sweetest singer of all our westerns shepheards hath so exquisitely
depainted, that as Achilles by Alexander was counted happy for having
such a rare emblazoner of his magnanimitie, as the Meonian Poete; so I
account him thrice-fortunate in having such a herauld of his vertues as
Spencer; Curteous Lord, Curteous Spencer, I knowe not which hath
purchast more fame, either he in deserving so well of so famous a
scholler, or so famous a scholler in being so thankfull without hope of
requitall to so famous a Lord: But leaving him that dying left al Artes,
and al strangers as Orphanes, forsaken, and friendles, I will wholy
convert my muze to you (my second patron) who amongst many that beare
their crests hie, and mingle their titles with TAMMARTI QUAM MERCURIO
are an unfayned embracer of vertues, and nourisher of knowledge and
learning. I published long since my first fruits of such as were but
meanely entred in the Italian tongue, (which because they were the
first, and the tree but young were something sower, yet at last digested
in this cold climat) knowing well that they would both nourish and
delight, & now I have againe after long toyle and diligent pruning of my
orcharde brought forth my second fruites, (better, riper, and pleasanter
than the first) not unfit for those that embrace the language of the
muses, or would beautifie their speech with a not vulgar bravery. These
two I brought forth as the daughters and offsprings of my care and
studie: My elder (as before is noted) because she was ambitious (as
heires are wont) I married for preferment and for honour, but this
younger (fayrer, better nurtured, & comelier than her sister) because my
hope of such preferment and honour as my first had, fayled me, I thought
to have cloystred up in some solitarynes, which shee perceiving, with
haste putting on her best ornaments and (following the guise of her
countrie-women presuming very much upon the love and favour of her
parentes) hath voluntaryly made her choyce (plainly telling me that she
will not leade apes in hell) and matched with such a one as she best
liketh, and hopeth will both dearly love her, & make her such a joynter
as shal be to the comfort of her parents, and joy of her match, and
therefore have I given her my consent, because shee hath jumped so well
with modesty, and not aspired so high that shee might be upbraided
either with her birth or basenes when she could not mend it. I know the
world will smile friendlier, and gaze more upon a damzell marching in
figured silkes (who are as paper bookes with nothing in them) than upon
one being onely clad in home-spunn cloth (who are as playne cheasts full
of treasure) yet communis error shall not have my company, and therefore
have I rather chosen to present my Italian and English proverbiall
sportes to such a one as I know joynes them both so aptly in himselfe,
as I doubt whether is best in him, but he is best in both; who loves
them both, no man better; and touching proverbs, invents them, no man
finer; and aplyes them, no man fitter; and that taketh his greatest
contentment in knowledge of languages (guides and instruments to
perfection and excellency) as in Nectar and Ambrosia (meate onely for
Gods and deyfied mindes,) I shal not neede to trouble my selfe or you
with any commendation of the matter I deliver, nor to give credit by
some figures and colours to proverbs and sentences, seeing your selfe
know well (whose censure I most respect) both how much a proverbiall
speech (namely in the Italian) graceth a wise meaning, and how probably
it argueth a good conceipt, and also how naturally the Italians please
themselves with such materyall, short, and witty speeches (which when
they themselves are out of Italy and amongst strangers, who they think
hath learnt a little Italian out of Castilions courtier, or Guazzo his
dialogues, they will endevour to forget or neglect and speake bookish,
and not as they wil doe amongst themselves because they know their
proverbs never came over the Alpes) no lesse than with the conceipted
apothegmes, or Impreses, which never fall within the reach of a barren
or vulgar head. What decorum I have observed in selecting them, I leave
to the learned to consider. Thus craving the continuall sun-shine of
your worships favour towards me, and that they may never decline to any
west, and desiring your friendly censure of my travailes, I wish unto
you your owne wishes, which are such as wisedome endites, and successe
should subscribe.--Your affectionate in all he may.
I.F.
II
ADDRESS TO THE READER FROM FLORIO'S _SECOND FRUITES_, 1591
TO THE READER
READER, good or bad, name thyself, for I know not which to tearme thee,
unless heard thee read, and reading judge, or judging exercise; or
curtesie the cognisance of a Gentleman, or malice the badge of a Momus,
or exact examination the puritane scale of a criticall censor: to the
first (as to my friends) I wish as gracious acceptance where they desire
it most, as they extend where I deserve it least; to the second I can
wish no worse than they worke themselves, though I should wish them
blyndnes, deafnes, and dumbnes: for blynd they are (or worse) that see
their owne vices, others vertues: deafe they are (or worse) that never
could heare well of themselves, nor would heare well of others: and
dumbe they are (and worse) that speake not but behinde mens backs (whose
bookes speake to all;) and speake nought but is naught like themselves,
than who, what can be worse? As for critiks I accompt of them as
crickets; no goodly bird if a man marke them, no sweete note if a man
heare them, no good luck if a man have them; they lurke in corners, but
catch cold if they looke out; they lie in sight of the furnace that
tryes others, but will not come neare the flame that should purifie
themselves: they are bred of filth, & fed with filth, what vermine to
call them I know not, or wormes, or flyes, or what worse? They are like
cupping glasses, that draw nothing but corrupt blood; like swine, that
leave the cleare springs to wallow in a puddle: they doo not as Plutarke
and Aristarcus derive philosophie, and set flowers out of Homer; but
with Zoylus deride his halting, and pull asunder his faire joynted
verses: they doo not seeke honie with the bee, but suck poyson with the
spider. They will doo nought, yet all is naught but what they doo; they
snuff our lampes perhaps, but sure they add no oyle; they will heale us
of the toothache, but are themselves sick of the fever-lourdane.
Demonstrative rethorique is their studie, and the doggs letter they can
snarle alreadie. As for me, for it is I, and I am an Englishman in
Italiane, I know they have a knife at command to cut my throate, Un
Inglese Italianato, e un Diauolo incarnato. Now, who the Divell taught
thee so much Italian? speake me as much more, and take all. Meane you
the men, or their mindes? be the men good, and their mindes bad? speake
for the men (for you are one) and I will doubt of your minde: Mislike
you the language? Why the best speake it best, and hir Majestie none
better. I, but too manie tongues are naught; indeede one is too manie
for him that cannot use it well. Mithridates was reported to have
learned three and twentie severall languages, and Ennius to have three
harts, because three tongues, but it should seeme thou hast not one
sound heart, but such a one as is cancred with ennui; nor anie tongue,
but a forked tongue, thou hissest so like a snake, and yet me thinkes by
thy looke, thou shouldst have no tongue thou gapest and mowest so like a
frogg: I, but thou canst reade whatsoever is good in Italian, translated
into English. And was it good that they translated then? or were they
good that translated it? Had they been like thee, they were not woorth
the naming; and thou being unlike them, art unworthie to name them. Had
they not knowen Italian, how had they translated it? had they not
translated it, where were not thy reading? Rather drinke at the
wel-head, than sip at pudled streames; rather buy at the first hand,
than goe on trust at the hucksters. I, but thou wilt urge me with their
manners & vices, (not remembring that where great vices are, there are
infinit vertues) & aske me whether they be good or bad? Surely touching
their vices, they are bad (& I condemne them) like thyself; the men are
as we are, (is bad, God amend both us & them) and I think wee may verie
well mend both. I, but (peradventure) thou wilt say my frutes are
wyndie, I pray thee keepe thy winde to coole thy potage. I, but they are
rotten: what, and so greene? that's marvell; indeede I thinke the
caterpiller hath newly caught them. If thy sight and taste be so altred,
that neither colour or taste of my frutes will please thee, I greatly
force not, for I never minded to be thy fruterer. Muro bianco is paper
good enough for everie matto: Prints were first invented for wise mens
use, and not for fooles play. These Proverbs and proverbiall Phrases,
(hethertoo so peculiar to the Italians, that they could never find the
way over the Apenines, or meanes to become familiar to anie other
Nation) have onely been selected and stamped for the wise and not for
thee, (and therefore hast thou no part in them) who will kindly accept
of them: (though in the ordering of them I differ from most mens
methodes, who in their compositions onely seeke for words to expresse
their matter, and I have endevored to finde matter to declare those
Italian words & phrases, that yet never saw Albions cliffes) for the
pleasure of which, I will shortly send into the world an exquisite
Italian and English Dictionary, and a compendious Grammer. The Sunne
spreading his beames indifferently (and my frutes are in an open
orchyard, indifferent to all) doth soften wax, and harden clay; (my
frutes will please the gentler, but offend the clayish or clownish sort,
whom good things scarcely please, and I care not to displease). I know I
have them not all, and you with readie (if I should say so) with Bate me
an ace quoth Bolton, or Wide quoth Bolton when his bolt flew backward.
