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Strange curse! but fit for such a fickle age,
When Scalpes are subject to such vassalage.
Late travailing along in London way,
Mee met, as seem'd by his disguis'd aray,
A lustie courtier; whose curled head
With abron 26 locks was fairely furnished.
I him saluted in our lavish wise :
He answers my untimely curtesies.
His bonnet vail'da, ere ever he could thinke,
Th' unruly winde blowes off his periwinke 28.
He lights, and runs, and quickly hath him sped,
To overtake his overrunning head.
The sportfull wind, to mocke the Headlesse man,
Tosses apace his pitch'd Rogerian":
And straight it to a deeper ditch hath blowne;
There must my yonker fetch his waxen crowne 30.
I lookt, and laught; whiles, in his raging minde,
He curst all courtesie, and unruly winde.
I lookt, and laught; and much I marvailed,
To see so large a Caus-way in his head.
And me bethought, that when it first begon,
'Twas some shroud Autumne that so bar'd the bone.
Is't not sweete pride, when men their crownes must shade,
With that which jerks the hams of every jade,
Or floor-strowd locks from off the barber's sheares ?
But waxen crowns well gree 32 with borrow'd haires.
abron--Qu. auburn? 17 His bonnet vaild. i. e. pulled off. See Reed's Shakespeare, Vol. VII. p. 235.
periwinke-i, e. periwig: about this time first become an article of dress. In Book IV. Sat. 6. it is made one of the characteristics of a fop
And weare curld periwigs. * Tosses apace his pitch'd ROGERIAN. It seems to have been a favourite practice of periwig makers, ever since the introduction of this excrementitious ornament of the head, to distinguish its various forms by different proper names. The Tituses, and Brutuses, and Georges of the present day form the last of this noble race !
When Gullion di'd (who knows not Gullion ?)
And his dry soule ariv'd at Acheron,
He faire besought the feryman of hell,
That he might drinke to dead Pantagruel.
Charon was afraid least thirstie Gullion,
Would have drunke drie the river Acheron.
Yet last a consented for a little hyre,
And downe he dips his chops deepe in the myre,
And drinks, and drinks, and swallows in the streeme,
Untill the shallow shores all naked seeme.
Yet still he drinks, nor can the Boteman's cries,
Nor crabbed ores, nor praiers 34 make him rise.
So long he drinks, till the blacke Caravell 35
Stands still fast graveld on the mud of hell.
There stand they still, nor can go, nor retyre,
Tho' greedie ghosts quicke passage did require.
Yet stand they still, as tho' they lay at rode,
Till Gullion his bladder would unlode.
They stand, and wait, and pray for that good houre;
Which, when it came, they sailed to the shore.
But never since dareth the Feryman,
Once intertaine the ghost of Gullian.
Drinke on drie soule, and pledge sir Gullion:
Drinke to all healths, but drinke not to thine owne.
Seest thou how gayly my yong maister goes,
Vaunting himselfe upon his rising toes;
And pranks 36 his hand upon his dagger's side;
And picks his glutted teeth since late noon-tide ?
'Tis Ruffio. 'Irow'st thou where he din'd to day?
In sooth I saw him sit with Duke Humfray 7.
last--for at last.
praiers—as two syllables. caravell-boat, a small vessel.
pranks-adjusts. See Todd's Spenser, Vol. II. p.117. »? In sooth I saw him sit with Duke Humfray, &c. &c. Mr. Steevens says that he never yet met with a satisfactory explanation of the cant phrase of dining with Duke Humphrey." It appears, however,” he adds, "from a satirical pamphlet called The Gul's Horn-booke, 1609, written by T. Deckar, that, in the ancient church of St. Paul, one of the aisles was called Duke Humphrey's Walk; in which those, who had no means of procuring a dinner, affected
Many good welcoms, and much Gratis cheere,
Keepes he for everie stragling Cavaliere.
