Bashful Lover, D^o. 1655, 8^o. (99.) Battle of Alcazar, D^o. 1594, 4^o. (497.) Beaumont and Fletcher's plays. 1647, fol. (35.) Bee-hive of the Romish Church. c. t. 8^o. b. l. (226.) Bird in a Cage, a play. 1633, 4^o. (115.) Blind Beggar of Alexandria, D^o. 1598, 4^o. (504.) Bloody Brother, D^o. 1640, 4^o. (199.) Blurt M^r. Constable, D^o. 1602. 4^o. (63.) Brazen Age, D^o. 1613, 4^o. (100.) Bussy d'Ambois, 1^st. p. D^o. 1641, 4^o. (509.) D^o, 2^d. p. D^o. 1613, 4^o. (510.) Byron's Conspiracy, 1^st. p. D^o. 1608, 4^o. (8.) D^o, 2^d. p. D^o. 1608, 4^o. (9.)

Greene's Ghost haunting Coney-catchers. 1626, 4^o. b. l. (83.) —Groats-worth of Wit. 1621, 4^o. b. l. (243.) —Tu quoque, a play. n. d. 4^o. (170.) Grimello's Fortunes. 1604, 4^o. b. l. (77.) Guardian, a play. 1655, 8^o. (99.) Guy of Warwick &c. poems. c. t. 4^o. b. l. (511.)

b. l. (270.) King John, 2^d. p. D^o. (285.) King Leir, D^o. 1605, 4^o. (Int. p. 55.) Knight of the burning Pestle, D^o. 1635, 4^o. (245.) Knolles's History of the Turks. 1603, fol. (84.) D^o, 1610, D^o. (88.)

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1595, 4^o. (73.) Satiro-mastix, a play. 1602, 4^o. (232.) Scornful Lady, D^o. 1651, 4^o. (234.) See me and see me not, D^o. 1618, 4^o. (459.) Selimus, D^o. 1594, 4^o. (3.) Seneca's Thyestes, by Heywood [Jasper] D^o. 1560, 8^o. b. l. (496.) Shakespeare's Sonnets. 1609, 4^o. (263.) Shepherd's Garland, poems. 1593, 4^o. (100.) Shoemaker a Gentleman, a play. 1638, 4^o. (163.) Shoemaker's Holiday, D^o. 1610, 4^o. b. l. (120.) Sir Clyomon and Sir Chlamydes, D^o. 1599, 4^o. (6.) —Giles Goose-cap, D^o. 1606, 4^o. (170.) —John Oldcastle, D^o. 1600, 4^o. (273.) Skelton's poems. c. t. 8^o. b. l. (505.) Soliman and Perseda, a play. 1599, 4^o. (227.) Sophy, D^o. 1642, fol. (118.) Spanish Tragedy, 1^st. p. D^o. 1605, 4^o. b. l. (525.) D^o. 2^d. p. D^o. n. d. 4^o. (527.) Spencer's Fairy Queen, a poem, 1^st. p. 1590, 4^o. (207.) D^o, 2. p. D^o. 1596, 4^o. (214.) —Amoretti. 1595, 8^o. (220.) —Colin Clout's come home again. 1595, 4^o. (221.) —smaller Poems. 1591, 4^o. (219.) Stow's Annals. 1592, 4^o. b. l. (443.) Stow's Annals. 1601, 4^o. b. l. (454.) —continu'd by Howes. 1631, fol. (455.) —Survey of London. 1598, 4^o. b. l. (240.) Earl of Surrey's poems. 1557, 4^o. b. l. (281.)

* * * Howsoever it is, it is not amisse that you be acquainted with these extravagant names of devils, least meeting them otherwise by chance, you mistake them, for the names of Tapsters, or Juglers.

First then, to marshall them in as good order, as such disorderly cattell will be brought into, you are to understand, that there were in our possessed 5. Captaines, or Commaunders above the rest: Captaine Pippin, Marwoods devill, Captaine Philpot, Trayfords devil, Captaine Maho, Saras devil, Captaine Modu, Maynies devill, and Captaine Soforce, Anne Smiths devil. These were not all of equall authoritie, & place, but had some more, some fewer under theyr commaund.

Among the names of these subordinate devils, are—Frateretto, Fliberdigibbet, Hoberdidance, Smolkin, and Killico; the last of which is, perhaps, the father of Shakespeare's—Pillicock.

You have formerly heard of the names of the Priests, graund rectors of this Comedie, and lately of the names of the devils, their “Cue-fellowes” in the play:

heere this lodging-power was more dreadful to the devil, and “astonishable” to the people by ods then the dispossessing was.

Such an art of lodging they had, and some of theyr lodges so obscure, and “retrayte,” as none but a priest, or a devil could ever have sented it out.

It was wisely “cauteled” by the penner of these savory miracles,

The little children were never so affrayd of hell mouth in the old plaies painted with great gang teeth, staring eyes, and a foule bottle nose, as the poore devils are skared with the hel mouth of a priest.

and yet shal you see this sencelesse, witlesse, and brainlesse conceite, verified, & made “sooth” * * * the thing being really acted, and performed indeed.

Heare the “ Miraclist” report it, who himselfe was an Actor.

It was a prety part in the old Church-playes, when the nimble Vice would skip up nimbly like a Jacke an Apes into the devils necke, and ride the devil a course, and belabour him with his woodden dagger, til he made him roare, wherat the people would laugh to see the devil so vice-haunted. This action, & passion had som semblance, by reason the devil looked like a “patible” old Coridon, with a payre of hornes on his head, & a Cowes tayle at his breech:

In a passage a little above this, you have another of this same vice's tricks, —to clap the ass's ears, with which himself was accommodated, upon the devil's head.

Now when he was “surbatted,” or weary, and could no more woe penny ho,

The devil was a little “ Colli-mollie” & would not come off.

For reliques * * worke like an Apothecaries potion, or new Ale: they have best strength, and “verd” at the first.

yet his wit beeing deepe “woaded” with that melancholick blacke dye,

and above all tels that unsavory, melancholicke, ridiculous tale of an Egge, which is Witch sold to an Englishman, and by the same transformed him into an Asse, and made him her Market-mule three yeeres, to ride on to buy butter: and how that at last, shee “remorphized” him into the “native” shape of a man againe.

what a world of hel-worke, devil-worke, and Elve-worke, had we walking amongst us heere in England, what time that popish mist had “befogged” the eyes of our poore people.

and with these they “adrad, and gaster” sencelesse old women, witlesse children, and melancholike dottrels out of their wits.

These Monster-swarmes his Hol. and his “helly” crue have scraped, and raked together out of old doating heathen Historiographers, “wisardizing” Augurs, “imposturizing” south-sayers, dreaming Poets,

out of these they “conforme,” their charmes, enchauntments, “periapts,”

A Christmas temptation after the devil was wel “whitled.”

But our Saviours blessed disciples were but grossa capita to our “subtiliated,” sublimated new spirits of the Sorbon.

For that addition, in scorne and “superbious” contempt annexed by you, unto our publique prayer,

But whom should the children of lyes, “coggeries,” and Impostures beleeve, if they should not beleeve their father, the graund father of lyes?

One of the chiefe impediments, that have hindered from time to time, the “designments” of the Pope, the King of Spaine, and their agents,

o.
I have my Lord, and doubt not he will proove,
Of the yet taintlesse fortresse of Byron,
A quicke “Expugner,” and a strong Abider. B. 2.
My Lord, to weare your loyall habite still,
When it is out of fashion; and hath done
Service enough; were rusticke “miserie: C.
Like those steepe hils that will admit no clowds,
No deawes, nor lest fumes bound about their browes,
Because their tops pierce into purest ayre.
“Expert” of “humor;” C.^b.
To leave a sure pace on “continuate” earth,
And force a gate in iumps, from towre to towre, C. 2.
A poore and “expuate” humor of the Court:

(said by a discarded Courtier of himself.)