Indeed here are not all, for tell me who can tell them; but here are the
chiefs, and thanke me that I cull them. The Greekes and Latines thanks
Erasmus, and our Englishmen make much of Heywood: for Proverbs are the
pith, the proprieties, the proofs, the purities, the elegancies, as the
commonest so the commendablest phrases of a language. To use them is a
grace, to understand them a good, but to gather them a paine to me,
though gain to thee. I, but for all that I must not scape without some
new flout: now would I were by thee to give thee another, and surely I
would give thee bread for cake. Farewell if thou meane well; els fare as
ill, as thou wishest me to fare.
The last of April, 1591.
Resolute
I.F.
III
DEDICATION OF FLORIO'S _WORLDE OF WORDES_, 1598
TO THE RIGHT HONORABLE PATRONS OF VERTUE, PATTERNS OF HONOR, ROGER EARLE
OF RUTLAND, HENRIE EARLE OF SOUTHAMPTON, LUCIE COUNTESSE OF BEDFORD
This dedication (Right Honorable and that worthily) may haply make your
Honors muse; wellfare that dedication, that may excite your muse. I am
no auctorifed Herauld to marshall your precedence. Private dutie might
perhaps give one the prioritie, where publike respect should prefer
another. To choose _Tullie_ or _Ausonius_ Consuls, is to prefer them
before all but one; but to choose either the former of the twaine, is to
prefer him before all. It is saide of _Atreus_ in a fact most
disorderly, that may be saide of any in so ordering his best dutie.
It makes no matter whether, yet he resolves of neither. I onely say your
Honors best knowe your places: An Italian turne may serve the turne.
Lame are we in _Platoes_ censure, if we be not ambidexters, using both
handes alike. Right-hand, or left-hand as Peeres with mutuall paritie,
without disparagement may be please your Honors to joyne hand in hand,
an so jointly to lende an eare (and lende it I beseech you) to a poore
man, that invites your Honors to a christening, that I and my poore
studies, like _Philemon_ and _Baucis_, may in so lowe a cottage
entertaine so high, if not deities, yet dignities; of whom the Poet
testifies.
"Ma sopraogni altro frutto gradito
Fu il volto allegro, e'l non bigiardo amore.
E benchefosse pouero il conuito,
Non fu la volonta pouera e'l core.
But of all other cheere most did content
A cheerefull countenance, and a willing minde,
Poore entertainment being richly ment,
Pleaded excuse for that which was behinde."
Two overhastie fruites of mine nowe some yeeres since, like two forwarde
females, the one put her selfe in service to an Earle of Excellence, the
other to a Gentleman of Woorth, both into the worlde to runne the race
of their fortune. Now where my rawer youth brought foorth those female
fruites, my riper yeeres affoording me I cannot say a braine-babe
_Minerva_, armed at all affaies at first houre; but rather from my
Italian _Semele_, and English thigh, a bouncing boie, _Bacchus_-like,
almost all named: And being as the manner of this countrie is, after
some strength gathered to bring it abroade; I was to entreate three
witnesses to the entrie of it into Christendome, over-presumptuous (I
grant) to entreate so high a preference, but your Honors so gracious (I
hope) to be over-entreated. My hope springs out of three stems: your
Honors naturall benignitie; your able employment of such servitours; and
the towardly likeliehood of this Springall to do you honest service. The
first, to vouchsafe all; the second, to accept this; the third, to
applie it selfe to the first and second. Of the first, your birth, your
place, and your custome; of the second, your studies, your conceits, and
your exercise: of the thirde, my endevours, my proceedings, and my
project gives assurance. Your birth, highly noble, more than gentle:
your place, above others, as in degree, so in height of bountie, and
other vertues: your custome, never wearie of well dooing: your studies
much in al, most in Italian excellence: your conceits, by understanding
others to work above them in your owne: your exercise, to reade, what
the worlds best wits have written and to speake as they write. My
endevours, to apprehend the best, if not all: my proceedings, to impart
my best, first to your Honors, then to all that emploie me: my project,
in this volume to comprehend the best and all. In truth I acknowledge an
entyre debt, not onely of my best knowledge, but of all, yea of more
then I know or can, to your bounteous Lordship most noble, most
vertuous, and most Honorable Earle of Southampton, in whose paie and
patronage I have lived some yeeres; to whom I owe and vowe the yeeres I
have to live. But as to me, and manie more the glorious and gracious
sunne-shine of your Honor hath infused light and life: so may my lesser
borrowed light, after a principall respect to your benigne aspect, and
influence, affoorde some lustre to some others. In loyaltie I may averre
(my needle toucht, and drawne, and held by such an adamant) what he in
love assumed, that sawe the other stars, but bent his course by the
Pole-starre, and two guardes, avowing, _Aspicit unam_ One guideth me,
though more I see. Good parts imparted are not empaired: Your springs
are first to serve your selfe, yet may yeelde your neighbours sweete
water; your taper is to light to you first, and yet it may light your
neighbours candle. I might make doubt, least I or mine be not now of any
further use to your selfe-sufficiencie, being at home so instructed for
Italian, as teaching or learning could supplie, that there seemed no
neede of travell: and nowe by travell so accomplished, as what wants to
perfection? Wherein no lesse must be attributed to your embellisht
graces (my most noble, most gracious, and most gracefull Earle of
Rutland) well entred in the toong, ere your Honor entered Italie, there
therein so perfected, as what needeth a Dictionarie? Naie, if I offer
service but to them that need it, with what face seeke I a place with
your excellent Ladiship (my most-most honored, because best-best adorned
Madame) who by conceited Industrie, or industrious conceite, in Italian
as in French, in French as in Spanish, in all as in English, understand
what you reade, write as you reade, and speake as you write; yet rather
charge your minde with matter, then your memorie with words? And if this
present, present so small profit, I must confesse it brings much lesse
delight: for, what pleasure is a plot of simples, _O non vista, o mal
note, o mal gradite_, Or not seene, or ill knowne, or ill accepted? Yet
heere-hence may some good accrewe, not onelie to truantlie-schollers,
which ever-and-anon runne to _Venuti_, and _Alunno_; or to new-entred
novices, that hardly can construe their lesson; or to well-forwarde
students, that have turned over _Guazzo_ and _Castiglione_, yea runne
through _Guarini_, _Ariosto_, _Taffo_, _Boccace_ and _Petrarche_: but
even to the most compleate Doctor; yea to him that best can stande
_All'erta_ for the best Italian, heereof sometimes may rise some use:
since, have he the memorie of _Themistocles_, of _Seneca_, of _Scaliger_
yet is it not infinite, in so finite a bodie. And I have seene the best,
yea naturall Italians, not onely stagger, but even sticke fast in the
myre, and at last give it over, or give their verdict with An
_ignoramus_, _Boccace_ is prettie hard, yet understood: _Petrarche_
harder, but explaned: _Dante_ hardest, but commented. Some doubt if all
aright. _Alunno_ for his foster-children hath framed a worlde of their
wordes. _Venuti_ taken much paines in some verie fewe authors; and our
_William Thomas_ hath done prettilie; and if all faile, although we
misse or mistake the worde, yet make we up the sence. Such making is
marring. Naie all as good; but not as right. And not right, is flat
wrong. One saies of _Petrarche_ for all: A thousand strappadas coulde
nor compell him to confesse, what some interpreters will make him saie
he ment. And a Judicious gentleman of this lande will uphold, that none
in England understands him thoroughly. How then ayme we at _Peter
Aretine_, that is so wittie, hath such varietie, and frames so manie new
words? At _Francesco Doni_ who is so fantasticall, & so strange? At
_Thomaso Garzoni_ in his _Piassa universale_; or at _Allesandro
Cittolini_, in his _Typecosmia_, who have more proper and peculiar words
concerning everie severall trade, arte, or occupation for everie
particular toole, or implement belonging unto them, then ever any man
heeretofore either collected in any booke, or sawe collected in any one
language? How shall we understand _Hanniball Caro_, who is so full of
wittie jestes, sharpe quips, nipping tantes, and scoffing phrases
against that grave and learned man _Lodivico Castelvetri_, in his
_Apologia de' Banchi_? How shall the English Gentleman come to the
perfect understanding of _Federico Grisone_, his _Arte del Cavalcare_,
who is so full of strange phrases, and unusuall wordes, peculiar onely
to horse-manship, and proper but to _Cavalarizzi_? How shall we
understand so manie and so strange bookes, of so severall, and so
fantasticall subjects as be written in the Italian toong? How shall we,
naie how may we ayme at the Venetian, at the Romane, at the Lombard, at
the Neapolitane, at so manie, and so much differing Dialects, and
Idiomes, as be used and spoken in Italie, besides the Florentine? Sure
we must saie as that most intelligent and grave Prelate said, when he
came new out of the South into the North, and was saluted with a womans
sute in Northern. Now what is that in English? If I, who many yeeres
have made profession of this toong, and in this search or quest of
inquirie have spent most of my studies; yet many times in many wordes
have beene so stal'd, and stabled, as such sticking made me blushinglie
confesse my ignorance, and such confession indeede made me studiouslie
seeke helpe, but such helpe was not readilie to be had at hande. Then
may your Honors without any dishonour, yea what and whosoever he be that
thinkes himselfe a very good Italian, and that to trip others, doth
alwaies stande _All'erta_, without disgrace to himselfe, sometimes be at
a stand, and standing see no easie issue, but for issue with a
direction, which in this mappe I hold, if not exactlie delineated, yet
conveniently prickt out. Is all then in this little? All I knowe: and
more (I know) then yet in any other. Though most of these you know
alreadie, yet have I enough, if you know anie thing more then you knew,
by this. The retainer doth some service, that now and then but holds
your Honors styrrop, or lendes a hande over a stile, or opens a gappe
for easier passage, or holds a torch in a darke waie: enough to weare
your Honors cloth. Such then since this may proove, proove it (right
Honorable) and reproove not for it my rudenes, or my rashnes; rudenes in
presuming so high, rashnes in assuming so much for it that yet is
unaprooved. Some perhaps will except against the sexe, and not allowe it
for a male-broode, sithens as our Italians saie, _Le parole sono femine,
& i fatti sono maschy_, Wordes they are women, and deeds they are men.
