O PER SE O. OR A NEW CRYER OF LANTHORNE AND CANDLE-LIGHT
THE COLD YEARE
DEKKER HIS DREAME
A ROD FOR RUN-AWAYES
BRITTANNIA’S HONOR: BRIGHTLY SHINING IN SEUERALL MAGNIFICENT SHEWES OR PAGEANTS
WARRES, WARRES, WARRES
THE BLACKE ROD: AND THE WHITE ROD
THE WONDERFULL YEARE
Wherein is shewed the picture of London, lying sicke of the Plague.
At the ende of all (like a mery Epilogue to a dull Play) certaine Tales are cut out in sundry fashions, of purpose
to shorten the liues of long winters nights,
that lye watching in the darke for vs.
Et me rigidi legant Catones.
L O N D O N
Printed by Thomas Creede, and are to be solde
in Saint Dontones Church-yarde
in Fleet-streete.
1603
TO HIS WELRESPECTED GOOD FRIEND, M. CUTBERT THURESBY, WATER-BAYLIFFE OF LONDON.
BOOKES are but poore gifts, yet Kings receiue them: vpo[n] which I presume, you will not turne This out of doores. Yet cannot for shame but bid it welcome, because it bringes to you a great quantitie of my loue: which, if it be worth litle, (and no maruell if Loue be solde vnder-foote, when the God of Loue himselfe goes naked) yet I hope you will not say you haue a hard bargaine, Sithe[n]ce you may take as much of it as you please for nothing. I haue clapt the Cognizance of your name, on these scribled papers, it is their liuery: So that now they are yours: being free fro[m] any vile imputation, saue only, that they thrust themselues into your acquiantance. But generall erros, haue generall pardons: for the title of other mens names, is the common Heraldry which all those laie claime too, whose crest is a Pen-and-Inckhorne. If you read, you may happilie laugh; tis my desire you should, because mirth is both Phisicall, and wholesome against the Plague: with which sicknes, (to tell truth) this booke is, (though not sorely) yet somewhat infected. I pray, driue it not out of your companie for all that; for (assure your soule) I am so iealous of your health, that if you did but once imagine, there were gall in mine Incke, I would cast away the Standish, and forsweare medling with anie more Muses.
TO THE READER.
AND why to the Reader? Oh good Sir! theres as sound law to make you giue good words to the Reader, as to a Constable when hee carries his watch about him to tell how the night goes, tho (perhaps) the one (oftentimes) may be serued in for a Goose, and the other fitly furnish the same messe: Yet to maintaine the scuruy fashion, and to keepe Custome in reparations, he must be honeyed, and come-ouer with Gentle Reader, Courteous Reader, and Learned Reader, though he haue no more Gentilitie in him than Adam had (that was but a gardner) no more Ciuilitie than a Tartar, and no more Learning than the most errand Stinkard, that (except his owne name) could neuer finde any thing in the Horne-booke.
How notoriously therfore do good wits dishonor, not only their Calling, but euen their Creation, that worship Glow-wormes (in stead of the Sun) because of a litle false glistering? In the name of Phoebus what madnesse leades them vnto it? For he that dares hazard a pressing to death (thats to say, To be a man in Print) must make account that he shall stand (like the olde Weathercock ouer Powles steeple) to be beaten with all stormes. Neither the stinking Tabacco-breath of a Sattin-gull, the Aconited sting of a narrow-eyed Critick, the faces of a phantastick Stage-monkey, nor the Indeede-la of a Puritanicall Citizen must once shake him. No, but desperately resolue (like a French Post) to ride through thick & thin: indure to see his lines torne pittifully on the rack: suffer his Muse to take the Bastoone, yea, the very stab, & himselfe like a new stake to be a marke for euery Hagler, and therefore (setting vp all these rests) why shuld he regard what fooles bolt is shot at him? Besides, if that which he presents vpon the Stage of the world be Good, why shuld he basely cry out (with that old poeticall mad-cap in his Amphitruo)Iouis summi causa claré plaudite, beg a Plaudite for God-sake! If Bad, who (but an Asse) would intreate (as Players do in a cogging Epilogue at the end of a filthie Comedy) that, be it neuer such wicked stuffe, they would forbeare to hisse, or to dam it perpetually to lye on a Stationers stall. For he that can so cosen himselfe, as to pocket vp praise in that silly sort, makes his braines fat with his own folly.
