{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_41726/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_41726","id":"gutenberg_41726","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/41726","summary":null,"tags":["Category: British Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Plays/Films/Dramas","English drama"],"text":"Transcriber's note\n\nVariable, archaic or unusual spelling and punctuation have been retained\napart from minor punctuation inconsistencies which have been silently\ncorrected. A list of other changes made can be found at the end of the\nbook. Line numbers and sidenotes are placed within [square brackets].\n\nFor this text version, text in superscript is placed within curly\nbrackets preceded by a carat character like ^{this}. Diacritical marks\nthat cannot be represented in plain text are shown in the following\nmanner:\n\n  [=a] a with macron\n  Ligature [oe] is encoded as oe.\n\n  Mark up: _italics_\n\n\n\n\nThe Tudor Library.\n\nNARCISSUS, A TWELFE NIGHT MERRIMENT.\n\n\n\n\n_Five hundred copies of this Edition are printed._\n\n\n\n\n  A TWELFE NIGHT MERRIMENT.\n\n  ANNO 1602.\n\n\n\n\n      NARCISSUS\n\n  A TWELFE NIGHT MERRIMENT\n\n  PLAYED BY YOUTHS OF THE PARISH\n\n        AT\n\n  THE COLLEGE OF S. JOHN THE BAPTIST IN OXFORD, A.D. 1602\n\n  WITH APPENDIX\n\n  [Illustration]\n\n  NOW FIRST EDITED FROM A BODLEIAN MS.\n\n        BY\n\n  MARGARET L. LEE\n  OF S. HUGH'S HALL, OXFORD\n\n\n  [Illustration]\n\n\n        LONDON\n\n  PUBLISHED BY DAVID NUTT IN THE STRAND\n\n        MDCCCXCIII\n\n\n\n\nCHISWICK PRESS:--C. WHITTINGHAM AND CO., TOOKS COURT, CHANCERY LANE,\nLONDON.\n\n\n\n\nINTERLOQUUTORES.\n\n  1. TYRESIAS.\n  2. CEPHISUS.\n  3. NARCISSUS.\n  4. DORASTUS.\n  5. CLINIAS.\n  6. ECCHO.\n  7. LYRIOPE.\n  8. FLORIDA.\n  9. CLOIS.\n  10. THE WELL.\n  11. PORTER.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE.\n\n\nIN editing the hitherto unpublished play of _Narcissus_, together with\nthe three speeches and the letter composed for Francis Clarke, porter of\nS. John's, I have retained throughout the very irregular spelling of the\nMS. The punctuation and use of capital letters have, however, been\nmodernized, the contractions employed for _the_, _which_, _with_,\n_what_, and certain prefixes, expanded, and a few obviously scribal\nerrors corrected in the text, the notes supplying in every such case the\noriginal MS. reading.\n\nIn bringing to its conclusion a work which now seems even less\nsatisfactorily performed than I once hoped it might be, there is at\nleast a pleasure in recording thanks to all those who have interested\nthemselves on my behalf, and aided me with suggestions and criticisms,\nor--as in the case of the editors of the _N. E. D._--with valuable\nreferences. Indeed, were it not for the direct and indirect help of\nfriends--and amongst those who have given me the former I must make\nspecial and grateful mention of Professor Ker, Professor Napier, and Mr.\nMadan--_Narcissus_ would have been left to find a worthier editor.\n\n    26, WARRINGTON CRESCENT,\n    MAIDA HILL.\n\n\n\n\nINTRODUCTION.\n\n\nSECTION I. NARCISSUS.\n\nTHIS play, which for want of a ready-made title I have called\n_Narcissus_, dates from a period of peculiar interest in the history of\nthat class of dramatic composition to which it belongs.\n\nSo vast a phenomenon as the rise and fall of the complete English drama\ncould not but be attended by widely-spread symptoms of the popular love\nfor stage representation; a tendency which, though it would never have\nproduced a Shaksperian tragedy, yet alone rendered possible the work of\na Shakspere. These lesser manifestations of the feeling that pervaded\nElizabethan England may be compared to the small fissures on the side of\na volcano, through which the same lava as fills the molten crater\nemanates in slender and perhaps hardly perceptible channels. It may\nchance that the activity of these side-streams presages the final\neruption at the summit; yet afterwards they are scarcely noticed, and\ntheir effects are too puny to attract attention. So it is with the\nabortive forms of drama, heralding, accompanying, and in some cases\noutliving, the culmination of English dramatic art under Shakspere. They\nare not, as a rule, the product of those great intellects which helped\nin the rearing of the main structure; but rather of such lesser writers\nas were either possessed by the dramatic spirit while ignorant of the\nformative and restraining rules of art, or else imbued with a desire to\nfollow those rules, as they had been drawn up by Aristotle and Horace\nand exemplified in French and Italian literature, whilst themselves\nwanting in originality, and oblivious of the superiority of a native\ngrowth over the best of importations. The latter class of would-be\nEnglish dramatists, in especial, found a natural field for action\namongst the scholarly societies which constituted a medi\u00e6val university.\nThough as early as 1584 and 1593 statutes are found enacting that no\nplayers shall perform within five miles of Oxford, it must be remembered\nthat these refer to professional, not to academical actors, and that the\nregulations controlling the former were of much greater stringency than\nthose which concerned the latter.\n\nNor were plays imitated from Greek and Latin writers the only ones to be\nperformed by undergraduates and others before select audiences in the\ncollege halls. Youthful players would probably demand the introduction\nof something more or less witty; and the fact that theatrical\nrepresentations generally took place on the occasion of a royal visit,\nor at times of special rejoicing, accounts in some degree for the\ncasting aside of the strictly classical models, and the employment of\nmasques, or of such looser forms of comedy as were the outcome of\nHeywood's _Interludes_, into either of which contemporary allusions and\njests could be readily introduced. Nevertheless, the majority of such\npieces continued to deal with subjects taken from Roman and Greek\nmythology, the various anachronisms and absurdities which arose from\nthis method of treatment only contributing to heighten the amusement of\nthe spectators.\n\nI have already implied that _Narcissus_ belongs to the class of\nUniversity plays, inasmuch as it was acted at S. John's College, Oxford,\non Twelfth Night, 1602. It does not, however, approximate in any way to\nthe classical form of comedy; it is rather to be regarded as a Christmas\npiece, an imitation of the Yule-tide mummeries acted by disguised\nvillagers or townsfolk at the houses of such wealthier persons as would\nafford them hospitality.\n\nThe following list of Oxford plays--compiled, with additions, from W. L.\nCourtney's article in _Notes and Queries_ for December 11th, 1886, and\nW. Carew Hazlitt's _Manual of English Plays_--may be of interest, as\nshowing the frequency of dramatic entertainments at the various colleges\nbetween 1547 and the Restoration. The dates appended are in most cases\nthose of presentation; but when these are either unknown, or impossible\nto distinguish from dates of entry at Stationers' Hall, I have\nsubstituted the latter.\n\n  1547.   _Archipropheta_, sive _Joannes Baptista_, by Nicholas Grimald,\n          in Ch. Ch. Hall.\n\n  1566.   _Marcus Geminus_, by (?) in Ch. Ch. Hall.\n\n  1566.   _Pal\u00e6mon and Arcyte_, by Richard Edwards, in Ch. Ch. Hall.\n\n  1566.   _Ariosto_, by Geo. Gascoigne, at Trin. Coll.\n\n  1566.   _Progne_, by Dr. James Calfhill, in Ch. Ch. Hall.\n\n  ? 1580. _Ulysses Redux_, by William Gager, in Ch. Ch. Hall.\n\n  1581.   _Meleager_, by William Gager, in Ch. Ch. Hall.\n\n  1582.   _Supposes_, translated from Ariosto, by Geo. Gascoigne, at\n          Trin. Coll.\n\n  1582.   _Julius C\u00e6sar_, by Dr. Geddes, in Ch. Ch. Hall.\n\n  1583.   _Rivales_, by William Gager, in Ch. Ch. Hall.\n\n  1583.   _Dido_, by William Gager, in Ch. Ch. Hall.\n\n  ?       _Tancred_, by H. Wotton, at Queen's Coll.\n\n  ?       _Kermophus_, by George Wild (?) at (?)\n\n  1591.   _Kynes Redux_, by William Gager, in Ch. Ch. Hall.\n\n  1592.   _Bellum Grammaticale_, sive _Nominum Verborumque Discordia\n          Civilis_, by (?) at Ch. Ch.\n\n  ? 1602. _Hamlet_, by W. Shakspere, at (?).\n\n  1602.   _Narcissus_, by (?) at S. John's College.\n\n  1605.   _Ajax Flagellifer_, by (?) at (?).\n\n  1605.   _Alba_, by (?) in Ch. Ch. Hall.\n\n  1605.   _Vertumnus_, sive, _Annus Recurrens Oxonii_, by Dr. Matthew\n          Gwinne, in Ch. Ch. Hall.\n\n  1606.   _The Queen's Arcadia_, by Samuel Daniel, in Ch. Ch. Hall.\n\n  1607.   _C\u00e6sar and Pompey_, by (?) at Trin. Coll.\n\n  1607.   _The Christmas Prince_, by divers hands, at S. John's Coll.\n\n  1608.   _Yule-tide_, by (?) at Ch. Ch.\n\n  1614.   _Spurius_, by Peter Heylin, at Hart Hall.\n\n  1617.   _Technogamia_, by Barten Holiday, at Ch. Ch.\n\n  1617-8. _Philosophaster_, by R. Burton, at Ch. Ch.\n\n  1631.   _The Raging Turk_, by Thomas Goffe, at Ch. Ch.\n\n  1632.   _The Courageous Turk_, by Thomas Goffe, at Ch. Ch.\n\n  1633.   _Fuimus Troes_, by Dr. Jasper Fisher, at Magd. Coll.\n\n  1633.   _Orestes_, by Thomas Goffe, at Ch. Ch.\n\n  ? 1634. _The Sophister_, by R. Zouch, at (?).\n\n  1634-5. _Euphormus_, sive, _Cupido Adultus_, by Geo. Wilde, at S. John's\n          Coll.\n\n  1636.   _Stonehenge_, by John Speed, at S. John's Coll.\n\n  1636.   _The floating Island_, by William Strode, at Ch. Ch.\n\n  1636.   _Love's Hospital_ (or, _The Hospital of Lovers_), by Geo. Wilde,\n          at S. John's Coll.\n\n  1636.   _The Royal Slave_, by William Cartwright, at Ch. Ch.\n\n  1637.   _The Converted Robber_, by Geo. Wilde, at S. John's College.\n\n  ? 1640. _Pharamus_, sive, _Libido Vindex_ (also published under the\n          title of _Thibaldus_, sive _Vindict\u00e6 Ingenium_), by Thomas\n          Snelling, at (?).\n\n  1648.   _Stoicus Vapulans_, by (?) at S. John's Coll.\n\n  1648.   _Amorous War_, by Jasper Maine, D.D., at (?).\n\n  ?       _The Scholar_, by Richard Lovelace, at Gloucester Hall.\n          (Prologue and Epilogue appear in _Lucasta_, 1649.)\n\n  1651.   _The Lady Errant_, by William Cartwright, at (?).\n\n  1653.   _The Inconstant Lady_, by Arthur Wilson, at Trin. Coll. (?)\n\n  1654.   _The Combat of Love and Friendship_, by Robt. Mead, at Ch. Ch.\n\n  1660.   _The Christmas Ordinary_, by W. R., M.A., at Trin. Coll.\n\n  1660.   _The Guardian_, by (?) at \"new dancing-school against S.\n          Michael's Church.\" (Wood, iii. 705.)\n\n  1663.   _Flora's Vagaries_, by Richard Rhodes, at Ch. Ch.\n\nThis catalogue does not, of course, pretend to be exhaustive. An\nexamination of the various college archives would doubtless afford\nfurther material. There exists, for instance, the record of performances\nat Merton; cf. G. C. Brodrick's _Memorials of Merton College_ (Oxford\nHist. Soc., 1885), p. 67: \"In January and February, 1566-7, two dramatic\nperformances were given in the Warden's lodgings by members of the\nfoundation ... the one being an English comedy, and the other Terence's\n_Eunuchus_.... Again, in 1568, a play of Plautus was acted in the hall.\"\n\nIt will be seen that of the above-mentioned plays six, besides\n_Narcissus_, were performed at the College of S. John the Baptist, the\nfirst recorded being the _Christmas Prince_ in 1607, the succeeding ones\ntaking place after an interval of twenty-six years; and to these we\nshould very probably add _Pharamus_, the writer of which, Thomas\nSnelling, \"became Scholar of S. John's in 1633, aged 19, and afterwards\nfellow ... and was esteemed an excellent Latin poet.\" (Wood, _Ath. Ox._,\nvol. iii., p. 275.)\n\nA passage from Wake's _Rex Platonicus_ (ed. 1, p. 18) is also worthy of\nnote in this connection: \"Quorum primos jam ordines dum principes\ncontemplantur, primisque congratulantium acclamationibus delectantur,\nCollegium Diui Iohannis, nobile literarum domicilium (quod Dominus\nThomas Whitus Pr\u00e6tor olim Londinensis, opimis reditibus locuplet\u00e2rat)\nfaciles eorum oculos specios\u00e6 structur\u00e6 adblanditione invitat; moxque et\noculos & aures detinet ingenios\u00e2 nec injucund\u00e2 lusiuncul\u00e2 qu\u00e2\nclarissimus pr\u00e6ses cum quinquaginta, quos alit Collegium studiosis,\nmagnaque studentium conuiventium cateru\u00e2 prodeuns, principes in transitu\nsalutandos censuit.\n\n\"Fabul\u00e6 ansam dedit antiqua de Regia prosapia historiola apud\nScoto-Britannos celebrata, qu\u00e6 narrat tres olim Sibyllas occurrisse\nduobus Scoti\u00e6 proceribus Macbetho & Banchoni, & illum pr\u00e6dixisse Regem\nfuturum, sed Regem nullum geniturum, hunc Regem non futurum, sed Reges\ngeniturum multos. Vaticinii veritatem rerum eventus comprobavit:\nBanchonis enim \u00e8 stirpe Potentissimus Iacobus oriundus. Tres\nadolescentes concinno Sibyllarum habitu induti, \u00e8 Collegio prodeuntes, &\ncarmina lepida alternatim canentes, Regi se tres esse illas Sibyllas\nprofitentur, qu\u00e6 Banchoni olim Sobolis imperia pr\u00e6dixerant, jamque\niterum comparere, vt e\u00e2dem vaticinij veritate pr\u00e6dicerent Iacobo, se\niam, & diu regem futurum Britanni\u00e6 felicissimum & multorum Regum\nparentem, vt ex Banchonis stirpe nunquam sit h\u00e6res Britannico diademati\ndefuturus. Deinde tribus Principibus suaves felicitatum triplicitates\ntriplicatis carminum vicibus succinentes veniamque precantes, qu\u00f2d\nalumni \u00e6dium Divi Iohannis (qui pr\u00e6cursor Christi) alumnos \u00c6dis Christi\n(quo tum Rex tendebat) pr\u00e6cursori\u00e2 h\u00e2c salutatione antevertissent,\nPrincipes ingenios\u00e2 fictiuncul\u00e2 delectatos dimittunt; quos inde vniversa\nastantium multitudo, felici pr\u00e6dictionum successui suffragans, votis\nprecibusque ad portam vsque civitatis Borealem prosequitur.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe _Christmas Prince_ is, properly speaking, not a single play, but a\ncollection of performances consequent on the revival of the old custom,\nleft in abeyance since 1577, of choosing a prince, or master of the\nrevels, who should exercise undisputed authority during the festive\nseason, and in whose honour the company at large should indulge freely\nin various sorts of pastimes. The account given of this revival, in\n1607, seems to imply that there had been of late years no Christmas\nfestivities at S. John's. In 1602 the college porter, pleading for the\nadmission of players on Twelfth Night, could say:\n\n    \"Christmas is now at the point to bee past;\n    'Tis giving vp the ghost and this is the last;\n    And shall it passe thus without life or cheere?\n    This hath not beene seene this many a yeere.