History of English Humour Volume I Part 16

_Cac._ You've manners! ever thank him that has money.

_San._ Wilt thou lend me any?

_Cac._ Not a farthing, captain; captains are casual things.

_San._ Why, so are all men: Thou shalt have my bond.

_Cac._ Nor bonds, nor fetters, captain: My money is my own; I make no doubt on't.

_Juan._ What dost thou do with it?

_Cac._ Put it to pious uses-- Buy wine--

_Juan._ Are you for the wars, Sir?

_Cac._ I am not poor enough to be a soldier, Nor have I faith enough to ward a bullet; This is no living for a trench, I take it.

_Juan._ You have said wisely.

_Cac._ Had you but money

You'd swear it, colonel. I'd rather drill at home A hundred thousand crowns, and with more honour, Than exercise ten thousand fools with nothing; A wise man safely feeds, fools cut their fingers.

The prurient coa.r.s.eness of Fletcher is due to the peculiar licentiousness of the period. In his plays, although kissing is sometimes provocative of jealousy, it is generally regarded, even by persons of rank, as of less importance than it is now by boys and girls, who play "Kiss in the ring." In "Rule a wife and have a wife" Margarita says to the Duke

"I may kiss a stranger, For you must be so now."

This lady is desirous of obtaining a very easy husband, who will let her do whatever she likes. A friend says she has found one for her in Leon, who is forthwith introduced. Margarita puts some questions to him to ascertain his docility, and then says--

"Let me try your kisses-- How the fool shakes!--I will not eat you, Sir.

Beshrew my heart, he kisses wondrous manly!

You must not look to be my master, Sir, Nor talk i' th' house as though you wore the breeches, No, nor command in anything. . . You must not be saucy, No, nor at any time familiar with me; Scarce know me when I call not."

After trying and approving his kisses again, she tells him that he is not to start or be offended if he sees her kissing anyone else. He is to keep in the cellar, when not wanted. The proposed husband promises to be most obedient and accommodating in everything, but as soon as he is accepted and the ceremony performed, he appears in a totally different character. He informs his wife, in whose magnificent house he goes to live--

You've nothing to do here, Madam, But as a servant to sweep clean the lodgings, And at my farther will to do me service.

_Margarita_ (_to her servants._) Get me my coach!

_Leon._ Let me see who dare get it Till I command; I'll make him draw your coach And eat your couch, (which will be hard duty).

On Cacafogo making some slighting remark, this gentle individual exclaims--

"Peace! dirt and dunghill!

I will not lose mine anger on a rascal; Provoke me more,--I will beat thy blown body Till thou rebound'st again like a tennis-ball."

In "Monsieur Thomas" we have the following jovial pa.s.sage--

_Francisco._ What hast thou there? a julep?

_Hylas._ He must not touch it; 'Tis present death.

_Thomas._ You are an a.s.s, a twirepipe, A Jeffery John Bo-peep! Thou minister?

Thou mend a left-handed pack-saddle? Out! puppy!

My Friend, Frank, but a very foolish fellow.

Dost thou see that bottle? view it well.

_Fran._ I do, Tom.

_Tho._ There be as many lives in it as a cat carries; 'Tis everlasting liquor.

_Fran._ What?

_Tho._ Old sack, boy.

Old reverend sack; which for ought that I can read yet Was the philosopher's stone the wise King Ptolomus Did all his wonders by.

_Fran._ I see no harm, Tom.

Drink with a moderation.

_Tho._ Drink with sugar, Which I have ready here, and here a gla.s.s, boy.

Hang up your juleps, and your Portugal possets, Your barley broths and sorrel soups; they are mangy And breed the scratches only: Give me sack!

The devil now becomes a constant resource for humour. In "The Chances"

Antonio has lost his jewels. His servant suggests that the thieves have "taken towards the ports."

_Ant._ Get me a conjurer, One that can raise a water-devil. I'll port 'em.

Play at duck and drake with my money? Take heed, fiddler, I'll dance ye by this hand: your fiddlestick I'll grease of a new fashion, for presuming To meddle with my de-gambos! get me a conjurer, Inquire me out a man that lets out devils.

Beaumont and Fletcher were great conversationalists, their racy raillery is said to have been as good as their plays. They were members of the celebrated Mermaid Club in Fleet Street, a centre where the wits of the day sharpened their humour in friendly conflict. In his epistle to Ben Jonson, Beaumont writes--

"What things have we seen Done at the 'Mermaid!' heard words that have been So nimble and so full of subtle flame, As if that every one from whom they came Had meant to put his whole wit in a jest, And had resolved to live a fool the rest Of his dull life."

Here it was that Shakespeare and Jonson often contended, the former like "a light English man-of-war" the latter like "a high-built Spanish galleon."

To some portion of the seventeenth century, we must attribute those curious stories called "The Merry tales of the Wise Men of Gotham"

although by some they have been attributed to Andrew Gotham, a physician of Henry VIII. They are said to have been suggested by a circ.u.mstance which occurred in the time of King John. He intended to pa.s.s through Gotham, a village in Northamptonshire, but the inhabitants placed some difficulties in his way. On his expressing his determination to carry out his project, and sending officers to make inquiries about the opposition offered, the inhabitants were seized with a panic and pretended to have lost their senses. This was the tradition upon which, in after-times, these tales were founded, and being un.o.bjectionable they are well adapted for the nursery, but being mere exercises of ingenuity they afford but very slight pleasure to older minds. Although aimless, there is something clever in them. The Wise Men determine to hedge round a cuckoo to keep it in so that it should sing all the year. The bird seeing the hedge flies away. "A vengeance on her," say the Wise Men, "we made not the hedge high enough." There is the story of the young man, whose mother told him to throw sheep's eyes at his sweetheart, and who, literally, performed her bidding. One Good Friday the Men of Gotham consulted what to do with their red herrings, and other salt fish, and agreed to cart them into a pond that the number might increase next year. At the beginning of the next summer they drag the pond, and only find a great eel. "A mischief on him," they say, "he hath eaten up our fish." Some propose to chop him in pieces, but the rest think it would be best to drown him, so they throw him into another pond. Twelve men of Gotham go to fish, and some stand on dry land, and some in the water.

And one says "We have ventured wonderfully in wading; I pray that none of us come home drowned." So they begin to count, and as each omits himself he can only count eleven, and so they go back to the water, and make great lamentation. A courtier, who meets them, convinces them of their mistake by laying his whip on each of them, who calls out in turn "Here's one," until twelve are counted. The minister of Gotham preaches that men should not drink in Lent. A man, who comes for absolution, and confesses to having been drunk in Lent, replies that fish should swim.

"Yes," returns the priest, "but in water." "I cannot enjoin your prayer," he adds, "for you cannot say your Paternoster. It is folly to make you fast because you never get meat. Labour hard, and get a dinner on Sunday, and I will come and dine with you."

CHAPTER VII.

Jesters--Court of Queen Elizabeth--James I.--The "Counterblasts to Tobacco"--Puritans--Charles II.--Rochester--Buckingham--Dryden--Butler.