A. G. K. L'Estrange

Robert Greene—Friar Bacon's Demons—The "Looking Glasse"—Nash and Harvey.

One of the principal humorists at this time was Robert Greene, born at Norwich about 1560. He was educated at Cambridge, and was generally styled "Robert Greene, Maister of Artes." Early in life he became, as he tells us, "an author of playes and a penner of love pamphlets." From the titles of some of them, and from his motto, "Omne tulit punctum qui miscuit utile dulci," it is evident that they were intended to be humorous. Thus, his "Euphues" professes to contain "Mirth to purge Melancholy;" his "Quips for an Vpstart Courtier" is "A Quaint Dispute between Velvet-breeches and Cloth-breeches," and his "Notable Discovery of Coosnage" has "a delightfull discourse of the coosnage of Colliers;" his "Second and last part of conny-catching" has "new additions containing many merry tales of all lawes worth the reading, because they are worthy to be remembered. Discoursing strange cunning coosnage, which if you reade without laughing, Ile give you my cap for a Noble." But in all these works there is but little humour, and what we learn in reading them is, that a very small amount of it was then thought considerable, and that stories, which we should think slightly entertaining, appeared in that simple age to be very ingenious and even comic. In the "Comicall Historie of Alphonsus, King of Arragon," we do not find anything that could have possibly been humorous, unless the speaking of a brazen head, and the letting Venus down from Heaven and drawing her up again, could have been so regarded. Greene is characteristic of his time in his love of introducing magic and enchanters, and of characters from classic and scripture history. In the "Looking-Glasse for London and England," in which our metropolis is compared to Nineveh, we have angels and magicians brought in. "A hand out of a cloud threateneth a burning sword," and "Jonas is cast out of the whale's belly upon the stage."

Greene is fond of introducing devils. In "The Honourable Historie of Frier Bacon and Frier Bongay," Ralph says, "Why, Sirrah Ned we'll ride to Oxford to Friar Bacon. O! he is a brave scholar, sirrah; they say he is a brave necromancer, that he can make women of devils, and he can juggle cats into coster-mongers." Further on in the same play a devil and Miles, Bacon's servant, enter.

Miles. A scholar, quoth you; marry, Sir, I would I had been a bottle maker, when I was made a scholar, for I can get neither to be a deacon, reader, nor schoolmaster. No, not the clerk of the parish. Some call me dunce, another saith my head is full of Latin, as an egg's full of oatmeal: thus I am tormented that the devil and Friar Bacon haunt me. Good Lord, here's one of my master's devils! I'll go speak to him. What Master Plutus, how cheer you?

D. Dost know me?

M. Know you, Sir? Why are not you one of my master's devils, that were wont to come to my master, Doctor Bacon at Brazen-Nose?

D. Yes, marry am I.

M. Good Lord, Master Plutus, I have seen you a thousand times at my master's; and yet I had never the manners to make you drink. But, Sir, I am glad to see how comformable you are to the statutes. I warrant you he's as yeomanly a man as you shall see; mark you, masters, here's a plain honest man without welt or guard. But I pray you Sir, do you come lately from hell?

D. Ay, marry, how then?

M. Faith, 'tis a place I have desired long to see: have you not good tippling houses there? May not a man have a lusty fire there, a good pot of ale, a pair of cards, a swinging piece of chalk, and a brown toast that will clap a white waistcoat on a cup of good drink.

D. All this you may have there.

M. You are for me, friend, and I am for you. But I pray you, may I not have an office there?

D. Yes, a thousand; what wouldst thou be?

M. By my troth, Sir, in a place where I may profit myself. I know hell is a hot place, and men are marvellous dry, and much drink is spent there. I would be a tapster.

In one play Greene introduces a court-fool, and he mixes with the stupidity and knavery of his clowns, a sort of artificial philosophy and argumentative ingenuity, which savours much of the old jesters. In "James the Fourth" Slipper says:—

O mistress, mistress, may I turn a word upon you?

Countess. Friend, what wilt thou?