\"\n\nWithout laying too much stress upon a single allusion, it is safe to\nassert that the discovery of the comedy of _Narcissus_, played five\nyears earlier than the performances of which an account is given in the\n_Christmas Prince_, must be of considerable interest in the history of\nS. John's, and indeed in that of Oxford play-acting generally.\n\nThe MS. containing this comedy is one of the Rawlinson collection, now\nin the possession of the Bodleian Library. The volume, which is 5\u00bd \u00d7 4\ninches in size, with 156 leaves, appears to have been the commonplace\nbook of an Oxford man. It contains a variety of English poems and prose\npieces, written at the end of the sixteenth and beginning of the\nseventeenth century; amongst them several pages of extracts from the\nessays of Bacon and of his less-known contemporary Robert Johnson. Sir\nH. Wotton's poem, \"How happy is he borne or taught,\" also finds a place\nin the collection. But the majority of the contents are of small\nliterary value, and, so far as I am aware, have never been published.\nPerhaps the most interesting pieces in the volume are certain \"English\nEpigrammes much like Buckminster's Almanacke ... calculated by John\nDavis of Grayes Inne ... 1594\" of the character of which the following\nlines, occurring early in the series, may give some idea.\n\n\n_Of a Gull._\n\n    \"Oft in my laughinge rimes I name a gull,\n    But this new tearme will many questions breed,\n    Therefore at first I will describe at full\n    Who is a true & perfect gull indeede.\n\n    \"A gull is hee that weares a velvett gowne,\n    And when a wench is brave dare not speake to her;\n    A gull is hee that traverseth the towne,\n    And is for marriage knowne a common wooer.\n\n    \"A gull is hee that, when he proudly weares\n    A silver hilted rapier by his side,\n    Endures the lye and knocks about the eares,\n    Whilst in his sheath his sleepinge sword doth bide.\n\n    \"A gull is hee that hath good handsome cloaths,\n    And stands in presence stroking vpp his haire,\n    And fills vpp his imperfecte speech with oathes,\n    But speaks not one wise woord throughout the yeere.\n    But, to define a gull in tearms precise,\n    A gull is hee that seemes, and is not, wise.\"\n\nThat the play now under consideration is the work of some member or\nmembers of the college of S. John's there can be no doubt. It is, as the\nPrologue affirms, \"Ovid's owne Narcissus,\" _i.e._, the story of\nNarcissus as told in the third book of the _Metamorphoses_, which forms\nthe basis of the plot; and the resemblance to the Latin is in parts so\nclose as necessarily to imply a knowledge of that language on the part\nof the writer. There is, indeed, one passage of literal and yet graceful\ntranslation (see ll. 494-505) which especially betokens a scholarly\nhand.\n\nBut it has been already hinted that the chief interest of the comedy\nlies in another direction. The arrangement and methods are those of the\nrough-and-ready English stage of the period; and as in the Pyramus and\nThisbe interlude of the _Midsummer Night's Dream_, and the Nine Worthies\nof _Love's Labour's Lost_, the writer imitates and ridicules that na\u00efve\nrealism which appertained to native comedy in its rude embryonic forms.\nThe absurdities with which the _Narcissus_ abounds are obviously\nintentional; it is, in fact, a burlesque, not skilful nor humorous\nenough to take its place beside the immortal parodies of Shakspere,\nwhich in aim and scope it resembles, but a good average specimen of its\nclass, doubtless provocative of intense delight in the minds of a\ncontemporary audience. It is, of course, with a view to heightening the\nreality of the effect that the Porter is made to plead on behalf of\ncertain \"youths of the parish,\" who are waiting, armed with their\nwassail-bowl, for admittance into the hall, and who, besides a song,\nhave \"some other sporte too out of dowbt\" for the delectation of the\nassembled guests. Then follows, first the song, and afterwards an\naltercation in prose between the Porter and the Players, who assume an\nair of bashfulness when called upon to exercise their dramatic talent.\nFinally, the Prologue enters, and the play is begun; the general\nsmoothness of the versification standing out in contrast to the\nintentional doggerel of the Porter's introductory speech and epilogue.\n\nThe mention of \"youths of the parish\" is probably not serious; but as an\nallusion to a real play of the kind here imitated, the following extract\nfrom the _Christmas Prince_ (ed. 1816, p. 25) may be of interest: \"S.\nSteevens day was past over in silence, and so had S. John's day also;\nbutt that some of the princes honest neighbours of S. Giles presented\nhim with a maske or morris, which though it were but rudely performed,\nyet itt being so freely & lovingly profered it could not but bee as\nlovingly received.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nI shall now pass on to the consideration of the play itself, and, first,\nof the characters which make up the list of _dramatis person\u00e6_. Five of\nthese, namely, Tiresias, Cephisus, Narcissus, Echo, and Liriope, appear\nin the story of Narcissus as told by Ovid. Cephisus, son of Pontus and\nThalassa, and divinity of the river whence he derives his name, is the\nfather of the hero; the nymph Liriope is his mother. Tiresias, the blind\nprophet of Thebes, and Echo, the unhappy victim of the anger of Juno and\nthe contempt of Narcissus, are well-known figures in classical\nmythology. Neither Dorastus and Clinias, who attend Narcissus as\nyouthful friends, nor Florida and Clois, nymphs enamoured of his beauty,\nhave any actual counterparts in the _Metamorphoses_.\n\nMost curious and interesting is the inclusion of \"The Well\" in the list\nof characters. We have here no mere stage property, or piece of scenery,\nbut an actual personification of an inanimate object, closely resembling\nthat of Wall and Moonshine in Peter Quince's company. Just as Moonshine\ncarries a lantern to represent more vividly the actual moon, so the\npersonage called The Well aids the imagination of his audience by the\nvisible sign of a water-bucket. The fact of his being enumerated amongst\nthe _dramatis person\u00e6_ shows that the part was played by a separate\nartist, and not doubled with that of any other character. Of the Porter,\nFrancis, more will be said in Section II.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThe play of _Narcissus_, though it can boast of no artificial divisions,\nfalls naturally into twelve different portions, which for want of a\nbetter term I will call scenes. Whilst using this word it is necessary\nto bear in mind that no change of _scenery_ is implied, and probably\nnone was intended.\n\n_Scene I._ reveals Cephisus, Liriope, and Narcissus, awaiting the\nprophet Tiresias. It consists of 132 lines, amplified from _Met._ iii.\n341, 346-348:\n\n    \"Prima fide vocisque rat\u00e6 tentamina sumsit\n    C\u00e6rula Liriope ...\n    ... De quo consultus, an esset\n    Tempora matur\u00e6 visurus longa senect\u00e6\n    Fatidicus vates--'Si se non viderit' inquit.\"\n\nThe introduction of Cephisus, the conversation between Narcissus and his\nparents, the telling of the youth's fate _by the aid of chiromancy_, and\nLiriope's scornful comment on the prophecy, are the materials used by\nthe English writer to form an effective scene.\n\n_Scene II._ is wholly an interpolation. Dorastus and Clinias also try\ntheir fate with Tiresias; he prophesies their early death, and they jest\nupon the subject.\n\n_Scene III._, in which Dorastus and Clinias flatter Narcissus for his\nbeauty, has no counterpart in Ovid. Probably, however, it was suggested\nby _Met._ iii. 353-355:\n\n    \"Multi illum juvenes, mult\u00e6 cupiere puell\u00e6;\n    Sed fuit in tenera tam dira superbia forma;\n    Nulli illum juvenes, null\u00e6 tetigere puell\u00e6.\"\n\n_Scene IV._ pursues a like theme; the nymphs Florida and Clois are in\ntheir turn repulsed by the scornful youth, and relate their woes to\nDorastus and Clinias.\n\nThe hint for this is given in _Met._ iii. 402:\n\n    \"Sic hanc, sic alias undis aut montibus ortas\n    Luserat hic Nymphas.\"\n\nAnd likewise the suggestion of Florida's revengeful wish:\n\n    \"Inde manus aliquis despectus ad \u00e6thera tollens\n    'Sic amet ipse licet, sic non potiatur amato!'\n    Dixerat.\"\n\n_Scene V._ Echo enters, and gives an account of herself, amplified--with\na very free use of the English vernacular--from _Met._ iii. 356-368.\n\n_Scene VI._, which has no counterpart in Ovid, consists of a spirited\nhunting-song in five stanzas, sung (presumably) while Narcissus,\nDorastus, and Clinias chase a supposed hare over the stage.\n\n_Scene VII._ introduces the \"one with a bucket,\" _i.e._, The Well. The\nfirst twelve lines of his speech are a literal and smoothly-versified\ntranslation of _Met._ iii. 407-412. In Ovid, however, this description\nof the well comes after the conversation between Echo and Narcissus, and\nthe account proceeds at once (l. 413) with:\n\n    \"Hic puer, et studio venandi lassus et \u00e6stu,\n    Procubuit.\"\n\nIt is doubtful why the English writer should have preferred to introduce\nthe Well thus early. With Ovid's lines may be compared those in the\ntranslation of the _Romaunt of the Rose_ attributed to Chaucer:\n\n    \"----Springyng in a marble stone,\n    Had nature set the sothe to tel\n    Under that pyne tree a wel.\n\n           *       *       *       *       *\n\n    Aboute it is grasse springyng\n    For moyste so thycke and wel lykyng,\n    That it ne may in wynter dye\n    No more than may the see be drye.\n\n           *       *       *       *       *\n\n    For of the welle this is the syne,\n    In worlde is none so clere of hewe,\n    The water is euer fresshe and newe\n    That welmeth vp with wawes bright.\"\n\n_Scene VIII._ consists of a dialogue between Dorastus and Echo.\n\n_Scene IX._ continues the same theme, Clinias being substituted for\nDorastus. Both these scenes are interpolations, introduced evidently for\nthe amusement of the audience rather than for any bearing on the main\nplot.\n\n_Scene X._ Here Narcissus delivers himself of a soliloquy, suggested by\n_Met._ iii. 479:\n\n    \"Forte puer, comitum seductus et agmine fido,\n    Dixerat\"--\n\nHe is answered by Echo, who wishes to proffer him her affection. The\nconversation, gathered from Ovid, runs as follows:\n\n    \"Ecquis adest?\n    Adest.\n    Veni!\n    Veni!\n    Quid me fugis?\n    Quid me fugis?\n    Huc Co\u00ebamus!\n    Coe\u00e4mus!\"\n\nThis, with various amplifications, is followed in ll. 602-630 of the\n_Narcissus_.\n\nHere, however, there is no reproduction of Ovid's account:\n\n    \"Et verbis favet ipsa suis, egressaque silvis\n    Ibat, ut injiceret sperato brachia collo.\n    Ille fugit, fugiensque manus complexibus aufert.\"\n\nwhich leads on to and explains the next speech of Narcissus:\n\n    \"'Ante' ait 'emoriar, quam sit tibi copia nostri.'\"\n\nrendered in the English by:\n\n    \"Let mee dye first ere thou meddle with mee.\"\n\nThis terminates the interview; Echo does not seem to make any appearance\non the stage. The few lines which, in Ovid, describe the effect of her\nhopeless love, are partly followed in ll. 740-747 of the English play.\n\n_Scene XI._ Dorastus and Clinias abuse, fight with, and finally kill\neach other.\n\n_Scene XII._ Narcissus enters, _fleeing from Echo_ (a connecting touch\nnot found in Ovid). His speech, on discovering the well, is a mixture of\nthe description of his transports in the _Metamorphoses_, and of the\nsoliloquy there attributed to him. ll. 697-707 of the _Narcissus_\ncorrespond word for word to _Met._ iii. 442-450.\n\nIt is remarkable that the use of the name of the goddess of corn instead\nof bread itself (\"Cereris,\" l. 437) should have suggested to the English\nwriter a similar metaphorical use of the names of Morpheus and Bacchus.\nAnother small point worthy of note is the introduction of a jest into\nthe midst of this mournful scene; Ovid's:\n\n    \"Et, quantum motu formosi suspicor oris,\n    Verba refers aures non pervenientia nostras\"\n\nbeing irreverently rendered by:\n\n    \"And by thy lippes moving, well I doe suppose\n    Woordes thou dost speake, may well come to our nose;\n    For to oure eares I am sure they never passe.\"\n\nOvid's Narcissus discovers his own identity with the vision (_Met._ iii.\n463), which the English version ignores; while, on the other hand, the\nprophecy of ll. 730-731:\n\n                        \"I, which whilome was\n    The flower of youth, shalbee made flower againe\"\n\nfinds no counterpart in Ovid.\n\nMany of the reflections and entreaties ascribed to Narcissus in the\nLatin version are omitted in the English; neither is there any mention\nof the beating of the breast (_Met._ iii. 480-485). The final\nconversation with Echo is given thus by Ovid:\n\n    Eheu!\n    Eheu!\n    Heu frustra dilecte puer!\n    Heu frustra dilecte puer!\n    Vale!\n    Vale!\n\nThe English writer somewhat amplifies this, Echo being always a\nfavourite stage-character. The rising up of Narcissus after death is an\nEnglish expedient; so is Echo's return to give a final account of\nherself, the matter of which is suggested, as has been said, by _Met._\niii. 393-401.\n\nSo much for the classical basis of the play; it remains to notice\nbriefly the points in which it resembles an English comedy, or shows\ntraces of the influence of other English writers. Most remarkable in the\nlatter connection is the frequent coincidence of expressions between the\n_Narcissus_ and Shakspere's _Henry IV._ (Part 1.). Amongst these are the\nfollowing:\n\n  L. 78. Ladds of metall. Cf. 1 _Henry IV._, ii. 4, 13.\n     80. No vertue extant               \"    ii. 4, 132.\n    111. I tickle (them) for            \"    ii. 4, 489.\n    422. Never ioyd (it) since          \"    ii. 1, 13.\n    575. Kee (= quoth) pickpurse        \"    ii. 1, 53.\n    734. (My) grandam earth             \"   iii. 1, 34.\n\nSee also the notes on ll. 282, 396, and 683.\n\nAs _Henry IV._ was entered at Stationers' Hall February 25th, 1597, and\nthe first quarto appeared in 1598, it is quite possible that these may\nbe direct borrowings on the part of the writer of the _Narcissus_.\n\nA common trick of English burlesque at this time (cf. _Midsummer Night's\nDream_, v. 1, 337, etc.) was the inversion of epithets, producing\nnonsensical combinations; an expedient which, if we condemn it as poor\nwit, we must at least allow to fall under the definition of humour as\n\"the unexpected.\" A good example of this occurs in ll. 360, 361:\n\n    \"So cruell as the huge camelion,\n    Nor yet so changing as small elephant.\"\n\nAnd another in ll. 677, 678:\n\n    \"But oh, remaine, and let thy christall lippe\n    No more of this same cherrye water sippe.