The Unfortunate Traveller and Other Works

by Thomas Nashe

And go to some village abordering near

  To taste the cream and cakes and such good cheer,

  Or see a play of strange morality

  Showen by bachelry of Manningtree;7

  Whereto the country franklins8 flock-meal9 swarm,

  And John and Joan come marching arm in arm

  Even on the hallows10 of that blessed saint

  That doth true lovers with those joys acquaint,

  I went, poor pilgrim, to my lady’s shrine

  To see if she would be my valentine.

  But woe, alas, she was not be found,

  For she was shifted to an Upper Ground.11

  Good Justice Dudgeon-haft and Crabtree-Face12

  With bills and staves had scar’d her from the place;

  And now she was compell’d for sanctuary

  To fly unto an house of venery.

  Thither went I, and boldly made enquire

  If they had hackneys13 to let out to hire,

  And what they crav’d by order of their trade

  To let one ride a journey on a jade.

  Therewith out stepped a foggy14 three-chin’d dame,

  That us’d to take young wenches for to tame,

  And ask’d me if I meant as I profess’d,

  Or only ask’d a question but in jest,

  ‘In jest?’ quoth I. ‘That term it as you will:

  I come for game, therefore give me my Jill.’

  ‘Why, sir,’ quoth she, ‘if that be your demand,

  Come, lay me a God’s-penny15 in my hand;

  For in our oratory sikerly16

  None enters here to do his nicery

  But he must pay his offertory first,

  And then perhaps we’ll ease him of his thirst.’

  I, hearing her so earnest for the box,

  Gave her her due, and she the door unlocks.

  In am I enter’d: Venus be my speed.

  But where’s this female that must do this deed?

  By blind meanders, and by crankled17 ways

  She leads me onward (as my author says),

  Until we came within a shady loft

  Where Venus’ bouncing vestals skirmish oft.

  And there she set me in a leather chair,

  And brought me forth of pretty trulls a pair,

  To choose of them which might content mine eye;

  But her I sought I could nowhere espy.

  I spake them fair, and wish’d them well to fare,

  Yet so it is, I must have fresher ware.

  Wherefore, dame bawd, as dainty as you be,

  Fetch gentle Mistress Francis forth to me.

  ‘By Halydame,’ quoth she, ‘and God’s own mother,

  I well perceive you are a wily brother.

  For if there be a morsel of more price,

  You’ll smell it out though I be ne’er so nice.

  As you desire, so shall you swive18 with her,

  But think your purse-strings shall abuy it dear;

  For he that will eat quails must lavish crowns,

  And Mistress Francis in her velvet gowns,

  And ruffs and periwigs as fresh as May

  Cannot be kept with half-a-crown a day.’

  ‘Of price, good hostess, we will not debate,

  Though you assize19 me at the highest rate.

  Only conduct me to this bonny belle,

  And ten good gobs20 I will unto thee tell21

  Of gold or silver, which shall like thee best,

  So much do I her company request.’

  Away she went: so sweet a thing is gold

  That (mauger)22 will invade the strongest hold.

  Hey-ho, she comes, that hath my heart in keep:

  Sing lullaby, my cares, and fall asleep.

  Sweeping she comes, as she would brush the ground:

  Her rattling silks my senses do confound.

  Oh, I am ravish’d! Void the chamber straight,

  For I must needs upon her with my weight.

  ‘My Tomalin’, quoth she, and then she smil’d.

  ‘Ay, ay’, quoth I. So more men are beguil’d

  With smiles, with flattering words and feined cheer,

  When in their deeds their falsehood doth appear.

  ‘As how, my lambkin?’ blushing she replied.

  ‘Because I in this dancing school abide?

  If that be it that breeds this discontent,

  We will remove the camp incontinent.23

  For shelter only, sweetheart, came I hither,

  And to avoid the troublous stormy weather.

  But now the coast is clear we will be gone,

  Since but thy self true lover have I none.’