But let such know that _Detti_ and _fatti_, wordes and deeds with me are
all of one gender. And although they were commonly Feminine, why might
not I by strong imagination (which Phisicions give so much power unto)
alter their sexe? Or at least by such heaven-pearcing devotion as
transformed _Iphis_, according to that description of the Poet.
"Et ognimembro suo piu forte e sciolto
Sente, e volge allamadre il motto, e'l lume.
Come veto fanciullo esser vede
Iphi va con parole alme, e devote
Altempio con la madre, e la nutrice,
E paga il voto, e'l suo miracoldice.
Feeling more vigor in each part and strength
Then earst, and that indeede she was a boy.
Towards hir mother eies and wordes at length
She turns, and at the temple with meeke joy
He and his nurse and mother utter how
The case fell out, and so he paide his vow."
And so his strength, his stature, and his masculine vigor (I would, naie
I coulde saie vertue) makes me assure his sexe, and according to his
sexe provide so autenticall testimonies. Laie then your blisse-full
handes on his head (right Honorable) and witnes that he by me devoted
to your Honors, forsakes my private cell, all retired conceites, and
selfe-respects to serve you in the worlde, the world in you; and
beleeves in your Honors goodnes, in proportion as his service shall be
of moment and effectuall; and that you will not onely in due censure be
his judges, but on true judgement his protectors; and in this faith
desires to be numbered in your familie; so in your studies to attend, as
your least becke may be his dieugarde; for he hath toong to answer,
words at will, and wants not some wit, though he speake plaine what each
thing is. So have I crost him, and so blest him, your god-childe, and
your servant; that you may likewise give him your blessing, if it be but
as when one standes you in steede, supplies you, or pleases you, you
saie, Gods-blessing on him. But though in the fore-front he beares your
Honorable names, it may be demanded how is it, your Honors gave not him
his name? Heerein (right Honorable) beare with the fondnes of his
mother, my Mistresse _Muse_, who seeing hir female _Arescusa_ turn'd to
a pleasing male _Arescon_ (as _Plinie_ tels of one) beg'd (as some
mothers use) that to the fathers name she might prefixe a name befitting
the childes nature. So cald she him, A worlde of wordes: since as the
Univers containes all things, digested in best equipaged order,
embellisht with innumerable ornaments by the universall creator. And as
_Tipocosmia_ imaged by _Allesandro Cittolini_, and _Fabrica del mondo_,
framed by _Francesco Alunno_, and Piazza _universale_ set out by
_Thomaso Garzoni_ tooke their names of the universall worlde, in words
to represent things of the world: as words are types of things, and
everie man by himselfe a little world in some resemblances; so thought
she, she did see as great capacitie, and as meete method in this, as in
those latter, and (as much as there might be in Italian and English) a
modell of the former, and therefore as good cause so to entitle it. If
looking into it, it looke like the Sporades, or scattered Ilands, rather
than one well-joynted or close-joyned bodie, or one coherent orbe: your
Honors knowe, an armie ranged in files is fitter for muster, then in a
ring; and jewels are sooner found in severall boxes, then all in one
bagge. If in these rankes the English outnumber the Italian,
congratulate the copie and varietie of our sweete-mother toong, which
under this most Excellent well-speaking Princesse or Ladie of the worlde
in all languages is growne as farre beyond that of former times, as her
most flourishing raigne for all happines is beyond the raignes of former
Princes. Right Honorable, I feare me I have detained your Honors too
long with so homelie entertainment, yet being the best the meanenes of
my skill can affoorde; which intending as my childes christening-banquet,
heereunto I presumed to invite your Honors: but I hope what was saide at
you Honors first comming (I meane in the beginning of my Epistle) shall
serve for a finall excuse. And in conclusion (most Honorable) once againe
at your departure give me leave to commend this sonne of mine to your
favourable protections, and advowe him yours, with this licence, that
as _Henricus Stephanus_ dedicated his Treasure of the Greeke toong
to _Maximilian_ the Emperour, to _Charles_ the French king, and to
_Elizabeth_ our dread Soveraigne, and by their favours to their
Universities: So I may consecrate this lesser-volume of little-lesse
value, but of like import, first, to your triple-Honors, then under your
protections to all Italian-English, or English-Italian students. Vouchsafe
then (highlie Honorable) as of manie made for others, yet made knowne to
your Honors, so of this to take knowledge, who was borne, bred, and
brought foorth for your Honors chiefe service; though more service it may
do, to many others, that more neede it; since manie make as much of that,
which is made for them, as that they made them-selves, and of adopted,
as begotten children; yea Adrian the Emperour made more of those then
these; since the begotten are such as fates give us, the adopted such
as choice culs us; they oftentimes _Stolti, sgarbati, & inutili_, these
ever with _Corpo intiero, leggiadre membra, entente sana_. Accepting
therefore of the childe, I hope your Honors wish as well to the Father,
who to your Honors all-devoted wisheth meeds of your merits, renowme of
your vertues, and health of your persons, humblie with gracious leave
kissing your thrice-honored hands, protesteth to continue ever
Your Honors most humble and
bounden in true service,
JOHN FLORIO.
IV
ADDRESS TO THE READER FROM FLORIO'S _WORLDE OF WORDES_, 1598
TO THE READER
I know not how I may again adventure an Epistle to the reader, so are
these times, or readers in these times, most part sicke of the sullens,
and peevish in their sicknes, and conceited in their peevishnes. So
should I feare the fire, that have felt the flame so lately, and flie
from the sea, that have yet a vow to pay for escaping my last
shipwracke. Then what will the world say for ventring againe? A fuo
danno, one will say. Et a torto si lamenta del mare, chi due volte
civoul tornare, will another say. Good council indeede, but who
followeth it? Doe we not daily see the contrarie in practise? Who loves
to be more on the sea, then they that have been most on it? Whither for
change if they have kept at a stay: or for amends if they have lost: or
for increase if they have gotten. Of these there are ynow and
wise-ynough to excuse me. Therefore I have put forward at aventure: But
before I recount unto thee (gentle reader) the purpose of my new voyage:
give me leave a little to please my selfe and refresh thee with the
discourse of my olde danger. Which because in some respect is a common
danger, the discoverie thereof may happily profit other men, as much as
please myselfe. And here might I begin with those notable Pirates in
this our paper-sea, those sea-dogs, or lande-Critikes, monsters of men,
if not beastes rather than men; whose teeth are Canibals, their toongs
adder-forkes, their lips aspes-poyson, their eies basiliskes, their
breath the breath of a grave, their wordes like swordes of Turkes, that
strive which shall dive deepest into a Christian lying bound before
them. But for these barking and biting dogs, they are as well knowne as
Scylla and Charybdis.
