‘... there came an Englishman to Edinburgh, with a chestain-coloured
naig, which he called Marroco ... he made him to do many rare and
uncouth tricks, such as never horse was observed to do the like before
in this land. This man would borrow from twenty or thirty of the
spectators a piece of gold or silver, put all in a purse, and shuffle
them together; thereafter he would bid the horse give every gentleman
his own piece of money again. He would cause him tell by so many pats
with his foot how many shillings the piece of money was worth. He would
cause him lie down as dead. He would say to him: “I will sell you to
a carter:” then he would seem to die. Then he would say: “Marroco, a
gentleman hath borrowed you, and you must ride with a lady of court.”
Then would he most daintily hackney, amble, and ride a pace, and trot,
and play the jade at his command when his master pleased. He would
make him take a great draught of water as oft as he liked to command
him. By a sign given him, he would beck for the King of Scots and
for Queen Elizabeth, and when ye spoke of the King of Spain, would
both bite and strike at you--and many other wonderful things. I was a
spectator myself in those days. But the report went afterwards that he
devoured his master, because he was thought to be a spirit and nought
else.’--_Pa. And._
This was ‘the dancing horse’ to which Moth alludes in Shakspeare
(_Love’s Labour Lost_, act I., sc. 2). The actual fate of Banks,
the keeper of the animal, was not better than that which vulgar
rumour assigned to him. It is almost an incredible, yet apparently
well-authenticated fact, that horse and man, after wandering through
various countries, were burnt together as magicians at Rome.
* * * * *
[Sidenote: 1596.