=4. 1. 1 referring to Commissioners.= In the lists of
patents we frequently read of commissions specially appointed
for examination of the patent under consideration. The King’s
seal was of course necessary to render the grant valid.
=4. 1. 5 S^r. Iohn Monie-man.= See Introduction, p. lxxiii.
=4. 1. 37 I will haue all piec’d.= Cf. _Mag. La._,
_Wks._ 6. 50:
_Item._ I heard they were out.
_Nee._ But they are pieced, and put together again.
=4. 1. 38 ill solder’d!= Cf. _The Forest_, 12,
_Epistle to Elizabeth_, etc.; ‘Solders cracked friendship.’
=4. 2. 11 Haue with ’hem.= ‘An idea borrowed from the gaming
table, being the opposite of “have at them.”’--C.
=4. 2. 11 the great Carroch.= See note 1. 6. 214.
=4. 2. 12 with my Ambler, bare.= See note 4. 4. 202.
=4. 2. 22 I not loue this.= See note 1. 6. 14.
=4. 2. 26 Tooth-picks.= This was an object of satire to the
dramatists of the period. Nares says that they ‘appear to have been
first brought into use in Italy; whence the travellers who had
visited that country, particularly wished to exhibit that symbol
of gentility.’ It is referred to as the mark of a traveller by
Shakespeare, _King John_, 1. 1 (cited by Gifford):
--Now your traveller,
He, and his tooth-pick, at my worship’s mess.
Overbury (_Character_ of _An Affected Traveller_, ed. Morley, p. 35)
speaks of the _pick-tooth_ as ‘a main part of his behavior.’
It was also a sign of foppery. Overbury (p. 31) describes the
courtier as wearing ‘a pick-tooth in his hat,’ and Massinger, _Grand
Duke of Florence_, Act 3 (quoted by Nares), mentions ‘my case of
tooth-picks, and my silver fork’ among the articles ‘requisite to the
making up of a signior.’ John Earle makes a similar reference in his
_Character_ of _An Idle Gallant_ (ed. Morley, p. 179), and Furnivall
(Stubbes’ _Anatomy_, p. 77) quotes from _Laugh and lie downe_: or
_The worldes Folly_, London, 1605, 4to: ‘The next was a nimble-witted
and glib-tongu’d fellow, who, having in his youth spent his wits in
the Arte of love, was now become the jest of wit.... The picktooth in
the mouth, the flower in the eare, the brush upon the beard; ... and
what not that was unneedefull,’ etc.
It is a frequent subject of satire in Jonson. Cf. _Ev. Man out_, _Wks._
2. 124; _Cyn. Rev._, _Wks._ 2. 218, 248; _Fox_, _Wks._ 3. 266. See also
Dekker, _Wks._ 3. 280.
=4. 2. 63 What vile Fucus is this.= The abuse of face-painting is
a favorite subject of satire with the moralists and dramatists of
the period. Stubbes (_Anatomy of Abuses_, Part 1, pp. 64-8) devotes
a long section to the subject. Dr. Furnivall in the notes to this
passage, pp. 271-3, should also be consulted. Brome satirizes it in
the _City Wit_, _Wks._ 2. 300. Lady Politick Would-be in the _Fox_
is of course addicted to the habit, and a good deal is said on the
subject in _Epicoene_. Dekker (_West-ward Hoe_, _Wks._ 2. 285) has
a passage quite similar in spirit to Jonson’s satire.
=4. 2. 71 the very Infanta of the Giants!= Cf. Massinger and Field,
_Fatal Dowry_ 4. 1: ‘O that I were the infanta queen of Europe!’
Pecunia in the _Staple of News_ is called the ‘Infanta of the
mines.’ Spanish terms were fashionable at this time. Cf. the use of
_Grandees_, 1. 3. It is possible that the reference here is to the
Infanta Maria. See Introduction, p. xviii.
=4. 3. 5, 6 It is the manner of Spaine, to imbrace onely, Neuer to
kisse.= Cf. Minsheu’s _Pleasant and Delightfull Dialogues,_ pp. 51-2:
‘_W._ I hold that the greatest cause of dissolutenesse in some women
in England is this custome of kissing publikely.... _G._ In Spaine
doe not men vse to kisse women? _I._ Yes the husbands kisse their
wiues, but as if it were behinde seuen walls, where the very light
cannot see them.’