There is another sort of leering curs, that rather snarle than bite,
whereof I coulde instance in one, who lighting upon a good sonnet of a
gentlemans, a friend of mine, that loved better to be a Poet, then to be
counted so, called the auctor a rymer, notwithstanding he had more skill
in good Poetrie, then my slie gentleman seemed to have in good manners
or humanitie But my quarrell is to a tooth-lesse dog that hateth where
he cannot hurt, and would faine bite, when he hath no teeth. His name is
H.S. Doe not take it for the Romane H.S. for he is not of so much worth,
unlesse it be as H.S. is twice as much and a halfe as halfe an As. But
value him how you will, I am sure he highly valueth himselfe. This
fellow, this H.S. reading (for I would you should knowe he is a reader
and a writer too) under my last epistle to the reader I.F. made as
familiar a word of F. as if I had bin his brother. Now Recte fit oculis
magister tuis, said an ancient writer to a much-like reading
gramarian-pedante: God save your eie-sight, sir, or at least your
insight. And might not a man that can do as much as you (that is, reade)
finde as much matter out of H.S. as you did out of I.F.? As for example,
H.S. why may it not stand as well for Haerus Stultitiae, as for Homo
Simplex? or for Hara Suillina, as for Hostis Studioforum? or for Hircus
Satiricus, as well as for any of them? And this in Latine, besides
Hedera Seguice, Harpia Subata, Humore Superbo, Hipocrito Simulatore in
Italian. And in English world without end, Huffe Snuffe, Horse Stealer,
Hob Sowter, Hugh Sot, Humfrey Swineshead, Hodge Sowgelder. Now Master
H.S. if this doe gaule you, forbeare kicking hereafter, and in the meane
time you may make you a plaister of your dride Maroram. I have seene in
my daies an inscription, harder to finde out the meaning, and yet easier
for a man to picke a better meaning out of it, if he be not a man of
H.S. condition. There is a most excellent preface to the excellently
translated booke signed A.B. which when I sawe, I eftsoones conceived,
could I in perusing the whole A B C omit the needelesse, and well order
the requisite letters, I should find some such thing as Admirabilis
Bonitas, or Amantum Beatissumus. But how long thinke you would H.S. have
bin rooting and grunting ere he could have found as he is Hominum
Simplicissimus, or would have pickt out as he is Hirudo Sanguifuga, so
honest a meaning? Trust me I cannot but marvell at the disposition of
these men, who are so malicious as they will not spare to stab others,
though it be through their owne bodies, and wrong other men with their
owne double harme. Such mens wordes a wise man compares to boltes shot
right-up against heaven, that come not neare heaven, but downe againe
upon their pates that shot them: or a man may compare them to durt flung
at another man, which besides it defiles his handes that flings it,
possibly it is blowne backe againe upon his owne face: or to monie put
out to usurie, that returnes with increase, so they delivered with
hatred, are repaide with much more: or to the blasting Sereno in hot
countries, rising from puddles, dunghils, carions, putrified dampes,
poysoned lakes, that being detestable itselfe, makes that much more
detested from whence it comes. On the other side a good word is a deaw
from heaven to earth, that soakes into the roote and sends forth fruite
from earth to heaven: it is a precious balme, that hath sweetenesse in
the boxe, whence it comes, sweetnesse and vertue in the bodie, whereto
it comes: it is a golden chaine, that linkes the toongs, and eares, and
harts of writers and readers, each to other. They hurt not God (faith
Seneca) but their owne soules, that overthrowe his altars: Nor harme
they good men, but themselves, that turns their sacrifice of praises
into blasphemie. They that rave, and rage, and raile against heaven I
say not (faith be) they are guiltie of sacrilege, but at least they
loose their labour. Let Aristophanes and his comedians make plaies, and
scowre their mouthes on Socrates; those very mouthes they make to
vilifie, shall be the meanes to amplifie his vertue. And as it was not
easie for Cato to speake evill, so was it not usuall for him to hear
evill: it may be SOCRATES would not kicke againe, if an asse did kicke
at him, yet some that cannot be so wise, and will not be so patient as
Socrates, will for such jadish tricks give the asse his due burthen of
bastonadas. Let H.S. hisse, and his complices quarrell, and all breake
their gals, I have a great faction of good writers to bandie with me.
"Think they to set their teeth on tender stuffe?
But they shall marre their teeth, and finde me tough."
Conantes frangere frangam, said Victoria Collonna:
"Those that to breake me strive,
I'le breake them if I thrive."
Yet had not H.S. so causelesly, so witlesly provoked me, I coulde not
have bin hired, or induced against my nature, against my manner thus far
to have urged him: though happily heereafter I shall rather contemne
him, then farther pursue him. He is to blame (faith Martiall, and
further he brandes him with a knavish name) that will be wittie in
another mans booke. How then will scoffing readers scape this marke of a
maledizant? whose wits have no other worke, nor better worth then to
flout, and fall out? It is a foule blemish that Paterculus findes in the
face of the Gracchi. They had good wits, but used them ill. But a fouler
blot then a Jewes letter is it in the foreheads of Caelies and Curio,
that he sets, Ingeniose nequam, they were wittily wicked. Pitie it is
but evermore wit should be vertuous, vertue gentle, gentrie studious,
students gracious. Let follie be dishonest, dishonestie unnoble,
ignobilitie scandalous and scandall slanderous. Who then are they that
mispend all their leisure, yea take their cheefe pleasure in back biting
well-deservers? I see and am sorie to see a sort of men, whose fifth
element is malediction, whose life is infamie, whose death damnation,
whose daies are surfeiting, whose nights lecherie, yea such as Nanna
could never teach Pippa, nor Comare and Balia discourse of and whose
couches are Spintries; whose thrift is usurie, meales gluttonie,
exercise cousenage, whose valour bragardrie, Astolpheidas, or
Rodomontadas, or if it come to action, crueltie; whose communication is
Atheisme, contention, detraction, or Paillardise, most of lewdness, seld
of vertue, never of charitie; whose spare-time is vanitie or villanie:
yet will I not deale by them, as they doe by others. I like not reproofe
where it pertaines not to me: But if they like to see their owne
pictures in lively colours of their own ornaments, habillements,
attendants, observances, studies, amours, religions, games, travels,
imployments, furnitures, let them as gentlemen (for so I construe
Nobiles, and more they be not, if they be no lesse) goe to the Painters
shop, or looking-glasse of Ammianus Marcellinus, an unpartiall
historian, in his 28. booke about the middle, and blush, and amend, and
think, that thence, and out of themselves I might well draw a long
declamation: they that understand him, will agnise this; they that doe
not, let them learne: let both conceive, how they conforme, and both
reforme their deformities; or if they will not, at least let them
forbeare to blur others because they are blacke themselves, least it be
saide to them, as Seneca saide to one not unfitely, Te fera scabies
depascitur, tu nacuos rides pulchriorum? this let them construe, and
take to them the meaning of their labour. And though I more then feare
much detracting: for I have already tasted some, and that extraordinarie
though in an ordinarie place, where my childe was beaten ere it was
borne: some divining of his imperfectnes for his English part; some
fore-speaking his generall weakenes, and very gently seeming to pitie
his fathers. And one averring he could beget a better of his owne,
which like ynough he can, and hath done many a one, God forgive him. But
the best is, my sonne with all his faultes shall approove himself no
misse-begotten. And for those exceptions, knowing from whom they come, I
were very weake-minded if they coulde anything moove me. And that
husbandman might be counted very simple, that for the ominous shreekes
of an unluckie, hoarce-voist, dead-devouring night-raven or two, or for
feare of the malice of his worst conditioned neighbors, would neglect
either to till and sowe his ground, or after in due time to reape and
thresh out his harvest, that might benefite so many others with that,
which both their want might desire, and their thankfulness would
deserve. So did I intend my first seede, so doe I my harvest. The first
fruites onely reserved to my Honorable Patrones, the rest to every
woorthie Ladie and gentleman that pleases to come and buy; and though I
doubt not but ravens and crowes both, will have a graine or two now and
then in spite of my teeth, especially H.S. who is so many graines too
light: yet I am well content to repay good for evill, thinking it not
impossible that by the taste of the corne those very soules may in time
have their mouthes stopt for speaking evill against the husbandman. And
let this comparison of a labouring man by the way put you in minde
(gentle reader) of his labours, that hath laboured so much, and so long
to save you a labour, which I doubt not but he may as justly stand upon
in this toong-work, as in Latin Sir Thomas Eliot, Bishop Cooper, and
after them Thomas Thomas, and John Rider have done amongst us: and in
Greeks and Latin both the Stephans, the father and the sonne, who
notwithstanding the helpes each of them had, yet none of them but
thought he might challenge speciall thankes for his special travell, to
better purpose then any before him. And if they did so in those toongs,
where they had so many, and so great helpes, and in toongs which were
helpes to one another; they that understande, will easily acknowledge
the difference betwixt my paines and theirs: yet I desire no
pre-eminence of thankes; but either equall thankes, or equall excuse.