(r. thorough)

Why suffer you that “ill-aboding” vermine,
To breede so neere your bosome? bee assurde,
His hants are omenous, F.^b.
The forts that favorites hold in Princes hearts,

Are not so sure, and “unexpugnable,” &c. F. 3.
Your Empire is so amply absolute, (Byron to Q. Eliz.)
That even your Theaters show more comely rule,
True “noblesse,” royaltie, and happinesse
Than others courts: G. 2.
He that winnes Empire with the losse of faithe,
Out-buies it; and will “banck-route;” you have layde
A brave foundation by the hand of victorie:
Put not the roofe to fortune, foolish statuaries,
That under little Saints “suppose,” great bases
Make lesse, to sence, the Saints; G. 3.
O Inocence the sacred amulet,
Gainst all the poisons of infirmitie:
Of all misfortune, iniurie, and death,
That makes a man, in tune still in himselfe;
Free from the hell to be his owne accuser,
Ever in quiet, endles ioy enioying;
No strife, nor no sedition in his powres:
No motion in his will, against his reason,
No thought gainst thought, Nor (as twere in the confines
Of wishing, and repenting) doth possesse
Onely a wayward, and tumultuose peace,
But (all parts in him, friendly and secure,
Fruitefull of all best thinges in all worst seasons)
He can with every wish, be in their plenty,
When, the infectious guilt of one foule crime,
Destroyes the free content of all our time. H. 3. o. Esp.
See the yong Daulphin brought to cheere your highnes. Hen.
My royall blessing, and the King of heaven,

Make thee an aged and a happie King: &c.

(Espernon. Henry.)

Corruption, and “eternesse,” at one time,
And in one subiect, let together, loosse?
We have not any strength, but weakens us,
No greatnes but doth crush us into ayre,
Our knowledges do light us but to erre,
Our Ornaments are Burthens: Our delights
Are our tormentors; fiendes that (raisd in feares)
At parting shake our roofes about our eares. Q. 3.
Griefe hath brought all his forces to his lookes,
And nought is left to strengthen him within,
Nor lasts one habite of those greevd aspects:
Blood expells palenesse, palenes Blood doth chace,
And sorrow “errs” through all formes in his face. Q. 3^b.
&lblank; holds firme his stand,
Of “Battalouse” Bristles: (said of a Boar.) Q. 4.
Looke upward to a world of endles light. [an Archbishop to Byron upon the Scaffold. Byr.
I, I, you talke of upward still to others,
But downwards looke, with headlong eyes yourselves R. 2.^b. Vit:
My Lord you make to much of this your body,
Which is no more your owne.

(Vitry.)

View, view, this wounded bosome, how much bound
Should that man make me, that would shoot me through;
Is it not pity, I should lose my life,
By such a bloody and “infamous” stroake? R. 3.
Summer succeeds the spring; Autumne the Summer,
The Frosts of Winter, the falne leaves of Autumne:
All these, and all fruites in them yearely fade,
And every yeare returne: but cursed man,
Shall never more renew, his “vanisht” face. R. 3^b. o. (

—that they thought in the “chaunceable” hitting uppon any such verses, great foretokens of their fortunes were placed. Whereupon grew the worde of Sortes Virgilianæ, * * * which although it were a very vaine and “godles” superstition,

not speaking words as they “chanceably” fall from the mouth, but “peyzing” each sillable

it is not riming and “versing” that maketh a Poet,

then certainely is more “doctrinable” the fained Cirus in Xenophon then the true Cyrus in Justine: E.

perchance in some one “defectious” peece, we may find a blemish:

in our private and “domestical” matters,

sturring the “affects” of admiration and commiseration,

What childe is there, that comming to a Play, and seeing Thebes written in great Letters upon an olde doore, doth beleeve that it is Thebes?

not of “effeminatenes,” but of notable stirring of courage: * * * let us rather plant more Laurels, for to “engarland” our Poets heads, I. 2.

Chaucer, undoubtedly did excellently in his Troylus and Cresseid; of whom, truly I know not, whether to mervaile more, either that he in that mistie time, could see so clearely, or that wee in this cleare age, walke so stumblingly after him. Yet had he great wants, fitte to be forgiven, in so reverent antiquity. I account the Mirrour of Magistrates, meetely furnished of beautiful parts: and in the Earle of Surries Liricks, many things tasting of a noble birth, and worthy of a noble minde. The Sheapherds Kalender, hath much Poetrie in his Eglogues: indeede worthy the reading if I be not deceived. That same framing of his stile, to

an old rustick language, I dare not alowe, sith neither Theocritus in Greeke, nor Virgill in Latine, nor Sanazar in Italian, did affect it. Besides these, doe I not remember to have seene but fewe, (to speake boldely) printed, that have poetical sinnewes in them: for proofe whereof, let but most of the verses bee put in Prose, and then aske the meaning; and it will be found, that one verse did but beget another, without ordering at the first, what should be the last: which becomes a confused masse of words, with a tingling sound of ryme, barely accompanied with reason.

Our Tragedies, and Comedies, (not without cause cried out against) observing rules, neyther of honest civilitie, nor of skilfull Poetrie, excepting Gorboduck, (againe, I say, of those that I have seene,) which notwithstanding, as it full of stately Speeches, and well sounding Phrases, clyming to the height of Seneca his stile, and as full of notable moralitie, which it doth most delightfully teach; and so obtayne the very end of Poesie: yet in troth it is very defectious in the circumstaunces; which greeveth me, because it might not remaine as an exact model of all Tragedies. For it is faulty both in place, and time, the two necessary companions of all corporall actions. For where the stage should alwaies represent but one place, and the uttermost time presupposed in it, should be, both by Aristotles precept, and common reason, but one day: there is both many dayes, and many places, inartificially imagined. But if it be so in Gorboduck, how much more in al the rest? where you shal have Asia of the one side, and Affrick of the other, & so many other under-kingdoms, that the Player, when he commeth in, must ever begin with telling where he is: or els, the tale will not be conceived. Now ye shal have three Ladies, walke to gather flowers, & then wee must beleeve the stage to be a Garden. By & by, we heare newes of shipwracke in the same place, and then wee are to blame, if we accept it not for a Rock.

Upon the backe of that, comes out a hidious Monster, with fire and smoke, and then the miserable beholders, are bounde to take it for a Cave. While in the meane time, two Armies flye in, represented with four swords and bucklers, & then what harde heart wil not receive it for a pitched fielde? Now, of time they are much more liberall, for ordinary it is that two young Princes fall in love. After many traverces, she is got with childe, delivered of a faire boy, he is lost, groweth a man, falls in love, & is ready to get another child, and all this in two houres space: which how absurd it is in sence, even sence may imagine, and Arte hath

taught, and all auncient example iustified: and at this day, the ordinarie Players in Italie, wil not erre in.

But besides these grosse absurdities, how all theyr Players be neither right Tragedies, nor right Comedies: mingling Kings & Clownes, not because the matter so carrieth it: but thrust in Clownes by head & shoulders, to play a part in maiesticall matters, with neither decencie, nor discretion. So as neither the admiration & commiseration, nor the right sportfulnes, is by their mungrell Tragy-comedie obtained. * * * So falleth it out, that having indeed no right Comedy, in that comicall part of our Tragedy, wee have nothing but scurrility, unworthy of any chast eares: or some extreame shew of doltishnes, indeed fit to lift up a loude laughter, and nothing els: where the whole tract of a Comedy, shoulde be full of delight, as the Tragedy should be still maintained in a well raised admiration.

But I have lavished out too many wordes of this play matter: I doe it because as they are excelling parts of Poesie, so is there none so much used in England, & none can be more pittifully abused.

Note.

This treatise was written some time between the years 1579, and 1586: for the “Shepherd's Calender,” which is mention'd in it, was first publish'd the first of those years; and in the last the author, sir Philip, dy'd.