=4. 3. 33 f. Decayes the fore-teeth, that should guard the tongue;=
etc. Cf. _Timber_, ed. Schelling, 13. 24: ‘It was excellently said of
that philosopher, that there was a wall or parapet of teeth set in
our mouth, to restrain the petulancy of our words; that the rashness
of talking should not only be retarded by the guard and watch of our
heart, but be fenced in and defended by certain strengths placed in
the mouth itself, and within the lips.’
Professor Schelling quotes Plutarch, _Moralia, de Garrulitate_ 3,
translated by Goodwin: ‘And yet there is no member of human bodies
that nature has so strongly enclosed within a double fortification
as the tongue, entrenched within a barricade of sharp teeth, to the
end that, if it refuses to obey and keep silent when reason “presses
the glittering reins” within, we should fix our teeth in it till the
blood comes rather than suffer inordinate and unseasonable din’ (4.
223).
=4. 3. 39 Mad-dames.= See variants. The editors have taken out of
the jest whatever salt it possessed, and have supplied meaningless
substitutes. Gifford followed the same course in his edition of Ford
(see Ford’s _Wks._ 2. 81), where, however, he changes to Mad-dam.
Such gratuitous corruptions are inexplicable. Cf. _Tale Tub_, _Wks._
6. 172:
Here is a strange thing call’d a lady, a mad-dame.
=4. 3. 45 Their seruants.= A common term for a lover.
Cf. _Sil. Wom._, _Wks._ 3. 364.
=4. 3. 51.= See variants. There are several mistakes in the
assignment of speeches throughout this act. Not all of Gifford’s
changes, however, are to be accepted without question. Evidently,
if the question _where?_ is to be assigned to Wittipol, the first
speech must be an aside, as it is inconceivable that Merecraft should
introduce Fitzdottrel first under his own name, and then as the
‘Duke of Drown’d-land.’
My conception of the situation is this: Pug is playing the part
of gentleman usher. He enters and announces to Merecraft that
Fitzdottrel and his wife are coming. Merecraft whispers: ‘Master
Fitzdottrel and his wife! where?’ and then, as they enter, turns to
Wittipol and introduces them; ‘Madame,’ etc.
=4. 4. 30 Your Allum Scagliola=, etc. Many of the words in this
paragraph are obscure, and a few seem irrecoverable. Doubtless Jonson
picked them up from various medical treatises and advertisements
of his day. I find no trace of _Abezzo_, which may of course be a
misprint for Arezzo. The meanings assigned to _Pol-dipedra_ and
_Porcelletto Merino_ are unsatisfactory. Florio gives ‘_Zucca_:
a gourd; a casting bottle,’ but I have been unable to discover
_Mugia_. The loss of these words is, to be sure, of no moment. Two
things illustrative of Jonson’s method are sufficiently clear.
(1) The articles mentioned are not, as they seem at first, merely
names coined for the occasion. (2) They are a polyglot jumble,
intended to make proficiency in the science of cosmetics as
ridiculous as possible. It is worth while to notice, however, that
this list of drugs is carefully differentiated from the list at
4. 4. 142 f., which contains the names of sweetmeats and perfumes.
=4. 4. 32, 3 Soda di leuante, Or your Ferne ashes.= Soda-ash is still
the common trade name of sodium carbonate. In former times soda was
chiefly obtained from natural deposits and from the incineration
of various plants growing by the sea-shore. These sources have
become of little importance since the invention of artificial soda
by Leblanc toward the end of the eighteenth century (see _Soda_
in _CD._). Florio’s definition of soda is: ‘a kind of Ferne-ashes
whereof they make glasses.’ Cf. also W. Warde, Tr. _Alessio’s Secr._,
Pt. 1 fol. 78^{m} 1º: ‘Take an vnce of Soda (which is asshes made
of grasse, whereof glassemakers do vse to make their Cristall).’