\"\n\nSarcastic allusions are also not wanting; see, for instance, the\ncheerful inducement held out to Narcissus:\n\n    \"As true as Helen was to Menela,\n    So true to you will bee thy Florida.\"\n\nAnd cf. the notes on ll. 337, 342.\n\nThere are several facetious mistakes in the forms of words, such as\n_spoone_ for moon (l. 350), _Late-mouse_ for Latmus (l. 279), and\n_Davis_ for Davus (l. 400); of which the first recalls Ancient Pistol's\n\"Cannibals\" (2 _Henry IV._ ii. 4, 180), or the contrary slip in _Every\nMan in his Humour_, iii. 4, 53, and the two latter, Bottom's \"Shafalus\"\nand \"Procrus,\" and the blunders of Costard.\n\nThe na\u00efve devices by which the players seem to have made up for some\npaucity of accoutrements and stage appliances, and their direct appeals\nto the intelligence of the audience to excuse all defects, are highly\nedifying. There is, as I have before remarked, no indication of any\nscenery; and the only characters whom we know to have worn a special\ndress are Tiresias and Liriope. The prophets of classical history were\noften converted into bishops by English writers; so, for example,\nHelenus, son of Priam, in the fourteenth century alliterative _Gest\nHystoriale of Troy_. This is why Tiresias wears a bishop's rochet. It is\nunfortunate that the collection of robes now in the possession of St.\nJohn's College does not include a garment of this description.\n\nLiriope has a symbolical costume, which she very carefully interprets to\nNarcissus:\n\n    \"And I thy mother nimphe, as may bee seene\n    By coulours that I weare, blew, white, and greene;\n    For nimphes ar of the sea, and sea is right\n    Of coulour truly greene and blew and white.\n    Would you knowe how, I pray? Billowes are blew,\n    Water is greene, and foome is white of hue.\"\n\nCephisus is content to carry the emblems of his origin, which he\nemphasizes at the same time by representative action:\n\n    \"Thy father I, Cephisus, that brave river\n    Who is all water, doe like water shiver.\n    As any man of iudgment may descrye\n    By face, hands washt, and bowle, thy father I.\"\n\nIn the same way Narcissus, rising up after his supposed death, bears a\ndaffodil as a sign of his metamorphosis, addressing the audience after a\nmanner more brusque than polite:\n\n    \"If you take mee for Narcissus y'are very sillye,\n    I desire you to take mee for a daffa downe dillye;\n    For so I rose, and so I am in trothe,\n    As may appeare by the flower in my mouthe.\"\n\nEcho gives her reasons somewhat confidentially:\n\n    \"But ho, the hobby horse, youle think't absurde\n    That I should of my selfe once speake a woord.\n    'Tis true; but lett your wisdomes tell me than,\n    How'de you know Eccho from another man?\"\n\nAnd at the conclusion of the play she kindly directs the imagination of\nthe spectators into the right channel:\n\n    \"Now auditors of intelligence quicke,\n    I pray you suppose that Eccho is sicke\"----\n\nand craves their applause by a skilful ruse.\n\nTiresias makes his exit at an early stage in the play, addressing\ncongratulations to himself:\n\n    \"Goe, thou hast done, Tyresias; bidd adieu;\n    Thy part is well plaid and thy wordes are true.\"\n\nAs a last instance of this na\u00efve custom, Florida's words at the end of\nthe short part assigned to herself and Clois may be cited:\n\n    \"Looke you for maids no more, our parte is done,\n    Wee come but to be scornd, and so are gone.\"\n\nBoth the songs contained in the play have a considerable amount of\nvivacity and vigour, though they fall short of actual lyrical beauty.\nThe first and longer of the two is a drinking-song with a refrain of\neight lines, written in a lively and irregular, but not ill-handled\nmetre; the second, a hunting-song of five stanzas, with the chorus\n\"Yolp\" in imitation of the cry of the dogs. Besides these, which may\nvery possibly have been in existence before the play was written, the\neffusion of Dorastus on meeting Narcissus (\"Cracke eye strings cracke,\"\nl. 305) is lyrical in character.\n\nTaken as a whole, it will be seen that the comedy of _Narcissus_ is\nrather interesting for its quaintness, its humour, and its apparent\nborrowings from, and undoubted resemblances to, Shakspere, than for any\nintrinsic literary value. In spite of this, I cannot but hope that those\nwho now study it for the first time, though they may have \"seene a\nfarre better play at the theater,\" will not find reason to condemn it as\nwholly dull and unprofitable.\n\n\nSECTION II.\n\nIt only remains to say a few words with regard to the four pieces which\nI have included in the present volume.\n\nThese occur in the same MS. as the _Narcissus_, and taken with it appear\nto form a united group, by virtue of their common connection with S.\nJohn's College. It is true that the Porter who acts so prominent a part\nin the admission of the supposed players reveals to us only his\nChristian name, Frances (see last line of Epilogue), but it is hardly\npossible to doubt his identity with the Francke (or Francis) Clarke, the\nporter of S. John's, to whom the remarkable productions above-mentioned\nare attributed. After several vain attempts to discover the record of\nthis man's tenure of office, I have chanced upon his name in Mr. A.\nClark's _Register of the University of Oxford_, vol. ii. (1571-1622),\npt. 1, p. 398, where it occurs in the list of \"person\u00e6 privilegiat\u00e6,\" a\nterm including, in its widest sense, all persons who enjoyed the\nimmunities conferred by charter on the corporation of the University,\nbut technically used to describe certain classes to whom these\nimmunities were granted by special favour; as, for example, the college\nservants, of whom the manciple, cook, and porter or janitor, were\namongst the chief.\n\nThe entry is as follows:\n\n    \"8 May 1601, S. Jo., Clark, Francis; Worc., pleb. f., 24; 'janitor.'\"\n\nFrom this we gather that Francis Clark had not been long appointed to\nhis office; that he was twenty-four years of age, a Worcestershire man,\nand of humble birth.\n\nJudging by the internal evidence of the MS. now under consideration, we\nmay very naturally suppose that the porter, a worthy possessed of a\nshrewd wit and somewhat combative temperament, enjoyed high favour\namongst the undergraduates, though often in disgrace with their\nsuperiors; and that for his benefit (in the case of the first and fourth\npieces), and for their own (in the case of the third), the wags of the\ncollege composed certain apologies, which Francis Clarke was clever\nenough to commit to memory, and confident enough to pronounce before the\nHead in the character of a privileged humourist. The last of the pieces\nseems to have been written down and delivered as a letter; and some or\nall may be the products of the same pen as wrote the _Narcissus_. That\nthey were not written by the porter himself is evident; for over and\nabove the mere improbability that a college servant would be capable of\nsuch frequent reference to Lilly, we have the testimony of the headings,\ntwo of which bear mention of \"a speech _made for_ the foresaid porter,\"\nand \"a letter _composed for_ Francke Clarke.\" It is very possible that\nthe porter's part in the _Narcissus_ may have been specially designed\nfor, and entrusted to, the worthy Francis.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nOf these four pieces, the apology addressed to \"Master President, that\nhad sconc't him 10 groates for lettinge the fidlers into the hall at\nChristmas,\" occurs next to the play in the MS., and was probably the\nresult of some mock trial and sentence forming a part of the Christmas\nfestivities. If we could suppose the \"fidlers\" to have been the same as\nthe players, a still closer connection would be established between\nthis speech and the comedy; but there is no mention of any dramatic\nentertainment in the circumstantial account of their entrance and exit\ngiven by the porter.\n\nThe other pieces have no apparent connection with Christmas time, and\nthe last, being addressed to Laud during the year of his proctorship,\nfixes its own date as 1603-4. The speech _To the Ladie Keneda_ is the\nmost puzzling of the group, inasmuch as it bears no reference to\ncollegiate life, and deals with a subject of some obscurity. _Kennedy_\nwas the family name of the earls of Cassilis; and the fifth earl, then\nliving, had married in 1597 Jean, daughter of James, fourth Lord\nFleming, and widow of Lord Chancellor Maitland. But whether she is the\n\"Ladie Keneda\" to whom Francis Clarke pleads on behalf of her cook\nPiers, it is impossible to say. Neither have I found out anything\nconcerning the annual holiday for cooks, to which allusion seems to be\nmade. Here, however, as in the other speeches, a wide margin must be\nallowed for euphuism, and bare facts are difficult to deduce.\n\nI have refrained from supplying references to the numerous classical\nquotations with which the speeches are embellished, for the simple\nreason that a contemporary edition of Lilly's Grammar will be found to\ninclude them all. Doubtless the youthful composers derived a special\ndelight from the process of making \"Lilly leape out of his skinne,\" with\na \"muster of sentences\" of which the porter's supposed use and\ninterpretation is, if not always scholarly, at least decidedly\ningenious.\n\n\n\n\nA TWELFE NIGHT MERRIMENT.\n\nANNO 1602.\n\n\n_Enter the_ Porter _at the end of supper._\n\n    _Porter._\n\n    MASTER and Mistris with all your guests, [F. 81v rev.]\n    God save you, heerin the matter rests;\n    Christmas is now at the point to bee past,\n    'Tis giving vp the ghost & this is the last;\n    And shall it passe thus without life or cheere?\n    This hath not beene seene this many a yeere.\n    If youl have any sporte, then say the woord,\n    Heere come youths of the parish that will it affoord,\n    They are heere hard by comminge alonge,\n    Crowning their wassaile bowle with a songe:                     [10]\n    They have some other sport too out of dowbt,\n    Let mee alone, & I will finde it out.\n    I am your porter & your vassaile,\n    Shall I lett in the boyes with their wassaile?\n    Say: they are at doore, to sing they beginne,\n    Goe to then, Ile goe & lett them in!\n\n_Enter the wassaile, two of them bearinge the bowle, & singinge the\nsonge, & all of them bearing the burden._\n\n_The Songe._\n\n    Gentills all\n    Both great & small,\n    Sitt close in the hall\n        And make some roome,                                        [20]\n    For amongst you heere\n    At the end of your cheere\n    With our countrey beare\n        Wee ar bold to come.\n            Heers then a full carowse,\n            Let it goe about the house,\n            While wee doe carrye it thus\n                'Tis noe great labour.\n            Heave it vpp merilye, [F. 81r rev.]\n            Let care & anger flye,                                  [30]\n            A pinne for povertye;\n                Drinke to your neighbour.\n\n    Those that are wise,\n    Doe knowe that with spice\n    God Bacchus his iuyce\n        Is wholsome & good.\n    It comforts age,\n    It refresheth the sage,\n    It rebateth rage,\n        And cheereth the bloud.                                     [40]\n            Heeres then a full, &c.\n\n    Take it with quicknes,\n    Tis phisicke for sicknes,\n    It driveth the thicknes\n        Of care from the harte;\n    The vaynes that are empty\n    It filleth with plenty,\n    Not one amongst twenty\n        But it easeth of smarte.\n            Heers then a full, &c.                                  [50]\n\n    Are you sadd,\n    For fortune badd,\n    And would bee gladd\n        As ever you were,\n    If that a quaffe\n    Doe not make you laffe,\n    Then with a staffe\n        Drive mee out of dore.\n            Heers then a full, &c.\n\n    To tell you his merritts,                                       [60]\n    Good thoughts it inherites,\n    It raiseth the spirritts\n        And quickens the witt;\n    It peoples the veyns,\n    It scoureth the reynes,\n    It purgeth the braines\n        And maks all things fitte.\n            Heers then a full, &c.\n\n    It makes a man bold,\n    It keepes out the cold;                                         [70]\n    Hee hath all things twice told\n        Vnto his comforte,\n    Hee stands in the middle,\n    The world, hey dery diddle,\n    Goes round without a fiddle\n        To make them sporte.\n            Heers then a full carowse, &c.\n\n    _Por._ Why well said, my ladds of mettall, this is [F. 80v rev.]\n    somwhat yett, 'tis trimlye done; but what sporte, what merriment,\n    all dead, no vertue extant?                                     [80]\n\n    _Pri[mus]._ Pray, sir, gett our good Mistris to bestowe something on\n    us, & wee ar gone.\n\n    _Por._ Talke of that _tempore venturo_; there's no goinge to any\n    other houses now, your bowle is at the bottome, & that which is left\n    is for mee.\n\n    _Sec[undus]._ Nay, good Master Porter.\n\n    _Por._ Come, come, daunce vs a morrice, or els goe sell fishe; I\n    warrant youle make as good a night of it heere as if you had beene\n    at all the houses in the towne.\n\n    _Ter[tius]._ Nay, pray letts goe, wee can doe nothinge.         [90]\n\n    _Por._ Noe! What was that I tooke you all a gabling tother day in\n    mother Bunches backside by the well there, when Tom at Hobses ranne\n    vnder the hovell with a kettle on's head?\n\n    _Pri._ Why, you would not have a play, would you?\n\n    _Por._ Oh, by all meanes, 'tis your onely fine course. About it,\n    ladds, a the stampe, I warrante you a reward sufficient; I tell you,\n    my little windsuckers, had not a certaine melancholye ingendred with\n    a nippinge dolour overshadowed the sunne shine of my mirthe, I had\n    beene I pre, sequor, one of your consorte. But [F. 80r rev.]   [100]\n    wheres gooddy Hubbardes sonne--I saw him in his mothers holliday\n    cloaths eennow?\n\n    _Sec._ Doe you heere, Master Porter, wee have pittifull nailes in\n    our shooes; you were best lay something on the grounde, els wee\n    shall make abhominable scarrs in the face on't.\n\n    _Por.  Rem tenes_; well, weele thinke on't.\n\n    _Ter._ It is a most condolent tragedye wee shall move.\n\n    _Por.  Dictum puta; satis est quod suffocat._                 [110]\n\n    _Sec._ In faith, I tickle them for a good voice.\n\n    _Por.  Sufficiente quantitate_, a woord is enough to the wise.\n\n    _Pri._ You have noe butterd beare in the house, have yee?\n\n    _Por._ No, no, trudge, some of the guests are one the point to bee\n    gone.