Wherein euery dayes iourney is pleasantly set downe, to satisfie
his friends the truth against all lying Ballad-makers; what he did,
how hee was welcome, and by whome entertained.
* * * * *
The first daies iourney, being the first Munday in cleane Lent, from the
right honorable the Lord Mayors of London.
The first mundaye in Lent, the close morning promising a cleere day,
(attended on by Thomas Slye{3:10} my Taberer, William Bee my seruant,
and George Sprat, appointed for my ouerseer, that I should take no other
ease but my prescribed order) my selfe, thats I, otherwise called
Caualiero Kemp, head-master of Morrice-dauncers, high Head-borough of
heighs, and onely tricker of your Trill-lilles and best
bel-shangles{3:15} betweene Sion and mount Surrey,[3:1] began frolickly
to foote it from the right honorable the Lord Mayors of London towards
the right worshipfull (and truely bountifull) Master Mayors of Norwich.
My setting forward was somewhat before seauen in the morning; my Taberer
stroke up merrily; and as fast as kinde peoples thronging together would
giue mee leaue, thorow London I leapt. By the way many good olde people,
and diuers others of yonger yeers, of meere kindnes gaue me bowd
sixepences and grotes, blessing me with their harty prayers and
God-speedes.
Being past White-chappell, and hauing left faire London with all that
North-east Suburb before named, multitudes of Londoners left not me: but
eyther to keepe a custome which many holde, that Mile-end is no walke
without a recreation at Stratford Bow with Creame and Cakes, or else
for loue they beare toward me, or perhappes to make themselues merry if
I should chance (as many thought) to giue over my Morrice within a Mile
of Mile-end; how euer, many a thousand brought me to Bow; where I rested
a while from dancing, but had small rest with those that would haue
vrg'd me to drinking. But, I warrant you, Will Kemp was wise enough: to
their ful cups, kinde thanks was my returne, with Gentlemanlike
protestations, as "Truely, sir, I dare not," "It stands not with the
congruity of my health." Congruitie, said I? how came that strange
language in my mouth? I thinke scarcely that it is any Christen worde,
and yet it may be a good worde for ought I knowe, though I neuer made
it, nor doe verye well understand it; yet I am sure I have bought it at
the word-mongers at as deare a rate as I could haue had a whole 100 of
Bauines{4:18} at the wood-mongers. Farwell, Congruitie, for I meane now
to be more concise, and stand upon eeuener bases; but I must neither
stand nor sit, the Tabrer strikes alarum. Tickle it, good Tom, Ile
follow thee. Farwell, Bowe; haue ouer the bridge, where I heard say
honest Conscience was once drownd: its pittye if it were so; but thats
no matter belonging to our Morrice, lets now along to Stratford Langton.
Many good fellows being there met, and knowing how well I loued the
sporte, had prepared a Beare-bayting; but so unreasonable were the
multitudes of people, that I could only heare the Beare roare and the
dogges howle; therefore forward I went with my hey-de-gaies{4:30} to
Ilford, where I againe rested, and was by the people of the towne and
countrey there-about very very wel welcomed, being offred carowses in
the great spoon,[4:1] one whole draught being able at that time to haue
drawne my little wit drye; but being afrayde of the olde Prouerbe (He
had need of a long spoone that eates with the deuill), I soberly gaue my
boone Companyons the slip.
From Ilford, by Moone-shine, I set forward, dauncing within a quarter of
a myle of Romford; where, in the highway, two strong Iades (hauing
belike some great quarrell to me vnknowne) were beating and byting
either of other; and such through Gods help was my good hap, that I
escaped their hoofes, both being raysed with their fore feete ouer my
head, like two Smithes ouer an Anuyle.
There being the end of my first dayes Morrice, a kinde Gentleman of
London lighting from his horse, would haue no nay but I should leap into
his saddle. To be plaine with ye, I was not proud, but kindly tooke his
kindlyer offer, chiefely thereto vrg'd by my wearines; so I rid to my
Inne at Romford.
In that towne, to giue rest to my well-labour'd limbes, I continued two
dayes, being much beholding to the townsmen for their loue, but more to
the Londoners that came hourely thither in great numbers to visite me,
offring much more kindnes then I was willing to accept.
