Containing the pleasure, paines and kinde entertainment
of William Kemp between London and that Citty in his late Morrice.
Wherein is somewhat set downe worth note; to reproove
the slaunders spred of him: many things merry, nothing hurtfull.
Written by himselfe to satisfie his friends.
LONDON
Printed by E.A. for Nicholas Ling, and are to be solde at his
shop at the west door of Saint Paules Church. 1600.
To the true Ennobled Lady, and his most bountifull Mistris
Anne Fitton, Mayde of Honour to the most sacred Mayde Royall Queene
Elizabeth.
Honorable Mistris in the waine of my
little wit, I am forst to desire your protection, else every
Ballad-singer will proclaime me bankrupt of honesty A sort of
mad fellows seeing me merrily dispos'd in a Morrice, have so
bepainted mee in print since my gambols began from London to
Norwich, that (having but an ill face before) I shall appeare
to the world without a face, if your fayre hand wipe not away
their foule colours. One hath written Kemps farewell to the
tune of Kery, merym Buffe: another his desperate daungers in
his late travaile: the third his entertainement to New-Market;
which towne I came never neere by the length of halfe the heath.
Some sweare in a Trenchmore I have trode a good way to winne
the world: others that guesse righter, affirme, I have without
good help daunst myselfe out of the world: many say things thatwere
never thought, But in a word your poor servant offers the truth
of his progresse and profit to your honorable view, receive
it I beseech you, such as it is, rude and plaine, for I know
your pure judgement, lookes as soone to see beauty in a Blackamoore,
or heare smooth speech from a Stammerer, as to finde anyting
but blunt mirth in a Morrice dauncer, especially such a one
as Will Kemp , that hath spent his life in mad jigges and merry
jestes. Three reasons moove me to make a publik this journey,
one to reprove lying fooles I never knew: the other to comend
loving friends, which by the way I daily found: the third to
shew my duety to your honorable selfe, whose favours (among
other bountifull friends) makes me (dispight of this sad world)
judge my hart Corke, my heeles feathers, so that me thinkes
I could flye to Rome (at least hop to Rome, as the olde Proverb
is) with a morter on my head. In which light conveit I lowly
begge pardon and leave, for my Tabrer strikes his huntsup, I
must to Norwich: Imagine Noble Mistris, I am now setting from
Lord Mayors, the houre about seaven, the morning gloomy, the
company many, my hart merry.
Your worthy Ladyships most unworthy servant,
William Kemp
Kemps nine daies wonder:
Performed in a Morrice from London to Norwich. Wherein every
dayes journey is pleasantly set downe, to satisfie his friends
the truth, against all lying Ballad-makers; what he did, how he
was welcome, and by whome entertained.
The first daies
journey,
being the first Munday in cleane Lent, from the right honorable
the Lord Mayors of London.
The first mundaye in Lant,
the close morning promising a cleere day, (attended on by Thomas
Slye my Taberer, William Bee my servant and George Sprat, appointed
for my overseer, that I should take no other ease but my prescribed
order) my selfe, thats I, otherwise called Caualiero Kemp, head-Master
of Morrice-dauncers, high Head-borough of heighs, and onely
tricker of your Trill-lilles, and best bel-shangles betweene
Sion and mount Surrey [Sion neere Brainford, and mount Surrey
by Norwich.] began frolickly to foote it, from the right honorable
the Lord Mayors of London, towards the right worshipfull (and
truly bountifull) Master Mayors of Norwich.
My setting forward was somewhat before seaven in the morning,
my Taberer stroke up merrily, and as fast as kinde peoples thronging
together would give me leave, thorow London I leapt: By the
way many good olde people and divers others of yonger yeeres,
of meere kindness, gave me bowd sixpences and grotes, blessing
me with their harty prayers and God-speedes.
Seeing past White chappell, and having left faire London,
with all that North-east Suburb before named, multitudes of
Londoners left not me: but eyther to keepe a custome which many
holde, that Mile-end is no walke without a recreatio at Stratford
Bow with Creame and Cakes, or else for love they beare toward
me, or perhappes to make themselves merry, if I should chance
(as many thought) to give over my Morrice within a mile of Mile-end.
How ever, many a thousand brought me to Bow, where I rested
a while from dancing, but had small rest with those that would
have urg'd me to drinking. But I warrant you Will Kemp was wise
enough: to their ful cups, kinde thanks was my returne, with
Gentlemanlike protestations: as, truely sir, I dare not: it
stands not with the congruity of my health. Congruitie said
I: how came that strange language in my mouth: I thinke scarcely
that it is any Christen worde, and yet it may be a good worde
for uoght I knowe, though I never made it, nor doe verye well
understand it; yet I am sure I have bought it at the word-mongers,
at as deare a rate as I could have had a whole 100. of Bavines
at the wood-mongers. Farewell Congruitie for I meane now to
be more concise, and stand upon evener bases: but I must neither
stand nor sit, the Tabrer strikes alarum. Tickle it good Tom,
Ile follow thee. Farewell Bowe, have over the Bridge, where
I once heard say, honest Conscience was once drownd. Its pittye
if it were so: but thats no matter belonging to our Morrice,
lets now along to Stratford Langton.