An open house, haunted with great resort ;
Long service mixt with musicall disport.
Many a faire yonker 38 with a fether'd crest,
Chooses much rather be his shot-free guest,
To fare so freely with so little cost,
Than stake his twelve-pence to a meaner host.
Hadst thou not told me, I should surely say
He touch't no meat of all this live-long day.
For sure me thought, yet that was but a ghesse,
His eyes seeme sunke for verie hollownesse:
But could he have (as I did it mistake)
So little in his purse, so much upon his backe?
So nothing in his maw? yet seemeth by his belt,
That his gaunt gut no too much stuffing felt.
Seest thou how side it hangs beneath his hip?
Hunger and heavy Iron makes girdles slip.
Yet for all that, how stifly strits he by",
All trapped in the new-found braverie.
The Nuns of new-woon Cales his bonnet lent,
In lieu of their so kind a conquerment *.
What needed he fetch that from farthest Spaine,
His Grandame could have lent with lesser paine?
Tho' he perhaps never past the English shore,
Yet faine would counted be a conquerour.
His haire, French like, stares on his frighted hed,
One locke Amazon-like 4 disheveled,
As if he ment to weare a native cord,
If chaunce his Fates should him that bane afford.
All Brittish bare upon the bristled skin,
Close noched is his beard both lip and chin;
to loiter. Deckar concludes his fourth chapter thus: “By this, I imagine, you have walked your bellyful, and thereupon being weary (which is rather, I believe) being most gentleman-like hungry, it is fit that as I brought you unto the duke, só (because he followes the fashion of great men in keeping no house, and that there. fore you must go seeke your dinner,) suffer me to take you by the hand and leade you into an ordinary.' The title of this chapter is, `How a gallant should behave himself in Powles Walkes'.” Mr. Steevens then quotes this passage of Hall as confirming the interpretation here given. See his Note on Richard III. Activ. Scene 4.
- yonker-See Note 30.
how stifly strits he by. i. e. struts. 40 The nuns of new-woon Cales his bonnet lent,
In lieu of their so kind a conquerment. He pretends to have been at the conquest of Cales, where the nuns had worked his bonnet. W.
Amazon-Accented on the second syllable, E.
His linnen collar Labyrinthian-set,
Whose thousand double turnings never met:
His sleeves halfe hid with elbow-Pineonings,
As if he meant to flie with linnen wings.
But when I looke, and cast mine eyes below,
What monster meets mine eyes in human show!
So slender wast with such an abbot's loyne,
Did never sober nature sure conjoyne.
Lik'st a strawne scar-crow in the new-sowne field,
Reard on some sticke, the tender corne to shield.
Or if that semblance suite not everie deale +3,
Like a broad shak-forke with a slender steale 43.
Despised nature suit them once aright,
Their bodie to their cote, both now mis-dight 4.
Their bodie to their clothes might shapen bee,
That nill 4s their clothes shape to their bodie.
Meane while I wonder at so proud a backe,
Whiles th' emptie guts loud rumblen for long lacke :
The bellie envieth the back's bright glee,
And murmurs at such inequalitie.
The backe appeales unto the partial eine,
The plaintive beilie pleads they bribed beene;
And he, for want of better advocate,
Doth to the eare his injurie relate.
The backe, insulting ore the bellie's need,
Says, Thou thy selfe, I others' eyes must feed.
The maw, the guts, all inward parts complaine
The back's great pride, and their own secret paine.
Ye witlesse gallants, I beshrew your harts,
That sets such discord twixt agreeing parts;
Which never can be set at onement more,
Untill the mawe’s wide mouth be stopt with store.
Thus have I writ, in smoother cedar tree,
So gentle Satyrs, pend so easily.
Henceforth I write in crabbed oke-tree rinde,
Search they, that meane the secret meaning finde.
Hold out, ye guiltie and ye galled hides,
And meet my far-fetch'd stripes with waiting sides.