The second dayes iourney, beeing Thursday of the first weeke.
Thursday being Market day at Burnt-wood, Tom Slye was earlyer up then
the Lark, and sounded merrily the Morrice: I rowsed my selfe, and
returned from Romford to the place wher I tooke horse the first night,
dauncing that quarter of a myle backe againe thorow Romford, and so
merily to Burnt-wood. Yet, now I remember it well, I had no great cause
of mirth, for at Romford townes end I strained my hip, and for a time
indured exceeding paine; but being loath to trouble a Surgeon, I held
on, finding remedy by labour that had hurt mee, for it came in a turne,
and so in my daunce I turned it out of my seruice againe.
The multitudes were so great at my comming to Burntwood, that I had much
a doe (though I made many intreaties and staies) to get passage to my
Inne.
In this towne two Cut-purses were taken, that with other two of their
companions followed mee from London (as many better disposed persons
did): but these two dy-doppers{6:9} gaue out when they were apprehended,
that they had laid wagers and betted about my iourney; wherupon the
Officers bringing them to my Inne, I iustly denyed their acquaintance,
sauing that I remembred one of them to be a noted Cut-purse, such a one
as we tye to a poast on our stage, for all people to wonder at, when at
a play they are taken pilfring{6:13}.
This fellow, and his half-brother, being found with the deed, were sent
to Iayle: their other two consorts had the charity of the towne, and
after a dance of Trenchmore{6:18} at the whipping crosse, they were sent
backe to London, where I am afraide there are too many of their
occupation. To bee short, I thought myselfe well rid of foure such
followers, and I wish hartily that the whole world were cleer of such
companions{6:22}.
Hauing rested well at Burntwood, the Moone shining clearely, and the
weather being calme, in the euening I tript it to Ingerstone, stealing
away from those numbers of people that followed mee; yet doe I what I
could, I had aboue fiftie in the company, some of London, the other of
the Country thereabout, that would needs, when they heard my Taber,
trudge after me through thicke and thin.
The third dayes iourney, being Friday of the first weeke.
On Friday morning I set forward towardes Chelmsford, not hauing past two
hundred, being the least company that I had in the day-time betweene
London and that place. Onward I went, thus easily followed, till I come
to Witford-bridge, where a number of country people, and many Gentlemen
and Gentlewomen were gathered together to see mee. Sir Thomas Mildmay,
standing at his Parke pale{7:7}, receiued gently a payre of garters of
me; gloues, points{7:9}, and garters, being my ordinary marchandize,
that I put out to venter for performance of my merry voyage{7:9}.
So much a doe I had to passe by the people at Chelmsford, that it was
more than an houre ere I could recouer my Inne gate, where I was faine
to locke my selfe in my Chamber, and pacifie them with wordes out of a
window insteed of deeds: to deale plainely, I was so weary, that I could
dance no more.
The next morning I footed it three myle of my way toward Braintree, but
returned backe againe to Chelmsford, where I lay that Satterday and the
next Sunday. The good cheere and kinde welcome I had at Chelmsford was
much more than I was willing to entertaine; for my onely desire was to
refraine drinke and be temperate in my dyet.
At Chelmsford, a Mayde not passing foureteene yeares of age, dwelling
with one Sudley, my kinde friend, made request to her Master and Dame
that she might daunce the Morrice with me in a great large roome. They
being intreated, I was soone wonne to fit her with bels{7:26}; besides
she would haue the olde fashion, with napking on her armes{7:26}; and to
our iumps we fell. A whole houre she held out; but then being ready to
lye downe I left her off; but thus much in her praise, I would haue
challenged the strongest man in Chelmsford, and amongst many I thinke
few would haue done so much.
The fourth dayes iourney, beeing Munday of the second weeke.
On Munday morning, very early, I rid the 3 myles that I daunst the
satterday before; where alighting, my Taberer strucke up, and lightly I
tript forward; but I had the heauiest way that euer mad Morrice-dancer
trod; yet,
With hey and ho, through thicke and thin,
The hobby horse quite forgotten{8:8},
I follow'd, as I did begin,
Although the way were rotten.