How Horvendile and Fengon were made Governours of the Province of Ditmarse, and how Horvendile marryed Geruth, daughter to Roderick chief K. of Denmark: by whom he had Hamblet: and how after his

marriage his brother Fengon slewe him trayterously, and marryed his brothers wife, and what followed.

How Hamblet counterfeited the madman, to escape the tyrannie of his uncle, and how he was tempted by a woman (through his uncles procurement) who thereby thought to underminde the Prince, and by that meanes to finde out whether he counterfeited madnesse or not: and how Hamblet would by no meanes bee brought to consent unto her; and what followed.

How Fengon Uncle to Hamblet a second time to intrap him in his pollitick madnes: caused one of his counsellors to be secretly hidden in the Queenes chamber: behind the arras, to heare what speeches past betweene Hamblet and the Queen and how Hamblet killed him, and escaped that danger and what followed.

How Fengon the third time devised to send Hamblet to the king of England, with secret Letters to have him put to death, and how Hamblet when his companions slept, read the Letters, and in stead of them, counterfeited others, willing the king of England to put the two Messenger to death, and to marry his daughter to Hamblet, which was effected, and how Hamblet escaped out of England.

How Hamblet having escaped out of England, arrived in Denmarke the same day that the Danes were celebrating his funerals, supposing him to be dead in England, and how he revenged his fathers death upon his Uncle and the rest of the Courtiers: and what followed.

How Hamlet having slaine his uncle, and burnt his Palace, made an Oration to the Danes to shew them what he had done: and how they made him king of Denmarke, and what followed.

How Hamlet after his Coronation went into England, and how the king of England secretly would have put him to death, and how he slew the King of England: and returned againe into Denmarke with two wives, and what followed.

How Hamblet being in Denmarke, was assailed by Wiglerus his uncle, and after betrayed by his last wife, called Hermetrude, and was slaine: after whose death she marryed his enemie Wiglerus.

Upon the woman, who, in Chapter II, is set to tempt Hamlet, is grounded Shakespeare's Ophelia;

and his deliverance from this snare by a friend, suggested his Horatio; which deliverance is thus spoken of,—and surely the poore prince at this assault had bin in great danger, if a gentleman (that in Horvendiles time had bin nourished with him) had not showne himselfe more affectioned to the bringing up he had received with Hamblet, then desirous to please the Tirant, * * * This Gentleman bare the courtiers (appointed as aforesaide of this treason) company, &c. and these same courtiers are likewise a shadow of Shakespeare's Rosincrantz and Guildenstern: see too, Chap. IV. Amidst all this resemblance of persons and circumstances, it is rather strange—that none of the relater's expressions have got into the play: and yet not one of them is to be found, except the following, in Chap. III, where Hamlet kills the counsellor (who is describ'd as of a greater reach than the rest, and is the Poet's Polonius) behind the arras: here, beating the hangings, and perceiving something to stir under them, he is made to cry out,—a rat, a rat,—and presently drawing his sworde thrust it into the hangings, which done, pulled the counsellour (halfe dead) out by the heeles, made an end of killing him,—After which ensues Hamlet's harangue to his mother; and the manner in which she is affected by this harangue is better describ'd than any other thing in all the history; or, more properly, is the only good stroke in it, and should therefore be transcrib'd. Although the Queene perceived herselfe neerely touched, and that Hamlet mooved her to the quicke, where she felt herselfe interessed: neverthelesse shee forgot all disdaine & wrath, which thereby she might as then have had, hearing her selfe so sharply chiden & reprooved, for the ioy she then conceaved, to behold the gallant spirit of her sonne, and to thinke what she might hope, & the easier expect of his so great palicie and wisedome. But on the one side she durst not lift up her eyes to behold him, remembring her offence, and on the other side she would gladly have imbraced her son, in regard of the wise admonitions by him given unto her, which as then quenched the flames of unbridled desire, y^t before had moved her to affect K. Fengon: to ingraff in her heart y^e vertuous actions of her lawfull spouse, whom inwardly she much lamented, when she beheld the lively image and portraiture of his vertue & great wisedome in her childe, representing his fathers haughtie and valiant heart: and so overcome and vanquished with this honest passion, and weeping most bitterly, having long time fixed her eyes upon Hamlet, as beeing ravished into some great and deepe contemplation, & as it were wholy amazed; at the last imbracing him in her armes (with the like love that a vertuous mother may or can use, to kisse and entertaine her owne childe) shee spake unto him in this manner. To speak the very truth, perhaps, the Geruthe of this picture is

superior to Shakespeare's Gertrude, in this one situation; allowance being made for the colouring, suiting the time 'twas done in. Shakespeare pursues the history no farther than to the death of the tyrant; and he brings this event to pass by means different from what are there related: yet it is easy to see, that Hamlet's counterfeit funeral furnish'd him with the idea of Ophelia's true one; as his harangue to the Danes did the speech of Horatio. This history, as it is call'd, is an almost literal translation from the French of Belleforest, (v. “Histoires tragiques” in the index) and is of much older date than the impression from which these extracts are made; perhaps, but little later than it's original, which was written in 1570, and publish'd soon after.

For, times to come can no distinction give.
Then what neede I to beate my tired braines
To make John Davies live to after Ages
When thou hast don't by thy praise-worthy paines,
For, were I idle, I have thy Workes wages.
Or, what if like an intellectual Sprite,
I able were Artes Spirits to purifie,
To ravish Worlds to come with rare delight
They would with my fame thy name glorifie.
Then may I play sith thou dost worke for me;
And sith thy works do so in beauty shine,
What neede I then for fame thus busie be,
Sith thine is mine, and mine is likewise thine?
  It is because my Minde that's aie in motion
  Hath to the Muses Measures most devotion. N n. 4.^b. o.

Frank. Nay, I will not “stale” it afore-hand, 'tis a new one.

(speaking of a project.)

Frank. “Better and worse” still: (said of the last of a long string of conundrums.)

Barber within. “Why then,” good man Picklock?

(Calling his boy.)

Wife. 'Tis for mine own credit if I forbear, not thine, thou “buglebrow'd” beast thou.

(to her husband.)

Item, fourscore pair of “provant Breeches” a th' new fashion.

Beau. And whither is your way sir? Cham. E'ne to seek out a Quiet Life, my Lord: I do hear of a fine peaceable Island. Beau. Why 'tis the same we live in. Cham. No, 'tis so fam'd, but we the inhabitants finde it not so; the place I speak of has bin kept with thunder, with frightful lightnings, amazing Noises, but now (th' inchantment broke) 'tis the Land of Peace, where Hogs and Tobacco yield fair increase.

(Chamlet afterwards says,—I am for the Bermudas.—and Beaufort,— you go the Bermoothes! The author of this play was no mean comick genius; and has left us a number of plays, some of which (as

title-pages and catalogues tell us) were written in conjunction with other poets, as—Fletcher, Jonson, Massinger, and Rowley. One of his plays, “A Game at Chess,” cost him his liberty: as appears from the following anecdote, enter'd upon the first blank leaf of a copy of that play, in a hand seemingly of the same age with it.

“After nyne dayse wherein I have heard some of the acters say they tooke fiveteene hundred Pounde the spanish faction being prevalent gott it supprest the chiefe actors and the Poett M^r. Thomas Middleton that writt it comitted to prisson where hee lay some Tyme and at last gott oute upon this petition presented to King James

And sweet-tongu'd Drayton (that hath given renown
Unto a poor (before) and obscure town,
Harsull) were he not fal'n into his tombe,
Would crown this work with an Encomium. H. 8.

Note.] Concerning Massinger's writing with Fletcher; as also of the publication of Fletcher's plays, and of the share that Beaumont had in them, see another epigram, at G. 6, address'd to Mr. Charles Cotton.