\n\n    _Sec._ Have you ere a gentlewomans picture in the house, or noe?\n\n    _Por._ Why?                                                    [120]\n\n    _Sec._ If you have, doe but hange it yonder, & twill make mee act in\n    conye.\n\n    _Por._ Well then, away about your geere.\n\n  [_Exeunt._\n\n_Enter Prologue._\n\n    Wee are noe vagabones, wee ar no arrant\n      Rogues that doe runne with plaies about the country.\n    Our play is good, & I dare farther warrant [F. 79v rev.]\n      It will make you more sport then catt in plum tree.\n        Wee are no saucye common playenge skipiackes,\n        But towne borne lads, the kings owne lovely subiects.\n\n    This is the night, night latest of the twelve,                 [130]\n      Now give vs leave for to bee blith & frolicke,\n    To morrow wee must fall to digg & delve;\n      Weele bee but short, long sittinge breeds the collicke.\n        Then wee beginne, & lett none hope to hisse vs,\n        The play wee play is Ovid's owne Narcissus.\n\n\nCEPHISUS, LYRIOPE, NARCISSUS.\n\n    [_Cep._] Open thine eares, my sonne, open I bidd\n    To heare the sound saw which the sage shall reed,\n    I meane the sage Tyresias, my ducke,\n    Which shall lay ope to thee thy lott, thy lucke.\n    Thy father I, Cephisus, that brave river                       [140]\n    Who is all water, doe like water shiver.\n    As any man of iudgment may descrye\n    By face, hands washt, & bowle, thy father I.\n\n    _Lyr._ And I thy mother nimphe, as may bee seene\n    By coulours that I weare, blew, white, & greene;\n    For nimphes ar of the sea, & sea is right\n    Of colour truly greene & blew & white;\n    Would you knowe how, I pray? Billowes are blew,\n    Water is greene, & foome is white of hue.\n\n    _Cep._ Wee both bidd the, Narcisse, our dearest child,         [150]\n    With count'nance sober, modest lookes & milde,\n    To prophett's wisest woords with tention harken; [F. 79r rev.]\n    But Sunne is gonne & welkin gins to darken,\n    Vulcan the weary horses is a shooinge,\n    While Phebus with queene Thetis is a doinge:\n    Prophett comes not, letts goe both all & some,\n    Wee may goe home like fooles as wee did come.\n\n    _Lyr._ O stay deare husband, flowe not away bright water,\n    The prophett will come by sooner or later.\n\n    _Cep._ Why stand wee heere, as it were cappes a thrumming,     [160]\n    To look for prophett? Prophett is not comminge.\n\n    _Nar._ Sweete running river which Cephisus hight,\n    Whose water is so cleare, whose waves so bright,\n    Gold is thy sand and christall is thy current,\n    Thy brooke so cleare that no vile wind dare stirre in't;\n    Thou art my father, & thou, sweetest nimphe,\n    Thou art my mother, I thy sonne, thy shrimpe.\n    Agree you in one point, to goe or tarrye,\n    Narcissus must obey, aye, must hee, marye.\n\n    _Cep._ Gush, water, gush! runne, river, from thy channell!     [170]\n    Thou hast a sonne more lovinge then a spanniell;\n    With watry eyes I see how tis expedient\n    To have a sonne so wise & so obedient.\n    Most beauteous sonne, yet not indeede so beautifull\n    As thou art mannerly & dutifull!\n\n    _Lyr._ See, husband, see, O see where prophett blind\n    In twice good time is comming heere behind.\n\n    _Cep._ O heere hee is, and now that hee's come nye vs,\n    Lye close, good wife & sonne, least hee espye vs.\n\n_Enter_ TYRESIAS.\n\n    All you that see mee heere in byshoppes rochett, [F. 78v rev.] [180]\n    And I see not, your heads may runne on crotchett,\n    For ought I knowe, to knowe what manner wight\n    In this strange guise I am, or how I hight;\n    I am Tyresias, the not seeing prophett,\n    Blinde though I bee, I pray lett noe man scoffe it:\n    For blind I am, yea, blind as any beetle,\n    And cannot see a whitt, no, nere so little.\n    Heere ar no eyes, why, they ar in my minde,\n    Wherby I see the fortunes of mankind;\n    Who made mee blind? Jove? I may say to you noe;                [190]\n    But it was Joves wife & his sister Juno.\n    Juno & Jove fell out, both biggest gods,\n    And I was hee tooke vpp the merrye oddes.\n    You knowe it all, I am sure, 'tis somewhat common,\n    And how besides seven yeares I was a woman;\n    Which if you knowe you doe know all my state:\n    Come on, Ile fold the fortune of your fate.\n\n    _Lyr._ Tremblinge, Tyresias, I pray you cease to travell,\n    And rest a little on the groundy gravell.\n\n    _Tyr._ Who ist calls? Speake, for I cannot see.                [200]\n\n    _Cep._ Poore frends, sir, to the number of some three.\n\n    _Tyr._ What would you have?\n\n    _Cep._ Why, sir, this is the matter,\n    To bee plaine with you & not to flatter;\n    I am the stately river hight Cephise,\n    Smoother then glasse & softer farre then ice; [F. 78r rev.]\n    This nimphe before you heere whom you doe see\n    Is my owne wife, yclipt Lyriope.\n    Though with the dawbe of prayse I am loath to lome her,\n    This Ile assure you, the blind poett Homer                     [210]\n    Saw not the like amongst his nimphes and goddesses,\n    Nor in his Iliads, no, nor in his Odysses.\n    Thinke not, I pray, that wee are come for nought;\n    Our lovely infant have wee to you brought.\n    The purple hew of this our iolly striplynge\n    I would not have you thinke was gott with tiplinge;\n    Hee is our sonne Narcisse, no common varlett,\n    Nature in graine hath died his face in skarlett.\n    Speak then, I pray you, speake, for wee you portune\n    That you would tell our sunnfac't sonne his fortune.           [220]\n\n    _Lyr._ Doe not shrink backe, Narcissus, come & stand,\n    Hold vpp & lett the blind man see thy hand.\n\n    _Tyr._ Come, my young sonne, hold vp & catch audacitye;\n    I see thy hand with the eyes of my capacitye.\n    Though I speake riddles, thinke not I am typsye,\n    For what I speake I learnde it of a gipsye,\n    And though I speak hard woords of curromanstike,\n    Doe not, I pray, suppose that I am franticke.\n    The table of thy hand is somewhat ragged,\n    Thy mensall line is too direct and cragged,                    [230]\n    Thy line of life, my sonne, is to, to breife,\n    And crosseth Venus girdle heere in cheife,\n    And heere (O dolefull signe) is overthwarte\n    In Venus mount a little pricke or warte. [F. 77v rev.]\n    Besides heere, in the hillocke of great Jupiter,\n    Monnsieur la mors lyes lurking like a sheppbiter;\n    What can I make out of this hard construction\n    But dolefull dumpes, decay, death, & destruction?\n\n    _Cep._ O furious fates, O three thread-thrumming sisters,\n    O fickle fortune, thou, thou art the mistres                   [240]\n    Of this mishapp; why am I longer liver?\n    Runne river, runne, & drowne thee in the river.\n\n    _Tyr._ Then sith to thee, my sonne, I doe pronounce ill,\n    It shall behove thee for to take good counsell,\n    And that eft soone; wisdoome they say is good,\n    Your parents ambo have done what they coode,\n    They can but bringe horse to the water brinke,\n    But horse may choose whether that horse will drinke.\n\n    _Lyr._ Oh say, thou holy preist of high Apollo,\n    What harme, what hurt, what chaunge, what chaunce, will        [250]\n         followe,\n    That if wee can wee may provide a plaster\n    Of holsome hearbes to cure this dire disaster.\n\n    _Tyr._ If I should tell you, you amisse would iudge it;\n    I have one salve, one medecine, in my budgett,\n    And that is this, since you will have mee tell,\n    If hee himselfe doe never knowe; farewell. [_Exit_ TYR.\n\n    _Lyr._ Mary come out, is his ould noddle dotinge?\n    Heere is an ould said saw well woorth the notinge;\n    Shall hee not know himselfe? Who shall hee then? [F. 77r rev.]\n    My boy shall knowe himselfe from other men,                    [260]\n    I, & my boy shall live vntill hee dye,\n    In spight of prophett & in spight of pye.\n    It is an ould sawe: That it is too late\n    When steede is stolne to shutt the stable gate;\n    Therfore take heed; yet I bethinke at Delph,\n    One Phibbus walls is written: Knowe thyselfe.\n    Shall hee not know himselfe, and so bee laught on,\n    When as Apollo cries, gnotti seauton? [_Exeunt._\n\n\nDORASTUS. CLINIAS.\n\n    Come, prethy lett vs goe: come, Clinias, come,\n    And girt thy baskett dagger to thy bumme;                      [270]\n    Lett vs, I say, bee packinge, and goe meete\n    The poore blind prophett stalking in the streete:\n    Lett us be iogginge quickly.\n\n    _Cli._ Peace, you asse,\n    I smell the footinge of Tyresias.\n\n_Enter_ TYRESIAS.\n\n    _Dor._ O thou which hast thy staffe to bee thy tutor,\n    Whose head doth shine with bright hairs white as pewter,\n    Like silver moone, when as shee kist her minion\n    In Late-mouse mont, the swaine yclipt Endimion,\n    Who, beeing cald Endimion the drowsye,                         [280]\n    Slept fifty yeers, & for want of shift was lowsye; [F. 76v rev.]\n    O thou whose breast, I, even this little cantle,\n    Is counsells capcase, prudences portmantle,\n    O thou that pickest wisdome out of guttes\n    As easy as men doe kernells out of nuttes,\n    Looke in our midriffs, & I pray you tell vs\n    Whether wee two shall live & dye good fellowes.\n\n    _Tyr._ How doe you both?\n\n    _Dor._ Well, I thanke you.\n\n    _Tyr._ Are you not sicklye?                                    [290]\n\n    _Cli._ Noe, I thanke God.\n\n    _Tyr._ Yet you shall both dye quicklye.\n    Goe, thou hast done, Tyresias; bidd adiew; [_Exit._\n    Thy part is well plaid & thy wordes are true.\n\n    _Dor._ Shall wee dye quickly, both? I pray what coulour?\n    Ile bee a diar, thou shalt be a fuller;\n    Weele cozin the prophett, I my life will pawne yee,\n    Thou shalt dye whyte, & Ile dye oreng tawnye.\n\n\n_Enter_ NARCISSUS _walkinge_.\n\n    _Cli._ O eyes, what see you? Eyes, bee ever bloud shedd\n    That turne your Master thus into a codshead.                   [300]\n    O eyes, noe eyes, O instruments, O engines,\n    That were ordain'd to worke your Master's vengeance!\n    His huge orentall beawty melts my eyeballs\n    Into rayne dropps, even as sunne doth snowballes.\n\n     _Dor._ Cracke eye strings, cracke, [F. 76r rev.]\n      Runne eyes, runne backe,\n        My lovely brace of beagles;\n      Looke no more on\n      Yon shininge sunne,\n        For your eyes are not eagles.                              [310]\n      Leave off the chace\n      My pretty brace,\n        And hide you in your kennell,\n      And hunt no more,\n      Your sight is sore;\n        Oh that I had some fennell!\n\n    _Nar._ Leave off to bragg, thou boy of Venus bredd,\n    I am as faire as thou, for white & redd;\n    If then twixt mee & thee theres no more oddes,\n    Why I on earth & thou amongst the goddes?                      [320]\n\n    _Cli._ Thy voice, Narcisse, so softly & so loude,\n    Makes in mine eares more musicke then a crowde\n    Of most melodious minstrells, & thy tonge\n    Is edged with silver, & with iewells strunge;\n    Thy throate, which speaketh ever & anan,\n    Is farre more shriller then the pipe of Pan,\n    Thy weasand pipe is clearer then an organ,\n    Thy face more faire then was the head of Gorgon,\n    Thy haire, which bout thy necke so faire dishevells,\n    Excells the haire of the faire queene of devills,              [330]\n    And thy perfumed breath farr better savours\n    Then does the sweat hot breath of blowing Mavors;\n    Thy azur'd veynes blewer then Saturne shine,\n    And what are Cupids eyes to those of thine? [F. 75v rev.]\n    Thy currall cheeks hath a farre better lustre\n    Then Ceres when the sunne in harvest bust her;\n    Silenus for streight backe, & I can tell yee,\n    You putt downe Bacchus for a slender bellye.\n    To passe from braunch to barke, from rine to roote,\n    Venus her husband hath not such a foote.                       [340]\n\n    _Dor._ O thou whose cheeks are like the skye so blewe,\n    Whose nose is rubye, of the sunnlike hue,\n    Whose forhead is most plaine without all rinkle,\n    Whose eyes like starrs in frosty night doe twinkle,\n    Most hollowe are thy eyelidds, & thy ball\n    Whiter then ivory, brighter yea withall,\n    Whose ledge of teeth is farre more bright then jett is,\n    Whose lipps are too, too good for any lettice,\n    O doe thou condiscend vnto my boone,\n    Graunt mee thy love, graunt it, O silver spoone,               [350]\n    Silver moone, silver moone.\n\n    _Cli._ Graunt mee thy love, to speake I first begunne,\n    Graunt mee thy love, graunt it, O golden sunne.\n\n    _Nar._ Nor sunne, nor moone, nor twinkling starre in skye,\n    Nor god, nor goddesse, nor yet nimphe am I,\n    And though my sweete face bee sett out with rubye,\n    You misse your marke, I am a man as you bee.\n\n    _Dor._ A man, Narcisse, thou hast a manlike figure;\n    Then bee not like vnto the savage tiger, [F. 75r rev.]\n    So cruell as the huge camelion,                                [360]\n    Nor yet so changing as small elephant.\n    A man, Narcisse, then bee not thou a wolfe,\n    To devoure my hart in thy mawes griping gulfe,\n    Bee none of these, & lett not nature vaunt her\n    That shee hath made a man like to a panther;\n    A man thou art, Narcisse, & soe are wee,\n    Then love thou vs againe as wee love thee.\n\n    _Nar._ A man I am, & sweare by gods above\n    I cannot yett find in my heart to love.\n\n    _Dor._ Cannott find love in hart! O search more narrowe,       [370]\n    Thou well shalt knowe him by his ivory arrowe;\n    That arrowe, when in breast, my bloud was tunninge,\n    Broacht my harts barrell, sett it all a runninge,\n    Which with loves liquor vnles thou doe staunch,\n    All my lifes liquor will runne out my paunche.\n\n    _Nar._ Why would you have mee love? You talke most oddlye,\n    Love is a naughty thinge & an ungodlye.\n\n    _Cli._ Is love ungodlye? Love is still a god.\n\n    _Nar._ But in his nonage allwaies vnder rodde.\n\n    _Amb._ O love, Narcissus, wee beseech thee, O love.            [380]\n\n    _Nar._ Noe love, good gentiles, Ile assure you, noe love.\n\n[_Exeunt_ DORASTUS _et_ CLINIAS, _ambulat_ NARCISSUS.\n\n\n_Enter_ FLORIDA, CLOIS.\n\n    Clois, what ist I wis that I doe see, [F. 74v rev.]\n    What forme doth charme this storme within my breast,\n    What face, what grace, what race may that same bee,\n    So faire, so rare, debonaire, breeds this vnrest?\n    How white, how bright, how light, like starre of Venus\n    His beames & gleames so streames so faire between vs!\n\n    _Clo._ 'Tis Venus sure, why doe wee stand and palter?