This foule way I could finde no ease in, thicke woods being on eyther
side the lane; the lane likewise being full of deep holes, sometimes I
skipt vp to the waste; but it is an old Prouerb, that it is a little
comfort to the miserable to haue companions, and amidst this miry way I
had some mirth by an vnlookt for accident.
It was the custome of honest Country fellows, my vnknowne friends, upon
hearing of my Pype (which might well be heard in a still morning or
euening a myle), to get vp and beare mee company a little way. In this
foule way two pretty plaine youthes watcht me, and with their kindnes
somewhat hindred me. One, a fine light fellow, would be still before me,
the other euer at my heeles. At length, comming to a broad plash{8:23}
of water and mud, which could not be auoyded, I fetcht a rise, yet fell
in ouer the anckles at the further end. My youth that follow'd me tooke
his iump, and stuck fast in the midst, crying out to his companion,
"Come, George, call yee this dauncing? Ile goe no further," for, indeede
hee could goe no further, till his fellow was faine to wade and help him
out. I could not chuse but lough to see howe like two frogges they
laboured: a hartye farwell I gaue them, and they faintly bad God speed
me, saying if I daunst that durtie way this seauen yeares againe, they
would neuer daunce after me.
Well, with much a doo I got unto Braintree by noone, tarried there
Munday night and the next day; onely I daunst three miles on Tewsday, to
ease my Wednesdaies iourney.
If I should deny that I was welcome at Braintree, I should slander an
honest crew of kind men, among whome I far'd well, slept well, and was
euery way well usde.
The fift dayes iourney, being Wednesday of the second weeke.
Taking aduantage of my 3 miles that I had daunst y^e day before, this
wednesday morning I tript it to Sudbury; whether came to see a very
kinde Gentleman, Master Foskew, that had before trauailed a foote from
London to Barwick, who, giuing me good counsaile to obserue temperate
dyet for my health, and other aduise to bee carefull of my company,
besides his liberall entertainment, departed, leauing me much indebted
to his loue.
In this towne of Sudbury there came a lusty, tall fellow, a butcher by
his profession, that would in a Morrice keepe mee company to Bury: I
being glad of his friendly offer, gaue him thankes, and forward wee did
set; but ere euer wee had measur'd halfe a mile of our way, he gaue me
ouer in the plain field, protesting, that if he might get a 100 pound,
he would not hold out with me; for indeed my pace in dauncing is not
ordinary.
As he and I were parting, a lusty Country lasse being among the people,
cal'd him faint hearted lout, saying, "If I had begun to daunce, I would
haue held out one myle though it had cost my life." At which wordes many
laughed. "Nay," saith she, "if the Dauncer will lend me a leash of his
belles, Ile venter to treade one mile with him my selfe." I lookt vpon
her, saw mirth in her eies, heard boldnes in her words, and beheld her
ready to tucke vp her russet petticoate; I fitted her with bels, which
[s]he merrily taking, garnisht her thicke short legs, and with a smooth
brow bad the Tabrer begin. The Drum strucke; forward marcht I with my
merry Maydemarian, who shooke her fat sides, and footed it merrily to
Melfoord, being a long myle. There parting with her, I gaue her (besides
her skinfull of drinke) an English crowne to buy more drinke; for, good
wench, she was in a pittious heate: my kindnes she requited with
dropping some dozen of short courtsies, and bidding God blesse the
Dauncer. I bad her adieu; and to giue her her due, she had a good eare,
daunst truely, and wee parted friendly. But ere I part with her, a good
fellow, my friend, hauin writ an odde Rime of her, I will make bolde to
set it downe.
A Country Lasse, browne as a berry,
Blith of blee{10:15}, in heart as merry,
Cheekes well fed, and sides well larded,
Euery bone with fat flesh guarded,
Meeting merry Kemp by chaunce,
Was Marrian in his Morrice daunce.
Her stump legs with bels were garnisht,
Her browne browes with sweating varnish[t];
Her browne hips, when she was lag
To win her ground, went swig a swag;
Which to see all that came after
Were repleate with mirthfull laughter.
Yet she thumpt it on her way
With a sportly hey de gay{10:27}:
At a mile her daunce she ended,
Kindly paide and well commended.