Slipper. O! what a happy gentlewoman be you truly; the world reports this of you, mistress, that a man can no sooner come to your house, but the butler comes with a black-jack, and says, "Welcome, friend, here's a cup of the best for you," verily, mistress, you are said to have the best ale in all Scotland.

Countess. Sirrah, go fetch him drink [an attendant brings drink.] How likest thou this?

Slip. Like it mistress! why this is quincy quarie, pepper de watchet, single goby, of all that ever I tasted. I'll prove in this ale, and toast the compass of the whole world. First, this is the earth; it ties in the middle a fair brown toast, a goodly country for hungry teeth to dwell upon; next this is the sea, a fair pool for a dry tongue to fish in; now come I, and seeing the world is naught, I divide it thus: and because the sea cannot stand without the earth, as Aristotle saith, I put them both into their first chaos, which is my belly, and so, mistress, you may see your ale is become a miracle.

Further on Slipper again shows his readiness in dialogue—

Sir Bartram. Ho, fellow! stay and let me speak with thee.

Slip. Fellow! friend thou dost abuse me: I am a gentleman.

Sir B. A gentleman! how so?

Slip. Why, I rub horses, Sir.

Sir B. And what of that?

Slip. O simple-witted! mark my reason. They that do good service in the commonweal are gentlemen, but such as rub horses do good service in the commonweal, ergo, tarbox, master courtier, a horse-keeper is a gentleman.

Sir B. Here is over much wit in good earnest. But, sirrah, where is thy master?

Slip. Neither above ground nor under ground; drawing out red into white, swallowing that down without chawing, which was never made without treading.

Sir B. Why, where is he then?

Slip. Why in his cellar, drinking a cup of neat and brisk claret in a bowl of silver. Oh, Sir, the wine runs trillill down his throat, which cost the poor vintner many a stamp before it was made. But I must hence, Sir, I have haste.

Sir Bertram intimates that he wants his assistance, and will pay him.

Slip. A good word, thou hast won me; this word is like a warm caudle to a cold stomach.

Sir B. Sirrah, wilt thou for money and reward
Convey me certain letters, out of hand,
From out thy master's pocket?

Slip. Will I, Sir? Why were it to rob my father, hang my mother, or any such like trifles, I am at your commandment, Sir. What will you give me, Sir?

Sir B. A hundred pounds.

Slip. I am your man; give me earnest. I am dead at a pocket, Sir; why I am a lifter, master, by occupation.

Sir B. A lifter! what is that?

Slip. Why, Sir, I can lift a pot as well as any man, and pick a purse as soon as any thief in the country.

These humorous characters remind us a little of the slaves and parasites in Roman comedy, of whom, no doubt, Greene had read. His amusing fellows are free livers, and fond of wine like himself. In the "Looking-Glasse" above mentioned, Nineveh represents London, and a fast being proclaimed, we find Adam, a smith's journeyman, trying to evade it.

(Enter Adam solus, with a bottle of beer in one slop (trouser) and a great piece of beef in the other.)

Adam. Well, goodman Jonas, I would you had never come from Jewry to this country; you have made me look like a lean rib of roast beef, or like the picture of Lent, painted upon a red-herring's cob. Alas! masters, we are commanded by the proclamation to fast and pray! By my troth, I could prettily so, so away with praying, but for fasting, why 'tis so contrary to my nature, that I had rather suffer a short hanging than a long fasting. Mark me, the words be these: thou shalt take no manner of food for so many days. I had as lief he should have said, thou shalt hang thyself for so many days. And yet, in faith, I need not find fault with the proclamation, for I have a buttery and a pantry and a kitchen about me; for proof, ecce signum! This right slop is my pantry, behold a manchet; this place is my kitchen, for lo! a piece of beef. O! let me repeat that sweet word again!—for lo! a piece of beef. This is my buttery, for see, see, my friends, to my great joy a bottle of beer. Thus, alas! I make shift to wear out this fasting; I drive away the time. But there go searchers about to seek if any man breaks the king's command. O, here they be; in with your victuals, Adam.

(Enter two Searchers.)