\n    Lett vs goe shake our thighes vpon the altar.\n\n    _Flo._ Most brightest Hasparus, for thou seemst to mee soe,    [390]\n    I, and in very deed thou well maist bee soe,\n    For as bigg as a man is every plannett,\n    Although it seemes a farre that wee may spanne it,\n    Shine thou on mee, sweet plannet, bee soe good\n    As with thy fiery beames to warme my bloud;\n    Ile beare thee light, and thinke light of the burthen,\n    And say, light plannett neare was heavy lurden.\n\n    _Nar._ To speake the truth, faire maid, if you will have vs,\n    O Oedipus I am not, I am Davus.\n\n    _Clo._ Good Master Davis, bee not so discourteous              [400]\n    As not to heare a maidens plaint for vertuous.\n\n    _Nar._ Speake on a Gods name, so love bee not the theame.\n\n    _Flo._ O, whiter then a dish of clowted creame,\n    Speake not of love? How can I overskippe\n    To speake of love to such a cherrye lippe?\n\n    _Nar._ It would beseeme a maidens slender vastitye\n    Never to speake of any thinge but chastitye.\n\n    _Flo._ As true as Helen was to Menela\n    So true to thee will bee thy Florida. [F. 74r rev.]\n\n    _Clo._ As was to trusty Pyramus truest Thisbee                 [410]\n    So true to you will ever thy sweete Clois bee.\n\n    _Flo._ O doe not stay a moment nor a minute,\n    Loves is a puddle, I am ore shooes in it.\n\n    _Clo._ Doe not delay vs halfe a minutes mountenance\n    That ar in love, in love with thy sweet countenance.\n\n    _Nar._ Then take my dole although I deale my alms ill,\n    Narcissus cannot love with any damzell;\n    Although, for most part, men to love encline all,\n    I will not, I, this is your answere finall.\n    And so farwell; march on doggs, love's a griper,               [420]\n    If I love any, 'tis Tickler & Piper.\n    Ah, the poore rascall, never ioyd it since\n    His fellow iugler first was iugled hence,\n    Iugler the hope; but now to hunte abraode,\n    Where, if I meete loves little minitive god,\n    Ile pay his breech vntill I make his bumme ake,\n    For why, the talke of him hath turnd my stomacke. [_Exit._\n\n    _Flo._ And is hee gone? Letts goe & dye, sweet Cloris,\n    For poets of our loves shall write the stories.\n\n_Enter_ CLINIAS, DORASTUS, _meeting them_.\n\n    _Cli._ Well mett, faire Florida sweete, which way goe you?     [430]\n\n    _Flo._ In faith, sweete Clinias, I cannot knowe you. [F. 73v rev.]\n\n    _Dor._ Noe, knowe, but did you see the white Narcisse?\n\n    _Clo._ The whitest man alive a huntinge is;\n    Hee that doth looke farre whiter then the vilett,\n    Or moone at midday, or els skye at twilight.\n\n    _Cli._ That is the same, even that is that Narcissus,\n    Hee that hath love despis'd, & scorned vs.\n\n    _Flo._ Not you alone hee scornes, but vs also;\n    O doe not greive when maids part stakes in woe.\n    O, that same youthe's the scummer of all skorne,               [440]\n    Of surquedry the very shooing horne,\n    Piller of pride, casting topp of contempt,\n    Stopple of statelines for takinge vente.\n    Many youthes, many maids sought him to gaine,\n    Noe youthes, noe maids could ever him obtaine:\n    Then thus I pray, & hands to heaven vpp leave,\n    So may hee love & neare his love atcheive.\n    Looke you for maids no more, our parte is done,\n    Wee come but to bee scornd, & so are gone. [_Exeunt_.\n\n    _Dor._ But wee have more to doe, that have wee perdie,         [450]\n    Wee must a fish & hunt the hare so hardye,\n    For even as after hare runnes swiftest beagle,\n    So doth Narcissus our poore harts corneagle. [_Exeunt_.\n\n\n_Enter_ ECCHO.\n\n    Who, why, wherfore, from whence or what I am, [F. 73r rev.]\n    Knowe, if you aske, that Eccho is my name,\n    That cannott speake a woord, nor halfe a sillable,\n    Vnles you speake before so intelligible.\n    But ho, the hobby horse, youle think 't absurde\n    That I should of my selfe once speake a woord.\n    'Tis true; but lett your wisdomes tell me than                 [460]\n    How'de you know Eccho from another man?\n    I was a well toung'd nimphe, but what of that?\n    My mother Juno still to hold in chatte,\n    With tales of tubbes, from thence I ever strove,\n    Whiles nimphes abroad lay allwaies vnder Jove.\n    But oh, when drift was spied, my angry grammer\n    Made ever since my tottering tongue to stammer;\n    And now, in wild woods, & in moist mountaines,\n    In high, tall valleys, & in steepye plaines,\n    Eccho I live, Eccho, surnam'd the dolefull,                    [470]\n    That, in remembrance, now could weepe a bowlfull;\n    Or rather, if you will, Eccho the sorrowfull,\n    That, in remembrance, now could weepe a barrowfull.\n    (_Within. Yolp! yolpe!_) [_Exit clamans Yolpe!_\n\n\n_Enter_ DORASTUS, NARCISSUS, CLINIAS.\n\n    _Cantantes._\n\n    Harke, they crye, I heare by that\n    The doggs have putt the hare from quatte,\n    Then woe bee vnto little Watt, [F. 72v rev.]\n      Yolp, yolp, yolp, yolp!\n\n    Hollowe in the hind doggs, hollowe,\n    So come on then, solla, solla,\n    And lett vs so blithly followe,                                [480]\n      Yolp, &c.\n\n    O, the doggs ar out of sight,\n    But the crye is my delight;\n    Harke how Jumball hitts it right,\n      Yolp, &c.\n\n    Over briars, over bushes;\n    Whose affeard of pricks & pushes,\n    Hee's no hunter woorth two rushes,\n      Yolp, &c.\n\n    But how long thus shall wee wander?                            [490]\n    O, the hares a lusty stander,\n    Follow apace, the doggs are yonder,\n      Yolp, &c.                       [_Exeunt._\n\n\n_Enter one with a buckett and boughes and grasse._\n\n    A well there was withouten mudd,\n    Of silver hue, with waters cleare,\n    Whome neither sheepe that chawe the cudd,\n    Shepheards nor goates came ever neare;\n    Whome, truth to say, nor beast nor bird,\n    Nor windfalls yet from trees had stirrde.\n          [_He strawes the grasse about the buckett._\n    And round about it there was grasse, [F. 72r rev.]             [500]\n    As learned lines of poets showe,\n    Which by next water nourisht was; [_Sprinkle water._\n    Neere to it too a wood did growe, [_Sets down the bowes._\n    To keep the place, as well I wott,\n    With too much sunne from being hott.\n    And thus least you should have mistooke it,\n    The truth of all I to you tell:\n    Suppose you the well had a buckett,\n    And so the buckett stands for the well;\n    And 'tis, least you should counte mee for a sot O,             [510]\n    A very pretty figure cald _pars pro toto_. [_Exit._\n\n\n_Enter_ DORASTUS, ECCHO _answeringe him within_.\n\n    _Dor._ Narcissus?\n        _Ecc._ Kisse us.\n    Kisse you; who are you, with a botts take you?\n        Botts take you.\n    Botts take mee, you rogue?\n        You rogue.\n    Slidd, hee retortes woord for woord.\n        Woord for woord.\n    Clinias, prethy, where art thou, Clinias?                      [520]\n        In, yee asse.\n    In where--in a ditch?\n        Itch.\n    What is his businesse? [F. 71v rev.]\n        At his businesse.\n    You don't tell mee trulye.\n        You lye.\n    Say so againe, ile cudgell you duely.\n        You doe lye.\n    Of your tearmes you are very full.                             [530]\n        Your a very foole.\n    Doe you crowe, I shall cracke your coxcombe.\n        Coxcombe.\n    I shall make you whine & blubber.\n        Lubber.\n    Youle make an end & dispatch.\n        Patch.\n    Goe to, youle let these woordes passe.\n        Asse.\n    If I come to you Ile make you singe a palinodye.               [540]\n        Noddye.\n    Foole, coxcombe, lubber, patch, & noddye,\n    Are these good woords to give a bodye?\n    Doe not provoke me, I shall come.\n        Come.\n    Meete mee if you dare.\n        If you dare.\n    I come, despaire not.\n        Spare not. [_Exit._\n\n\n_Enter_ CLINIAS, ECCHO _answeringe within_. [F. 71r rev.]\n\n    _Cli._ Dorastus, where art thou, Dorastus?                     [550]\n        _Ecc._ Asse to vs.\n    Asse to you, whose that's an asse to you?\n        You.\n    Know mee for what I am, as good as your selfe.\n        Elfe.\n    Elfe! Why I hope you ben't so malaparte.\n        All a parte.\n    All apart, yes, wee ar alone; but you doe not meane to fight,\n      I trust in Jove?\n        Trust in Jove.                                             [560]\n    Jove helpes then if wee fight, but wee trust to our swoordes.\n        Woordes.\n    Woordes; why, doe you thinke tis your woordes shall vs affright?\n        Right.\n    'Tis noe such matter, you are mightely out.\n        Loute.\n    Lout, dost abuse mee so? Goe to, y'are a scall scabbe.\n        Rascall scabbe.                                            [570]\n    Rascall scabbe, why thou groome base & needye!\n        Niddye.\n    Slidd, if I meete you Ile bange you.\n        Hange you.\n    Ist so; nay then, Ile bee at hand, kee pickpurse. [F. 70v rev.]\n        Pickpurse.\n    Dare you vse mee thus to my face, spidar?\n        I dare.\n    But will you stand too't & not flintch?\n        Not flinch.                                                [580]\n    Well, meete mee, I am like iron & steele, trustye.\n        Rustye.\n    Rusty, what, mocke mee to my face againe?\n        Asse againe.\n    Out of dowbt, if wee meete I shall thee boxe.\n        Oxe.\n    Why, the foole rides mee, I am spurrgald & iolted.\n        Jolthead.\n    Jolthead! this is more then I can brooke.\n        Rooke.                                                     [590]\n    Rooke too, nay then, as farr as a knockinge goes I am yours to\n      commaund, sir.\n        Come on, sir. [_Exit._\n\n\n_Enter_ NARCISSUS.\n\n    O, I am weary; I have runne to daye\n    Ten miles, nay, 10 & a quarter I dare saye.\n    You may beleeve it, for my ioyntes are numme,\n    And every finger truly is a thumbe.\n    For my younge hunters, Clinias & Dorastus,\n    Surely so farre to day they have out past vs, [F. 70r rev.]\n    That heere I am encompast round about,                         [600]\n    And doe not knowe the way nor in nor out.\n    What Holla, holla!\n      _Ecc._ Holla, holla.\n    Is any body nye?\n        I.\n    Come neere.\n        Come neere.\n    Whither?\n        Hither.\n    I prethy helpe mee foorth, els I am the rude woods forfeiture. [610]\n        Faire feature.\n    O lord, sir, tis but your pleasure to call it soe.\n        Its soe.\n    I had rather have your counsell how to gett out of this laborinthe.\n        Labour in't.\n    Labour in't, why soe I doe, sore against my will, but to labour out\n      of it what shall I doe?\n        Doe.                                                       [620]\n    Nay, pray helpe mee out if you love mee.\n        Love mee.\n    Come neere, then, why doe you flye?\n        Why doe you flye?\n    Where b'ye?\n        [F. 69v rev.] Heerbye.\n    Let vs come together.\n        Let vs come together.\n    I prethy come.\n        I come.                                                    [630]\n    Let mee dye first ere thou meddle with mee.\n        Meddle with mee. [_Exit._\n\n\n_Enter_ DORASTUS, CLINIAS, _at_ 2 _doores_.\n\n    _Cli._ Wast you, Dorastus, mockt mee all this season?\n\n    _Dor._ Pray, Clinias, hold your tounge, y'haue little reason\n    To make a foole of mee & mocke mee too.\n\n    _Cli._ Nay, sir, twas you that mockt mee, so you doe;\n    While heere I cald for you by greenwood side,\n    You gibde on mee, which you shall deare abide.\n\n    _Dor._ Nay, you did call mee, that I was loath to heare,\n    Truly such woords as a dogg would not beare.                   [640]\n    But as I scorne so to bee ast & knaved,\n    Soe truly doe I scorne to bee outbraved.\n\n    _Cli._ O frieng panne of all fritters of fraud,\n    My scindifer, that longe hath beene vndrawde,\n    Shall come out of his sheath most fiery hott,\n    And slice thee small, even as hearbes to pott.\n\n    _Dor._ Thou huge & humminge humblebee, thou hornett,\n    Come doe thy worst, I say that I doe scorne it.\n\n    _Cli._ O with thy bloud Ile make so redd my whineard,\n    As ripest liquor is of grapes in vineyearde. [F. 69r rev.]     [650]\n\n    _Dor._ And with thy bloud Ile make my swoord so ruddye,\n    As skye at eventide shall not bee soe bloudye.\n                                           [_They fight & fall._\n\n    _Cli._ O, O, about my harte I feele a paine;\n    Dorastus, hold thy handes, for I am slaine.\n\n    _Dor._ This shall thy comfort bee when thou art dead,\n    That thou hast kild mee too, for I am spedd.\n\n    _Cli._ O, I am dead, depart life out of hand,\n    Stray, soule, from home vnto the Stingian strand.\n\n    _Dor._ Goe thou, my ghost, complaine thee vnto Rhadamant\n    That the 3 sisters hartes are made of adamant.                 [660]\n\n    _Cli._ Since wee must passe ore lake in Charons ferry,\n    Had wee Narcissus wee should bee more merrye.\n\n    _Dor._ My soule doth say that wee must goe before,\n    Narcisse will overtake vs at the shore;\n    And that that mockt vs both, deformed dwarfe,\n    Will er't bee long arive at Charons wharfe.\n\n    _Cli._ Lett us, Dorastus, die, departe, decease;\n    Wee lovd in strife, & lett vs dye in peace.\n\n    _Dor._ Stay, take mee with you, letts togither goe.\n\n    _Am._ Vild world adieu, wee die, \u00f4 \u00f4 \u00f4 \u00f4!                      [670]\n\n\n_Enter_ NARCISSUS.\n\n    Does the hagg followe? Stay for her never durst I;\n    Sh'as made mee runne so longe that I am thurstye,\n    But O, yee gods immortall, by good fortune [F. 68v rev.]\n    Heere is a well in good time & oportune;\n    Drinke, drinke, Narcissus, till thy belly burst,\n    Water is Rennish wine to them that thirst.\n    But oh remaine & let thy christall lippe\n    Noe more of this same cherrye water sippe;\n    What deadly beautye or what aerye nimphe\n    Is heare belowe now seated in the limphe?                      [680]\n    Looke, looke, Narcissus, how his eyes are silver,\n    Looke, least those eyes thy hart from thee doe pilfer,\n    Yet O looke not, for by these eyes so headye,\n    Thy hart from thee is filcht away allreadye;\n    O Well, how oft I kisse thy wholsome liquor,\n    While on my love kisses I heape a dicker.\n    O love, come foorth accordinge to my mind,\n    How deepe I dive yet thee I cannott find;\n    O love, come foorth, my face is not so foule\n    That thou shouldst scorne mee; pittye mee, poor soule.         [690]\n    Well, dost thou scorne mee? Nimphes they did not soe,\n    They had a better thought of mee I trowe.\n    Not care of Ceres, Morpheus, nor of Bacchus,\n    That is meate, drinke, & sleepe from hence shall take vs;\n    Heere will I dye, this well shall bee my tombe,\n    My webb is spunne; Lachesis, loppe thy loome.