But you affirm (and in it seem 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. P. 8.^b. o. for
You loyall Ladies, doo you thinke in faith,
That highest honor, “ioyes” most sweet content? A. 6.^b
Proud Carthage knowes, his youthfull sword did pay
Large tribute of their soules to stygian lake:
His middle age, the stoutest Gaules did “fraye,”
Marcellus name made their huge armies quake.
His ancient yeares, made craftie Hanniball
Admire the “proues,” and vallour of his foe: A. 7.
Much more she said, which none but she can say,
And with her sugered speech, so much prevayld,
That like Medusaes marbled creatures, they
Amazed stood, so was their furie “quail'd.” B.^b
Some “straw'd” the way with flowers, &c. B. 3.

Chorus.
Heavens, heare poore earth complaine,
How wee, your frownes doe beare:
When all things els reioyce,
Joy scornes with us to dwell.
And reasons selfe can tell,
Each mirthe discovering voice
Assures our iudging eare,
How all things els want paine:
Scence-following creatures knowe
No cause, why they lament,
In them, remorse dooth sowe,
No seedes of discontent.
  We see, and know, but wante our blisse:
  Unperfect nature causeth this.
Yea nature most unkinde,
Contriver of our fall:
Begins our life with teares,
And ends the same with woe.
Greefe (pleasures mortall foe)
Confounds our hope with feares:
And sowers our sweete with gall.
This Tyrant of the minde:
By reason, wit, or skill,
Can never be withstood:
These aggravate our ill,
By shewing what was good.
  And wante of that torments us most:
  Whose worthe appeares in being lost. B. 4.

Make thine owne thoughts no witnesse of thy “misse;”
Let thine owne conscience know no cause of blame; C.
Where on a high Tribunall seate which yeelded
A large “prospect” were plac'd * too chayres of golde;

* r. two

They are burdened with sore customes whiche they pay for wares, eyther to be sent foorth into Gallia, or brought from thence, whiche are commonly ivorie vessels, sheares, “ouches,” or eareing, and other conceytes made of ambre, and glasses, and suche like manner of merchandise:

Plautius * * went no further, but stayed and placed garrisons in “steedes,” where neede required, &c.

and sawe hys people governed with suche iustice and good order, that hee was both “dradde,” and greatly beloved:

he buylded certain Castels and Fortresses, whiche he placed in suche convenient “steades,” that &c.

which enterprise he iudged verye necessarie to be “exployted,” for better keeping of the Brytaynes in obedience,

such as went sente foorthe to discover the countrey * * sawe not a creature sturring, for all the people were “avoyded” and withdrawen a farre off.

but yet bicause he was cruell of nature, * * he was “infamed” by writees: but the chief cause that he was evil reported, was &c.

and so beareth and “dissimuleth” the same, that oftentimes the evill which she abhorreth by such bearing and “dissimuling,” is restrayned and reformed.

whom he compassing about with ambushes, got them “within his daunger,” and easily discomfited them.

he was a Prince right hardie and adventerous, not fearing to “ieopard” his person in place of danger, assured & readie of remembrance in time of greatest peril.

as they whiche though they were partly free, yet in some poynt remayned styll as thrall and “mancipate” to the subiection of the English men:

having chosen his Souldiers of nimble, leane, and “deliver” men * * * they “wrought suche maisteries,” that they chased both the K. & all other * * out of the countrey.

he invaded the countrey of Mercia with a mightie armie, wasting and spoyling the same unto Crykelade, and there passing over the Thames, “roded” foorth til he came to Basingstoke,

the king at the “contemplation” of Alfreds frends & kinsfolks, signified to the Pope &c.

he “endevored himself” to answer the expectation of his people, which hoped for great welth to ensue by his noble & prudent “governance:”

with condition, that if any issue male were “procreate” of that mariage, the same &c.

she was sette naked upon a Smythes colde Anvylde, or “stythie,”

But yet in fine (turning the matter to a “bourd”) he pardoned all the parties,

And this reformation, or rather “deformation” was used by K. Edgar in many &c.

and at length became “Abbatesse” there.

For K. Edmund who hated nothing worse than to “linger” his businesse, assembled his people, * * and “pighte” downe his tents not farre from the enemies camp, exhorting &c.

Heere uppon all the wayes and passages beeyng “forelayde” and stopped by the enemies,

But for that there is suche “discordaunce” and “variable” reporte amongest writers,

But yet when the worlde “framed” contrary (peradventure) to his purpose, he didde his best to advaunce Edward, trusting to beare no small rule under him, being knowne to be a man more “appliable” to be governed by other than to trust to his owne wit,

but he being warned of their comming, escaped by flight, and gote him “out of their daunger,”

as the worlde then “framed,”

It is recorded also, that in the foresaid battayle, in which Earle Siwarde vanquished the Scottes, one of Siwards sonnes chaunced to be slayne, whereof, though the father had good cause to be sorowfull, yet when he heard that he dyed of a wound which hee had receyved in fighting stoutely in the forepart of his body, and that with his face towarde the enimie, hee greatly rejoyced thereat, to heare that he died so manfully. But here is to be noted, y^t not now, but a little before, (as Henry Hunt. saith) y^t Earle Siwarde, wente into Scotlande, himself in person, hee sent his sonne with an army to conquer y^e land, whose hap was ther to be slaine: and when his father heard y^e newes, he demaunded whether he received the wound whereof he died, in y^e fore parte of the body, or in the hinder part: and when it was tolde

him y^t he receyved it in the fore parte, I reioyce (saith he) even with all my harte, for I woulde not wishe eyther to my sonne nor to my selfe, any other kind of death.

As hath bin thought * he was inspired with the gift of Prophecie, and also to have hadde the gift of healing infirmities and diseases. Namely, he used to help those that were vexed with the disease, commonly called the Kyngs evill, and left that vertue as it were a portion of inheritance unto his successors the Kyngs of this Realme.

(* Edward the Confessor.)

and when he had taryed there a long time for a “convenable” wind, at length it came about even as he himself desired.

but Harolde aunswered, that they were not Priestes, but “stalwoorth” and hardie Souldiers, and suche as were like to abide well by their Captaine.

Description of Scotland.

These robbers * * do often make “forcible rodes” into the English boundes, for their better maintenaunce and “sustentation,” or els they pilfer privily from them, as men leading in the meane season a poore beggerly & very miserable life.

History of Scotland.

The Scottish men, according to the maner of other nations, esteeming it a glorie to fetche their beginning of great “auncientie,” say &c.

But who is able in a mater of such “auncientie” to avowche any thing for truth?

These Scottish men being thus troubled in Irelande, finally addressed an “Ambassade” unto Metellus, * * requiring him of ayde and succour agaynste theyr enimyes, &c.

After Feritharis with the full consente of al the people was thus elected king, hee was “inthronized” with all solempnities in receiving his kingly ornaments, as his two edged sword, &c. * * * These ornaments of “investure” &c.

it chaunced that a Portingale shippe was driven and drowned by force of a “streyneable” tempest, neare unto the shoore of one of the Scottish Isles,

With these and the “semblable inordinate” practises

All the winter following, Uespasian laye at Yorke, making his “apprestes” agaynste the nexte spring to go against the Scottes and Pictes.

Caratake thus furnished with an armie, chose forth a strong place to lodge in, fenced on the one side with the course of a “foordlesse” Ryver, &c.

by whose meanes the battaile was renewed againe, whiche lasted till that “mirke” night parted them in sunder.

With this Uoada was assembled a mightie hoste of the Brytains: amongst

whome were a v. M. women, wholy bent to revenge the villanies done to theyr persons by the Romains, or to “die in the payne.”

By reason of whiche mischaunce that “iourney” was broken, for the Pictes being utterly amazed and discomforted herewith, “skaled” and departed in sunder.

that iustice was quite banished, and nothing but spoyle and “ravine” exercised.