But Hinc Pudor! or rather Hinc Dolor, heeres the Diuell! It is not the ratling of all this former haile-shot, that can terrifie our Band of Castalian Pen-men from entring into the field: no, no, the murdring Artillery indeede lyes in the roaring mouthes of a company that looke big as if they were the sole and singular Commanders ouer the maine Army of Poesy, yet (if Hermes muster-booke were searcht ouer) theile be found to be the most pitifull pure fresh-water souldiers: they giue out, that they are heires-apparent to Helicon, but an easy Herald may make them meere yonger brothers, or (to say troth) not so much. Beare witnes all you whose wits make you able to be witnesses in this cause, that heere I meddle not with your good Poets, Nam tales, nusquam sunt hic amplius, If you should rake hell, or (as Aristophanes in his Frog sayes) in any Celler deeper than hell, it is hard to finde Spirits of that Fashion. But those Goblins whom I now am co[n]iuring vp, haue bladder-cheekes puft out like a Swizzers breeches (yet being prickt, there comes out nothing but wind) thin-headed fellowes that liue upon the scraps of inuention and trauell with such vagrant soules, and so like Ghosts in white sheets of paper, that the Statute of Rogues may worthily be sued vpon them, because their wits haue no abiding place, and yet wander without a passe-port. Alas, poore wenches (the nine Muses!) how much are you wrongd, to haue such a number of Bastards lying vpo[n] your hands? But turne them out a begging; or if you cannot be rid of their Riming company (as I thinke it will be very hard) then lay your heauie and immortall curse vpon them, that whatsoeuer they weaue (in the motley-loome of their rustie pates) may like a beggers cloake, be full of stolne patches, and yet neuer a patch like one another, that it may be such true lamentable stuffe, that any honest Christian may be sory to see it. Banish these Word-pirates, (you sacred mistresses of learning) into the gulfe of Barbarisme: doome them euerlastingly to liue among dunces: let them not once lick their lips at the Thespian bowle, but onely be glad (and thanke Apollo for it too) if hereafter (as hitherto they haue alwayes) they may quench their poeticall thirst with small beere. Or if they will needes be stealing your Heliconian Nectar, let them (like the dogs of Nylus,) onely lap and away. For this Goatish swarme are those (that where for these many thousand yeares you went for pure maides) haue taken away your good names, these are they that deflowre your beauties. These are those ranck-riders of Art, that haue so spur-gald your lustie wingd Pegasus, that now he begins to be out of flesh, and (euen only for prouander-sake) is glad to shew tricks like Bancks his Curtall. O you Bookes-sellers (that are Factors to the Liberall Sciences) ouer whose Stalles these Drones do dayly flye humming; let Homer, Hesiod, Euripides, and some other mad Greekes with a band of the Latines, lye like musket-shot in their way, when these Goths and Getes set vpon you in your paper fortifications; it is the only Canon, vpon whose mouth they dare not venture, none but the English will take their parts, therefore feare them not, for such a strong breath haue these chese-eaters, that if they do but blow vpon a booke they imagine straight tis blasted; Quod supra nos; nihil ad nos, (they say) that which is aboue our capacitie, shall not passe vnder our commendation. Yet would I haue these Zoilists (of all other) to reade me, if euer I should write any thing worthily: for the blame that knowne-fooles heape vpon a deseruing labour, does not discredit the same, but makes wise men more perfectly in loue with it. Into such a ones hands therefore if I fortune to fall, I will not shrinke an inche, but euen when his teeth are sharpest, and most ready to bite, I will stop his mouth only with this, Hæc mala sunt, sed tu, non meliora facta.
Reader.
WHEREAS there stands in the Rere-ward of this Booke a certaine mingled Troope of straunge Discourses, fashioned into Tales, Know, that the intelligence which first brought them to light, was onely flying Report: whose tongue (as it often does) i
f in spreading them it haue tript in any materiall point, and either slipt too farre, or falne too short, beare with the error: and the rather, because it is not wilfully committed. Neither let any one (whom those Reports shall seeme to touch) cauill, or complaine of inury sithence nothing is set downe by a malitious hand. Farewell.
THE WONDERFULL YEARE.