In Chaucer’s _Squire’s Tale_ (11. 254 f.) the manufacture of glass
out of ‘fern-asshen’ is mentioned as a wonder comparable to that of
Canacee’s ring.
=4. 4. 33 Beniamin di gotta.= The _Dict. d’Histoire Naturelle_,
Paris, 1843, 2. 509, gives: ‘Benjoin. Sa teinture, étendue d’eau,
sert à la toilette sous le nom de _Lait virginal_.’ See 4. 4. 52.
=4. 4. 38 With a piece of scarlet.= Lady Politick Would-be’s remedies
in the _Fox_ are to be ‘applied with a right scarlet cloth.’ Scarlet
was supposed to be of great efficacy in disease. See Whalley’s note
on the _Fox_, _Wks._ 3. 234.
=4. 4. 38, 9 makes a Lady of sixty Looke at sixteen.= Cunningham
thinks this is a reference to the _In decimo sexto_ of line 50.
=4. 4. 39, 40 the water Of the white Hen, of the Lady Estifanias!= The
Lady Estifania seems to have been a dealer in perfumes and cosmetics.
In _Staple of News_, _Wks._ 5. 166, we read: ‘Right Spanish perfume,
the lady Estifania’s.’ Estefania is the name of a Spanish lady in B. &
Fl.’s _Rule a Wife_.
=4. 4. 47 galley-pot.= Mistresse Gallipot is the name of a
tobacconist in Dekker’s and Middleton’s _Roaring Girle_.
=4. 4. 50 In decimo sexto.= This is a bookbinder’s or printer’s
term, ‘applied to books, etc., a leaf of which is one-sixteenth of
a full sheet or signature.’ It is equivalent to ‘16mo.’ and hence
metaphorically used to indicate ‘a small compass, miniature’ (see
_Stanford_, p. 312). In _Cyn. Rev._, _Wks._ 2. 218, Jonson says:
‘my braggart in decimo sexto!’ Its use is well exemplified in John
Taylor’s _Works_, sig. L_1 v^{0/1}: ‘when a mans stomache is in Folio,
and knows not where to haue a dinner in Decimo sexto.’ The phrase
is fairly common in the dramatic literature. See Massinger, _Unnat.
Combat_ 3. 2; Middleton, _Father Hubburd’s Tales_, _Wks._ 8 64, etc.
In the present passage, however, the meaning evidently required
is ‘perfect: ’spotless,’ and no doubt refers to the comparative
perfection of a sexto decimo, or perhaps to the perfection naturally
to be expected of any work in miniature.
=4. 4. 52 Virgins milke for the face.= Cf. John French, _Art
Distill._. Bk. 5. p. 135 (1651): ‘This salt being set in a cold
cellar on a marble stone, and dissolved into an oil, is as good as
any _Lac virginis_ to clear, and smooth the face.’ _Lac Virginis_ is
spoken of twice in the _Alchemist_, Act 2, but probably in neither
case is the cosmetic referred to. See Hathaway’s edition, p. 293.
Nash speaks of the cosmetic in _Pierce Pennilesse_, _Wks._ 2. 44:
‘She should haue noynted your face ouer night with _Lac virginis_.’
=4. 4. 55 Cataputia.= Catapuce is one of the laxatives that Dame
Pertelote recommended to Chauntecleer in Chaucer’s _Nonne Preestes
Tale_, l. 145.
=4. 4. 63 Doe not you dwindle.= The use of _dwindle_ in this sense
is very rare. _NED._ thinks it is ‘probably a misuse owing to two
senses of _shrink_.’ It gives only a single example, _Alch._, _Wks._
4. 163: ‘Did you not hear the coil about the door? _Sub._ Yes, and I
dwindled with it.’ Besides the two instances in Jonson I have noticed
only one other, in Ford, _Fancies chaste and noble_, _Wks._ 2. 291:
‘_Spa._ Hum, how’s that? is he there, with a wanion! then do I begin
to dwindle.’
=4. 4. 69 Cioppino’s.= The source of this passage, with the anecdote
which follows, seems to be taken from Coryat’s _Crudities_ (ed.