His owne bodie was solemnly buryed * * but the carkasses of his Garde were cast out into the fieldes, there to bee devoured of beastes and byrdes of “ravyn.”

this battaile was fought so farre forth “to the utterance” that in the ende after a wonderful slaughter on both sides made, when theyr swordes and other weapons were spent, they buckled togither with short daggers.

they shall be provided for well ynoughe ere long, and so advaunced, as they shall not neede to thyrst for other mennes lyvings, that is to witte, even to a faire payre of Gallowes, there to ende their lives with shame, as a number of suche other “losengers” had often done before them:

The Master of the leashe being enformed hereof, pursued after them which had stolen that dogge, thinking in deede to have taken him from them, but they not willing “to departe with” him, fell as altercation,

he woulde not “be acknowen” * * of what linage hee was descended,

Wherof Maximus being certified made “semblance” as though he were sore grieved therewith,

They likewise made theyr “apprestes” to meete with them in the field, and thereupon raysing theyr powers,

the Scottes encouraged a fresh, assayled led theyr enimies with more egré mindes than they had done at the firste, so that “mayntenantly” both the winges of the Brytishe armie were utterly discomfited.

considering the abundance of treasure whiche he had in store, wherewith hee might “wage” souldiers and menne of warre out of Germanie and other places, in number sufficient to matche with his enimies,

they bestowed them aborde in xxx hulkes, hayes, and “playtes,”

and “mayntenantly” herewith the Saxons encouraged with suche comfortable speache as Hengist uttered amongst them, required to have battayle without delay: whose “ensample” the Brytains following,

to choose rather to die in defence of theyr countrey and auncient liberties, than by cowardize to save a “dishonested” lyfe, &c.

whiche [i. e. the tale ensuing] some what abridging the same we have here “infarsed.”

At length when the furious “pyrrie”

& rage of windes still encreased, &c.

The iust revenger of all such as go aboute to breake leagues and covenanted “pactions.”

The sunne appeared about noone dayes “al wholy” of a bloudie colour.

all the rootes of former displeasures beeing utterly “extirped” and “avoyded,” they were made friendes on eche side,

The reverende Fathers of the spiritualtie, and other godly men “addict” to vertue, * * “aweeryed” and abhorring this “woode” madnesse,

There was also an olde gate “forlet” and stopped up with earth and stones upon the one side of the Citie, * * the Pictes “ridding away” the earth and “ramell” wherewith it was closed up,

and that which might not be consumed with the rage of fire, was “ruynate” and destroyed with hande,

Whereupon the universall multitude “allowed him” so muche for this his motion, that there was not one amongst the whole number, which agreed not to sweare the like othe.

they shot “quarrels,” and threw dartes at their enimies right “freshly,” & the Scots let flie at them againe with arrowes and darts as thicke as it had beene a storme of haile.

practised by a sort of Witches dwelling in a towne of Murray-land, called “Fores.”

he sent foorth souldiers, * * who breaking into y^e house, found one of the Witches rosting upon a “woodden broche” an image of waxe at the fire,

Amongst them [i. e. certain rebels of Murray-land executed by king Duffe.] there were also certaine yong Gentlemen &c.

Here begins the history of king Duffe's murder, by Donewald, captain of Fores' castle, instigated by his wife: which murder is here related to have been perform'd by that king's chamberlains, with circumstances which Shakespeare has taken and apply'd to king Duncan; who is only said by the Chronicler simply—to have been murder'd at Inverness, without telling the manner how. Both these histories should be perus'd by the curious, but cannot have a place here by reason of their length: they will find in them (perhaps, to their surprize) not only the general outlines of Shakespeare's “Macbeth,” but many minute particulars, and even some speeches; as—of the witches, Banquo, Malcolm, and Macduff: The first of them begins at the words above-mention'd, and ends with these that follow;—

Monstrous sightes also that were seene

within the Scottishe kingdome that yeare were these, horses in Lothian being of singuler beautie and swiftnesse, did eate their owne fleshe, & would in no wise taste any other meate. In Angus there was a gentlewoman brought forth a child without eyes, nose, hande, or foote. There was a Sparhauke also strangled by an Owle. Neither was it any lesse wonder that the sunne, as before is sayd, was continually covered with clowdes, for vi. moneths space: But all men understood that the abhominable murder of king Duffe was the cause hereof,

and Duncan's history, together with that of Macbeth with which it is connected, extends from signature P. 8, to signature 6. Q. 6.^b inclusive.

that to heare of suche vilanie and violent “forcings” as were practised by him and his familiers, it would “lothe” any honest harte to understande or remember. * * * giving occasion of muche spoile, “ravine,” manslaughter, “forcings” and ravishments of women

The Danes hearing that the Scottes were come, “detracted no time,” but foorthwith prepared to give battayle.

The fighte was cruell on both sides: * * * [but] the victorie muste needes have remayned with the Danes, had not a renewer of the batayle come in time,

Note.] Here follows a story, which has a place in every Scottish chronicle, of a husbandman, named Hay, and his two sons; who, by placing themselves athwart a lane, and staying their flying countrymen the Scots, turned the battle against the Danes, and overcame them with great slaughter: The story, which is no short one, is transplanted by Shakespeare into his “Cymbeline,” as the reader cannot but remember; to whose perusal it is therefore recommended, as it lyes in this Chronicler.

but the place was such, that they coulde not well make theyr course any way forth, by reason of y^e narrownesse thereof, fenced on either side with deepe trenches full of water and mudde, also “a traverse” were layd sundrie trees, as it had bene of purpose “to impeach” the passage,

And oh thou mother of God, the “sicker” refuge of mortall people in their distresse and miseries:

Herewith Malcolme also with a “bushment” of stoute warriours came upon Onetus,

meaning to live by “reif” of other mennes goodes, wherin they have no maner of propertie.

they agreed to fight a combat “singularly” man to man,

to come at a day and place appointed, to fight “singuler” combates within Barriers, in triall of their accusations.

that many yeares after all theft & “reiffings” were litle heard of,

And if he persever with “indurate” minde the space of twoo yeares &c.

for one of Edgars friends, taking in hand “to Darraine battaile” with Organ, in defence of Edgars “innocencie,” slue him within lystes.

and nowe after he had recovered the Kingdome, he continued in the “regiment” therof three yeares, not without greate trouble and intestine commotions: for the moste part of the Lordes “maligning” his advauncement, &c.

In the thirde yeare after, as king Alexander with his mother Ermingarde were sitting at their banquet on the xii. day in Christenmasse, otherwise called “Yule,” &c.

through which mischaunce the residue of the Cumyns were so “amated,” &c.

one amongst them * being well “languaged” and wise, * spake in thys maner,

hee “abashed” so lyttle therewyth, that hee aunswered them in thys maner. Your beliefe is (I perceyve ye Ambassadors, “to abashe” us with your fierce and awful wordes,

hee had mystaken his markes, in prophesying of * suche notable tempest * * consideryng it proved so “lythe” a day without appearance of any tempest to ensue.

Then said the Prophesier: That is the “scathfull” winde and dreadfull tempeste, &c.

a creature resembling deathe, all naked of fleshe and “lyre,” with bare bones right dredfull to beholde.

The same tyme, Philip king of Fraunce the fourth of that name, and surnamed “le Beau,”

wherupon he causyng a smyth to shoe iii. horses for him, contrarily with y^e “calkyns” forward, that it should not bee perceyved whiche way he had taken by the tracte of the horses, &c.

king Edward upon knowlege had that he was fled, sent out a great “maynie” of horsemen after,

The Castell of Rokesbourgh was taken by sir James Dowglas on “feastings even,” (margin, Shrove tuisday)

both thefte and “pickerie” were quite suppressed, and * * * Many insolent and “misruled” persons wer tamed &c.

no man might have knowen (by reason of the “myrknesse” of the night) his frende from his foe.

that by gayning the victory, they might winne “interminable” fame and honor,

Before the day came appoynted for them to have “darraigned” the battell, the Lorde Clifford lay in “a-ayte” for

the Dowglas, and uppon the bridge of “Danzke” mette with him, and there slew him, to the great disturbance and stay of the whole “iourney.”