Many good fellows being there met, and knowing how well I
loved the sporte, had prepared a Beare-bayting: but so unreasonable
were the multitudes of people, that I could only heare the Beare
roare, and the dogges howle: therefore forward I went with my
hey de gaies to Ilford, where I againe rested, and was by the
people of the towne and countrey there-about, very very welcomed:
being offered carowles in the great spoon, [a great spoone in
Infor holding above a quart] one whole draught being able at
that time to have drawne my little wit drye: but bieng afrayde
of the olde Proverbe (He had need of a long spoone that eates
with the devill) I soberly gave my boone Companyons the slip.
From Ilford by Moone-shine, I set forward, dauncing within
a quarter of a myle of Romford: wherein the high way, two strong
Jades (having belike some great quarell to me unknowne) were
beating byting either of other. And such through Gods help was
my good hap, that I escaped their hoofes, both being raysed
with their fore feete over my head, like two Smithes over an
Anvyle.
There being the end of my first dayes Morrice, a kinde Gentleman
of London lighting from his horse, would have no nay but I should
leap into his saddle. To be plain with ye, I was not proud ,
but kindly tooke his kilndlyer offer, chiefely thereto urg'd
by my weariness: so I rid to my Inne at Romford.
In that towne, to give rest to my well labour'd limbes, I
continued two dayes, bing much beholding to the towns-men for
there love, but more to the Londoners, that came hourely thither
in great numbers to visite me: offring much more kindness then
I was willing to accept.
The second dayes journey,
beeing Thursday of the first weeke.
Thursday being
Market day at Burnt-wood, Tom Slye was earlyer up then the Lark,
and sounded merrily at the Morrice: I rowsed my selfe, and returned
from Romford ro the place wher I tooke horse the first night,
dauncing that quarter of a myle backe againe thorow Romford,
and so merrily to Burnt-wood: yet now I remember it well, I
had no great cause of mirth, for at Romford townes end I strained
my hip, and for a time indured exceeding paine: but being loath
to trouble a Surgeon I held on, finding remedy by labour that
had hurt mee, for it came in a turne, and so in my daunce I
turned it out of my service againe.
The multitudes were se great at my commin to Burntwood, that
I had much a doe (though I made many intreaties and staies)
to get passage to my Inne.
In this towne two Cut-purses were taken, that with other two
of their companions followed mee from London (as many better
disposed persons did:) but these two dy-doppers gave out when
they were appregended, that they had laid wagers and betted
about my journey, whereupon the Officers bringing them to my
Inne, I justly denyed their acquaintance, saving that I remembred
one of them to be a noted Cut-purse, such a one as we tye to
a poaston on our stage, for all people to wonder at, when at
a play they ae taken pilfring.
This fellow his half brother being found with the deed, were
sent to Jayle: their other two consorts had the charity of the
towne, after a dance of Trenchmore at the whipping crosse, they
were sent back to London: where I am afraid there are too many
of their occupation. To bee short I thought my selfe well rid
of foure such followers, and I wish hartily that the whole world
were cleer of such companions.
Having rested well at Burntwood, the Moone shining clearely,
and the weather being calme, in the evening I tript it to Ingerstone,
stealing away from those numbers of people that followed mee:
yet doe I what I could, U had about fiftie in the company, some
of London, the other of the Country thereabout, that would needs
when they heard my Taber, trudge after me through thicke and
thin.
The third dayes journey,
being Friday of the first weeke.
On Friday morning
I set forward towardes Chelmsford, not having past two hundred,
being the least company that I had in the day time: betweene
London and that place, Onward I went thus easily followed, till
I come to Witford-bridge where a number of country people, and
many Gentlemen and Gentlewomen, were gathered together to wee
me. Sir Thomas Mildmay standing at his Parkepale, received gently
a payre of garters of me: gloves, points, and garters, being
my ordinary marchandize, that I put out to venter for performance
of my merry voyage.
So mauch a doe I had to passe by the people at Chelmsford,
that it was more than an houre ere I could recover my Inne gate,
where I was faine to lacke myselfe in my Chamber, and pacifie
them with wordes out of a window insteed of deeds: to deale
plainely I was so weary, that I could dance no more.
The next morning I footed it three myle of my way toward Braintree:
but returned bacek againe to Chelmsford, where I lay that Satterday
and the next Sunday. The good cheere and kinde welcome I had
at Chelmsford, was much more than I was willing to entertaine:
for my onely desire was to refraine drinke, and be temperate
in my dyet.