VERTUMNUS being attired in his accustomed habit of changeable silke, and newly passed
through the first and principall Court-gate of heauen: to whom for a farewell, and to shewe how dutifull he was in his office, Ianus (that beares two faces vnder one hood) made a very mannerly lowe legge, and (because he was the onely Porter at that gate) presented vnto this King of the Moneths, all the New-yeares gifts, which were more in number, and more worth then those that are giuen to the great Turke, or the Emperour of Persia: on went Vertumnus in his lutie progresse, Priapus, Flora, the Dryades, and Hamadryades, with all the woodden rabble of those that drest Orchards & Gardens, perfuming all the wayes that he went, with the sweete Odours that breathed from flowers, hearbes and trees, which now began to peepe out of prison: by vertue of which excellent aires, the skie got a most cleare complexion, lookte smug and smoothe, and had not so much as a wart sticking on her face: the Sunne likewise was freshly and very richly appareled in cloth of gold like a Bridegroome, and in stead of gilded Rosemary, the hornes of the Ramme, (being the signe
of that celestiall bride-house where he lay, to be marryed to the Spring) were not like your common hornes parcell-gilt, but double double-gilt, with the liquid gold that melted from his beames, for ioy w[h]ereof the Larke sung at his windowe euery morning, the Nightingale euery night: the Cuckooe (like a single sole Fidler, that reeles from Tauerne to Tauerne) plide it all the day long: Lambes friskte vp and downe in the vallies, kids and Goates leapt too and fro on the Mountaines: Shepheards sat piping, country wenches singing: Louers made Sonnets for their Lasses, whilest they made Garlands for their Louers: And as the Country was frolike, so was the Citie mery: Oliue Trees (which grow no where but in the Garden of peace) stood (as common as Beech does at Midsomer) at euery mans doore, braunches of Palme were in euery mans hand: Streetes were full of people, people full of ioy: euery house seemde to haue a Lorde of misrule in it, in euery house there was so much iollity: no Scritch-Owle frighted the silly Countryman at midnight, nor any Drum the Citizen at noone-day; but all was more calme than a still water, all husht, as if the Spheres had bene playing in Consort: In conclusion, heauen lookt like a Pallace, and the great hall of the earth, like a Paradice. But O the short-liu’de Felicitie of man! O world of what slight and thin stuffe is thy happinesse! Iust in the midst of this iocund Holy-day, a storme rises in the West: Westward (from the toppe of a Ritchmount) descended a hidious tempest, that shooke Cedars, terrified the tallest Pines, and cleft in sunder euen the hardest hearts of Oake: And if such great trees were shaken, what thinke you became of the tender Eglantine, and humble Hawthorne; they could not (doubtlesse) but droope, they could not choose but die with the terror. The Element (taking the Destinies part, who indeed set abroach this mischiefe) scowled on the earth, and filling her hie forehead full of blacke wrinckles, tumbling long vp and downe (like a great bellied wife) her sighes being whirlewindes, and her grones thunder, at length she fell in labour, and was deliuered of a pale, meagry, weake child, named Sicknesse, whom Death (with a pestilence) would needes take vpon him to nurse, and did so. This starueling being come to his full growth, had an office giuen him for nothing (and thats a wonder in this age (Death made him his Herauld: attirde him like a Courtier, and (in his name) chargde him to goe into the Priuie Chamber of the English Queene, to sommon her to appeare in the Star-chamber of heauen.
The sommons made her start, but (hauing an inuincible spirit) did not amaze her: yet whom would not the certaine newes of parting from a Kingdome amaze! But she knewe where to finde a richer, and therefore lightlie regarded the losse of this, and thereupon made readie for that heauenlie Coronation, being (which was most strange) most dutifull to obay, that had so many yeares so powrefully commaunded. She obayed Deaths messenger, and yeelded her body to the hands of death himselfe. She dyes, resigning her Scepter to posteritie, and her Soule to immortalitie.
To report of her death (like a thunder-clap) was able to kill thousands, it tooke away hearts from millions: for hauing brought vp (euen vnder her wing) a nation that was almost begotten and born vnder her; that neuer shouted any other Aue than for her name, neuer sawe the face of any Prince but her selfe, neuer vnderstoode what that strange out-landish word Change signified: how was it possible, but that her sicknes should throw abroad an vniuersall feare, and her death an astonishment? She was the Courtiers treasure, therefore he had cause
to mourne: the Lawyers sword of iustice, he might well faint: the Merchants patronesse, he had reason to looke pale: the Citizens mother, he might best lament: the Shepheards Goddesse, and should not he droope? Onely the Souldier, who had walkt a long time vpon wodden legs, and was not able to giue Armes, though he were a Gentleman, had brisseld vp the quills of his stiffe Porcupine mustachio, and swore by no beggers that now was the houre come for him to bestirre his stumps: Vsurers and Brokers (that are the Diuels Ingles, and dwell in the long-lane of hell) quakt like aspen leaues at his oathes: those that before were the onely cut-throates in London, now stoode in feare of no other death: but my I was deceiued, the Tragedie went not forward.