  With that, she sprung full lightly to my lips,

  And fast about the neck me colls and clips.24

  She wanton faints and falls upon her bed,

  And often tosseth to and fro her head.

  She shuts her eyes and waggles with her tongue:

  Oh, who is able to abstain so long?

  I come, I come; sweet lining25 be thy leave.

  Softly my fingers up these curtains heave

  And make me happy stealing by degrees.

  First bare her legs, then creep up to her knees.

  From thence ascend unto her manly thigh

  (A pox on lingering when I am so nigh).

  Smock, climb a-pace, that I may see my joys.

  Oh, heaven and paradise are all but toys

  Compared with this sight I now behold,

  Which well might keep a man from being old.

  A pretty rising womb without a weam,26

  That shone as bright as any silver stream,

  And bare out like the bending of an hill,

  At whose decline a fountain dwelleth still,

  That hath his mouth beset with ugly briars

  Resembling much a dusky net of wires.

  A lofty buttock barr’d with azure veins,

  Whose comely swelling, when my hand distrains,

  Or wanton checketh with a harmess stype,27

  It makes the fruits of love eftsoon be ripe,

  And pleasure pluck’d too timely from the stem,

  To die ere it hath seen Jerusalem.

  Oh gods, that ever any thing so sweet

  So suddenly should fade away and fleet.

  Her arms are spread, and I am all unarm’d.

  Like one with Ovid’s cursed hemlock28 charm’d,

  So are my limbs unwieldy for the fight,

  That spend their strength in thought of their delight.

  What shall I do to show myself a man?

  It will not be for aught that beauty can.

  I kiss, I clap,29 I feel, I view at will,

  Yet dead he lies not thinking good or ill.

  ‘Unhappy me,’ quoth she, ‘and will’t not stand?

  Come, let me rub and chafe it with my hand.

  Perhaps the silly worm is laboured sore,

  And wearied that it can do no more.

  If it be so (as I am great a-dread)

  I wish ten thousand times that I were dead.

  How ere it is, no means shall want in me,

  That may avail to his recovery.’

  Which said, she took and rolled it on her thigh,

  And when she looked on’t, she would weep and sigh,

  And dandled it and danc’d it up and down,

  Not ceasing, till she raise it from his swoon.

  And then he flew on her as he were wood,30

  And on her breach did thack31 and foin32 a-good.

  He rubb’d and prick’d and pierc’d her to the bones,

  Digging as far as eath33 he might for stones.

  Now high, now low, now striking short and thick,

  Now diving deep he touch’d her to the quick.

  Now with a gird34 he would his course rebate.

  Straight would he take him to a stately gait.

  Play while him list, and thrust he ne’er so hard,

  Poor
patient Grisel35 lieth at his ward,

  And gives and takes as blithe and free as May,

  And e’er more meets him in the middle way.

  On him her eyes continually were fix’d,

  With her eye-beams his melting looks were mix’d,

  Which like the sun, that twixt two glasses plays

  From one to th’other casts rebounding rays.

  He like a star, that to reguild his beams

  Sucks in the influence of Phoebus’ streams,

  Imbathes the lines of his descending light

  In the bright fountains of her clearest sight.

  She fair as fairest planet in the sky

  Her purity to no man doth deny.

  The very chamber, that enclouds her shine,

  Looks like the palace of that God divine,

  Who leads the day about the zodiak,

  And every even descends to th’ocean lake.

  So fierce and fervent is her radiance,

  Such fiery stakes she darts at every glance,

  She might enflame the icy limbs of age,

  And make pale death his surquedry36 assuage

  To stand and gaze upon her orient lamps

  Where Cupid all his chiefest joys encamps,

  And sits and plays with every atomy

  That in her sunbeams swarm abundantly.

  Thus gazing, and thus striving we persever,

  But what so firm that may continue ever?