And well may I make that comparison betwixt our labours, that
Allessandro Cittolini maketh in his Tipocosmia: we all fared indeed like
sea-faring men (according to my first comparison) and lanched foorth
into a deepe, and dangerous sea, but they had this advantage of me, that
they were many to steere a passage-boate; I was but one to turne and
winde the sailes, to use the oare, to sit at sterne, to pricke my carde,
to watch upon the upper decke, boate-swaine, pilot, mate, and master,
all offices in one, and that in a more unruly, more unweildie, and more
roome-some vessell, then the biggest hulke on Thames, or burthen-bearing
Caracke in Spaine, or slave-tiring Gallie in Turkie, and that in a sea
more divers, more dangerous, more stormie, and more comfortlesse then
any Ocean. If any thinke I had great helpes of Alunno, or of Venuti, let
him confer, and knowe I have in two, yea almost in one of my letters of
the Alphabet, more wordes, then they have in all their twentie; and they
are but for a few auctors in the Italian toong, mine for most that write
well, as may appeere by the Catalog of bookes that I have read through
of purpose for the accomplishing of this Dictionarie. I would not meddle
with their defects and errors nor yet amplifie the fulnesse or
perfection of my owne worke, farther then upon a just ground to satisfie
his good desire that wisheth the best helpe. If any man aske whether all
Italian wordes be here? I answer him, it may be no: and yet I thinke
heere be as many, as he is likely to finde (that askes the question)
within the compasse of his reading; and yet he may have read well too. I
should thinke that very few wordes could escape those auctors I have set
downe, which I have read of purpose to the absolute accomplishing of
this worke, being the most principall, choisest, and difficult in the
toong; especially writing in such varietie not onely of matters, but of
dialects: but what I aske him againe, how many hundred wordes he, and
possibly his teachers too were gravelled in? which he shall finde here
explaned? If no other bookes can be so well perfected, but still some
thing may be added, how much lesse a Word-booke? Since daily both new
wordes are invented; and bookes still found, that make a new supplie of
olde. We see the experience in Latin, a limited toong, that is at his
full growth: and yet if a man consider the reprinting of Latin
Dictionaries, ever with addition of new store, he would thinke it were
still increasing. And yet in these Dictionaries as in all other that
that is printed still is reputed perfect. And so it is no doubt after
the customarie and possible perfection of a Dictionarie, which kinde of
perfection if I chalenge to mine (especially considering the yeerelt
increase, which is as certainly in this, in French, in Spanish, in
Dutch, &c., as we find by experience it is in English; and I thinke I
may well saie more in this, then in the rest; yea and in the rest mostly
from this) I hope no man that shall expend the woorth of this worke in
impartiall examination, will thinke I challenge more then is due to it.
And for English-gentlemen me thinks it must needs be a pleasure to them,
to see so rich a toong out-vide by their mother-speech, as by the
manie-folde Englishes or manie wordes in this is manifest? The want
whereof in England heeretofore, I might justly say in all Europe, might
more endeare the woorth. Though without it some knew much, yet none knew
all Italian, as all may do by this. That well to know Italian is a grace
of all graces, without exception, which I ever exemplifie in her
gracious Highnes; whose due-deserved-praises set foorth aright I may
rightly say, as a notable Italian writer saide earst of hir
most-renowmed father of famous memorie, Che per capir le giufte lodi
della quale conuerrebbe o che il cieli s'inalzaffe, o ch'il mondo
s'allargaffe; or as the moderne Italian Homer saide of a Queene far
inferious to hir thrice-sacred Majestie, Che le glorie altrui si
esprimono scrivendo e parlando, quelle di fua serenissima e sacratissima
Maesta si possono solo esprimere maravigliando e tacendo. Of whose
innumerable excellencies, is not the fore-most, yet most famous I have
heard, and often have had the good hap and comfort to see, that no
Embassador or stranger hath audience of hir Majestie, but in his native
toong; and none hath answere but in the same; or in the common toongs of
Greeke and Latin, by hir sacred lips pronounced. That the best by hir
patterne desire to doe as much, I doubt not; but I doubt how they can
without such helpe, and that such helpe was to be had till now. I denie:
yet doe I understand that a gentleman of worshipful account, well
travelled, well conceited, and well experienced in the Italian, hath in
this very kinde taken great pains, and made as great proofes of his
inestimable worth. Glad would I be to see that worke abroad; some sight
whereof gave me twenty yeeres since the first light to this. But since
he suppresseth his, for private respects, or further perfection, nor he,
nor others will (I hope) prize this the lesse. I could here enter into a
large discourse of the Italian toong, and of the teachers and teaching
thereof, and shew the ease and facilities of it, with setting downe some
few, yea very few observations whereunto the Italian toong may be
reduced: which some of good sort and experience have merrily compared to
jugling-tricks, all which afore a man know or discover how they are
done, one would judge to be very hard and difficult; but after a man
hath seene them and knowes them, they are deemed but slight and easie.
And I was once purposed for the benefite of all learners to have done
it, and to have shewed why through my Dictionarie I have in all verbs of
the first conjugation onely set downe the Infinitive moode, except it be
of fower irregular verbes, and wherefore in all of the seconde and
thirde conjugations I have noted besides the Infinitive moode, the first
person singular of the present-tence of the Indicative moode, the first
person singular of the first preterperfect-tence of the Indicative, and
the participle. And why in the verbes of the fourth conjugation, I have
besides the Infinitive moode, the participle, the first person singular
of the present-tence of the Indicative moode of some very few, and not
of all, and how by those fewe onely one may frame all the persons of all
the tences of all the verbes in the Italian toong; without the knowledge
of which, and of those few observations glanced at before, no man can or
shall ever learne to speake or write true Italian in England: But that I
understand there be some that are perswaded, yea and affirme, that
nothing can be set down either by me, or any else that they have not or
knowe not before; and I am informed, that some would not be ashamed to
protest they knewe as much before: and therefore contrarie to my first
resolution I forbeare to doe it, grieving that for their sakes the
gentle reader and learner shall be barred of so necessarie a scale of
the Italian toong. If these, or others thinke of this no such paines,
little price, or lesse profit then I talke of, I onely wish, they felt
but halfe my paines for it; or let them leave this, and tie themselves
to the like taske, and then let the fruites of our labors, and the
reapers of the fruites judge betwixt us whose paines hath sorted to best
perfection: which ere long (if God sende me life, and blesse these
labors) I meane to perfect with addition of the French and Latine, and
with the wordes of some twenty good Italian auctors, that I could never
obtaine the sight of, and hope shortly to enjoy: And I intend also to
publish and annexe unto this, an Alphabeticall English Dictionarie, that
any man knowing but the English word, shall presently finde the Italian
for it. Meane-while I wish to thee, as of me thou shalt deserve, and
wish of thee as I knowe of thee I have deserved.
Resolute
JOHN FLORIO.