At Melford diuers Gentlemen met mee, who brought me to one Master
Colts, a very kinde and worshipfull Gentleman, where I had vnexpected
entertainment till the Satterday. From whose house, hauing hope somewhat
to amend my way to Bury, I determined to goe by Clare, but I found it to
be both farther and fouler.
The sixt dayes iourney, being Satterday of the second weeke.
From Wednesday night til Satterday hauing bin very troublesome but much
more welcome to master Colts, in the morning I tooke my leaue, and was
accompanied with many Gentlemen a myle of my way. Which myle master
Colts his foole would needs daunce with me, and had his desire, where
leauing me, two fooles parted faire in a foule way; I keeping on my
course to Clare, where I a while rested, and then cheerefully set
forward to Bury.
Passing from Clare towards Bury, I was inuited to the house of a very
bountifull widdow, whose husband during his life was a Yeoman of that
Countrie; dying rich no doubt, as might well appeare, by the riches and
plentie that abounded in euery corner of the house. She is called the
widdow Eueret.
At her house were met aboue thirty Gentlemen. Such, and so plentifull
variety of good fare I haue very sildome seene in any Commoners house.
Her behauiour being very modest and freendly, argued her bringing vp not
to be rude. She was a woman of good presence, and, if a foole may iudge,
of no smal discretion.
From this widdowes I daunst to Bury, comming in on the Satterday in the
afternoone, at what time the right Honorable the Lord Chiefe
Justice{11:25} entred at an other gate of the towne. The wondring and
regardles multitude making his honor cleere way, left the streetes where
he past to gape at me; the throng of them being so great that poore Will
Kemp was seauen times stayed ere hee could recouer his Inne. By reason
of the great snow that then fell, I stayd at Bury from Satterday in the
second week of my setting foorth til Thursday night the next weeke
following.
The seauenth dayes iourney, being Friday of the third weeke.
Vpon Fryday morning I set on towardes Thetford, dauncing that tenne mile
in three houres; for I left Bury somewhat after seauen in the morning,
and was at Thetford somewhat after ten that same forenoone. But, indeed,
considering how I had been booted the other iourneys before, and that
all this way, or the most of it, was ouer a heath, it was no great
wonder; for I far'd like one that had escaped the stockes, and tride the
vse of his legs to out-run the Constable: so light was my heeles, that I
counted the ten mile no better than a leape.
At my entrance into Thetford the people came in great numbers to see
mee; for there were many there, being Size time. The noble Gentleman,
Sir Edwin Rich{12:13}, gaue me entertainment in such bountifull and
liberal sort, during my continuance there Satterday and Sunday, that I
want fitte words to expresse the least part of his worthy vsage of my
vnworthines; and to conclude liberally as hee had begun and continued,
at my departure on Munday his worship gaue me fiue pound.
The eyght dayes iourney, being Munday of the fourth weeke.
On Munday morning I daunst to Rockland ere I rested, and comming to my
Inne, where the Hoast was a very boone companion, I desired to see him;
but in no case he would be spoken with till he had shifted himselfe from
his working dayes sute. Being armed at all poyntes, from the cap to the
codpeece, his blacke shooes shining and made straght with copper buckles
of the best, his garters in the fashion, and euery garment fitting
Corremsquandam (to use his owne word), hee enters the Hall, with his
bonnet in his hand, began to crye out:
"O Kemp, deere Master Kemp! you are euen as welcome as--as--as--," and
so stammering he began to study for a fit comparison, and, I thanke him,
at last he fitted me; for saith he, "thou art euen as welcome as the
Queenes best grey-hound." After this dogged yet well-meaning salutation,
the Carrowses were called in; and my friendly Hoast of Rockland began
withall this, blessing{13:5} the houre vppon his knees, that any of the
Queenes Maiesties well-willers or friends would vouchsafe to come within
his house; as if neuer any such had been within his doores before.
I tooke his good meaning, and gaue him great thankes for his kindenesse;
and hauing rested mee well, began to take my course for Hingham, whether
my honest Hoast of Rockland would needs be my guide: but, good true
fat-belly, he had not followed mee two fieldes, but he lyes all along,
and cryes after me to come backe and speake with him. I fulfild his
request: and comming to him, "Dauncer," quoth hee, "if thou daunce a
Gods name, God speede thee! I cannot follow thee a foote farther; but
adieu, good dauncer; God speed thee, if thou daunce a Gods name!"