1776, 2. 36, 7): ‘There is one thing vsed of the Venetian women, and
some others dwelling in the cities and towns subject to the Signiory
of Venice, that is not to be obserued (I thinke) amongst any other
women in Christendome: which is so common in Venice, that no woman
whatsoeuer goeth without it, either in her house or abroad; a thing
made of wood, and couered with leather of sundry colors, some with
white, some redde, some yellow. It is called a Chapiney, which they
weare vnder their shoes. Many of them are curiously painted; some
also I haue seene fairely gilt: so vncomely a thing (in my opinion)
that it is pitty this foolish custom is not cleane banished and
exterminated out of the citie. There are many of these Chapineys of a
great heigth, euen half a yard high, which maketh many of their women
that are very short, seeme much taller then the tallest women we haue
in England. Also I haue heard that this is obserued amongst them,
that by how much the nobler a woman is, by so much the higher are her
Chapineys. All their Gentlewomen, and most of their wiues and widowes
that are of any wealth, are assisted and supported eyther by men or
women when they walke abroad, to the end they may not fall. They
are borne vp most commonly by the left arme, otherwise they might
quickly take a fall. For I saw a woman fall a very dangerous fall as
she was going down the staires of one of the little stony bridges
with her high Chapineys alone by her selfe: but I did nothing pitty
her, because shee wore such friuolous and (as I may truely term them)
ridiculous instruments, which were the occasion of her fall. For both
I myselfe, and many other strangers (as I haue obserued in Venice)
haue often laughed at them for their vaine Chapineys.’
=4. 4. 71, 2 Spanish pumps Of perfum’d leather.= Pumps are
first mentioned in the sixteenth century (Planché). A reference
to them occurs in _Midsummer Night’s Dream_, 1593-4, 4. 2. They
were worn especially by footmen.
Spanish leather was highly esteemed at this time. Stubbes (_Anat. of
Abuses_, Part 1, p. 77) says: ‘They haue korked shooes, pinsnets,
pantoffles, and slippers, ... some of spanish leather, and some of
English lether.’ Marston (_Dutch Courtezan_, _Wks._ 2. 7) speaks of
a ‘Spanish leather jerkin,’ and Middleton (_Father Hubburd’s Tales_,
_Wks._ 8. 70) of ‘a curious pair of boots of King Philip’s leather,’
and a little farther on (_Wks._ 8. 108) of Spanish leather shoes.
Fastidious Brisk’s boots are made of the same material (_Ev. Man
out_, _Wks._ 2. 147). Cf. also Dekker, _Wks._ 2. 305.
Perfumes were much in fashion, and Stubbes’ _Anatomy_ has a great
deal to say on the subject. We hear of perfumed jerkins in Marston’s
_Malcontent_ (_Wks._ 1. 314) and in _Cynthia’s Revels_ (_Wks._ 2.
325). Spanish perfume for gloves is spoken of in the latter play
(p. 328) and in the _Alchemist_ (_Wks._ 4. 131) ‘your Spanish
titillation in a glove’ is declared to be the best perfume.
=4. 4. 77, 8 The Guardo-duennas, such a little old man,=
=As this.= Minsheu gives the definition: ‘Escudero, m. An
Esquire, a Seruingman that waits on a Ladie or Gentlewoman,
in Spaine neuer but old men and gray beards.’
=4. 4. 81 flat spred, as an Vmbrella.= The umbrella of the
seventeenth century seems to have been used exclusively to protect
the face from the sun. Blount, _Glossographia_, 1670, gives:
‘_Umbrello_ (Ital. Ombrella), a fashion of round and broad Fans,
wherewith the Indians (and from them our great ones) preserve
themselves from the heat of the sun or fire; and hence any little
shadow, Fan, or other thing wherewith women guard their faces from
the sun.’
It was apparently not in use in England when Coryat published his
_Crudities_, which contains the following description (1. 135): ‘Also
many of them doe carry other fine things of a far greater price, that
will cost at the least a duckat, which they commonly call in the
Italian tongue _vmbrellaes_, that is, things that minister shadow
unto them for shelter against the scorching heate of the sunne. These
are made of leather something answerable to the forme of a little
cannopy, & hooped in the inside with diuers little wooden hoopes that
extend the _vmbrella_ in a pretty large compasse.’