  ‘Oh, not so fast!’ my ravish’d mistress cries,

  ‘Lest my content, that on thy life relies,

  Be brought too soon from his delightful seat,

  And me unwares of hoped bliss defeat.

  Together let our equal motions stir;

  Together let us live and die, my dear.

  Together let us march unto content,

  And be consumed with one blandishment.’

  As she prescrib’d, so kept we crotchet-time,

  And every stroke in order like a chime.

  Whilst she, that had preserv’d me by her pity,

  Unto our music fram’d a groaning ditty.

  Alas, alas, that love should be a sin,

  Even now my bliss and sorrow doth begin.

  Hold wide thy lap, my love Danaë,37

  And entertain the golden shower so free,

  That trilling falls into thy treasury,

  As April-drops not half so pleasant be,

  Nor Nilus’ overflow to Egypt plains,

  As this sweet-stream, that all her joints imbanes.38

  With ‘Oh’ and ‘Oh’, she itching moves her hips,

  And to and fro full lightly starts and skips.

  She jerks her legs, and sprawleth with her heels,

  No tongue may tell the solace that she feels.

  ‘I faint, I yield: Oh, death rock me asleep.’39

  ‘Sleep, sleep, desire, entombed in the deep.’

  ‘Not so, my dear’, my dearest saint replied,

  ‘For from us yet thy spirit may not glide

  Until the sinowy channels of our blood

  Withold their source from this imprison’d flood;

  And then will we (that “then” will come too soon)

  Dissolved lie as though our days were done.

  The whilst I speak, my soul is fleeting hence,

  And life forsakes his fleshly residence.

  Stay, stay, sweet joy, and leave me not forlorn.

  Why shouldst thou fade that art but newly born?

  Stay but an hour; an hour is not so much.

  But half an hour, if that thy haste be such.

  Nay, but a quarter: I will ask no more,

  That thy departure (which torments me sore)

  May be alightened with a little pause,

  And take away this passion’s sudden cause.

  He hears me not, hard-hearted as he is:

  He is the son of Time and hates my bliss.

  Time ne’er looks back, the river ne’er return;

  A second spring must help me or I burn.

  No, no, the well is dry that should refresh me.

  The glass is run of all my destiny.

  Nature of winter learneth niggardize,

  Who, as he overbears40 the stream with ice,

  That man nor beast may of their pleasance taste,

  So shuts she up her conduit all in haste,

  And will not let her nectar overflow,

  Lest mortal men immortal joys should know.

  Adieu, unconstant love, to thy disport.

  Adieu, false mirth, and melody too short.

  Adieu, faint-hearted instrument of lust,

  That falsely hast betray’d our equal trust.

  Henceforth no more will I implore thine aid,

  Or thee, or men, of cowardize upbraid.

  My little dildo shall supply their kind,

  A knave that moves as light as leaves by wind,

  That bendeth not, nor foldest any deal,

  But stands as stiff as he were made of steel,

  And plays at peacock twixt my legs right blithe,

  And doth my tickling swage with many a sigh.

  For, by Saint Runyon, he’ll refresh me well,

  And never make my tender belly swell.’

  Poor Priapus, whose triumph now must fall,

  Except thou thrust this weakling to the wall,

  Behold how he usurps in bed and bower,

  And undermines thy kingdom every hour.

  How sly he creeps betwixt the bark and tree,

  And sucks the sap, whilst sleep detaineth thee.

  He is my mistress’ page at every stound,41

  And soon will tent a deep intrenched wound.

  He waits on courtly nymphs that be so coy,

  And bids them scorn the blind-alluring boy.

  He gives young girls their gamesome sustenance,

  And every gaping mouth his full sufficience.

  He fortifies disdain with foreign arts,

  And wanton-chaste deludes all loving hearts.

  If any wight a cruel mistress serves,

  Or in despair, unhappy pines and sterves,42

  Curse eunuch dildo, senseless, counterfeit,

  Who sooth may fill, but never can beget.