\n                          [_Lye downe & rise vpp againe._ [F. 68r rev.]\n    Tell mee, you woods, tell mee, you oakes soe stronge,\n    Whether in all your life, your life so longe,\n    So faire a youth pinde thus, & tell mee trulye\n    Whether that any man ere lov'd so cruellye.                    [700]\n    The thinge I like I see, but what I see\n    And like, natheles I cannot find perdie,\n    And that that greives my liver most, no seas\n    Surging, mountaines, monstrous or weary ways,\n    Nor walls with gates yshutt doe mee remove;\n    A little water keepes mee from my love.\n    Come out, come out, deare boye.\n\n    _Ecc._ Come out, deare boye.\n\n    [_Nar._] Thy frend I am, O doe not mee destroye;\n    Thou dost putt out thy hand as I doe mine,                     [710]\n    And thou dost pinke vpon mee with thine eyen,\n    Smile as I smile; besides I tooke good keepe,\n    And saw thee eke shedd teares when I did weepe,\n    And by thy lippes moving, well I doe suppose\n    Woordes thou dost speake, may well come to our nose;\n    For to oure eares I am sure they never passe,\n    Which makes me to crye out, alas!\n\n    _Ecc._ Alas!\n\n    [_Nar._] O delicate pretty youth,\n        Pretty youth;                                              [720]\n    Take on my woes pittye, youthe!\n        Pittye, youthe!\n    O sweetest boy, pray love mee! [F. 67v rev.]\n        Pray love mee!\n    Or els I dye for thee,\n        I dye for thee!\n\n    [_Nar._] Colour is gone & bloud in face is thinne,\n    And I am naught left now but bone & skinne;\n    I dye; but though I dye it shall come to passe,\n    Certes it shall, that I which whilome was                      [730]\n    The flower of youth, shalbee made flower againe.\n    I dye; farewell, O boy belov'd in vaine.\n\n    [_Ecc._] O boy belov'd in vaine.\n                                         [NARCISSUS _risinge vp againe._\n    And so I died & sunke into my grandam,\n    Surnamde old earth: lett not your iudgments randome,\n    For if you take mee for Narcissus y'are very sillye,\n    I desire you to take mee for a daffa downe dillye;\n    For so I rose, & so I am in trothe,\n    As may appeare by the flower in my mouthe.\n\n    _Ecc._ Now auditors of intelligence quicke,                    [740]\n    I pray you suppose that Eccho is sicke;\n    Sicke at the hart, for you must thinke,\n    For lacke of love shee could nor eate nor drinke;\n    Soe that of her nothinge remainde but bone,\n    And that they say was turn'd into a stone.\n    Onely her voice was left, as by good happe [F. 67r rev.]\n    You may perceive if you imparte a clappe. [_Exit._\n\n\n_Enter the_ Porter _as Epilogue_.\n\n    Are those the ladds that would doe the deede?\n    They may bee gone, & God bee their speede;\n    Ile take vpp their buckett, but I sweare by the water,         [750]\n    I have seene a farre better play at the theater.\n    Ile shutt them out of doores, 'tis no matter for their larges;\n    Thinke you well of my service, & Ile beare the charges.\n    If there bee any that expecte some dances,\n    'Tis I must perform it, for my name is Frances.\n\n\nFINIS.\n\n\n\n\nAPPENDIX.\n\n\nI.\n\n    _A speech made for the foresaid porter, who [F. 84r rev.]\n      pronounc't it in the hall before most of the house and Master\n      Pr\u00e6sident, that had sconc't him 10 groates for lettinge the fidlers\n      into the hall at Christmas._\n\nIlle ego qui quondam, I am hee that in ould season have made Lilly leape\nout of his skinne, & with a muster of sentences out of his syntaxis have\nbesieged the eares of the audience in the behalfe of the wretched. But\nalas!--Mihi isthic nec seritur nec metitur; it is to mee neither a\nsorrye turne nor a merrye turne. I have sifted out for other mens sakes\nthe flower of my fancye, that I have left nothing but the branne in my\nbraine. And yet who is there amongst them that in the depth of my\ndistresse will speake for the poore porter, who meltes [10] the muses\ninto mourninge or turnes Parnassus into plaintes, Hellicon into\nheavines, Apollo into an apollogie, for my sake? My learninge goeth not\nbeyond Lillye, nor my reading beyond my rules, yet have I for them so\ncanvast their concavitye that I have opened their entraills, so dived\ninto the depth of them that I have manifested their marrowe, soe pried\ninto their profunditye that I have plac't the verye pith of them before\nyou. And, alas that I should [F. 83v rev.] now speake for my\nselfe, what remaines for mee but the rinde & the barke, when I have\ngiven the roote & [20] the bodye to others? What remaines for mee but\nthe shell, when I have given others the substaunce, what remaines for\nmee but the curdes, when I have given others the creame? Yea, what is\nleft for mee but the paringes, when I have given others the peares? But\nI therin made knowen my valour, for you knowe, Aliorum vitia cernere\noblivisci suorum, to supplye other mens wants & to forgett his owne,\nproprium est stultiti\u00e6, is the parte of a stoute man; since then I must\nspeake for my selfe, Stat mihi casus renovare omnes; you shall [30]\nheare the whole cause, case, and the course of it.\n\nSub nocte silenti, (i) in nocte vel paulo ante noctem, cum spectatur in\nignibus aurum; when you might have seene gold in the fier, the fier\nshin'de so like gold, Ecce per opaca locorum, came the fidlers creeping\nalonge, densa subter testudine casus, their instruments vnder their\narms, in their cases, & at lenghe, Itum est in viscera terr\u00e6, broke open\ninto the harte of the hall; neither when they were there could they bee\ncontent to [F. 83r rev.] warme their fingers by the fier and bee gone,\nthough I [40] would have persuaded them thereto, but Iuvat vsque morari\net conferre gradum; they would needes staye & the youth daunce; but oh\nto see, woe to see, that pleasure is but a pinch and felicitye but a\nphillippe; when as Juvat ire per altum, some were cutting capers aloft\nin the ayre, canit similiter huic, and they likewise with their\nminstrelsey fitting it to their footing, all on a suddaine, Subito I may\nsay to them, but Repente to mee, their sporte was spoild, their musicke\nmarrd, their dauncinge dasht with a vox hominem sonat, with a voyce,\n[50] with an awefull voice, H\u00e6ccine fieri flagitia; ar these the fruites\nof the fires; statur a me, (i) sto, statur ab illis, (i) stant; they\nthat even now scrap't so fast with their stickes fell now to scraping\nfaster with their leggs; their fum fum was turn'd to mum mum, and their\npleasaunt melodye to most pittifull making of faces; but when they\nlook't that their fiddles should have flyen about their eares, their\ncalveskin cases about their calveshead pates, as the sunne shines\nbrightest through a shower, so did softnes in the midst of severitye:\n[F. 82v rev.] there was noe more [60] said to them but, Teque his ait\neripe flammis; they were best, since they had made many mens heeles\nwarme with shakinge, to coole their owne by quaking without doore. But\nthe more mercy was shewed before, the lesse was left for mee. Had I\nbeene dealt with soe mercifullye, I had not neede to have come with this\nexclamation, or had it beene but gratia ab officio, but a groat out of\nmine office, I should not have stonied the stones nor rented the rockes\nwith my dolorous outcryes.\n\nBut when it shall come to denarii dicti quod denos, [70] when tenn\ngroats shall make a muster togeather and sitte heavy on my head, actum\nest ilicet, the porter periit. O weathercoke of wretchednes that I am,\nseated on the may-pole of misfortune; whither shall I turne, or to whome\nshall I looke for releife? Shall I speake to my minstrells for my money?\nWhy, they have allready forsaken mee, to the verifieng of the ould\nproverbe; Quantum quisque sua nummorum servat in arc[=a], tantum habet\net fidei; as long as a man hath money in his purse, so long hee shall\nhave the fidlers. What is to bee looked [80] for of them that will doe\nnothing without pay, and hard-mony for their harmonye? Shall I speake to\nmy frends? Why: nullus ad amissas ibit amicus opes. [F. 43r rev.] Oh,\nthen, lett mee runne to the speare of Achilles (recorded by auncient\nphilosophers) which first hurt mee and last can heale mee: lett my\npenitencye find pittye, and my confession move compassion; if you will\nlive according to rule, ever after penitet, t\u00e6det, lett miseret,\nmiserescit succeede.\n\nThat they came in, it was a fault of oversight in not overseeing my\noffice: if any should slinke by Cerberus [90] out of hell, it weare a\nthing to bee wondred at, & yet wee see there doth, ther are so many\nspirritts walking. If any should steale by Janus into heaven, it weare\nmuch woorthy of marvaile, and yet wee see there doth, there are soe many\nof Jupiters lemmans: if anye should skippe in or out by mee it is not to\nbee admired: for why? Cerberus the porter of hell hath 3 heads, Janus\nhath two, & I your poore colledg porter have but one. That they weare\nnot putt out of the colledge when they weare in, it was a fault; but a\nfault of curtesie; for who could [100] find in his hart, when hee seeth\na man accompanied with musicke, musis comitantibus, to bidd him, Ibis\nHomere foras, gett you home for an asse?\n\nBut though my breast (I must confesse) weare then somewhat [F. 42v rev.]\nmoved with their melodye, yet heerafter my breast shall bee marble when\nthey warble: Nemo sibi Mimos accipere debet favori, I will never lett in\nminstrells againe vpon favour; for your selves I can say no more but\nprofit; & when (after this Christmas cheere is ended) you fall againe to\nyour studdies, I could wish that [110] Hippocrene may bee Hippocrise,\nthe muses Muskadine, & the Pierides pies every day for your sakes; and\nas for my tenn groates, if it will please you to remitte it, I will give\nyou decies decem mille gratiarum. Dixi.\n\n\nII.\n\n    _A speech delivered by Francis Clarke to the Ladie Keneda._\n    [F. 46r rev.]\n\nNoble ladye, give him leave that hath beene so bolde as to take leave,\nto speake before your ladyshipp, and out of the prognosticks, not of\nprofound pond or deepe dale, but out of the candlesticke of mine owne\nobservation, to give your ladyshipp some lightning of a great thunder\nthat will happen in the morning.\n\nThe reason of it is a flatt, slimye, & sulphureous matter exhaled out of\nthe kitchins & enflamed in the highest region of the dripping pannes,\nwhich will breed fiery commetts with much lightning and thunder. And\n[10] the influence of it will so domineere in the cooks heads, that are\nbrought vpp under the torridd zone of the chimney, that few of them will\ntake rest this night, & suffer as few to take rest in the morning. They\nhave sett a little porch before so great an house, and have called their\nshow the flye. Some say because a maide comming to towne with butter was\nmett by a cooke & by him deceaved in a wood neare adioyning, whose\nlaments the dryades and hamadriades of the place, pittieng, turned her\ninto a butterflie; & ever since the cooks are bound to this [20]\nanniversary celebration of her metamorphosis; but soft, if the cooks\nheare that the porridgpott of my mouth [F. 45v rev.] runnes over soe,\nthey will keele it with the ladle of reprehension; therfore I will make\nhast away, onely asking this boone, which wilbee as good as a bone to\nthe cookes; that your ladyshipps servaunt Monsieur Piers may ride\nto-morrowe with the fierye fraternitye of his fellowe cookes, & make\nvpp the worthy companye of the round table, which they are resolvd not\nto leave till the whole house goe rounde with them. [30]\n\n\nIII.\n\n     _A Speech spoken by Francis Clarke in the behalfe of the freshmen._\n\nNe s\u00e6vi, magne sacerdos, bee not so severe, great session [F. 44v rev.]\nholder; lett pittie prevaile over the poenitent, lett thy woords of\nwoormwood goe downe againe into thy throate, & so by consequence into\nthy belly, but lett not those goe to the place from whence they came, &\nso by coh\u00e6rence to the place of exequution: and though these bee, as it\nis rightly said in the rule, Turba gravis paci placid\u00e6que inimica\nquieti, yet thinke what goes next before, Sis bonus \u00f4 felixque tuis: and\nalthough I must needes say I am sorry for it that Fertur atrocia\nflagitia [10] designasse, yet remember what followes immediatlye in the\nplace; Teque ferunt ir\u00e6 poenituisse tu\u00e6.\n\nYour lordshipp is learned as well as I (it is bootles & I should offer\nyou the bootes), you knowing the Latine to expounde.\n\nI am heere the jaylor, the Janus, the janitor; you are the judge, the\njustice, the Jupiter, to this miserable companye; yet beare I not two\nfaces under a hoode, neither deale I doubly betweene your lordshipp &\nthe lewde; for though Janus & the jaylor goe together, vt bifrons, [20]\ncustos, yet Bos stands for a barre to distinguish the jaylor from the\ntheefe, vt bifrons, custos, bos, fur.\n\nO that you weare Jupiter, to bee a helping father to these sonnes of\nsorrow, or I weare Janus indeed, that I might have two tongues to\nintreate for this pittifull crew. [F. 44r rev.] Looke, O thou flower of\nfavour, thou marigold of mercye and columbine of compassion, looke, O\nlooke on the dolorous dew dropps distilld from the limbecks or\nloope-holes of their eyes, and plentifully powred on the flower of their\nfaces; O see in these (O thou most exalted [30] eldest sonne of Justice)\na lamentable example; consider that homo bulla, honor is but a blast;\npittie, O pitty the cause of these hopeles, helples, hartles and indeed\nhalf-hanged young men; if they have erred, humanum est, they are men;\nlooke not thou for that of them which you can but expect of gods. Have\nthey spoken against the lawes of your court, why, Dolet dictum\nimprudenti adolescenti et libero: has their tongue tript, why, Lingua\npercurrit, it was too quicke for the witt, quicknes is commendable.\nPectora percussit, have they fought with [40] your highnes servaunts,\nhave they beene obstinate? Why, they have had their punishment, and\ntoties quoties, went either wett skind or dry beaten to bedd. Quid est\nquod, in hac caus[=a] defensionis egeat; take pittie (O thou peerles\npatterne of equity) if on nothing els, yet on their youth.\n\nSome of them are heires, all of good abilitye; I beseech your lordshipp\nwith the rest of the ioynd stooles, I would say the bench, take my\nfoolish iudgment, & lett them fine for it, merce them according to their\nmerritts [50] [F. 43v rev.] and their purses, wee shall all fare the\nbetter for it.