V
WILL OF JOHN FLORIO
In the blessed name of God the Father my gracious Creator and Maker, of
God the Sonne Jesus Christ my merciful Savyo^r and Redeemer, and of God
the Holie Ghost three persons and one ever liveing and omnipotent God,
in unity and Trinity my most loving Comforter and preserver Amen. I John
Florio of Fulham in the Countie of Middlesex Esq^re, being of good
health and sound minde and perfect memory, hearty thankes bee ever
ascribed and given therefore unto Almighty God, And well in remembering
and knowing that nothing is more certayne unto mortall man than death
and noe one thing more uncertayne then is the houre therof, doe make
appoint pronounce and declare this my Testament therin fully contayning
my last direct and unrevocable will and intention in manner and forme
following; That is to say, First and principally as duty and
Christianity willeth mee I most heartily and penitently sorrowfull for
all my sinnes committ and recommend my soule into the mercifull handes
of Almighty God, assuredly trusting and faithfully beleeving by the
onely meritts bitter passion precious blood and glorious death of the
immaculate Lambe Jesus Christ his Sonne, to have full remission and
absolute forgiveness of all my sinnes whatsoever, and after this
transitory life to live and raigne with him in his most blessed Kingdome
of heaven. As for my wretched Body I committe the same as earth to earth
and dust to dust to be buried in such decent order as to my deare Wife
and by my executors here under-named shalbee thought meete and
convenient. And as touching the disposing and ordering of all and
whatsoever such goodes cattle, chattle, Leases, monie, plate, jewells,
bookes, apparrell, bedding, hangings, peawter, brasse, household stuffe
moveables, immoveables and all other things whatsoever named or unnamed,
specifide or unspecifide, wherwith my most gracious God hath beene
pleased to endowe mee with or hereafter shall of his infinite mercy bee
pleased to bestowe or conferre upon me in this transitory life, I will
appoint give order dispose and bequeath all and every part and parcel of
the same firmely and unalterably to stand in manner and forme following,
That is to say, Item, I give and bequeath unto my daughter Aurelia
Molins the Wedding Ring wherewith I married her mother, being aggrieved
at my very heart that by reason of my poverty I am not able to leave her
anything els. Item, I give and bequeath as a poore token of my love to
my sonne in law James Molins, a faire black velvett deske embroidered
with seede pearles and with a silver and guilt inkhorne and dust box
therin, that was Queen Anne's. Item, I give and bequeath unto the right
honourable my sigulare and even honoured good Lord William Earle of
Pembroke Lord Chamberlaine to the Kings most excellent maiestie and one
of his royal counsell of state (if at my death he shall then be living)
all my Italian, French and Spanish bookes, as well printed as unprinted,
being in number about Three hundred and fortie, namely my new and
perfect dictionary, as also my tenne dialogues in Italian and English
and my unbound volume of divers written collections and rapsodies, most
heartilie entreating his Honorable Lordshippe (as hee once promised mee)
to accept of them as a sign and token of my service and affection to his
honor and for my sake to place them in his library, either at Wilton or
else at Baynards Castle at London, humbly desiring him to give way and
favourable assistance that my dictionarie and dialogues may bee printed
and the profitt therof accrud unto my wife. Item, I doe likewise give
and bequeath unto his noble Lordship the Corinne Stone as a jewell fitt
for a Prince which Ferdinando the great Duke of Tuscanie sent as a most
precious gift (among divers others) unto Queen Anne of blessed memory;
the use and vertue wherof is written in two pieces of paper, both in
Italian and English being in a little box with the Stone, most humbly
beseeching his honour (as I right confidently hope and trust hee will in
charity doe if neede require) to take my poore and deere wife into his
protection and not suffer her to be wrongfully molested by any enemie of
myne, and also in her extremity to afforde her his helpe good worde and
assistance to my Lord Treasurer, that she may be payed my wages and the
arrearages of that which is unpayed or shall bee behind at my death. The
rest the residue and remainder of all whatsoever and singular my goods,
cattles, chattles, jewells, plate, debts, leases, money, or monie worth,
household stuffe, utensills, English bookes, moveables or immoveables,
named or not named, and things whatsoever by mee before not given
disposed or bequeathed (provided that my debts bee paid and my funerall
discharged). I wholly give, fully bequeath, absolutely leave, assigne
and unalterably consigne unto my deerly beloved wife Rose Florio, most
heartily greiving and ever sorrowing that I cannot give or leave her
more in requitall of her tender love, loving care painfull dilligence,
and continuall labour, to me and of mee in all my fortunes and many
sicknesses; then whome never had husband a more loving wife, painfull
nurce, or comfortable consorte, And I doe make institute, ordaine,
appoint and name the right Reverend Father in God, Theophilus Feild Lord
bishoppe of Landaffe and Mr. Richard Cluet Doctor of Divinity vicar and
preacher of the word of God at Fulham, both my much esteemed, dearely
beloved and truely honest good frendes, my sole and onely Executors and
overseers; And I doe give to each of them for their paines an ould
greene velvett deske with a silver inke and dust box in each of them
that were sometymes Queene Annes my Soveraigne Mistrisse, entreating
both to accept of them as a token of my hearty affection towards them,
and to excuse my poverty which disableth mee to requite the trouble,
paines, and courtesie, which I confidently beleeve they will charitably
and for Gods sake undergoe in advising directing and helping my poore
and deere wife in executing of this my last and unrevocable will and
testament, if any should be soe malicious or unnaturall as to crosse or
question the same; And I doe utterly revoke and for ever renounce,
frustrate, disanull, cancell and make void, all and whatsoever former
wills, legacies, bequests, promises, guifts, executors or overseers (if
it should happen that anie bee forged or suggested for untill this tyme,
I never writt made or finished any but this onely) And I will appoint
and ordaine that this and none but this onely written all with mine owne
hand, shall stand in full force and vigor for my last and unrevocable
will and Testament, and none other nor otherwise. As for the debts that
I owe the greatest and onelie is upon an obligatory writing of myne owne
hand which my daughter Aurelia Molins with importunity wrested from me
of about threescore pound, wheras the truth, and my conscience telleth
mee, and soe knoweth her conscience, it is but thirty-four pound or
therabouts, But let that passe, since I was soe unheedy, as to make and
acknowledge the said writing, I am willing that it bee paid and
discharged in this forme and manner, My sonne in lawe (as daughter his
wife knoweth full well) hath in his handes as a pawne, a faire gold ring
of mine, with thirteene faire table diamonds therein enchased; which
cost Queene Anne my gracious Mistrisse seaven and forty pounds starline,
and for which I might many tymes have had forty pounds readie money:
upon the said ring my sonne in the presence of his wife lent me Tenne
pound. I desire him and pray him to take the overplus of the said Ring
in parte of payment, as also a leaden Ceasterne which hee hath of myne
standing in his yard at his London-house that cost mee at a porte-sale
fortie shillings, as also a silver candle cup with a cover worth about
forty shillings which I left at his house being sicke there; desiring my
sonne and daughter that their whole debt may bee made up and they
satisfied with selling the lease of my house in Shoe lane, and soe
accquitt and discharge my poore wife who as yet knoweth nothing of his
debt. Moreover I entreat my deare wife that if at my death my servant
Artur [_blank_] shall chance to bee with mee and in my service, that for
my sake she give him such poore doubletts, breeches, hattes, and bootes
as I shall leave, and therwithall one of my ould cloakes soe it bee not
lyned with velvett. In witnesse whereof I the said John Florio to this
my last will and Testament (written every sillable with myne owne hande,
and with long and mature deliberation digested, contayning foure sheetes
of paper, the first of eight and twenty lines, the second of nine and
twenty, the third of nyne and twenty and the fourth of six lines) have
putt, sett, written and affixed my name and usual seale of my armes. The
twentyth day of July in the yeare of our Lord and Savyour Jesus Christ
1625, and in the first yeare of the raigne of our Soveraigne Lord and
King (whom God preserve) Charles the First of that name of England,
Scotland, France and Ireland King. By mee John Florio being, thankes bee
ever given to my most gracious God, in perfect sence and memory.
Proved 1 June 1626 by Rose Florio the relict, the executors named in the
Will for certain reasons renouncing execution.
NOTE
Florio was eighty years of age at his death in 1625. From significant
references by Shakespeare, in _Henry IV._, to Falstaff's age, I have
long been of the opinion that Florio was more than forty-five years
old in 1598, when the _First Part_ of this play was revised and the
_Second Part_ written; yet if the age of fifty-eight, which Florio
gives himself in the medallion round his picture in the 1611 edition
of his _Worlde of Wordes_ is to be believed, he was only forty-five
in 1598. I have now found Anthony Wood's authority for dating his
birth in 1545.
In _Registrium Universitalus Oxon._, vol. ii., by Andrew Clark, I
find: "1st May 1581, Magd. Co., John Florio, æt. 36, serviens mei
Barnes."
In a copy of Florio's first edition of his _Worlde of Wordes_ in my
library, which evidently belonged to his friend William Godolphin, as
his name is written in it, there is also written in an old hand,
under Florio's name on the title-page, "born 1545."
INDEX
_Achilles Shield_, 120
Admiral's company, the Lord, 6, 10, 12, 50, 51, 52, 53;
at Dover, 54; 56, 57, 59;
identity between 1585 and 1589, 60; 65;
under Henslowe, 73; 78, 81, 82, 84, 14
_Agamemnon_, 114
Allen, Giles, 39, 43, 45, 75
Alleyn, Edward, 6, 8, 9, 10, 14, 38, 61, 62, 65, 70;
manager of Strange's men, 77; 82, 85;
as Roscius, 98; 100, 101
Alleyn, John, 8, 62;
servant to the Lord Admiral, 63; 102
Alleyn, Richard, 105
_All's Well that Ends Well_, 163, 170, 171, 193, 194, 195, 205
_Anatomy of Absurdity_, 98, 99
Anna, Queen, 222
Antonio, 134
Arden, Mary, 21, 23
Arden, Robert, 21
Arden, the name, 21
Ardens of Parkhill, the, 21-22
Armada, the, 2, 131, 132
Armado, 18, 182, 206
Armin, Robert, 114 n.
Arundell's players, Lord, 44, 48
_Ave Cæsar_, 99
Avisa, 129
Aylmer, Bishop, 140
Bacon, Sir Francis, 185
Barnes, Barnabe, 127
Barnstaple, 9
Biron, 134
_Blacke Bookes Messenger, The_, 47 n.