‘As a defense from rain or snow it was not used in western
Europe till early in the eighteenth century.’--_CD._
=4. 4. 82 Her hoope.= A form of the farthingale (fr.
Sp. _Verdugal_) was worn in France, Spain, and Italy, and
in England as early as 1545. It gradually increased in size,
and Elizabeth’s farthingale was enormous. The aptness of the
comparison can be appreciated by reading Coryat’s description of
the umbrella above.
=4. 4. 87 An Escudero.= See note 4. 4. 77, 8.
=4. 4. 97 If no body should loue mee, but my poore
husband.= Cf. _Poetaster_, _Wks._ 2. 444: ‘Methinks a
body’s husband does not so well at court; a body’s friend,
or so--but, husband! ’tis like your clog to your marmoset,’ etc.
=4. 4. 134 your Gentleman-vsher.= ‘Gentleman-Usher.
Originally a state-officer, attendant upon queens, and
other persons of high rank, as, in Henry VIII, Griffith is
gentleman-usher to Queen Catherine; afterwards a private
affectation of state, assumed by persons of distinction, or
those who pretended to be so, and particularly ladies. He
was then only a sort of upper servant, out of livery, whose
office was to hand his lady to her coach, and to walk before
her bare-headed, though in later times she leaned upon his
arm.’--Nares.
Cf. Dekker, _West-ward Hoe_, _Wks._ 2. 324: ‘Weare furnisht for
attendants as Ladies are, We have our fooles, and our Vshers.’
The sources for a study of the gentleman-usher are the present play,
_The Tale of a Tub_, and Chapman’s _Gentleman Usher_. In the _Staple
of News_ the Lady Pecunia is provided with a gentleman-usher. The
principal duties of this office seem to have consisted in being
sent on errands, handing the lady to her coach, and preceding her
on any occasion where ceremony was demanded. In Chapman’s play
Lasso says that the disposition of his house for the reception of
guests was placed in the hands of this servant (cf. Chapman, _Wks._
1. 263 f.). Innumerable allusions occur in which the requirement
of going bare-headed is mentioned (see note on 4. 4. 202). Another
necessary quality was a fine pace, which is alluded to in the present
character’s name (see also note 4. 4. 201). An excellent description
of the gentleman-usher will be found in Nares’ _Glossary,_ quoting
from Lenton’s _Leasures_, a book published in 1631, and now very rare.
=4. 4. 142 the Dutchesse of Braganza.= Braganza is the
ruling house of Portugal. Dom John, Duke of Braganza, became
king of Portugal in 1640.
=4. 4. 143 Almoiauna.= The _Stanford Dictionary_ gives:
‘Almojabana, Sp. fr. Arab. _Al-mojabbana_: cheese-and-flour cake.
Xeres was famed for this dainty, which is named from Arabic
_jobn_ = “cheese.”’
=4. 4. 147 Marquesse Muja.= Apparently a Spanish marquise,
occupying a position in society similar to that of Madame
Récamier.
=4. 4. 156 A Lady of spirit.= With this line and lines 165
f. cf. _U._ 32, _Wks._ 8. 356:
To be abroad chanting some bawdy song,
And laugh, and measure thighs, then squeak, spring, itch,
Do all the tricks of a salt lady bitch!
--For these with her young company she’ll enter,
Where Pitts, or Wright, or Modet would not venture;
(Fol. reads ‘venter’)
And come by these degrees the style t’inherit
Of woman of fashion, and a lady of spirit.
=4. 4. 164 Pimlico.= See note 3. 3. 170.