I, hauing haste of my way, and he being able to keep no way, there wee
parted. Farewell he: he was a kinde good fellow, a true Troyan; and if
euer be my lucke to meete him at more leasure, Ile make him full amendes
with a Cup full of Canarie. But nowe I am a little better aduis'd, wee
must not thus let my madde Hoast passe; for my friend, late mentioned
before, that made the odde rime on my Maide-marian, would needes
remember my Hoast. Such as it is, He bluntly set downe.
He was a man{13:26} not ouer spare;
In his eyebals dwelt no care.
"Anon, anon," and "Welcome{13:28}, friend,"
Were the most words he vsde to spend,
Saue sometime he would sit and tell
What wonders once in Bullayne fell{13:31},
Closing each Period of his tale
With a full cup of Nut-browne Ale.
Turwin and Turneys siedge were hot{14:1},
Yet all my Hoast remembers not:
Kets field{14:3} and Muscleborough{14:3} fray
Were battles fought but yesterday.
"O, 'twas a goodly matter then
To see your sword and buckler men!
They would lye heere, and here and there,
But I would meete them euery where:
And now a man is but a pricke;
A boy, arm'd with a poating sticke{14:10},
Will dare to challenge Cutting Dicke{14:11}.
O 'tis a world{14:12} the world to see!
But twill not mend for thee nor mee."
By this some guest cryes "Ho, the house!"
A fresh friend hath a fresh carouse:
Still he will drinke, and still be dry,
And quaffe with euery company.
Saint Martin send him merry mates,
To enter at his hostree gates!
For a blither lad than he
Cannot an Inkeeper be.
Well, once againe farewell mine Hoast at Rockland. After all these
farewels, I am sure to Hingham I found a foule way, as before I had done
from Thetford to Rockland.
Yet, besides the deep way, I was much hindred by the desire people had
to see me. For euen as our Shop-keepers will hayle and pull a man with
"Lack ye? what do you lack, Gentlemen?"{14:27} "My ware is best," cryes
one, "Mine best in England," sayes an other, "Heere shall you haue
choyse," saith the third; so was the dyuers voyces of the young men and
Maydens, which I should meete at euerie myles ende, thronging by
twentie, and sometime fortie, yea, hundreths in a companie; one crying
"The fayrest way was thorow their Village," another, "This is the
nearest and fayrest way, when you haue past but a myle and a halfe;" an
other sort{15:2} crie "Turne on the left hand," some "On the right
hand;" that I was so amazed I knewe not sometime which way I might best
take; but haphazard, the people still accompanying me, wherewith I was
much comforted, though the wayes were badde; but as I said before at
last I ouertooke it.
The ninth dayes iourney, being Wednesday of the second weeke.
The next morning I left Hingham, not staying till I came to
Barford-bridge, fiue young men running all the way with me, for
otherwise my pace was not for footemen.
From Barford bridge I daunst to Norwich; but comming within sight of the
Citty, perceiuing so great a multitude and throng of people still
crowding more and more about me, mistrusting it would be a let{15:15} to
my determined expedition and pleasurable humour, which I long before
conceiued to delight this Citty with (so far as my best skill and
industry of my long trauelled sinewes could affoord them), I was
aduised, and so tooke ease by that aduise, to stay my Morrice a little
aboue Saint Giles his gate, where I tooke my gelding, and so rid into
the Citty, procrastinating my merry Morrice daunce through the Citty
till better opportunitie.
Being come into the Citty, Master Roger Wiler the Maior{15:23}, and
sundry other of his worshipfull Brethren, sent for me; who perceiuing
howe I intended not to daunce into the Cittye that nyght, and being well
satisfied with the reasons, they allotted me time enough not to daunce
in till Satterday after; to the end that diuers knights and Gentlemen,
together with their wiues and children (who had beene many dayes before
deceyued with expectation of my comming), might nowe haue sufficient
warning accordingly by satterday following.