The olde Earle of Northumberland * * * with one of his “Nephewes” (that was his sonnes sonne) and other of his friends and kinsmen withdrew into Scotland,

whiche neverthelesse by untrue suggestions and forged “accusements,” * * * were condemned &c.

and those so wounded, that they were “uneth” able to return home to theyr houses, and lyved but a few dayes after.

In the same Parliament sir William Creichton was also “forfalted” for diverse causes, * * * This “forfalture” was concluded &c.

to satisfie in parte the wrong which had bene offred him by those “lymmers” and robbers.

His two brethren, * * he caused to be brought up in good “nuriture” and vertuous exercise.

tooke great booties and riche prayes both of goodes and prisoners, and “allected” with the sweetnesse of such spoyle &c.

The 26. of May (1515.) he (the Duke of Albany) was receyved into Edenburgh, * * * Sundry Farces, Pageants, & playes were shewed by y_e burgesses, for to honor his entrie &c.

Hereuppon, greate dissention rose betwixte the sayde Earle of Arrane, and the Erle of Angus, * * whereby the whole Realme was devided into “partakings,” * * * the Erle of Arrane and his “partakers,”

declaring the cause of theyr commyng, the whiche in effect was for “intreatement” of peace * * betwixte the two Realmes,

The Englishmen perceyving they were too rash in assaulting the Towne, beeing not “assaultable,” &c.

who “agreed” them for all matters in controversie, and caused them to goe to “eyther others” house.

a Parliament was called * * * and “summonaunce” decreed agaynste the Earle of Murrey, and the other Lordes that remayned in Englande,

Wherefore as Scotland is named Scotia minor, so Ireland is termed Scotia maior, as the hed from whence y^e name of Scotia minor tooke his offspring.

according to the olde auncient rithme.

As if you put the heire of a horse taile, in mire, puddle, or in a dunghill for a certaine space, it will turne to a little thin spraulyng worme, which I have often seene and “experimented.”

His Porter (speaking of the great hospitality used by a mayor of Dublin) or any other Officer durst not for both his eares give the simplest man, that resorted to his house, “Tom Drum his entertaynement,” which is, to hale a man in by the heade, and thrust him out by both the shoulders.

This Islande were a place alone for one that were vexed with a shrewd wyse.

At which time was there an “olde sayde saw” in every man hys mouth, that as soone as a Well there springing (whiche for the supersticious reverence they bare it, was continually covered and “signed”) were left open & “unsigned,” so soone &c.

Howbeit she hath not shewed hir self so bountifull a mother in powring foorth such riches, as she prooveth hirself an envious stepdame, in that she instilleth in the inhabitants a drousie “lythernesse” to withdraw them from the “ensearching” of hir hourded and hidden iewelles.

in so much as in my “phantasie” it is harde to decide whether estate is the better: eyther for a diligent labourer to be planted in a barrayne or stony soyle, or for a “luskishe” loyterer to be setled in a fertill grounde,

Proud they are of long “crisped” bushes of heare which they terme “glibs,” * * * Water cresses, which they terme “shamrocks,” rootes and other herbes they feede upon, &c.

Of the third degre is the “kerne,” who is an ordinary souldier, using for weapon his sword & target, and sometimes hys peece, beyng commonly so good markemen as they will come within a score of a great castle. * * * The fourth, degre is a “galloglasse,” using a kind of pollax for his weapon. These men &c.

There is among them a brotherhood of “Karrowes,” that profer to play at “chartes” all y^e yere long, and make it their onely occupation.

He “cryed havocke” and spoyle where anye riche pray was to bee had, &c.

by such unprincely partes as he played, * * he became ryght “odible,” and farre out of all favor with his subiects,

The Erle waxing loftie of mind in such prosperous successe, “squared” with divers nobles,

The Inhabitants of Corke beeing sore afflicted with perpetual oppressions of their Irish neighbors, “complained themselves” &c.

a sort of Idle vagabonds, * * ever “nousled” in stelth and robberies.

albeit the lawe or rather the libertie of an hystorie requireth, that all shoulde bee related, and nothing “whusted”

And if any bee so “overthwartly” “waywarded,” as he wil sooner long for y^t I have omitted, than he will be

contented with that I have “chronicled,” &c.

both these noble men laboured, with tooth and nayle, to “overcrowe,” and consequently to overthrow one another:

The Erle of Ormond suspecting that he had bin betrayd, fled to the Chapitre house, put too the dore, “sparring” it with might and mayne. The Citizens in their rage, imagining that every post in the Churche had bin one of y^e Souldyers, shot “habbe or nabbe” “at randon” &c.

where having knowledge of Omore his “recule,” he pursued him with a troupe of horsemen.

This is a doughty kynde of accusation, whiche they urge agaynste me, wherein they are “stabled” and mixed at my firste deniall.

If your Grace imagin, that a kingdom consisteth in serving God, in obeying the prince, in governing with love the commonwealth, in “shouldering” subiects, in suppressing Rebelles, in executing iustice, in brideling blind affections, I would be willing to be invested with so vertuous and royall a name.

I drinke water out of my “skull,” when you drinke wine out of golden cuppes: my courser is trayned to the fielde, when your Genet is taught to amble:

adding further, that he was “too too” evill, that coulde not speake well.

as if Kyldare had prospered, they were assured, theyr malice would not have bene in maner suspected, but if hee had bene in hys affayres “stabled,” then theyr fine devises for theyr further credite shoulde have bene “apparented.”

that Kildare did use “to pill and poll” hys friendes, tenants and reteyners.

Shortly after this quippyng “gamegall,” &c.

Wherefore having “confedered” with Oneale, Oconor, and other Irish Potentates, &c.

to foresee the King his power on the one side, and your force on the other, and then to iudge if you bee able * * to put hym “beside the Cushion,” and not whylest you strive to sit in the Saddle, to lose to your owne undoyng, both the Horse and the Saddle.

It is easie for the sounde to counsaile the sicke: But if the sore had “smarted” you as much as it festereth me, you woulde hee “percase” as impacient as I am.

some ranne one way, some another, divers thoughte to have bin housed, and so to lurke in “Lorelles denne,” who &c.

but whether it were, that the Rebell his pouder faylde him or some “gimbol” or other was out of frame, Stanton tooke hym so truely for his marke, as hee strake him with hys bullet full in the forehead under the brimme of hys “scull,” and withall, turned up his heeles. Stanton not satisfyed with his

death, issued out at the wicket, stript the varlet “mother naked,” &c.

they were never such fond “niddicockes,” as to offer any man a rodde to beate their owne tayles, &c.

finally not to “take suche keepe” of their safetie, &c.

to the ende hir nephew should have bene the better by his countenaunce “shouldered,”

“interlacing” with such discretion his learning and studies, with exercises of activitie, as he shoulde not be after accounted of the learned for an ignorant idiot, nor taken of active Gentlemen for a deade and dumpish” “meacocke.”

At that tyme the knightes served valiantly agaynst the Turkes and “Miscreants,”

no wiser than Patche, the late Lord Cardinall (i. e. Wolsey) his foole.

After this noble Earle his untimely decease, sir Anthony Sentleger was returned into Irelande Lorde Deputie, who was a wise man and a wary Gentleman, a valiant servitour in warre, and a good “Justicer” in peace, properly learned, a good “maker” in the Englishe, having gravitie so “enterlaced” with pleasantnesse, as with an exceeding good grace he would attaine the one without pouting “dumpishnesse,” and exercise the other without “loathfull” lightnesse.