=4. 4. 164 daunce the Saraband.= The origin of the saraband is in
doubt, being variously attributed to Spain and to the Moors. It
is found in Europe at the beginning of the sixteenth century, and
its immoral character is constantly referred to. Grove (_Dict. of
Music_ 3. 226) quotes from chapter 12, ‘Del baile y cantar llamado
Zarabanda,’ of the _Tratado contra los Juegos Publicos_ (‘Treatise
against Public Amusements’) of Mariana (1536-1623): ‘Entre las otras
invenciones ha salido estos años un baile y cantar tan lacivo en las
palabras, tan feo en las meneos, que basta para pegar fuego aun á las
personas muy honestas’ (‘amongst other inventions there has appeared
during late years a dance and song, so lascivious in its words, so
ugly in its movements, that it is enough to inflame even very modest
people’). ‘This reputation was not confined to Spain, for Marini in
his poem “L’Adone” (1623) says:
Chiama questo suo gioco empio e profano
Saravanda, e Ciaccona, il nuova Ispano.
Padre Mariana, who believed in its Spanish origin, says that its
invention was one of the disgraces of the nation, and other authors
attribute its invention directly to the devil. The dance was attacked
by Cervantes and Guevara, and defended by Lope de Vega, but it seems
to have been so bad that at the end of the reign of Philip II. it was
for a time suppressed. It was soon, however, revived in a purer form
and was introduced at the French court in 1588’ (Grove 3. 226-7).
In England the saraband was soon transformed into an ordinary
country-dance. Two examples are to be found in the first edition of
Playford’s _Dancing Master_, and Sir John Hawkins (_Hist. of the
Science and Practice of Music_, 1776) speaks of it several times.
‘Within the memory of persons now living,’ he says, a Saraband
danced by a Moor was constantly a part of the entertainment at a
puppet-show’ (4. 388). In another place (2. 135), in speaking of the
use of castanets at a puppet-show, he says: ‘That particular dance
called the Saraband is supposed to require as a thing of necessity,
the music, if it may be called so, of this artless instrument.’
In the _Staple of News_, _Wks._ 5. 256, Jonson speaks of ‘a light
air! the bawdy Saraband!’
=4. 4. 165 Heare, and talke bawdy; laugh as loud, as a larum.= Jonson
satirizes these vices again in _U. 67_ (see note 4. 4. 156) and
_Epigrams_ 48 and _115_. Dekker (_Guls Horne-booke_, _Non-dram. Wks._
2. 238) advises the young gallant to ‘discourse as lowd as you can,
no matter to what purpose, ... and laugh in fashion, ... you shall be
much obserued.’
=4. 4. 172 Shee must not lose a looke on stuffes, or cloth.= It being
the fashion to ‘swim in choice of silks and tissues,’ plain woolen
cloth was despised. =4. 4. 187 Blesse vs from him!= Preserve us. A
precaution against any evil that might result from pronouncing the
devil’s name. Cf. _Knight of the Burning Pestle_ 2. 1: Sure the devil
(God bless us!) is in this springald!’ and Wilson, _The Cheats_,
Prologue:
No little pug nor devil,--bless us all!
=4. 4. 191, 2 What things they are? That nature should be at leasure=
=Euer to make ’hem!= Cf. _Ev. Man in_, _Wks._ 1. 119: ‘O manners that
this age should bring forth such creatures! that nature should be at
leisure to make them!’
=4. 4. 197 Hee makes a wicked leg.= Gifford thinks that _wicked_ here
means ‘awkward or clownish.’ It seems rather to mean ‘roguish,’ a
common colloquial use.
=4. 4. 201 A setled discreet pase.= Cf. 3. 5. 22; 2. 7. 33; and
Dekker, _Guls Horne-booke_, _Non-dram. Wks._ 2. 238: ‘Walke
vp and downe by the rest as scornfully and as carelesly as a
Gentleman-Usher.’
=4. 4. 202 a barren head, Sir.= Cf. 2. 3. 36, 7 and 4. 2. 12.
Here again we have a punning allusion to the uncovered head of
the gentleman-usher. ‘It was a piece of state, that the servants
of the nobility, particularly the gentleman-usher, should attend
bare-headed.’ Nares, _Gloss._ For numerous passages illustrating the
practice both in regard to the gentleman-usher and to the coachman,
see the quotations in Nares, and Ford, _Lover’s Melancholy_, _Wks._
1. 19; Chapman, _Gentleman-Usher_, _Wks._ 1. 263; and the following
passage, _ibid._ 1. 273:
_Vin._ I thanke you sir.