  But if revenge enraged with despair

  That such a dwarf his wellfare should impair,

  Would fain this woman’s secretary know,

  Let him attend the marks that I shall show.

  He is a youth almost two handfuls high,

  Straight, round, and plumb,43 yet having but one eye,

  Wherein the rheum so fervently doth rain,

  That Stygian gulf may scarce his tears contain;

  Attired in white velvet or in silk,

  And nourish’d with hot water or with milk;

  Arm’d otherwhile in thick congealed glass,

  When he more glib to hell below would pass,

  Upon a chariot of five wheels he rides,

  The which an arm-strong driver steadfast guides,

  And often alters pace as ways grow deep

  (For who in paths unknown one gate can keep?).

  Sometimes he smoothly slideth down the hill,

  Another while the stones his feet do kill

  In clammy ways he treadeth by and by,

  And plasheth and sprayeth all that be him nigh.

  So fares this jolly rider in his race,

  Plunging and sourcing44 forward in like case,

  Bedash’d, bespirted, and beplodded foul,

  God give thee shame, thou blind misshapen owl.

  Fie, fie, for grief: a lady’s chamberlain,

  And canst not thou thy tattling tongue refrain?

  I read thee, beardless blab, beware of stripes,

  And be advised what thou vainly pipes.

  Thou wilt be whipp’d with nettles for this gear,

  If Cicely show but of thy knavery here.

  Saint Denis shield me from such female sprites!


  Regard not, dames, what Cupid’s poet writes.

  I penn’d this story only for myself,

  Who giving suck unto a childish elf,

  And quite discourag’d in my nursery,

  Since all my store seems to her penury.

  I am not as was Hercules the stout,

  That to the seventh journey could hold out.

  I want those herbs and roots of Indian soil,

  That strengthen weary members in their toil.

  Drugs and electuaries of new device

  Do shun my purse, that trembles at the price.

  Sufficeth, all I have I yield her whole,

  Which for a poor man is a princely dole.

  I pay our hostess scot and lot at most,

  And look as lean and lank as any ghost.

  What can be added more to my renown?

  She lieth breathless; I am taken down.

  The waves do swell, the tides climb o’er the banks,

  Judge, gentlemen, if I deserve not thanks.

  And so good night unto you every one,

  For lo, our thread is spun, our play is done.

  Claudito iam rivos Priape, sat prata biberunt.

  THO. NASH.

  Thus hath my pen presum’d to please my friend;

  Oh mightst thou likewise please Apollo’s eye.

  No: Honour brooks no such impiety.

  Yet Ovid’s wanton Muse did not offend.

  He is the fountain whence my streams do flow.

  Forgive me if I speak as I was taught,

  Alike to women, utter all I know,

  As longing to unlade so bad a fraught.

  My mind once purg’d of such lascivious wit,

  With purified words and hallow’d verse

  Thy praises in large volumes shall rehearse,

  That better may thy graver view befit.

  Meanwhile yet rests, you smile at what I write,

  Or for attempting, banish me your sight.

  THOMAS NASH.

  PART III

  1

  from The Anatomy of Absurdity

  PRODIGAL SONS

  GOOD counsel is never remembered nor respected till men have given their farewell to felicity and have been overwhelmed in the extremity of adversity. Young men think it a disgrace to youth to embrace the studies of age, counting their fathers fools whiles they strive to make them wise, casting that away at a cast at dice which cost their dads a year’s toil, spending that in their velvets which was raked up in a russet coat; so that their revenues racked, and their rents raised to the uttermost, is scarce enough to maintain one’s ruffling pride which was wont to be many poor men’s relief. These young gallants having lewdly spent their patrimony, fall to begging of poor men’s houses1 over their heads as the last refuge of their riot,2 removing the ancient bounds of lands to support their decayed port, rather coveting to enclose that which was wont to be common than they would want3 to maintain their private prodigality.