomas), character of his sonnets, ii. 53.

  _Wyrley_ (William), notice of the biographical poems of, i. 707.


Y

  _Yates_ (James), "Castle of Courtesie," i. 707.

  _Yeomen_. See _Farmers_.

  _Yong_ (Bartholomew), notice of his "Version of Montemayer's Romance
      of Diana," i. 707. and _note_ [707:C].

  _Yule-clog_, or Christmas-block, i. 194.


Z

  _Zouche_ (Richard), notice of his "Dove," a geographical poem, i. 707.




TRANSCRIBER'S NOTES:

The index was printed at the end of Vol. II. It has been included with
this volume for reference purposes.

The following corrections have been made to the text:

    Page xi: St. Valentine's Day—Midsummer-Eve—
    Michaelmas[original has "Michaelas"]

    Page 30: into the mouth of Sir Hugh Evans:"[quotation mark
    missing in original]

    Page 38: pleasure and mirth made it seem very short,'[quotation
    mark missing in original]

    Page 39: and Sir Thomas[original has "Tnomas"] Tresham

    Page 47: That these books were read by Shakspeare[original has
    "Shakespeare"]

    Page 49: Haunted Hillbro',[original has "Hillbro,'"] Hungry

    Page 56: which he has thus so wittily imitated."[quotation mark
    missing in original]

    Page 61: told me there was an["an" missing in original] old oak
    chair

    Page 74: in his _Dietarie[original has "Dictarie"] of Health_

    Page 82: but still an intimacy with heraldry[original has
    "heraldy"]

    Page 106: coughing o'er a warmed pot of ale."[quotation mark
    missing in original]

    Page 106: whether it be newe or olde."[quotation mark missing
    in original]

    Page 113: that the huswife[original has "huswise"] herself was
    the carver

    Page 119: Stood us in steede of glas."[quotation mark missing
    in original]

    Page 129: and on the other =drincheile=."[quotation mark missing
    in original]

    Page 130: And in their cups their cares are drown'd:"[quotation
    mark missing in original]

    Page 140: And let all sports with Christmas dye."[quotation mark
    missing in original]

    Page 144: day of extraordinary sport and feasting."[quotation
    mark missing in original]

    Page 157: locks pickt, yet[original has "ye"] w'are not a Maying

    Page 189: But for to make it spring againe."[quotation mark
    missing in original]

    Page 255: Mr. Robert Dover's Olympic Games, upon Cotswold
    Hills,"[quotation mark missing in original]

    Page 276: Then comes the captaine _Cooke_"—[quotation mark
    missing in original]

    Page 291: By J. D. Esquire. 8vo.[original has "8o."] Lond. 1613.

    Page 356: and Tullock Gorms by _Maug-Moulach_[original has
    "Maug-Monlach"]

    Page 367: "geven to the pacyent to drinke in warme
    wine."[quotation mark missing in original]

    Page 384: the beginning[original has "begining"] of the
    seventeenth century

    Page 396: Gower, in his Confessio[original has "Confesssio"]
    Amantis

    Page 397: like a taper in some monument;"[quotation mark
    missing in original]

    Page 401: admonition, have successfully[original has
    "succesfully"] borne

    Page 408: intellect far from contemptible[original has
    "contempible"]

    Page 428: in their respective[original has "repective"]
    departments

    Page 438: carried to a higher state of perfection.[original has
    a comma]

    Page 444: works of Bishop Andrews afford the most[original has
    "mort"] flagrant

    Page 445: _O Tempori, O Moribus!_"[quotation mark missing in
    original]

    Page 456: calls this, 'the first grammar for Englishe that ever
    waz, except my _grammar at large_.'"[original has double quotes
    instead of single quotes and missing double quote]

    Page 459: [quotation mark missing in original]"Titiique vultus
    inter

    Page 459: [quotation mark missing in original]"The mischiefe
    is, that by grave demeanour

    Page 460: But[original has "Bu"] if besotted with foolish vain
    glory

    Page 483: _Diodorus Siculus_, by Thomas Stocker[original has
    "Hocker"]

    Page 501: _Anatomie of Abuses_:[original has extraneous
    quotation mark] contayning a discoverie

    Page 522: Was physick'd from the new-found paradise!"[quotation
    mark missing in original]

    Page 523: chiefly to the consideration[original has
    "considertion"] of the _prose_ romance

    Page 525: Guy of Warwicke, _Arthur of the Round Table_,"[quotation
    mark missing in original] &c.

    Page 531: appellation of _Historia Septem Sapientum_.[original
    has extraneous quotation mark]

    Page 537: Gower, or Occleve,[original has two commas] as the
    English Gesta

    Page 541: Decameron of Boccacio was executed[original has
    "excuted"] before 1620

    Page 546: his life is granted him.'"[single quote is missing in
    original]

    Page 558: fayrz and woorshipfull menz houzez;"[quotation mark
    missing in original]

    Page 570: immortales hechos de CAVALLERO DEL FEBO,"[quotation
    mark missing in original]

    Page 580: Leave me not behinde thee,"[quotation mark missing in
    original]

    Page 589: "[quotation mark missing in original]He is dead and
    gone, lady

    Page 590: "Good morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's day,"[quotation
    mark missing in original]

    Page 591: Do use to _chaunt_ it,"[quotation mark missing in
    original]

    Page 591: festivity of our ancestors by an evening
    fire;"[quotation mark missing in original]

    Page 599: be found incapable of[original has "of of"] coalescing

    Page 607: acquaintant and friend of Edmund Spenser;[original
    has extraneous quotation mark]

    Page 609: years ago, is entitled to preservation[original has
    "preservarion"]

    Page 626: in smoothness and harmony of versification{626:C},"
    [quotation mark missing in original]

    Page 627: _Arcadia, or Menaphon_[original has "Menaphor"], 1589

    Page 630: classed him among those "[quotation mark is missing
    in original]excellent poets

    Page 631: "Epistles" and "[quotation mark missing in
    original]Miscellaneous Pieces," there

    Page 632: in Cambridge, the author of Pigmalion's
    Image,"[quotation mark missing in original] &c.