Nay pray be couerd; O I crie you mercie,
You must be bare.
_Bas._ Euer to you my Lord.
_Vin._ Nay, not to me sir,
But to the faire right of your worshipfull place.
A passage from Lenton (see note 4. 4. 134) may also be quoted: ‘He is
forced to stand bare, which would urge him to impatience, but for the
hope of being covered, or rather the delight hee takes in shewing his
new-crisp’t hayre, which his barber hath caused to stand like a print
hedge, in equal proportion.’
The dramatists ridiculed it by insisting that the coachman should be
not only bare-headed, but bald. Cf. 2. 3. 36 and Massinger, _City
Madam_, _Wks._ p. 331: ‘Thou shalt have thy proper and bald-headed
coachman.’ Jonson often refers to this custom. Cf. _Staple of News_,
_Wks._ 5. 232:
Such as are bald and barren beyond hope,
Are to be separated and set by
For ushers to old countesses: and coachmen
To mount their boxes reverently, etc.
_New Inn_, _Wks._ 5. 374:
_Jor._ Where’s thy hat?...
_Bar._ The wind blew’t off at Highgate, and my lady
Would not endure me light to take it up;
But made me drive bareheaded in the rain.
_Jor._ That she might be mistaken for a countess?
Cf. also _Mag. La._, _Wks._ 6. 36, and _Tale Tub_,
_Wks._ 6. 217 and 222.
=4. 4. 204 his Valley is beneath the waste.= ‘Waist’ and ‘waste’ were
both spelled _waste_ or _wast_. Here, of course, is a pun on the two
meanings.
=4. 4. 206 Dulnesse vpon you! Could not you hit this?= Cf. _Bart.
Fair_, _Wks._ 4. 358: ‘Now dullness upon me, that I had not that
before him.’
=4. 4. 209 the French sticke.= Walking-sticks of various sorts are
mentioned during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. ‘In Chas.
II.’s time the French walking-stick, with a ribbon and tassels to
hold it when passed over the wrist, was fashionable, and continued
so to the reign of George II.’ (Planché).
=4. 4. 215, 6 report the working, Of any Ladies physicke.= In
Lenton’s _Leasures_ (see note 4.4.134) we find: ‘His greatest
vexation is going upon sleevelesse arrands, to know whether some lady
slept well last night, or how her physick work’d i’ th’ morning,
things that savour not well with him; the reason that ofttimes he
goes but to the next taverne, and then very discreetly brings her
home a tale of a tubbe.’
Cf. also B. & Fl., _Fair Maid of the Inn_ 2. 2: ‘_Host._ And have
you been in England?... But they say ladies there take physic for
fashion.’
Dekker, _Guls Horne-booke_, _Non-dram. Wks._ 2. 255, speaks of ‘a
country gentleman that brings his wife vp to learne the fashion,
see the Tombs at Westminster, the Lyons in the Tower, or to take
physicke.’ In the 1812 reprint the editor observes that in Jonson’s
time ‘fanciful or artful wives would often persuade their husbands
to take them up to town for the advantage of _physick_, when the
principal object was dissipation.’
=4. 4. 219 Corne-cutter.= This vulgar suggestion renders hopeless
Pug’s pretensions to gentility. Corncutters carried on a regular
trade (see _Bart. Fair_ 2. 1.), and were held in the greatest
contempt, as we learn from Nash (_Four Letters Confuted_, _Wks._ 2.
211).
=4. 4. 232 The Moone.= I. e., see that the moon and zodiacal sign are
propitious.
=4. 4. 235 Get their natiuities cast!= Astrology was a favorite
subject of satire. Cf. Massinger, _City Madam_ 2. 2; B. & Fl., _Rollo
Duke of Normandy_ 4. 2, etc.
=4. 5. 31, 2 his valour has At the tall board bin question’d.= _Tall
board_ is, I think, the same as _table-board_, a gaming-table. In
Dyce’s edition of Webster’s _Devil’s Law Case_ (_Wks._ 2. 38) we
read: ‘shaking your elbow at the table-board.’ Dyce says in a note
that the old folio reads _Taule-board_. _Tables_ is derived from Lat.