Whereupon I am forced to crave at thyne handes pardon and “tollerance:”

So if a Chronicler shoulde misreport exploytes that were enterprised but “hestern” day, &c.

o.
To chase the flying Deere over the lawne
With Hound, or well-aym'de “Flight,” A. 4.
So look'd, so pac'de, so goulden “trest,” so ruddy
My “tysing” lipp, so in my rising cheeke
The damaske rose was blowne; A. 4.^b
Be it to' Aminta and his loves, as best
Shall “like” himselfe; I'me at a point for one;
And so he be not mine, be' he whose he list. B.^b
&lblank; I pre'thee if thou wilt,
Stay for me till I have in yon fresh fount
“Layd off” the sweat and dust that yesterday
I soyld me with, (perhaps, Lav'd)
Together wove we netts t' intrapp the fish
In flouds and sedgy “fleetes;” together sett
Pitfalls for birds; together the pye'd Buck
And flying Doe over the plaines we chac'de;
And in the “quarry,” as in the pleasure shar'de: C.^b
&lblank; Thrise the Sunne
His yearly course hath runne, thrise the greene fields
Hath the “nak'd” Sythman “barb'd;” and three times hath
The Winter rob'd the trees of their greene lockes; C. 3
What can she do then, what avayle alas
Can her hands give her, or her leggs to flye
(Poore wretch) from me so forcible, and swift?
Let her a “good yeere” weepe, and sigh, and rayle,
And put on all the powre her beauty hath;
If once I catch her by the snary curles, &c. D. 4.^b

(spoke by the Satyr, about Surprizing Sylvia.)

(replying to some Waggery of the Shepherd Thyrsis.)

o. for
Will this content thee cruell Elinor?
Your savage mother, my uncivill Queene,
The Tygresse that hath dranke the purple bloud,
Of three times twenty thousand valiant men;
Washing her red chaps, in the “weeping teares,”
Of widdows, virgins, nurses, sucking babes.
And lastly “sorted” with her damn'd “consorts,”
Entred a laborinth to myrther love.
Will this content you? she shall be releast,
That she may next seaze me she most “envyes.” B.

he was heere to-day sir, and fild two bottles of “nippitate sacke.”

Glo. Well, fill us of your “nippitate” sir.

(Gloster.)

[While the measure is dauncing, Andrugios ghost is placed betwixt the musick houses.

Pa. O how straight and “infract” is this line of life? you wil live to the yeeres of Melchizedech. Cle. Thou wouldest say Methusalem. Pa. Why is it not all one? Cle. I perceive you are no very good “bybler” Pasiphilo. Pa. Yes sir an excellent good “bibbeler,” specially in a bottle: (Cleander.)

and “graffes” of such a stocke are very “geason” in these days.

that for revenge he had sworne to spoyl as many of them as ever should come to Ferara, and “to sende them home in their dublet and their hose.”

that I assure you I thought they would have fleyed me to search betweene the “fel” and the flesh for fardings.

And if I be not even with thee, “cal me cut.”

All the preceeding quotations, in prose, are taken from a comedy of this author's, intitl'd “Supposes,” a translation from the Italian: to which comedy Shakespeare is not a little oblig'd for almost all the episodical part of his “Taming of the Shrew,”—that is, for the fable of it, and something of characters; but the whole is dress'd up anew, with much improvement, and height'ning of the humour, and convey'd to us in language of his own. The curious in these matters may do well to read Gascoigne's comedy, which they will not be displeas'd with: it abounds in passages (v. p^s. 3, 7, 14, 47 & 52 of this edition of it) that have the nearest

resemblance possible to some others in Shakespeare; whose Vincentio, and Baptista, Lucentio, Gremio, Tranio, Biondello, and Pedant, and (in part) his Bianca, are all in this play, but obscurely, and under other appellations: and from hence too he may have been furnish'd with a name for his hero— Petruchio, and with that which Hortensio assumes when he passes for the musick-master.

Here follows a scene of courtship between Montanus (that is, Silvius) and his hard-hearted Phebe; Ganimed's starting out upon them; her sudden passion for Ganimed; and, to be short, the whole winding up of the story, nearly as in Shakespeare: only, the restoring the exil'd duke (or king, as he is call'd in the novel) is brought

about by his obtaining a victory over his brother, the usurper, who is kill'd in the battle. The preceeding part of the story has the same close resemblance to that we see in the play, as this last part has; as the reader may perhaps have discover'd by the extracts that have been given him: Additions to the story, are—that most admirable character, the humorous Jaques; Lords, and other meaner persons in the banish'd duke's train; Le Beu, William, and Touchstone; Audrey, and sir Oliver Martext: all these are personages invented by the Poet, and have no existence in the novel.

o.
What good or profit can a hidden treasure
Do more, than feed the misers greedy eye?
When, if 'twere well bestow'd, it might enrich
The owner, and the user of it; such
Is youth, and Natures bounty, that receive
A gain from the “expence:” G. 3.^b
&lblank; there is a price
Due to the early Cherry; the first Apples
Deserve more grace; the budding rose is set by;
But stale, and fully blown, is left for “vulgars”
To rub their sweaty fingers on. D^o.

Go wait them in, let me alone to personate an “extasie;” I am neer mad already, and I do not fool my self quite in't, I care not.

o. for

Too soone and too late, this work is published: Too soone, in that it was in the Presse, before I had notice of it, by which meanes some faults may escape in the Printing. Too late, for that it was not published when the general voice of the people had seald it for good, and the newnesse of it made it much more desired, then at this time.

Leave not thy native soyle for a “Giglat.” A wench &c.

Club. A had a receipt for the “Grincomes” in his hand,

Doct. And from what good exercise come you three.

Gera. From a play, where we saw most excellent Sampson excell the whole world in gate carrying.

Dry. Was it performed by the youths.

Lypsal. By youths: why I tell thee we sawe Sampson, and I hope 'tis not for youths to play Sampson: Beleeve it we sawe Sampson beare the Towne gates on his necke, from the lower to the upper stage, with that life and admirable accord, that it shall never be equalled (unlesse the whole new livery of Porters set their shoulders)

It “cottens” well, it cannot choose but beare

Mist. Purge. Fy fy Club, goe a tother side the way, thou “collowst” me & my ruffe, thou wilt make me an unclean member i' the congregation.

Club. If you be unclean mistris, you may “pure” yourselfe, you have my masters ware at your commaundement,

I must be of their counsel, & you must “attone” them put 'hem together,

It is plain, from the prologue and second extract, that this play was later in point of time than “Westward hoe,” printed two years after.

o. b. l. for

A notable fellow of this trade well stricken in yeeres * * travelled with his boy into Yorkshire. And having no money in his purse, * * grew into utter despaire of his estate, by reason he had worne cosenages thread-bare, & made the uttermost of his wit that was possible. Wherefore complaining him selfe to his trustie page, * * Maister (quoth he) take no care, for when all is gone and nothing left, well fare the Dagger with the “dudgeon haft.” I am young and have crochets in my head: &c.

They which have travel'd o're the earths round ball,
Tell us of men that have no heads at all,
Who so beleeve what ever they have writ,
Heads they may have, but sure they have no wit. D^o, Epig. 75.

o.
His mans red hose, were the colour of his nose,
  and his breech was made of blue,
And he in shape, like a French-mans Ape,
  and so sweete sir adieu.
“Holla, holla ye pampred Jades of Asia,
And can you draw but twentie miles a day? D.

Kni. And how lives he with am? (asking of one who is gone into the service of some courtezans.)

Fle. Faith like Thisbe in the Play, a has almost kil'd himselfe with the scabberd:

(Knight. Fleire.)

o. for
&lblank; what can twelve moones of time
Prevaile with Tytan to “dis-herite” us. B. 2.
&lblank; let your steele
Glistring against the sunne, “daze” their bright eyes, E. 4. Enter the Clowne with letters.

Clowne. Save you sir, is your name K. Melliseus

Melli. We are Melliseus, and the Epire King.

Clowne. Then this letter is to you, but is there not one in your Court, cal'd (let me see) have you here never a gibbit-maker?

Jup. Sirra, here's one cal'd Jupiter.