1st Searcher. How duly the men of Nineveh keep the proclamation! how they are armed to repentance! We have searched through the whole city, and have not as yet found one that breaks the fast.

2nd Sear. The sign of the more grace; but stay, there sits one, methinks at his prayers; let us see who it is.

1st Sear. 'Tis Adam, the smith's man. How, now, Adam?

Adam. Trouble me not; thou shalt take no manner of food, but fast and pray.

1st Sear. How devoutly he sits at his orisons! But stay, methinks I feel a smell of some meat or bread about him.

2nd Sear. So thinks me too. You, Sirrah, what victuals have you about you?

Adam. Victuals! O horrible blasphemy! Hinder me not of my prayer, nor drive me not into a choler. Victuals? why heardest thou not the sentence, thou shalt take no food, but fast and pray?

2nd Sear. Troth, so it should be; but, methinks, I smell meat about thee.

Adam. About me, my friends? these words are actions in the case. About me? no! no! hang those gluttons that cannot fast and pray.

1st Sear. Well, for all your words we must search you.

Adam. Search me? take heed what you do! my hose are my castles; 'tis burglary if you break ope a slop; no officer must lift up an iron hatch; take heed, my slops are iron.

2nd Sear. O, villain! See how he hath gotten victuals—bread, beef and beer, where the king commanded upon pain of death none should eat for so many days, not the sucking infant.

Adam. Alas! Sir, this is nothing but a modicum non nocet ut medicus daret; why, Sir, a bit to comfort my stomach.

1st Sear. Villain! thou shalt be hanged for it.

Adam. These are your words, I shall be hanged for it; but first answer me this question, how many days have we to fast still?

2nd Sear. Five days.

Adam. Five days! a long time; then I must be hanged.

1st Sear. Ay, marry must thou.

Adam. I am your man, I am for you, Sir, for I had rather be hanged than abide so long a fast. What! five days! Come, I'll untruss. Is your halter, and the gallows, the ladder, and all such furniture in readiness.

1st Sear. I warrant thee thou shalt want none of these.

Adam. But hear you, must I be hanged?

1st Sear. Ay, marry.

Adam. And for eating of meat. Then, friends, know ye by these presents, I will eat up all my meat, and drink up all my drink, for it shall never be said, I was hanged with an empty stomach.

It has been supposed that Greene was very indelicate in his language, as well as reckless in his life. But we cannot find in his plays anything very offensive, considering the date at which he wrote, and in the tract called "Greene's Funeralls," we read:—

His gadding Muse, although it ran of love,
Yet did he sweetly morralize his song;
Ne ever gaue the looser cause to laugh
Ne men of judgement for to be offended.

Greene died in "most woefull and rascall estate" at the house of a poor shoemaker near Dowgate. He had previously written his "Groat's-worth of Wit bought with a Million of Repentance;" in which he warns his former companions and "gentlemen who spend their wits in making playes," to take warning by his fate. He could get none of his friends to visit him at the last but Mistress Appleby, and the mother of "his base sonne Infortunatus Greene." He gave the following note for his wife—whom he had not seen for six years—to the shoemaker:

"Doll, I charge thee by the love of our youth, and by my soule's rest, that thow wilte see this man paide; for if hee and his wife had not succoured me, I had died in the streetes.

"Robert Greene."

Gabriel Harvey writes, "My next businesse was to inquire after the famous author who was reported to lye dangerously sicke in a shop neere Dowgate, not of plague, but of a surfett of pickle herringe and rennish wine."

Thomas Nash was one of Greene's jolly companions at this fatal banquet. After Greene's death Harvey replied to some reflections made upon him by Greene, and called him in accordance with the amenities of the times, "a wilde head, ful of mad braine and a thousand crotchets; a scholler, a discourser, a courtier, a ruffian, a gamester, a lover, a souldier, a trauailer, a merchant, a broker, an artificer, a botcher, a pettifogger, a player, a coosener, a rayler, a beggar, an omnium-gatherum, a gay-nothing, a stoare-house of bald and baggage stuffe, unworth the answering or reading, a triuall and triobular autor for knaves and fooles," &c., &c.