Bodleian Library, 128
Brandes, Georg, 8 n.
Brayne, John, 39, 43, 75
Brown, John, 26
Brown, Ned, 47
Browne, Robert, 8, 62, 65, 102
Browning, Robert, 19
Bryan, George, 29, 55, 60, 83
Burbage, Cuthbert, 44, 45, 75
Burbage, James, 5, 9, 11, 38;
as theatrical manager, 38, 42, 43, 45, 52, 53, 58, 63, 65, 67, 70,
75, 106, 126
Burbage, Richard, 5, 8, 14, 55, 66, 70, 75, 77, 83, 126
Burbie, Cuthbert, 96 n.
Burghley, Lord, 11, 17, 73, 154, 155, 173, 174
Carey, Henry, Lord Hunsdon, 50
Castle, William, parish clerk of Stratford, 68
Cecil-Howard faction, 73
Cecil, Sir Robert, 17, 154, 175, 194, 216
Cecil, Sir William, 157
Censor, Public, 17
Chamberlain's company, the Lord, 10, 12, 13, 14, 38, 42, 52, 57, 59, 84;
leave Henslowe, 86
Chamberlain's musicians, the Lord, 54;
at Coventry, 50, 60
Chambers, E.K., 56
Chandos portrait, the, 110
Chapman, George, 15, 23, 31, 92, 93, 109, 114, 115, 119, 128, 167, 184,
185, 186
Chettle, Henry, 93, 110, 151
_Choice of Valentines, The_, 128
Chrisoganus, 120
Classical allusions, 79
Cobham, Lord, 215, 217
_Comedy of Beauty and Housewifery, A_, 49
_Comedy of Errors, The_, 8, 17, 83, 148, 152, 172
_Contention, and True Tragedie, The_, 80, 147
Cornwallis, Sir William, 221
_Coronet for my Mistress Philosophy, A_, 124, 130
Court performances, 82
Court records, 13
Coventry, 9
Coventry records, 54
Cowdray House, 37, 165, 166
Cranmer, Archbishop, 157
Crosskeys, the, 51, 53, 55, 70, 72, 73, 77, 81
Curtain Theatre, the 6, 14, 39, 44, 46, 48, 50, 51, 72, 74
_Cymbeline_, 3
Dame Pintpot, 198
Daniel, Samuel, 159, 162
Davenant, Mistress, 123, 125, 184
Davenant, Sir William, 36, 127
Davies, John, 81, 90-91
Davison, William, 178
_De Guiana Carmen Epicum_, 116
Dekker, Thomas, 93, 218
_Delphrygus_, 103, 104
Derby, Countess of, 55
Derby, Earl of, 55, 115, 179
Devereux, Dorothy, 139
_Dialogue of Dives_, 104
_Diary_, Henslowe's, 7, 8, 67, 68, 75, 77, 80, 127
Doll Tearsheet, 197
Dulwich College, 99
"Duttons, The Two," 74
_Edward I._, 78, 80, 81, 101
_Edward II._, 85, 88, 131
_Edward III._, 101, 105, 131
Edward VI., 135, 143
Elizabeth, Queen, as Cynthia, 119
_English Dramatic Companies_, 41 n., 96 n.
_Ephemeris Chrisometra_, 120
_Essaies of Montaigne_, 191, 222
Essex, Earl of, 140, 154, 175-78, 216
Essex faction, 73
_Euthymia Raptus_, 120
_Every Man out of his Humour_, 108, 220
_Faerie Queen, The_, 161
_Fair Em_, 95, 105
Falconbridge, as Sir John Perrot, 133-34
Falstaff, Sir John, 181, 182, 206, 215
_Famous Victories of Henry V._, 200, 202, 215
_Farewell to Folly_, 95, 168
Feis, Jacob, 74
Field, Theophilus, Bishop of Llandaff, 160
_First Fruites_, 92, 196
Fleay, F.G., 66, 74, 80, 95, 96, 107
Fleetwood, Recorder, as an enemy of the players, 11; 44, 46;
as Burghley's gossip, 49
Florio, John, 15;
as Falstaff's original, 18; 91, 92, 108;
as Landulpho, 122, 123; 125, 157-60, 183-91;
as Parolles, 171, 193; 201;
signs as "Resolute," 221
Fluellen, 182, 191
_Four Plays in One_, 87
Froude, James Anthony, 1, 16
Gardiner, S.R., 1, 16
Golding, Arthur, 118
Gray's Inn, 156, 172
Greene, Robert, 5, 12, 13, 14, 15, 30, 35, 69, 80, 85, 88, 92, 94;
as Roberto, 103; 106, 110, 117, 130, 151, 169
Greg, W.W., 101 n.
_Groatsworth of Wit, A_, 5, 15, 102, 110, 117, 150
Grooms of the Privy Chamber, 58
Halliwell-Phillipps, J.O., 43, 45, 50, 60
_Hall's Chronicles_, 141
Halpin, Rev. J.H., 15, 159, 161
_Hamlet_, 4, 81, 86, 105, 107, 198
Harriot, Thomas, 115, 120
Hart, Joan, 36
Hart, John, Lord Mayor of London, 72
Harvey, Gabriel, 92
Hatton, Sir Christopher, 138-39, 140
Heneage, Sir Thomas, 36;
as Lafeu, 171; 189
_Henry IV._, 80, 198
_Henry IV., Part I._, 199, 200, 202, 203, 204
_Henry IV., Part II._, 32, 197, 199, 203
_Henry V._, 80, 121
_Henry VI., Part I._, 7, 14, 77, 78, 131, 147
_Henry VI., Part III._, 7, 87, 88
Henry VIII., 134, 135
Henslowe, Philip, 6, 8, 10, 11, 38, 59, 61, 69, 70, 82
Heralds, The College of, 32, 90, 92
_Highway to Heaven, The_, 104
_Histriomastix_, 93, 108, 114, 116, 117, 118, 119, 167
Holinshed's _Chronicles_, 141
_Honour of the Garter_, 92, 113, 115, 117
Howard of Effingham's company, Lord Charles, at Ipswich, 1591, 60
Howe's _Additions to Stowe's Chronicles_, 58
"H.S.," 217-18, 219
Hunsdon, Lord, 9, 10, 43, 46, 50
Hunsdon's company, Lord, 42, 45, 48;
at Ludlow, 49; 53, 55;
disappear from records, 55
Hyde, John, 43, 45
_Hymns to the Shadow of Night_, 93, 115, 116, 118, 124, 128, 186
_Iliad_, Homer's, 197
_Intonsi Catones_, 125, 126, 219
Jacques, 134
Jacquespierre, 21
"J.F.," 217-18, 219
James I., 186, 221
Jaquenetta, 206
Jeffes, Humphrey, 87, 147
Jones, Richard, 8, 62, 65, 102
Jonson, Ben, 90, 93, 108, 109, 147, 186, 220
Keats, John, 19, 31
Kempe, William, 29, 55, 60, 83, 126
Kildare, Countess of, 166
_Kinde Heartes Dreame_, 150, 152
_King John_, 8, 17, 34, 80, 83, 131, 132, 133, 139, 146, 152, 172
_King Lear_, 3
_King of the Fairies, The_, 103, 104
Kyd, Thomas, 107, 117, 131
"Lanam and his fellowes," 51
Laneham, John, 43, 51, 58
Langley, William, 13
Leases, Elizabethan, 43
Lee, Sir Sidney, 6 n., 46 n.
Leicester's company, Earl of, 5, 9, 13;
at Stratford, 29; 43, 45; 52;
at Dover, 54;
disappear from records, 55; 55, 57, 58, 59, 66, 67, 84
Leicester, Earl of; death, 29; 49, 154, 173-75
Leicester's musicians, Earl of, 9, 54
Leicester Records, City of, 8
_Life of Jack Wilton_, 128
Lodge, Thomas, 114 n.
Loftus, Archbishop, 138
_Love's Labours Lost_, 8, 83, 116, 119, 121, 152, 166, 168, 170, 197, 206
_Love's Labour's Won_, 8, 83, 123, 162, 170, 171
_Lucrece_, 13, 82;
dedication, 128; 153
Lucy, Sir Thomas, alleged deer preserves, 32
Malvolio, 182
Manners, Roger, 156, 179
Markham, Gervase, 128
Marlowe, Christopher, 12, 30, 80, 85, 88;
as "Merlin," 95;
as "the cobbler," 101; 107, 131
Marston, John, 93, 109, 119, 185, 186
Martin Marprelate Controversy, 72
_Martin's Month's Mind_, 51
Mary, Queen, 135-36
Mary, Queen of Scots, 178
Master of the Revels' company, the, 64
_Measure for Measure_, 198
Menalcas, 161
_Menaphon_, Greene's, 67, 98, 102, 107, 118
_Merchant of Venice, The_, 121
Meres, Francis, 31, 193, 199
_Merry Wives of Windsor_, 171
_Metamorphosis of Ajax_, 51
_Midsummer Night's Dream, A_, 8, 83, 121, 152, 168
Miles, Robert, 76
Minto, Prof. William, 126
"Mirabella," 161, 162
Montague, Lady, 169-70
Montague, Viscount, 155, 169-70
_Moral of Man's Wit_, 104
Morgann, Maurice, 181, 202
Murray, John Tucker, 9 n., 41 n.