In the meane space, and during my still continuaunce in the Cittye
afterwardes, they not onely very courteously offered to beare mine owne
charges and my followers, but very bountifully performed it at the
common charges: the Mayor and many of the Aldermen often times besides
inuited vs priuately to theyr seuerall houses.
To make a short end of this tedious description of my entertainment;
Satterday no sooner came but I returned without the Citty through Saint
Giles his gate, and beganne my Morrice where I left at that gate, but I
entred in at Saint Stephens gate, where one Thomas Gilbert in name of
all the rest of the Cittizens gaue me a friendly and exceeding kind
welcome; which I haue no reason to omit, vnlesse I would condemne my
selfe of ingratitude, partlye for the priuate affection of the writer
towardes me, as also for the generall loue and fauour I found in them
from the highest to the lowest, the richest as the poorest. It followes
in these few lynes.
Master Kemp his welcome to Norwich.
W With hart, and hand, among the rest,
E Especially you welcome are:
L Long looked for as welcome guest,
C Come now at last you be from farre.
O Of most within the Citty, sure,
M Many good wishes you haue had;
E Each one did pray you might indure,
W With courage good the match you made.
I Intend they did with gladsome hearts,
L Like your well willers, you to meete:
K Know you also they'l doe their parts,
E Eyther in field or house to greete
M More you then any with you came,
P Procur'd thereto with trump and fame.
your well-willer,
T. G.
Passing the gate, Wifflers{17:1} (such Officers as were appointed by
the Mayor) to make me way through the throng of the people which prest
so mightily vpon me, with great labour I got thorow that narrow
preaze{17:4} into the open market place; where on the crosse, ready
prepared, stood the Citty Waytes, which not a little refreshed my
wearines with toyling thorow so narrow a lane as the people left me:
such Waytes (under Benedicite be it spoken) fewe Citties in our Realme
haue the like, none better; who, besides their excellency in wind
instruments, their rare cunning on the Vyoll and Violin, theyr voices be
admirable, euerie one of them able to serue in any Cathedrall Church
in Christendoome for Quiristers.
Passing by the Market place, the presse still increasing by the number
of boyes, girles, men and women, thronging more and more before me to
see the end; it was the mischaunce of a homely maide, that, belike, was
but newly crept into the fashion of long wasted peticotes tyde with
points{17:17}, and had, as it seemed, but one point tyed before, and
comming vnluckily in my way, as I was fetching a leape, it fell out that
I set my foote on her skirts: the point eyther breaking or stretching,
off fell her peticoate from her waste, but as chance was, thogh hir
smock were course, it was cleanely; yet the poore wench was so ashamed,
the rather for that she could hardly recouer her coate againe from
vnruly boies, that looking before like one that had the greene
sicknesse, now had she her cheekes all coloured with scarlet. I was
sorry for her, but on I went towards the Maiors, and deceiued the people
by leaping ouer the church-yard wall at S. Johns, getting so into M.
Mayors gates a neerer way; but at last I found it the further way about,
being forced on the Tewsday following to renew my former daunce, because
George Sprat, my ouer-seer, hauing lost me in the throng, would not be
deposed that I had daunst it, since he saw me not; and I must confesse I
did not wel, for the Cittizens had caused all the turne-pikes to be
taken vp on Satterday that I might not bee hindred. But now I returne
againe to my Jump, the measure of which is to be seene in the Guild-hall
at Norwich,{18:2} where my buskins, that I then wore and daunst in from
London thither, stand equally deuided, nailde on the wall. The plenty of
good cheere at the Mayors, his bounty and kinde vsage, together with the
general welcomes of his worshipful brethren, and many other knights,
Ladies, Gentlemen and Gentlewomen, so much exceeded my expectation, as I
adiudg'd my selfe most bound to them all. The Maior gaue me fiue pound
in Elizabeth angels{18:10}; which Maior (faire Madame, to whom I too
presumptuously dedicate my idle paces) is a man{18:11} worthy of a
singuler and impartiall admiration, if our criticke humorous mindes
could as prodigally conceiue as he deserues, for his chast life,
liberality, and temperance in possessing worldly benefits. He liues
vnmarried, and childlesse; neuer purrchased house nor land, the house he
dwels in this yeere being but hyred: he liues vpon marchandies, being a
Marchant venturer. If our marchants and gentlemen wold take example by
this man, Gentlemen would not sell their lands to become banckrout
Marchants, nor Marchants liue in the possessions of youth-beguiled
gentlemen, who cast themselues out of their parents heritages for a few
out-cast commodities{18:22}. But, wit, whither wilt thou?{18:22} What
hath Morrice tripping Will to do with that? it keeps not time w^t his
dance; therefore roome, you morral precepts, giue my legs leaue to end
my Morrice, or, that being ended, my hands leaue to perfect this
worthlesse poore tottered{18:26} volume.