    Page 664: voluntary engagement, civil or military[original has
    "miltary"]

    Page 665: his Preface from his chamber in Oxford;[original has
    extraneous quotation mark]

    Page 665: "[quotation mark missing in original]That is, in
    effect, A loving wife that never violated

    Page 666: makes a close approximation to modern usage[original
    has "usuage"]

    Page 666: and verse, have been[original has "beeen"] enumerated

    Page 668: first two quatorzains[original has "quartuorzains"]
    of the latter

    Page 685: _Lucan's Pharsalia_:[original has a period]
    containing the Civill Warres

    Page 689: HUNNIS, WILLIAM. _A Hyve full of Hunnye_[original has
    "Hunuye"]

    Page 708: by Tottel "The Poems of Uncertaine[original has
    "Uucertaine"] Auctors," and

    Page 727: Henry[original has "Heny"] Constable, Esq.

    Page 729: London. 12mo."[original has a single quote]

    [9:A] Reed's Shakspeare[original has "Shakespeare"], vol. iii. p.
    197, 198.

    [16:C] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. iii. p.[original has "p. iii."]
    198.

    [22:A] Down David doth him bring."[quotation mark missing in
    original]

    [25:A] pro tyrunculis, Ricardo Huloeto exscriptore[original has
    "Huloets excriptore"]

    [46:B]

        "Why should calamity be full of words?
         Windy _attorneys_ to their _client_ woes."

    Quotation mark moved from end of first line to end of second
    line.

    [68:A] Holinshed's Chronicles, edit. of 1807, in six vols.[original
    has "vol."]

    [86:B] large casemented bow windows[original has "widows"]

    [86:B] "Alas! these men and these houses are no
    more!"[quotation mark missing in original]

    [144:C] varia contexta per Guil. Haukinuum[original has
    "Haukiuum"]

    [151:B] Sure, very ill."[quotation mark missing in original]

    [163:C] Fordun's Scotichronicon, 1759, folio, tom.[period
    missing in original] ii. p. 104.

    [171:C] Act iii. sc. 1. Reed's Shakspeare[original has "Shakespeare"]

    [172:B] The Metamorphosed[original has "Metamophosed"] Gipsies

    [206:B] proverb, 'Merry in the hall when beards wag
    all.'"[double quote missing in original]

    [269:A] These technical[original has "techical"] terms may
    admit of some explanation, from the following

    [286:B] whom his Majestie honoured with Knighthood."[quotation
    mark missing in original]

    [291:A] made by L. M. 4to.[original has "4o."] Lond. 1590

    [291:A] Secrets belonging thereunto. 4to.[original has "4o."]
    Lond. 1614

    [307:B] Reed's Shakspeare[original has "Shakespeare"], vol. v. p.
    22.

    [354:C] Third Part of King Henry["Henry" is missing in original]
    VI. act v. sc. 6.

    [363:A] Discoverie[original has "Dicoverie"] of Witchcraft

    [458:A] he terms it, is entitled[original has "entiled"]

    [506:A] translated from the Latin of Conr. Heresbachius[original
    has "Conr Heresbachiso"]

    [506:A] 16.[original has a comma] Country Contentments; or the
    Husbandman's Recreations, 4to. 1615.

    [536:B] [original has extraneous quotation mark]MSS. Harl.
    3861, and in many other libraries.

    [584:A] Reed's Shakspeare, vol. ix. pp. 353-355. Act iv. sc.
    3.[period missing in original]

On page 519, the text reads "_Adam Bel_, _Clim_ of the _Clough_ and
_William_ of _Clondsley_". It should be "_William_ of _Cloudsley_".
Because there is no way to know if the error was in the original
quotation or was caused by the author or printer of this book, the
correction has not been made to this text.

On page 527, quoted text reads "That whane they were hoole togyder,
there was ever an C. and XI." The original source, Dibdin's "Typographical
Antiquities," has "c. and xl." This text has been corrected to follow
the original source document.

On page 571, quoted text reads "before he took his journey wherein no
creature returneth agaie." The text should read "again" or "againe".
Because there is no way to know if the error was in the original
quotation or was caused by the author or printer of this book, no
correction has been made to this text.

On page 663, quoted text reads "Ad Olandum de Eulogiis serenissimæ
nostræ Elizabethæ post Anglorum prœlia cantatis, Decastichon". The text
should read "Oclandum". Because there is no way to know if the error
was in the original quotation or was caused by the author or printer of
this book, no correction has been made to this text.

[494:D] has an incomplete reference. In other editions of this book,
the "p." has been removed.

[547:A] has an incomplete reference. In other editions of this book,
the footnote has been removed.