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     HOST. Sir, you mistake;     To play Sir Pandarus, my copy hath it,     And carry messages to Madam Cressid;     Instead of backing the brave steed o'mornings.     To kiss the chambermaid, and for a leap     O' the vaulting horse, to ply the vaulting house;     For exercise of arms a bale of dice,     And two or three packs of cards to show the cheat     And nimbleness of hand; mistake a cloak     From my lord's back, and pawn it; ease his pockets     Of a superfluous watch, or geld a jewel     Of an odd stone or so; twinge three or four buttons     From off my lady's gown: These are the arts,     Or seven liberal deadly sciences,     Of pagery, or rather paganism,     As the tides run; to which, if he apply him,     He may, perhaps, take a degree at Tyburn,     A year the earlier come to read a lecture     Upon Aquinas, at Saint Thomas-a-Watering's     And so go forth a laureate in hemp-circle."

                            The New Inn, Act I.

Note X. p. 135.—LORD HENRY HOWARD

Lord Henry Howard was the second son of the poetical Earl of Surrey, and possessed considerable parts and learning. He wrote, in the year 1583, a book called, A Defensative against the Poison of supposed Prophecies. He gained the favour of Queen Elizabeth, by having, he says, directed his battery against a sect of prophets and pretended soothsayers, whom he accounted infesti regibus, as he expresses it. In the last years of the Queen, he became James's most ardent partisan, and conducted with great pedantry, but much intrigue, the correspondence betwixt the Scottish King and the younger Cecil. Upon James's accession, he was created Earl of Northampton, and Lord Privy Seal. According to De Beaumont the French Ambassador, Lord Henry Howard, was one of the greatest flatterers and calumniators that ever lived.

Note XI. p. 136.—SKIRMISHES IN THE PUBLIC STREETS

Edinburgh appears to have been one of the most disorderly towns in Europe, during the sixteenth and beginning of the seventeenth century. The Diary of the honest citizen Birrel, repeatedly records such incidents as the following: "The 24 of November [1567], at two afternoon, the Laird of Airth and the Laird of Weems met on the High Gate of Edinburgh, and they and their followers fought a very bloody skirmish, where there were many hurt on both sides with shot of pistol." These skirmishes also took place in London itself. In Shadwell's play of The Scowrers, an old rake thus boasts of his early exploits:—"I knew the Hectors, and before them the Muns, and the Tityretu's; they were brave fellows indeed! In these days, a man could not go from the Rose Garden to the Piazza once, but he must venture his life twice, my dear Sir Willie." But it appears that the affrays, which, in the Scottish capital, arose out of hereditary quarrels and ancient feuds, were in London the growth of the licentiousness and arrogance of young debauchees.

Note XII. p. 144.—FRENCH COOKERY

The exertion of French ingenuity mentioned in the text is noticed by some authorities of the period; the siege of Leith was also distinguished by the protracted obstinacy of the besieged, in which was displayed all that the age possessed of defensive war, so that Brantome records that those who witnessed this siege, had, from that very circumstance, a degree of consequence yielded to their persons and opinions. He tells a story of Strozzi himself, from which it appears that his jests lay a good deal in the line of the cuisine. He caused a mule to be stolen from one Brusquet, on whom he wished to play a trick, and served up the flesh of that unclean animal so well disguised, that it passed with Brusquet for venison.

Note XIII. p. 145.—CUCKOO'S NEST

The quarrel in this chapter between the pretended captain and the citizen of London, is taken from a burlesque poem called The Counter Scuffle, that is, the Scuffle in the Prison at Wood street, so called. It is a piece of low humour, which had at the time very considerable vogue. The prisoners, it seems, had fallen into a dispute amongst themselves "which calling was of most repute," and a lawyer put in his claim to be most highly considered. The man of war repelled his pretence with much arrogance.

   "'Wer't not for us, thou swad,' quoth he,      'Where wouldst thou fay to get a fee?      But to defend such things as thee              'Tis pity;
    For such as you esteem us least,      Who ever have been ready prest      To guard you and your cuckoo's nest,              The City'"

The offence is no sooner given than it is caught up by a gallant citizen, a goldsmith, named Ellis.

  "'Of London city I am free,      And there I first my wife did see,      And for that very cause,' said he,              'I love it.
    And he that calls it cuckoo's nest,      Except he say he speaks in jest,      He is a villain and a beast,—              'I'll prove it!
    For though I am a man of trade,      And free of London city made,      Yet can I use gun, bill, and blade,              In battle.
    And citizens, if need require,      Themselves can force the foe retire,      Whatever this low country squire               May prattle.'"

The dispute terminates in the scuffle, which is the subject of the poem. The whole may be found in the second edition of Dryden's Miscellany, 12mo, vol. iii. 1716.

Note XIV. p. 150.—BURBAGE

Burbage, whom Camden terms another Roscius, was probably the original representative of Richard III., and seems to have been early almost identified with his prototype. Bishop Corbet, in his Iter Boreale, tells us that mine host of Market Bosworth was full of ale and history.

  "Hear him, See you yon wood? there Richard lay     With his whole army; look the other way,     And lo, where Richmond, in a field of gorse,     Encamp'd himself in might and all his force.
   Upon this hill they met. Why, he could tell     The inch where Richmond stood, where Richard fell;     Besides, what of his knowledge he could say,     He had authentic notice from the play,     Which I might guess by's mustering up the ghosts     And policies not incident to hosts;
   But chiefly by that one perspicuous thing,     Where he mistook a player for a king,     For when he would have said, that Richard died,     And call'd, a horse! a horse! he Burbage cried."