\n\nAs for other punishments (I speake it with weeping teares) they have\nsuffered no small affliction in my keeping; Est locus in carcere quod\ndungeanum appellatur; there they lay, noctes atque dies, at no great\ncharge, for, Constat parvo fames; but so laded with irons that I made\nthem Livida armis brachia, & now, see, they are come foorth after all,\nTrepidus morte futura.\n\nO miseresce malis, take pitty on the poore prisners, Patres \u00e6quum esse\ncensent nos iam iam; you may very [60] well remember, since yourselfe\nweare in the same case. Cutt not off for some few slippes those younge\nplantes of such towardnes; make not mothers weepe, winke at small\nfaultes, rovoke your sentence, lett the common good have their fines,\nmee have my fees, they have their lives, and all shalbee well pleased.\nDixi.\n\n\nIV.\n\n    _A letter composd for Francke Clarke, the porter of [F. 84v rev.]\n      S. John's, who in his brother's behalfe did breake one's head with\n      a blacke staffe._\n\nTO MASTER LAUDE, THEN PROCTOR.\n\nWorshipfull and woorthy Master Proctor, wheras I, your poore vassaile,\nin charitye towardes my afflicted brother, have stepped over the shooes\nof my duetye in participatinge or accommodatinge my blacke staffe to the\neasinge of his over-charged artickles & members, wherby I have iustlye\nplucked the oulde house, or rather the maine beame of your indignation,\nupon my impotent and impudent shoulders, I doe now beseech you upon the\nknees of my sorrowfullnes and marybones of repentance to forgive mee all\ndelictes & crimes as have beene [10] formerly committed.\n\nAnd wheras you, contrary to my desertes, have out of the bottomles pitt\nof your liberalitye restored mee out of the porters lodge of miserye\ninto the tower of f\u00e6licitie, by giving that which was due from mee\n(silly mee) vnto your worshippfull selfe, I meane my ladye pecunia; lett\nmee intreate you that I may burden the leggs of your liberalitie so\nmuch farther, as to deliver mee the afore-said blacke staffe, without\nwhich I am a man & noe beast, a wretch & no porter. But wheras it is\nthus [20] by my most vnfortunate fate, that so woorthy a President [F.\n85r rev.] hath seene so vnworthy a present, I cannott but condole my\ntragedies, committing you to the profunditye or abisse of your\nliberalitie, & my selfe to the 3 craues of my adversitie. Dixi.\n\n\n\n\nNOTES TO THE PLAY OF \"NARCISSUS.\"\n\n\n\n\nNOTES TO THE PLAY OF \"NARCISSUS.\"\n\n\nLine 1. _Master and Mistris._--Doubtless the President of S. John's and\nhis wife. The office was held at this time by Ralph Hutchinson, who had\nbeen elected to it in 1590, after holding for some years the college\nliving of Charlbury, Oxon. Little seems to be known of Mrs. Hutchinson\nbeyond the fact that after her husband's death in 1606 she placed his\neffigy in the college chapel.\n\nLine 39. _Rebateth._--To rebate, to blunt or disedge; see _Measure for\nMeasure_, i. 4, 60--\"Doth rebate and blunt his natural edge.\"\n\nLine 55. _Quaffe._--The substantival use of this word is not uncommon in\ncontemporary writings. Cf., in 1579, L. Tomson, Calvin's _Sermons on\nTimothy, &c.,_ p. 512, col. 2: \"Now they thinke that a sermon costeth no\nmore then a quaffe wil them.\"\n\nLine 78. _Ladds of mettall._--Cf. 1 _Henry IV._ ii. 4, 13.\n\nLine 80._ No vertue extant._--Cf. 1 _Henry IV._ ii. 4, 132, where virtue\n= bravery, physical courage. The porter's use of the phrase sounds like\na quotation.\n\nLine 97. _A the stampe._--Halliwell gives \"Stamp, a tune,\" and quotes\nfrom MS. Fairfax, 16, \"Songes, stampes, and eke daunces.\" Cf. also\n_Midsummer Night's Dream_, iii. 2, 25.\n\nLine 98. _Windsuckers._--This old name for the kestrel, or wind-hover,\nis of tolerably frequent occurrence. It is used metaphorically of a\nperson ready to pounce on anything. \"There is a certain envious\nwindsucker that hovers up and down\" (Chapman).\n\nLine 101. _I pre, sequor._--Literally, \"Go before, I follow.\" The porter\nsupplies a free translation in the words \"one of your consorte.\" Cf.\nthe use of the phrase \"to be hail-fellow-well-met with anyone.\"\n\nLine 109. _Condolent_ here means _expressing sorrow_. For this sense see\nWood, Ath. Oxon. (R)--\"His vein for ditty and amorous ode was deemed\nmost lofty, condolent, and passionate.\"\n\nLine 110. _Suffocat._--The porter's substitute for _sufficit_; though,\nstrictly speaking, the _o_ should be long.\n\nLine 111. _I tickle them for a good voice._--Besides the ordinary\nmetaphorical meaning of to flatter, _tickle_ sometimes = to serve one\nright, to make one pay for a thing. For this sense see 1 _Henry IV._ ii.\n4, 489, \"I'll tickle ye for a young prince, i' faith;\" and cf. _Ibid._\nii. 1, 66. Probably the expression has a similar force here.\n\nLine 114. _Butterd beare._--Ale boiled with lump-sugar, butter, and\nspice.\n\nLine 122. _Act in conye._--The adjective _incony_, with the apparent\nsense of fine, delicate, is used twice by Costard in _Love's Labour's\nLost_ (iii. 136, iv. 1, 144) and also in Marlowe's _Jew of Malta_, iv.\n5--\"While I in thy incony lap do tumble.\" Other examples are rare, and I\nhave not found any instance of an adverbial use. A second, though much\nless probable interpretation of the passage is suggested by the frequent\nuse of _cony_ as a term of endearment to a woman (cf. Skelton's _Eleanor\nRummyng_, 225--\"He called me his whytyng, his nobbes, and his conny\").\nIf, however, \"act in conye\" were equivalent to \"act as woman,\" _i.e._\ntake a female part, examples of analogous constructions should be\nforthcoming.\n\nLine 129. _Lovely._--Here used in the sense of loving, tender. Cf.\n_Taming of the Shrew_, iii. 2, 125--\"And seal the title with a lovely\nkiss.\"\n\nLine 156. _All and some._--An expression meaning everyone, everything,\naltogether:\n\n    \"For which the people blisful, _al and somme_,\n    So cryden\" ...\n\n      (CHAUCER, _Anelida and Arcite_, i. 26.)\n\n    \"Thou who wilt not love, do this;\n    Learne of me what Woman is.\n    Something made of thred and thrumme;\n    A meere botch of all and some.\"\n\n      (HERRICK, _Hesperides_, i. 100.)\n\nLine 160. _Cappes a thrumming._--Cf. _Knight of the Burning Pestle_, iv.\n5--\n\n    \"And let it ne'er be said for shame that we, the youths of London,\n    Lay thrumming of our caps at home, and left our custom undone.\"\n\nTo _thrum_ = to beat in the Suffolk dialect.\n\nLine 167. _Shrimpe._--This use of the word in the sense of child,\noffspring (or possibly as a term of endearment, \"little one\") is not\ncommon. It was generally employed contemptuously, and meant a dwarfish\nor stunted creature, as in 1 _Henry VI._ ii. 3, 23. See, however,\n_Love's Labour's Lost_, v. 2, 594.\n\nLine 193. _Oddes_ here = contention, quarrel. For this sense compare--\n\n                  \"I cannot speak\n    Any beginning to this peevish odds.\"\n\n      (_Othello_, ii. 3, 185.)\n\nand also _Henry V._ ii. 4, 129, and _Timon of Athens_, iv. 3, 42.\n\nLine 195. _Seven yeares I was a woman._--The blindness of Tiresias is\nmost frequently ascribed, either to his having, when a child, revealed\nthe secrets of the gods, or to his having gazed upon Athen\u00e8 bathing, on\nwhich occasion the goddess is said to have deprived him of sight.\nAnother tradition, however (adhered to by Ovid, _Met._ iii. 516, etc.),\nrelates that Tiresias beheld two serpents together; he struck at them,\nand, happening to kill the female, was himself changed into a woman.\nSeven years later he again encountered two serpents, but now killed the\nmale, and resumed the shape of man. Zeus and Hera, disputing over the\nrelative happiness of man and woman, referred the matter to Tiresias, as\nhaving a practical knowledge of both conditions. He favoured Zeus's\nassertion that a woman possessed the more enjoyments; whereupon Hera,\nindignant, blinded him, while Zeus bestowed on him, in compensation, the\npower of prophecy.\n\nLine 197. _Fold._--The omission of a prefix to suit the exigencies of\nmetre, common enough in verbs such as defend, defile, becomes remarkable\nwhen the force of the prefix itself is such as to change entirely the\nmeaning of the verb. Examples of omission in such cases are comparatively\nrare, but they are not confined to our own language. See Vergil, _Aen._\ni. 262--\n\n    \"Longius et volvens fatorum arcana movebo\"--\n\nand cf. also _Aen._ v. 26, and Cicero's _Brutus_, 87.\n\nLine 223. _Catch audacitye._--For the old metaphorical use of catch cf.\nWyclif's Bible (1 Tim. vi. 12), \"Catche euerlastyng lyf.\"\n\nLine 227. _Curromanstike_, chiromantic, _i.e._ pertaining to chiromancy;\nthe rhyme being probably responsible for the use of the adjective rather\nthan the noun.\n\nLine 229. _The table_, etc.--\"The table-line, or line of fortune, begins\nunder the mount of Mercury, and ends near the index and middle\nfinger.... When lines come from the mount of Venus, and cut the line of\nlife, it denotes the party unfortunate in love and business, and\nthreatens him with some suddain death\" (_The True Fortune-teller, or\nGuide to Knowledge_, 1686).\n\nLine 236. _Sheppbiter._--A malicious, surly fellow; according to Dyce,\n\"a cant term for a thief.\" See _Twelfth Night_, ii. 5, 6, \"The\nniggardly, rascally sheep-biter.\"\n\nLine 246. _What._--MS. has the abbreviation w^{th}, usually denoting\n_with_, but evidently substituted here, by a copyist's error, for w^{t}\n= _what_.\n\nLine 247. _They can but bring_, etc.--W. Carew Hazlitt (_English\nProverbs_, p. 28) quotes from Heywood, 1562--\"A man maie well bring a\nhorse to the water, but he can not make him drinke without he will.\" He\nalso mentions that the proverb is ascribed (probably falsely) to Queen\nElizabeth, in the _Philosopher's Banquet_ (1614).\n\nLine 261. _I_ = ay.--Both spellings occur in the MS. For the common use\nof the capital _I_ in this sense, see Juliet's play upon the word--\n\n    \"Hath Romeo slain himself? Say thou but 'I,'\n    And that bare vowel 'I' shall poison more\n    Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice;\n    I am not I, if there be such an I.\"\n\n      (_Romeo and Juliet_, iii. 2, 45, etc.)\n\nLine 262. _In spight of ... pye._--Alluding to the common belief in the\npie, or magpie, as a bird of ill-omen.\n\nLine 266. _Phibbus._--The same spelling as in _Midsummer Night's Dream_,\ni. 2, 37.\n\nLine 270. _Baskett dagger._--Doubtless a weapon resembling the\nbasket-_sword_, which had a hilt specially designed to protect the hand\nfrom injury. Cf. 2 _Henry IV._ ii. 4, 141.\n\nLine 275. _Footinge_, step, tread; cf. _Merchant of Venice_, v. 24.\n\nLine 279.--_Late-mouse._--A facetious spelling of Latmus, the \"mount of\noblivion.\"\n\nLine 281. _Shift_ originally meant simply change, substitution of one\nthing for another. Cf. _Timon of Athens_, i. 1, 84--\"Fortune, in her\nshift and change of mood.\" Wotton writes--\"My going to Oxford was not\nmerely for shift of air.\" From this arose the later sense of a change of\nclothing, in which the word is here used; and which has now become\nfurther limited, _shift_ amongst the lower classes being equivalent to\nan under-garment.\n\nLine 282. _Cantle._--A corner, angle, small point. Cf. 1 _Henry IV._\niii. 1, 100; _Antony and Cleopatra_, iii. 10, 6. See also under _cantle_\nin N. E. D.\n\nLine 283. _Portmantle._--The older and commoner form of _portmanteau_,\noccurring, for example, in Howell's _Familiar Letters_ (1623). Early\ninstances of _portmanteau_ are, however, to be found.\n\nLine 296. _Ile bee a diar,_ etc.--The joke is on the double meaning of\n_diar_; there seems to be no special significance in the choice of the\ncolour orange-tawny.\n\nLine 300. _Codshead_ = stupid-head, foolish fellow. Cf. in 1607,\nDrewill's _Arraignm_. in Harl. Misc. (Malh.) iii. 56:--\"Lloyd\n(threatning he) woulde trye acquaintance with the other codsheade.\"\nAlso, in 1594, Carew Huarte's _Exam. Wits_, i. (1596), 2:--\"His\n(Cicero's) sonne ... prooued but a cods-head.\"\n\nLine 301. _O eyes, noe eyes._--The common tag from Hieronymo, in Kyd's\n_Spanish Tragedy_, Act iii.:\n\n    \"O eyes! No eyes, but fountains fraught with tears;\n    O life! No life, but lively form of death.\"\n\nThe line was a frequent subject of ridicule amongst contemporary\nwriters; cf. _Every Man in his Humour_, i. 5, 58, etc.\n\nLine 316. _Fennell._--Foeniculum vulgare, considered as an inflammatory\nherb, and used as an emblem of flattery. Cf. _Hamlet_, iv. 5, 180.\n\nLine 320. _Thou._--MS. has _though_.\n\nLine 327. _Weasand._--This word is generally used as a noun, and itself\nmeans wind-pipe. Cf. _Tempest_, iii. 2, 99.\n\nLine 328. _Thy face more faire, etc._--According to some legends, Gorgon\nor Medusa was a beautiful maiden before Athen\u00e8, in anger, changed her\nhair into serpents, thereby rendering her so hideous that all who saw\nher became petrified. Possibly, however, the allusion here is merely\nfacetious.\n\nLine 329. _Dishevells._--Spreads in disorder (an intransitive use).\n\"Their hair, curling, dishevels about their shoulders.\" (Sir T.\nHerbert.)\n\nLine 330. _Queene of devills._--Probably Persephone, the wife of Pluto,\nwho ruled amongst the shades of the departed.\n\nLine 332. _Mavors_ or _Mavers_ is the form from which _Mars_ is\ncontracted.\n\nLine 337. _Silenus for streight backe._--Silenus is usually depicted as\na fat, jovial old man, intoxicated and requiring support. The comparison\nis of course ironical.\n\nLine 339. _Rine_ = rind or bark. The O. E. form was rinde; but for a\nsimilar omission of _d_ in the literary language cf. _lime_ (O. E.\nlinde) and _lawn_ (M. E. launde).\n\nLine 342. _Whose nose, etc._--Cf. _Midsummer Night's Dream_, v. 338. A\nsimilar jest occurs in Peele's \"Old Wives' Tale\": \"Her corall lippes,\nher crimson chinne.\"\n\nLine 345. _Thy._--MS. has _they_.\n\nLine 360. _Cruell_, _huge_, are the epithets properly belonging to\n_elephant_; _changing_, _small_, to _chameleon_. See Introduction.\n\nLine 396. _Ile beare thee light._--If this expression be an idiom, I can\nfind no other instance of it; cf., however, the analogous phrase \"to\nbear hard,\" _i.e._ to take ill (_Julius C\u00e6sar_, ii. 1, 215; 1 _Henry\nIV._ i. 3, 270). The punning character of the passage makes it difficult\nto determine what exact meaning Florida wishes to convey. A not\nimprobable sense would be obtained by supplying a comma after _thee_,\nand thus turning _light_ into a nominative of address.\n\nLine 397. _Lurden_, a clown, sluggard, ill-bred person (Halliwell).\n\n    \"And seyde, lurden, what doyst thou here?\n    Thou art a thefe, or thefys fere.\"\n\n      (MS. _Cantab_, Ff. ii. 38, f. 240.)\n\nThe word occurs in _Piers Plowman_.\n\nLine 399. _O Oedipus I am not, I am Davus._--A quotation from Terence,\n_Andria_, i. 2, 23: \"Davus sum, non Oedipus.