Nash, although he seems to have forsaken Greene in his last distress, became the defender of his character after his death, and answered this vituperation by still coarser abuse and invective, saying, "Had hee lived, Gabriel, and thou shouldest vnartifically and odiously libel against him as thou hast done, he would have made thee an example of ignominy to all ages that are to come, and driven thee to eate thy owne booke buttered, as I saw him make an Appariter once in a tavern eate his Citation, waxe and all, very handsomely served 'twixt two dishes.'"

From this he proceeds to caricature Gabriel's person. "That word complexion is dropt forth in good time, for to describe to you his complexion and composition entred I with this tale by the way. It is of an adust swarth chollericke dye, like restie bacon, or a dried scate-fish; so leane and so meagre, that you wold thinke (with the Turks) he observed 4 Lents in a yere, or take him for a gentleman's man in the courtier, who was so thin-cheeked, and gaunt, and starv'd, that as he was blowing the fire with his mouth the smoke took him up like a light strawe, and carried him to the top or funnell of the chimney, wher he had flowne out God knowes whither if there had not been crosse barres overthwart that stayde him; his skin riddled and crumpled like a piece of burnt parchment; and more channels and creases he hath in his face than there be fairie circles on Salsburie Plaine, and wrinckles and frets of old age, than characters on Christ's sepulcher in Mount Calvarie, on which euerie one that comes scrapes his name, and sets his marke to shewe that hee hath been there; so that whosoever shall behold him

"Esse putet BoreÆ triste furentis opus,"

will sweare on a book I have brought him lowe, and shrowdly broken him; which more to confirme, look on his head, and you shall find a gray haire for euery line I have writ against him; and you shall have all his beard white too, by that time he hath read over this booke. For his stature, he is such another pretie Jacke-a-Lent as boyes throw at in the streete, and lookes in his blacke sute of veluet, like one of these jet-droppes which divers weare at their eares instead of a iewell. A smudge peice of a handsome fellow it hath been in his dayes, but now he is olde and past his best, and fit for nothing but to be a nobleman's porter, or a knight of Windsor."

Nash was so full of invective and personal abuse that he scarcely deserved the name of a satirist, and so great was the animosity with which the quarrel between him and Gabriel Harvey was conducted, that the Archbishop of Canterbury and Bishop of London issued an order in 1599 that all such books "be taken wheresoever they be found, and that none of the said books be ever printed hereafter."

His humour was remarkable, as it largely consisted of coining long and almost unintelligible words. This he laid great store by, and he speaks wrathfully of one who translated his "Piers Penniless," into what he calls "maccaronical language." In his "Lenten Stuffe or Praise of the Red Herring," i.e., of Great Yarmouth, he calls those who despised Homer in his life-time "dull-pated pennifathers," and says that "those grey-beard huddle-duddles and crusty cum-twangs were strooke with stinging remorse of their miserable euchonisme and sundgery."

Peele was one of the gay play-writers to whom Greene addressed his warning. They seem at this time to have united the professions of dramatist and actor, and to have been infected with that dissipation which has since been attributed with more or less justice to the stage. Peele is as fond as Greene of surprises and miraculous interventions. In the "Arraignment of Paris" a golden tree grows up, and in the "Old Wives Tale," the most humorous of his works, the head of Huanebango rises from a well. He is fond of dealing in phonetic words Latinisms and barbarisms; in one place he makes Corebus say:

"O falsum Latinum
The fair maid is minum
Cum apurtinantibus gibletis and all."

Peele was very popular in his day, and was often called upon to write pieces for the Lord Mayor and for royal receptions. He sometimes used Hexameter lines such as:

"Dub, dub-a-dub bounce, quoth the guns with
a sulphurous huff shuff."

Gabriel Harvey first introduced this metre into English, and he tried to induce Spenser to adopt it. Nash calls it "that drunken staggering kind of verse which is all vp hill and downe hill, like the way betwixt Stamford and Beechfeild, and goes like a horse plunging through the mire in the deep of winter, now soust vp to the saddle and straight aloft on his tip-toes."