Clowne. Ey Jupiter, that's he that I would speake with.

o. b. l. for
How say you wife, did not I say so much,
He was a “Cutter” and a swaggerer, A. 3.
&lblank; For what is she but a common “stall,”
that loves thee for thy coine, not for thy name, A. 3.^b dous.
I but afterwards will you not prove unkind? frog.
How dowse unkind?
When tinkers leave to drinke good ale,
And Souldiers of their weapons faile,
When pedlers go without there pack,
And water is more deare then sack,
When Shomakers drinks that is small,
And Lawiers have no tongue at all,
When Fencers leave of giving knocks,
And young men hate faire Maidens smocks,
When drunkerds scorne a copar nose,
And Botchers nere mend lowsie hose,
Or when the cat shall hate a mous,
the Frog shall prove unkind to Dowse,
and so sweet hart lets go and wed,
and after to dinner and then to bed. Exit. C.

Note.] What passes, between this Couple immediately before this, has a good deal of resemblance with a Dialogue in “As you like it,” between the Clown and Audrey, beginning at p. 55.

Feast me no more with your Hippocrates and Galene, sith they “can no skill” to helpe me to recover my helth: but well fare Quintus Curtius that “could so good skill” to helpe me to recover my helth.

but when they “square” too much from likelyhode, and can not be made credible,

Both ioyned “valiancy” with government.

not so much for his goodes and “richesse,” as for the number of children which he had.

This Sinnis had a goodly fayer daughter called Perigouna

Howbeit the writers of Megara “impugning” this common reporte, and desirous &c.

Theseus begatte Menalippus of Perigouna.

The women of the countrye dyd curteously receyve and “intreate” Ariadne:

or else it [a certain cry he is speaking of] is the “foote” of some songe of triumphe:

Philochorus, & some other holde opinion, that he went thither with Hercules against the Amazones: and that to honour his “valiantnes,” Hercules gave him Antiopa the Amazone. But the more parte of the other Historiographers, * * * doe write, that Theseus went thither alone, after Hercules voyage, and that he tooke this Amazone prisoner, which is likeliest to be true.

this Historiographer calleth the Amazone which Theseus maried, Hyppolita, and not Antiopa.

the Amazones made warres with Theseus to revenge the iniurie he dyd to their Queene Antiopa, refusing her, to marye with Phædra:

These things * * * peradventure, will please the readers better, for their straungenes and curiositie, then offend or “mislike” them for their falsehood.

Thus Zenodotus * writeth, wherein notwithstanding there be divers that doe “contrarie” him.

the castell or “keepe” of their citie &c.

bothe the armies stayed, * * and straight the two generalles “imparled” together.

Besides that, they “acquainted” their children to all kinde of meates,

and brought them up without muche “tendaunce,” so as they were neither “fine nor licorous” nor fearfull to be lefte alone in the darcke, neither were they criers, “wrallers,” or “unhappy” children, which be all tokens of base and cowardly natures.

For “bounding and mearing,” to him that will keepe it iustely: is a bond that brideleth power and desire. But to him that “forceth not” to kepe it: it is a proofe to shew his iniustice.

The people did traffike & “frequent” together, without feare or daunger, & visited one another, making great cheere:

Lycurgus chief lawes and ordinaunces remained in full perfection, as a “deepe woded” dye, which went to the bottome, and pearced into the tender wolle.

After they fortuned to falle at iarre one with the other, * * * yet this “square” bred no violent inconvenience betwene them,

he commaunded the women to departe, and in steade of them he put lusty beardles “springalles” into their apparell,

which from that time forth were ever hated of the people, and commonly called the abiects and “excommunicates.”

As in olde time, Tynnondas made himselfe King of those of Negrepont, * * * and as Pittacus was then “presently” of those of Metelin.

This lawe neither “liked” the one nor the other sorte. For it greatly offended the riche, for cancelling their bondes: and it much more “misliked” the poore, bicause &c.

And they gave him also full power and authoritie, to “sesse” and taxe any of them, to appointe the number, what time the “sesse” should continewe, &c.

all which turned now to my bitter sorowe, and to present and “remediles” calamitie.

And where some saye, the ashes of his bodie were after his death “strawed” abroade &c.

considering it stoode then but in very “tickle” termes.

with commission to use all the mildest meanes they could, to “dulce” and soften the hardened harts of the multitude:

But Valerius was against it, declaring it might “perill” the state much,

unto whom, for that he was his

“auncient,” he gave the upper hande, * * and ever since they have geven this honour unto age.

Lucretius, * * * was appointed to make head against the “vauntcurriers” of the Sabynes, that minded to approche the gates.

Solon never durst present himself openly to persuade &c. Where Publicola “taking his adventure” from the beginning, shewed himselfe without dissimulation, &c.

saying, that indeede he “could no skill” to tune a harpe, nor a “violl,” nor to playe of a “psalterion:” but if they dyd put a cittie into his handes that was of small name, weake, and litle, he knewe wayes enough how to make it noble, stronge, and great.

he “stoode at pyke” against the greatest * * and specially against Aristides, * who ever encountered him, and was still his adversarie opposite.

For it was “out of all speache” that they alone should fight against so many thousands of enemies:

they [the Ueians] valliantly, and without feare of any thing, “defended” the siege of the Romaines,

he sent a Herauld before to Rome, to demaunde “liverie” of the man that had offended him,

For that it [fire] is the most “motive” and quickest substance that is of all naturall things:

Camillus with his whole army well appointed, went after him immediately, & “showed” at his campe by the breake of day.

Then Camillus for his parte dyd much “endevour himselfe” to comforte & appease the common people,

& trimming them up in fine apparell, “begawded” with chaines of golde and iuells, they sent them forth to the Latines,

eating and “drincking droncke” together.

So went Lucius “upon a head” to present battell to the enemie, & so was he as headilie also overthrowen.

he caused iron “sallets,” and “morians” to be made * * * * Furthermore, he dyd teache his souldiers to cary long iavelines or “punchion staves,”

he somwhat resembled Pisistratus in his countenaunce: and the auncientest men of the cittie also were muche afeard of his softe voyce,

his eloquent tongue, and ready utteraunce, bicause in those he was Pisistratus “up and downe.”

setting forth our cittie, like a glorious woman, “all to be gawded” with golde and precious stones,

But this was not for a litle while, nor in a “geere” of favour, that should continue for a [short] time: but this helde out fortie yeres together,

twenty persones were sent of this “embasiate,”

But of all his “iorneis” he made, being generall over the armie of the Athenians: the “iorney” of Cherronesus was best thought of and esteemed,

to conquer Egpyt, and to “revolte” all the countries upon the sea coastes, from the empire of the king of Persia:

But when the Lacedæmonians sawe their armie “cassed,” and that the people were gone their waye, every man to his owne cittie or towne:

But when he sawe that they were wearie with “tract of time,” and that they would bring it to hazard of battell, and that he could by no meanes withholde them:

the poore men halfe dead, were beaten downe with clubbes, and their heads “passhed” in peces:

For he had no manner of affectation, nor counterfeate finenes in his speach, but his words were ever very grave and profounde, and his sentences even “grafte” in him by nature,

the Ligurians (which be people of the mountaines, and upon the coast of Genua) * * were compelled to goe their waye, & to take the Alpes for their succour, and durst no more appeare upon the borders of Italie, whereupon they dyd “confine.”

Whereupon he commaunded his captaines to set out their bandes to the field, and he himselfe “tooke his horse backe:”

where leaving his owne banckes, it spreadeth abroade into the “marisses,” &c.

the which not only by his authoritie he dyd expressely forbid him, but also as his “very friende,” he dyd warne and intreate him in no wise to attempt.

This mery aunswer * * * * made them all laughe “a good.” So downe the hill they came laughing alowde,

Another time being but a litle boye, he played at “skayles” in the middest of the streete &c. * * * the “skailes” were set right in the high way

he disdained to learne to playe of the flute or “recorder:”