Nashe, Thomas, 7, 12, 14, 67, 69, 78, 80, 92, 94, 98, 100, 102, 104, 107,
108, 117, 128, 130, 169
_Never too Late to Mend_, 98, 109
_News Out of Purgatory_, 51
_Nichol's Progresses_, 168-69
Nightwork, Jane, 213
_Nine Worthies, The_, 195, 197
Northumberland, Earl of, 115
Nottingham's company, Lord, 127
Oldcastle, Sir John, 200, 215, 217
O'Roughan, Denis, 138
_Outlines for the Life of Shakespeare_, 45
_Ovid's Banquet of Sense_, 120, 124, 130
Ovid's _Elegies_, 118
Oxford, Earl of, 190
_Palladis Tamia_,199
Parolles, 18, 171, 206
Peckham, Edward, 75
Peele, George, 12, 31, 78, 79, 80, 81, 92, 98;
as Tully, 98, 99; 101, 113, 117, 131
Pembroke, Earl of, 136, 148
Pembroke's company, Earl of, 7, 12, 13, 14, 57, 71, 75, 76, 84, 85;
pawn their apparel, 86;
plays, 86; 107, 113
_Penelope's Web_, 106
Perrot, Sir John, 134-39;
recalled from Ireland, 138;
death of, 139
Perrot, Sir Thomas, 139
Phillip II. of Spain, 138, 139
_Pierce Penniless_, 51
Pipe Rolls, the, 56, 73
Plague, the, 85
_Planetomachia_, 106
Pope, Thomas, 29, 55, 60, 83
Privy Council, Acts of the, 56, 73
_Prodigal Child, The_, 120, 123
_Prodigal Son, The_, 123
Puritanism, 132
Queen's company, Old Plays of the, 14, 74
Queen's company, the, 6, 11, 43, 46, 48, 50, 51, 53, 55, 59, 75, 84, 131,
146, 147
Queen's progress to Cowdray and Tichfield, the, 37, 119, 165
Queen's tumblers, the, 56 n.
Quickly, Mistress, 200, 204
Raleigh, Sir Walter, 115, 154, 175, 185
_Richard II._, 8, 80, 83, 88, 131, 146
_Richard III._, 8, 80, 83
_Romeo and Juliet_, 152
"Rosalinde," 160, 161, 162
Roscius, 98, 102
Rose, Edward, 142
Rose Theatre, the, 6, 10, 11, 51, 59, 61, 69, 70, 76, 81, 146
Rowe, Nicholas, 67, 127, 215, 216
Roydon, Matthew, 15, 31, 93, 109, 114 n., 124, 125, 167, 168, 184, 200, 218
Saexberht, 20
Saunder, Nicholas, 158
Scapula, 24
Schlegel, 198
_School of Shakespeare_, 95
_Second Fruites_, 123, 164, 196, 203, 205, 206;
extracts from, 207-14
_Seven Deadly Sins, The_, 147
Shakespeare families, 19;
the name, 19
Shakespeare, Hamnet, 26
Shakespeare, John, 21, 25;
applies for grant of arms, 32
Shakespeare, Judith, 26
Shakespeare, Richard, of Snitterfield, 21
Shakespeare, William;
as Burbage servitor, 13;
brothers and sisters of, 19;
Norman origin, 19;
his mother, 22;
as _Johannes factotum_, 22;
boyhood, 24;
marriage, 26;
leaves Stratford, 28;
alleged poaching adventure, 30;
return to Stratford in 1597, 30;
grant of arms, 30;
"Shakespeare's boys," 35;
"rude groome," 35;
a bonded servitor, 67;
early training with Lord Hunsdon's and the Lord Admiral's companies, 68;
in kingly parts, 81;
co-operates with Marlowe, 88;
leader of Pembroke's company, 88;
Groom of the Privy Chamber, 91;
as an "idiot art-master," 105;
alluded to as a serving man, 108;
as Mullidor in _Never too Late_, 109;
Chandos portrait of, 110;
rejoins Chamberlain's company, 126;
indicated as "W.S.," an "old actor," 129;
distrust of Florio, 187
Shallow, Justice, 213
Shaxper, 19
Sheffield's company, Lord, 62, 63
_Shepheards Calendar, The_, 159, 160, 163
_Shepherd's Slumber, The_, 168
Sidley, Ralph, 109
Sidney, Lady, 140, 178
Sidney, Sir Robert, 216
Simpson, Richard, 74, 95, 114, 116
Sinkler, John, 87, 147
Smith, Mr. J.M., 36
Smithe, Humprey, 47
_Sonnets, The_, 17, 82
Southampton, Countess of, 171, 189
Southampton, Earl of, 13, 17, 18, 36, 74, 91;
as Mavortius, 121; 124, 126;
bounty to Shakespeare, 127; 153, 156, 164, 167, 172;
early relations with Essex, 176;
as Bertram, 189; 194, 216
Spencer, Gabriel, 86, 87;
death of, 90; 147
Spenser, Edmund, 30, 162
Spicer, Rose, 159-60
Stanhope, Sir Thomas, 155
Stanley, Sir William, 138
Star Chamber, the, 45
Stopes, Mrs. C.C., 39 n., 76
Strange, Lord, 55
Strange's company, Lord, 6, 9, 11, 12, 52, 53, 57, 59, 74, 82, 83, 95,
107, 126, 147
Strange's tumblers, Lord, 6, 55, 56, 59, 67, 84
Stratford Free Grammar School, 23
Stratford-on-Avon, 5, 25
Sussex's company, Earl of, 12, 14, 57;
disrupted, 86-87
Swan Theatre, the, 13
"Symons and his fellowes," 56
Talbot Scenes, 7, 14, 78, 80
_Taming of a Shrew, The_, 86, 102, 105, 107
Tarleton, Richard, 43, 50, 96
_Tears of Peace, The_, 116, 120, 121
_Tempest, The_, 3
"Temple Garden" Scene, the, 79
Theatre, the, 6, 9, 11, 36, 39, 44, 46, 48, 50, 51, 52, 53, 72, 75,
77, 81, 106
_Three Ladies of London, The_, 95
_Three Lords and Three Ladies, The_, 95
Tichfield House, Queen's progress to, 37, 165
Tilney, Edmund, Master of the Revels, 43, 59, 96
_Timon of Athens_, 3
_Titus Andronicus_, 12, 14, 86
_Titus and Vespasian_, 12
_Troilus and Cressida_, 114, 120, 195, 197
_Troublesome Raigne of King John, The_, 132, 140, 143, 146
_True Tragedie of the Duke of York, The_, 7, 85, 87, 88, 113, 147
_Twelfth Night_, 121
_Twelve Labours of Hercules, The_, 103
_Two Gentlemen of Verona, The_, 8, 83, 152
Tyburn "T," 90
Valdracko, 106
_Venus and Adonis_, 13, 82, 114, 118, 119, 127, 128, 151, 152, 153, 180
_Venus' Tragedy_, 106
Vere, Lady Elizabeth, 155, 179
Vernon, Elizabeth, 177, 180, 194, 198
Volumnia, a reflection of Shakespeare's mother, 23
Wallop, Sir Henry, 138
Walsingham, Sir Francis, 178
War of the Theatres, the, 15
Wars of the Roses, 79
Williams, Sir Roger, as Fluellen, 191, 192
_Willobie his Avisa_, 93, 125, 129, 184, 186, 187
Wilson, Robert, 43, 58, 95, 96, 98
_Winter's Tale, A_, 3
Wood, Anthony, 157
Woodward, Joan, 9
Worcester, Earl of, 61, 63, 64
Worcester's company, Earl of, 8, 9, 10, 61, 62;
in trouble at Ipswich and Leicester, 63
_Worlde of Wordes, A_, 15, 94, 108, 158, 185, 188, 196, 217
Wriothesley, Henry. _See_ Earl of Southampton
Wriothesley, Thomas, Earl of Southampton, 153
Yorke, Edmund, Jesuit, 180
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