Pardon me, Madame, that I am thus tedious; I cannot chuse but commend
sacred liberality, which makes poore wretches partakers of all
comfortable benefits: besides the loue and fauour already repeated, M.
Weild the mayor{18:30} gaue me 40.s. yeerely during my life, making me a
free man of the marchant venterers. This is the substance of al my
iourney; therefore let no man beleeue, how euer before by lying ballets
and rumors they haue bin abused, y^t either waies were laid open for me,
or that I deliuered gifts to her Maiesty. Its good being merry, my
masters, but in a meane, and al my mirths, (meane though they be) haue
bin and euer shal be imploi'd to the delight of my royal Mistris; whose
sacred name ought not to be remembred among such ribald rimes as these
late thin-breecht lying Balletsingers haue proclaimed it.
It resteth now that in a word I shew what profit I haue made by my
Morrice. True it is I put out some money to haue threefold gaine at my
returne{19:8}: some that loue me, regard my paines, and respect their
promise, haue sent home the treble worth; some other at the first sight
haue paide me, if I came to seek them; others I cannot see, nor wil
they willingly be found, and these are the greater number. If they had
al usd me wel, or al ill, I would haue boldly set downe the true sum of
my smal gain or losse; but I wil haue patience, some few daies longer:
at y^e end of which time, if any be behinde, I wil draw a cattalogue of
al their names I ventur'd with; those y^t haue shewne themselues
honest men, I wil set before them this Caracter, H. for honesty; before
the other Bench-whistlers{19:19} shal stand K. for ketlers and
keistrels{19:19}, that wil driue a good companion without need in them
to contend for his owne; but I hope I shall haue no such neede. If I
haue, your Honourable protection shall thus far defend your poore
seruant, that he may, being a plain man, call a spade a spade. Thus
fearing your Ladyship is wearier with reading this toy then I was in all
my merry trauaile, I craue pardon; and conclude this first Pamphlet that
euer Will Kemp offred to the Presse, being thereunto prest on the one
side by the pittifull papers, pasted on euery poast, of that which was
neither so nor so, and on the other side vrg'd thereto in duety to
expresse with thankefulnes the kind entertainment I found.
Your honors poore seruant,
W. K.
Kemps humble request to the impudent generation of Ballad-makers
and their coherents; that it would please their rascalities to
pitty his paines in the great iourney he pretends{20:3}, and not
fill the country with lyes of his neuer done actes, as they did in
his late Morrice to Norwich.
To the tune of Thomas Delonies Epitaph.