\"\n\nLine 400. _Master Davis._--Evidently an intentional anglicizing of the\nclassical name.\n\nLine 406. _Vastitye._--So MS., possibly for _vastilye_.\n\nLine 408. _As true as Helen, etc._--Cf. the professions of Pyramus and\nThisbe (where, however, no irony is intended), _Midsummer Night's\nDream_, v. 1, 200-203.\n\nLine 413. _Loves._--So MS. for _love_.\n\nLine 413. _I am ore shooes in it._--Cf. _Two Gentlemen of Verona_, i. 1,\n23:\n\n    \"That's a deep story of a deeper love,\n    For he was more than over shoes in love.\"\n\nLine 414. _Mountenance_, quantity, amount. The translation of the\n_Romaunt of the Rose_, attributed to Chaucer, has--\"The mountenance of\ntwo fynger hight.\"\n\nLine 422. _Never ioyd it since._--Cf. 1 _Henry IV._ ii. 1, 13: \"Poor\nfellow, never joyed since the price of oats rose; it was the death of\nhim.\"\n\nLine 426. _Pay_ = beat (still used dialectically):\n\n     \"They with a foxe tale him soundly did pay.\"\n\n       (_The King and a poore Northerne Man_, 1640.)\n\nLine 440. _Scummer._--The meanings of this word appear to be either\nvarious or obscure. Halliwell gives \"_Scummer_, wonder; Somerset.\" In\nElworthy's _West Somersetshire Wordbook_ the definitions stand thus: (1)\nrow, disturbance; (2) confusion, upset; (3) mess, dirty muddle. Wright,\nin his _Provincial Dictionary_, gives the meaning as ordure, without\nreferring the word to any special locality. Obviously, this _scummer_ is\nnot to be confounded with M. E. _scumer_, a rover or pirate.\n\nLine 441. _Surquedry_, presumption, arrogance, conceit. Chaucer\nhas--\"Presumpcion is he whan a man taketh an emprise that him ought not\nto do, or ellis he may it not do & that is called surquidrie\" (_Parson's\nTale_, Corpus MS.).\n\nLine 441. _Shooing-horne._--Metaphorically, anything which helps to draw\nsomething else on: a tool. Cf. _Troilus and Cressida_, v. 1, 61: \"A\nthrifty shoeing-horn in a chain, hanging at his brother's leg.\" The\nexpression \"shoeing horn of surquedry\" is thus equivalent to \"chosen\nimplement of personified arrogance.\"\n\nLine 442. _Casting topp_, a peg-top. See W. Coles (1657), _Adam in\nEden_, 169--\"The fruit is in forme like a casting-top.\"\n\nLine 443. _Stopple._--The older form of stopper. Cotgrave has--\"Tampon,\na bung or stopple.\"\n\nLine 446. _Vpp leave._--So MS. for _vpp heave_, possibly by confusion\nwith _vpp lift_.\n\nLine 453. _Corneagle._--I can find no instances whatever of this very\npuzzling word; neither does it seem to be closely analogous to any known\nform. Can _corneagle_ be a corrupt spelling of _co-niggle_, to niggle\nboth (our hearts) together? _Niggle_ was used formerly for deceive,\nsteal (still in the dialects), make sport of, mock; but is not, to my\nknowledge, compounded elsewhere with this prefix. Or is \"harts\ncorneagle\" a substitution for \"harts' core niggle\"? (Heart's core occurs\nin _Hamlet_.) Both explanations have been suggested to me only as a last\nresource, and are too far-fetched to be at all convincing. Moreover, the\ncontext seems to require the sense of pursue, persecute, rather than of\ndeceive.\n\nLine 464. _Tales of tubbes._--A characteristic rendering into\nElizabethan English of Ovid's \"Illa Deam longo prudens sermone tenebat.\"\nThe earliest instances of the expression \"tales of tubs\" seem to occur\nabout the middle of the sixteenth century.\n\n_Notes and Queries_, series v. vol. xi. p. 505, quotes amongst \"curious\nphrases in 1580\"--\"To heare some Gospel of a distaffe and tale of a\ntubbe\" (_Beehive of the Romish Church_, fo. 275b). See also Holland's\n\"Plutarch,\" p. 644, and (for further references) Dodsley-Hazlitt's _Old\nPlays_, ii. 335.\n\nLine 475. _Quatte._--A corruption of _squat_, sometimes used\nsubstantively for the sitting of a hare:\n\n        \"Procure a little sport\n    And then be put to the dead quat.\"\n\n      (_White Devil_, 4to, H.)\n\nThat the word in this sense was not general may be gathered from the\nfact that George Turberville, in his full description of the various\nmethods of hunting the hare (_Noble Art of Venerie_, 1575), makes no use\nof it, but speaks constantly of the hare's form. _Quat_ for _squat_\n(non-substantival) is still frequent in some of the dialects, and is the\nword specially used of a hare or other game when flattening itself on\nthe earth to escape observation. In West Somersetshire it is used in\nconnection with the verb to go--\"The hare went quat\" (Elworthy). This\nis the modern use most nearly approximating to that of the present\npassage.\n\nLine 476. _Watt_, the old name for a hare; hence metaphorically used of\na wily, cautious person (Halliwell).\n\nLine 478. _Hollowe in the hind doggs._--Turberville, describing the\nhunting of hares, writes,--\"One of the huntesmen shall take charge to\nrate & beate on _such doggs as bide plodding behinde_; and the other\nshall make them seeke and cast about.\"\n\nLine 518. _Slidd_, God's lid, a mean oath. See _Merry Wives of Windsor_,\niii. 4, 24; _Twelfth Night_, iii. 4, 427; _Every Man in his Humour_, i.\n1, 56.\n\nLine 537. _Patch._--A term of contempt, generally supposed to have been\nfirst applied to professional fools, by reason of their parti-coloured\ndress. See _Tempest_, iii. 2, 71; _Comedy of Errors_, iii. 1, 32, 36.\n\nLine 556. _Malaparte_, forward, saucy. See _Twelfth Night_, iv. 1, 47,\nand 3 _Henry VI._ v. 5, 32.\n\nLine 569. _Scall scabbe._--A scall = a scab; scald = scabby. See _Merry\nWives of Windsor_, iii. 1, 123; _Twelfth Night_, ii. 5, 82; _Troilus and\nCressida_, ii. 1, 31.\n\nLine 571. _Groome._--In M. E. this word meant simply boy, youth; hence\n(at a later period) serving-lad. See _Taming of the Shrew_, iii. 2, 215,\nand _Titus Andronicus_, iv. 2, 164.\n\nLine 573. _Bange_, beat. Cf. _Othello_, ii. 1, 21, and _Julius C\u00e6sar_,\niii. 3, 20.\n\nLine 575. _Kee pickpurse._--This expression seems to be a quotation from\n1 _Henry IV._ ii. 1, 53:\n\n    \"_Gads._ What, ho! Chamberlain!\n\n    _Cham. (within)._ At hand, quoth pick-purse.\"\n\nI am told that the colloquial use of _kee_, or _quy_, for _quoth_, is\nfrequent in certain parts of Scotland; but I can find no literary\nexample of the form, and it is hard to account for its presence in this\npassage. The scribal substitution of _quy_ for the abbreviated _quoth_\nmight easily occur, the thorn-letter being erroneously transcribed by\n_y_, as in _the_; but this cannot have given rise to any M. E. phonetic\nchange such as the spelling _kee_ certainly implies.\n\nLine 587. _Spurrgald._--Cf. _Richard II._ v. 5, 94.\n\nLine 588. _Jolthead_, blockhead, dunce. See _Two Gentlemen of Verona_,\niii. 1, 290,--\"Fie on thee, jolt-head! Thou canst not read.\" Also\n_Taming of the Shrew_, iv. 1, 169.\n\nLine 590. _Rooke_ = cheat or sharper, and is used as a general term of\ncontempt. See _Every Man in his Humour_, i. 5, 89,--\"Hang him, rook!\"\nThe host of the Garter frequently addresses his familiars as\n\"bully-rook.\" See _Merry Wives of Windsor_, i. 3, 2; ii. 1, 200, 207,\n213.\n\nLine 611. _Forfeiture._--Properly, something lost on engagement, or in\nconsequence of the breach of an obligation. Cf. _Merchant of Venice_, i.\n3, 165; iv. 1, 24, 122. Here the word is used in a modified and more\ngeneral sense.\n\nLine 641. _Ast._--Cf., in 1592, G. Harvey's _Pierces Superer_, 57,--\"He\n... bourdeth, girdeth, asseth, the excellentest writers.\"\n\nLine 644. _Scindifer._--So MS., possibly for _scimitar_.\n\nLine 649. _Whineard_, a sword or hanger (Halliwell):--\n\n    \"His cloake grew large and sid\n    And a faire whinniard by his side.\"\n\n      (_Cobler of Canterburie_, 1608, sig. E, ii.)\n\nLine 658. _Stingian._--So MS. for _Stygian_.\n\nLine 668. _Lovd._--So MS., possibly for _livd_.\n\nLine 670. _Vild._--So MS. for _vile_ or _wild_.\n\nLines 677, 678. _Christall_ and _cherrye_ reversed.\n\nLine 683. _Headye_, rash, impetuous. See 1 _Henry IV._ ii. 3, 58, and\n_Henry V._ i. 1, 34.\n\nLine 686. _Dicker._--Ten of any commodity, as ten hides of leather, ten\nbars of iron, etc. This word comes from the late Latin _dicra_ (_dicora,\ndecora, dacra, dacrum_), classical Latin _decuria_, meaning ten hides,\noccasionally ten of other things. \"Also that no maner foreyn sille no\nlether in the seid cite, but it be in the yelde halle of the same,\npaying for the custom of every _dyker_ i.d.\" (_English Guilds_, ed. by\nToulmin Smith, p. 384). For the wide use of the word in Western and\nNorthern Europe, cf. O. Norse _dekr_, ten hides, M. H. G. _decker_, ten\nof anything, especially hides. Modern German _decker_ = ten hides.\n\nLine 688. _How_ here = however, as in _Venus and Adonis_, 79; 1 _Henry\nIV._ v. 2, 12; and _Much Ado about Nothing_, iii. 1, 60.\n\nLine 703. _Seas._--MS. has _sea_.\n\nLine 711. _Pinke._--A word found in the northern dialects for \"to peep\nslyly.\" Cf. the adjective _pink_, winking, half-shut; \"Plumpy Bacchus\nwith pink eyne\" (_Antony and Cleopatra_, ii. 7, 121).\n\nLine 734. _My grandam ... earth._--Cf. 1 _Henry IV._ iii. 1, 34.\n\nLine 735. _Randome._--The verb random, to stray wildly, is more\nfrequently found with the original spelling _randon_ (French _randoner_,\nto run rapidly), which became altered, possibly by analogy with _whilom_\nand _seldom_, possibly by a process of change similar to that which\nconverted _ranson_ to _ransom_. Sackville writes:--\"Shall leave them\nfree to randon of their will.\"\n\n\n\n\nNOTES TO THE APPENDIX.\n\n\nI.\n\nLine 32. (_i_) is here equivalent to _id est_. Lilly gives the examples\nof lines 52, 53 (in which the same abbreviation here occurs) with the\nwords written in full.\n\nLine 48. _Repente._--A play on the meaning of the English and the form\nof the Latin word _repente_ is clearly intended.\n\nLine 70. \"Denarii dicti, quod denos \u00e6ris valebant; quinarii, quod\nquinos\" (Varro).\n\nLine 93. _Janus_ is frequently, though not invariably, represented in\nmythology as guardian of the entrance to heaven; in which capacity he\nholds in his right hand a staff, and in his left a key, symbolical of\nhis office (Ovid, _Fast._ i. 125). The names of Jupiter and Janus were\nusually coupled in prayer, as the divinities whose aid it was necessary\nto invoke at the beginning of any undertaking. Jupiter gave by augury\nthe requisite sanction; but it was the part of Janus to confer a\nblessing at the outset.\n\nLine 111. _Hippocrise._--A beverage composed of wine, with spices and\nsugar, strained through a cloth; said to have been named from\nHippocrates' sleeve, the term given by apothecaries to a strainer\n(Halliwell).\n\nLine 111. _Muskadine._--A well-known rich wine.\n\n    \"And I will have also wyne de Ryne\n    With new maid clarye, that is good and fyne,\n    Muscadell, terantyne, and bastard,\n    With Ypocras and Pyment comyng afterwarde.\"\n\n      (_MS. Rawl._ C. 86.)\n\nThough _muscadell_ is the usual form (for instances see Furnivall, _The\nBabees Book_, p. 205), the spelling _muscadine_ occurs in Beaumont and\nFletcher's _Loyal Subject_, iii. 4.\n\nLine 112. _The Pierides pies._--The reference is not to the Muses\nthemselves (sometimes called Pierides from Pieria, near Olympus), but to\nthe nine daughters of Pierus, who for attempting to rival the Muses were\nchanged into birds of the magpie kind. For a full account of the\ntransformation see Ovid, _Met._ v. 670, etc. There is a play here on the\ndouble meaning of _pie_, namely a bird (Latin pica), and an article of\nfood.\n\n\nII.\n\nLine 23.--_Keele_, to cool, from O. E. c\u00ealan, M. E. kelen. See _Love's\nLabour's Lost_, v. 2, 930--\"While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.\"\nUsually, however, the verb bore the derived sense of \"to keep from\nboiling over by stirring round.\" _A Tour to the Caves_, 1781,\ngives--\"_Keel_, to keep the pot from boiling over.\" This is evidently\nthe meaning which should be adopted here.\n\n\nIII.\n\nLine 13. _It is bootles_, etc.--Puns on the different meanings of the\nword _boot_ are very common in Elizabethan writers, and the relevant use\nof the one frequently entails the irrelevant introduction of the other.\nSee, for example, _Two Gentlemen of Verona_, i. 1, 27, etc.:\n\n    \"_Pro._ Over the boots? Nay, give me not the boots.\n\n    _Val._ No, I will not, for it boots thee not.\"\n\nAnd _Every Man in his Humour_, i. 3, 30, etc.:\n\n    \"_Brai._ Why, you may ha' my master's gelding, to save your longing,\n    sir.\n\n    _Step._ But I ha' no boots, that's the spite on't.\n\n    _Brai._ Why, a fine wisp of hay roll'd hard, Master Stephen.\n\n    _Step._ No, faith, it's no boot to follow him now.\"\n\n\"Give me not the boots\" = \"do not make a laughing-stock of me.\"\n\nLine 48. _Ioynd stooles._--The word joint-stool, meaning a seat made\nwith joints, a folding-chair, is sometimes spelt _join'd stool_ in old\neditions of Shakespeare. The porter's use of this form is probably\nintended to convey a jest; _ioynd stooles_ is here equivalent to stooles\njoined to one another, and the term is used as a facetious synonym for\n_bench_.\n\n\nIV.\n\nLine 6. _Oulde._--So MS., possibly for _whole_.\n\nLine 19. _A man & noe beast._--An inversion, probably intentional.\n\nLine 22. _Condole my tragedies._--_Condole_ is here used in the now\nobsolete transitive sense, and is equivalent to bewail, grieve over,\nlament. See (in 1607) Hieron, _Works_, i. 179--\"How tender-hearted the\nLord is, and how he doth ... condole our miseries.\" Cf. also Pistol's\nuse of the verb, _Henry V._ ii. 1, 133.\n\nLine 24. _Craues._--The substantive crave, = craving, is not in general\nuse, but appears to be considered rather as a new formation than as an\nobsolete word. Thus the earliest of the three examples given in the N.\nE. D. dates from 1830--\"His crave and his vanity so far deluded him\"\n(_Fraser's Magazine_, i. 134). This is a clear instance of a previous\nuse.\n\nThe sentence as it stands presents some difficulty, inasmuch as the\nporter has made in the course of his speech only two distinct petitions,\nnamely that he may be forgiven \"all delictes and crimes\" (l. 10), and\nthat his black staff may be restored to him (l. 18). Perhaps the\ndelicate hint concerning \"my ladye pecunia,\" coupled with the appeal to\n\"the profunditye or abisse\" of the President's liberality, is to be\nconsidered as constituting a third.\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration: CHISWICK PRESS:--C. WHITTINGHAM AND CO., TOOKS COURT,\nCHANCERY LANE.]\n\n\n\n\nCorrections.\n\nThe first line indicates the original, the second the correction:\n\np. 18:\n\n  [F. 72r. rev.]\n  [F. 72r rev.]\n\np. 30:\n\n  [F. 43r. rev.]\n  [F. 43r rev.]","title":"Narcissus, a Twelfe Night Merriment","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":18747}