Neuer did the English Nation behold so much black worne as there was at her Funerall: It was then but put on, to try if it were fit, for the great day of mourning was set downe (in the booke of heauen) to be held afterwards: that was but the dumb shew, the Tragicall Act hath bene playing euer since. Her Herse (as it was borne) seemed to be an Iland swimming in water, for round about it there rayned showers of teares, about her deathbed none: for her departure was so sudden and so strange, that men knew not how to weepe, because they had neuer bin taught to shed teares of that making. They that durst not speake their sorrowes, whisperd them: they that durst not whisper, sent them foorth in sighes. Oh what an Earth-quake is the alteration of a State! Looke from the Chamber of Presence, to the Farmers cottage, and you shall finde nothing but distraction: the whole Kingdome seemes a wildernes, and the people in it are transformed to wild men. The Map of a Countrey so pitifullie distracted by the horror of a change, if you desire perfectlie to behold, cast your eyes then on this that followes, which being heretofore in priuate presented to the King, I thinke may very worthily shew it selfe before you: And because you shall see them attirde in the same fashion that they wore before his Maiestie, let these few lines (which stood then as Prologue to the rest) enter first into your eares.
NOt for applauses, shallow fooles aduenture,
I plunge my verse into a sea of censure,
But with a liuer drest in gall, to see
So many Rookes, catch-polls of poesy,
That feede vpon the fallings of hye wit,
And put on cast inuentions, most vnfit,
For such am I prest forth in shops and stalls,
Pasted in Powles, and on the Lawyers walls,
For euery basilisk-eyed Criticks bait,
To kill my verse, or poison my conceit:
Or some smoakt gallant, who at wit repines,
To dry Tabacco with my holesome lines,
And in one paper sacrifice more braine,
Than all his ignorant scull could ere containe:
But merit dreads no martydome, nor stroke,
My lines shall liue, when he shall be all smoake.
Thus farre the Prologue, who leauing the Stage cleere, the feares that are bred in the wombe of this altring kingdome do next step vp, acting thus.
THe great impostume of the realme was drawne
Euen to a head : the multitudinous spawne
Was the corruption, which did make it swell
With hop’d sedition (the burnt seed of hell.)
Who did expect but ruine, blood, and death,
To share
our kingdome, and diuide our breath.
Religions without religion,
To let other blood, confusion
To be next Queene of England, and this yeere
The ciuill warres of France to be plaid heere
By English-men, ruffians, and pandering slaues,
That faine would dig vp gowtie vsureres graues :
At such a time, villaines their hopes do honey,
And rich men looke as pale as their white money :
Now they remoue, and make their siluer sweate,
Casting themselues into a couetous heate,
And then (vnseene) in the confederate darke,
Bury their gold, without or Priest, or Clarke.
And say no prayers ouer that dead pelfe,
True : Gold’s no Christian, but an Indian elfe.
Did not the very kingdome seeme to shake
Her precious massie limbes? did she not make
All English cities (like her pulses) beate
With people in their veines? the feare so great,
that had it not bene phisickt with rare peace,
Our populous power had lessend her increase.
The Spring-time that was dry, had sprung in blood,
A greater dearth of men, than e’re of foode :
In such a panting time, and gasping yeare,
Victuals are cheapest, only men are deare.
Now each wise-acred Landlord did dispaire,
Fearing some villaine should become his heire,
Or that his sonne and heire before his time,
Should now turne villaine, and with violence clime
Vp to his life, saying father you haue seene
King Henry, Edward, Mary, and the Queene,
I wonder you’le liue longer! then he tells him
Hees loth to see him kild, therfore he kills him,
And each vast Landlord dyes like a poore slaue,
Their thousand acres makes them but a graue,
Complete Dramatic Works of Thomas Dekker Page 198