My notable Shakerags, the effect of my sute is discouered in the Title
of my supplication; but for your better vnderstandings, for that I know
you to be a sort{20:9} of witles beetle-heads that can understand
nothing but what is knockt into your scalpes, These are by these
presentes to certifie vnto your block-headships, that I, William Kemp,
whom you had neer hand rent in sunder with your vnreasonable rimes, am
shortly, God willing, to set forward as merily as I may; whether I my
selfe know not. Wherefore, by the way, I would wish ye, imploy not your
little wits in certifying the world that I am gone to Rome, Jerusalem,
Venice, or any other place at your idle appoint. I knowe the best of ye,
by the lyes ye writ of me, got not the price of a good hat to couer your
brainles heads: if any of ye had come to me, my bounty should haue
exceeded the best of your good masters the Ballad-buiers, I wold haue
apparrelled your dry pates in party coloured bonnets, and bestowd a
leash of my cast belles to haue crown'd ye with cox-combs. I haue made a
priuie search what priuate Jigmonger{20:24} of your jolly number hath
been the Author of these abhominable ballets written of me. I was told
it was the great ballet-maker T. D., alias Tho. Deloney, Chronicler of
the memorable liues of the 6. yeomen of the west, Jack of Newbery, the
Gentle-craft{20:26}, and such like honest men, omitted by Stow,
Hollinshead, Grafton, Hal, froysart, and the rest of those wel
deseruing writers; but I was giuen since to vnderstand your late
generall Tho. dyed poorely, as ye all must do, and was honestly buried,
which is much to bee doubted of some of you. The quest of inquiry
finding him by death acquited of the Inditement, I was let to wit y^t
another Lord of litle wit, one whose imployment for the Pageant was
vtterly spent, he being knowne to be Eldertons immediate heyre{21:7},
was vehemently suspected; but after due inquisition was made, he was at
that time knowne to liue like a man in a mist, hauing quite giuen ouer
the mistery{21:11}. Still the search continuing, I met a proper vpright
youth, onely for a little stooping in the shoulders, all hart to the
heele, a penny Poet, whose first making{21:14} was the miserable stolne
story of Macdoel, or Macdobeth{21:15}, or Macsomewhat, for I am sure a
Mac it was, though I neuer had the maw to see it; and hee tolde me there
was a fat filthy ballet-maker, that should haue once been his Journeyman
to the trade, who liu'd about the towne, and ten to one but he had thus
terribly abused me and my Taberer, for that he was able to do such a
thing in print. A shrewd presumption! I found him about the
bankside{21:21}, sitting at a play; I desired to speake with him, had
him to a Tauerne, charg'd a pipe with Tobacco, and then laid this
terrible accusation to his charge. He swels presently, like one of the
foure windes; the violence of his breath blew the Tobacco out of the
pipe, and the heate of his wrath drunke dry two bowlefuls of Rhenish
wine. At length hauing power to speake, "Name my accuser," saith he, "or
I defye thee, Kemp, at the quart staffe." I told him; and all his anger
turned to laughter, swearing it did him good to haue ill words of a
hoddy doddy{21:29}, a habber de hoy{21:30}, a chicken, a squib, a
squall{21:30}, one that hath not wit enough to make a ballet, that, by
Pol and Aedipol, would Pol his father, Derick{21:32} his dad, doe anie
thing, how ill so euer, to please his apish humor. I hardly beleeued
this youth that I tooke to be gracious had bin so graceles; but I heard
afterwards his mother in law was eye and eare witnes of his fathers
abuse by this blessed childe on a publique stage, in a merry Hoast of an
Innes part. Yet all this while could not I finde out the true
ballet-maker, till by chaunce a friend of mine puld out of his pocket a
booke in Latine, called Mundus Furiosus{22:6}, printed at Cullen,
written by one of the vildest and arrantest lying Cullians{22:7} that
euer writ booke, his name Jansonius, who, taking vpon him to write an
abstract of all the turbulent actions that had beene lately attempted or
performed in Christendome, like an vnchristian wretch, writes onely by
report, partially, and scoffingly of such whose pages shooes hee was
vnworthy to wipe, for indeed he is now dead: farewell he! euery dog must
haue a day. But see the luck on't: this beggerly lying busie-bodies name
brought out the Ballad-maker{22:13}, and, it was generally confirmd, it
was his kinsman: he confesses himselfe guilty, let any man looke on his
face; if there be not so redde a colour that all the sope in the towne
will not washe white, let me be turned to a Whiting as I passe betweene
Douer and Callis. Well, God forgiue thee, honest fellow, I see thou hast
grace in thee; I prethee do so no more, leaue writing these beastly
ballets, make not good wenches Prophetesses, for litle or no profit, nor
for a sixe-penny matter reuiue not a poore fellowes fault thats hanged
for his offence; it may be thy owne destiny one day; prethee be good to
them. Call vp thy olde Melpomene, whose straubery quill may write the
bloody lines of the blew Lady, and the Prince of the burning crowne; a
better subiect, I can tell ye, than your Knight of the Red Crosse. So,
farewel, and crosse me no more, I prethee, with thy rabble of bald
rimes, least at my returne I set a crosse on thy forehead that all men
may know thee for a foole.