_Tabularum lusus_ › Fr. _Tables_. The derivation, _table_ › _tavl_ ›
_taul_ › _tall_, presents no etymological difficulties. A note from
Professor Joseph Wright of Oxford confirms me in my theory.
The passage seems to mean that Merecraft was accused of cheating,
and, his valor not rising to the occasion, his reputation for honesty
was left somewhat in doubt.
=4. 6. 38-41 intitle Your vertue, to the power, vpon a life ... Euen
to forfeit.= Wittipol is ‘wooing in language of the pleas and bench.’
Cf. 4. 7. 62.
=4. 6. 42 We haue another leg-strain’d, for this Dottrel.= See
variants, and note 2. 2. 49, 50.
=4. 6. 49 A Phrentick.= See note 5. 8. 91-2.
=4. 7. 37-40.= See variants. Gifford silently follows Whalley’s
changes, which are utterly unwarrantable. Cunningham points out the
wrong division in 37, 8. The scansion is thus indicated by Wilke
(_Metrische Untersuchungen_, p. 3):
Of a/ most wor/thy gen/tleman./ Would one
Of worth/ had spoke/ it: whence/ it comes,/ it is
Rather/ a shame/ to me,/ ͝ then/ a praise.
The missing syllable in the third verse is compensated for by the
pause after the comma. This is quite in accordance with Jonson’s
custom (see Wilke, p. 1 f.).
=4. 7. 45 Publication.= See 3. 3. 137.
=4. 7. 54 I sou’t him.= See variants. Gifford says that he can make
nothing of _sou’t_ but _sought_ and _sous’d_, and that he prefers the
latter. Dyce (_Remarks_) confidently asserts that the word is the
same as _shue_, ‘to frighten away poultry,’ and Cunningham accepts
this without question. There seems, however, to be no confirmation
for the theory that the preterit was ever spelt _sou’t_. Wright’s
_Dialect Dictionary_ gives: ‘_Sough._ 19. to strike; to beat
severely,’ but the pronunciation here seems usually to be _souff_.
Professor Wright assures me that _sous’d_ is the correct reading,
and that the others are ‘mere stupid guesses.’
=4. 7. 62 in possibility.= A legal phrase used of contingent
interests. See note 4. 6. 38, 9.
=4. 7. 65 Duke O’ Shore-ditch.= ‘A mock title of honour, conferred on
the most successful of the London archers, of which this account is
given:
When Henry VIII became king, he gave a prize at Windsor to those
who should excel at this exercise, (archery) when Barlo, one of
his guards, an inhabitant of Shoreditch, acquired such honor as an
archer, that the king created him _duke of Shoreditch_, on the spot.
This title, together with that of marquis of Islington, earl of
Pancridge, etc., was taken from these villages, in the neighborhood
of Finsbury fields, and continued so late as 1683. Ellis’s _History
of Shoreditch_, p. 170.
The latest account is this: In 1682 there was a most magnificent
entertainment given by the Finsbury archers, when they bestowed the
title of _duke of Shoreditch_, etc., upon the most deserving. The
king was present. _Ibid._ 173.’--Nares, _Gloss_.
Entick (_Survey_ 2. 65) gives an interesting account of a match which
took place in 1583. The Duke of Shoreditch was accompanied on this
occasion by the ‘marquises of _Barlow_, _Clerkenwell_, _Islington_,
_Hoxton_, and _Shaklewell_, the earl of _Pancras_, etc. These, to
the number of 3000, assembled at the place appointed, sumptuously
apparelled, and 942 of them had gold chains about their necks.
They marched from merchant-taylors-hall, preceded by whifflers and
bellmen, that made up the number 4000, besides pages and footmen;
performing several exercises and evolutions in _Moorfields_, and at
last shot at the target for glory in _Smithfield_.’
=4. 7. 69 Ha’.= See variants. The original seems to me the more
characteristic reading.
=4. 7. 84 after-game.= Jonson uses the expression again in the
_New Inn, Wks._ 5. 402:
And play no after-games of love hereafter.