At Chelmsford a Mayde not passing foureteene yeares of age,
dwell with one Sudley my kinde friend, made request to her Master
and Dame, that she might daunce the Morrice with me in a great
large roome. They being intreated I was soone wonne, to fit
her with bels, besides she would have the olde fashion with
napkins on her armes, and to our jumps we fell. A whole houre
she held out: but then being ready to lye downe I left her off:
but thus much in her praise, I would have challenged the strongest
man in Chelmsford, and amongst many I thinke few would have
done so much.
The fourth dayes journey,
beeing Munday of the second weeke.
On Munday morning
very early, I red the 3. myles that I daunst the satterday before:
where alighting, my Taberer strucke up, and lightly I tript
forward, but I had the heaviest way that ever mad Morrice-dancer
trod: yet
With hey and ho, through thicke and thin,
the hobby horse quite forgotten,
I follow'd as I did begin,
although the way were rotten
This foule way I could finde no ease in, thicke woods being
on eyther side the lane: the lane likewise being full of deep
holes. sometimes I skipt up to the waste: but it is and old
Proverb. That it is a little comfort to the miserable to have
companions, and amidst this merry way, I had some mirth by an
unlookt for accident.
It was the custome of honest Country Fellows my unknowne friends,
upon hearing of my Pype (which might well be heard in a still
morning or evening a myle) to get up and beare mee company a
little way. In this foule way two pretty plaine youthes watcht
me, and with their kindness somewhat hindred me. One a fine
light fellow would be still before me, the other ever at my
heeles. At length comming to a broad plash of water and mud,
which could not be avoyded, I fetcht a rise, yet fell in over
the anckles at the further end. My youth that follow'd me, tooke
his jump, and stuck fast in the midst crying out to his companion,
come George, call yee this dauncing, Ile goe no further: for
indeede hee could goe no further, till his fellow was faine
to wade and help him out. I could not chuse but lough to see
howe like two frogges they laboured: a hartye farwell I gave
them, and they faintly bad God speed me, saying if I daunst
that durties way this seaven yeares againe, they would never
daunce after me.
Well, with much a doo I got into Braintree by noone, tarried
there Munday night and the next day: onely I daunst three miles
on Tewsday, to ease my Wednesdaies journey.
If I should deny that I was welcome at Braintree, I should
slander an honest crew of kind men, among whome I far'd well,
slept well, and was every way well usde.
The fift dayes journey
being Wednesday of the second weeke.
Taking advantage
of my 3. miles that I had daunst ye day before, this wednesday
morning I tript it to Sudbury, whether came to see a very kinde
Gentleman Master Foskew, that had before travailed a foote from
London to Barwick: who giving me good counsaile to observe temperate
dyet for my health, and other advise to bee carefull of my company,
besides his liberall entertainment, departed leaving me much
indebted to his love.
In this towne of Sudbury, there came a lusty tall fellow,
a butcher by his profession, that would in a Morrice keepe mee
company to Bury: I being glad of his friendly offer, gave him
thatkes, and forward wee did set: but ere ever wee had measur'd
halfe a mile of our way, he gave me over in the plain field,
protesting, that if he might get a 100. pound, he would not
hold out with me, for indeed my pace in dauncing is not ordinary.
As he and I were parting, a lusty Country lasse bing among
the people, cal'd him faint hearted lout: saying, if I had begun
to daunce, I would have held out one myle though it had cast
my life. At which wordes many laughed. Nay saith she, if the
Dauncer will lend me a leash of his belles, Ile venter to treade
one mile with him my selfe. I lookt upon her, saw mirth in her
eies, heard boldnes in her words, and beheld her ready to tucke
up her russet petticoate, I fitted her with bels: which he merrily
taking, garisht her thicke short legs, and with a smooth brow
bad the Tabrer begin. The Drum strucke, forward marcht I with
my merry Mayde-marian: who shooke her fat sides: and fotted
it merrily to Melford, being a long myle. There parting with
her, I gave her (besides her skin full of drinke) and English
crowne to buy more drinke, for good wench she was in a pittious
heate: my kindnes she requited with dropping some dozen of short
courtsies, and bidding God blesse the Dauncer, I bad her adieu:
and to give her her due, she had a good care, daunst truely,
and wee parted friendly. But ere I part with her a good fellow
my friend, havin writ an odde Rime of her, I will make bolde
to set it downe.
A Country Lasse browne as a berry,
Blith of blee in heart as merry,
Cheekes well fed and sides well larded
Every bone with fat tlesh guarded,
Meeting merry Kemp by chaunce,
Was Marrian in his Morrice daunce,
Her stump legs with bels were garnisht,
Her browne browes with sweating varnish;
Her browne hips when she was lag,
To win her ground, went swig a swag,
Which to see all that came after,
Were repleate with mirthfull laughter.
Yet she thumpt it on her way,
With a sportly hey de gay,
At a mile her daunce she ended,
Kindly paide and well commended.
At Melford, divers Gentlemen met mee, who brought me to one
master Colts, a very kinde and worshipfull Gentleman, where
I had unexpected entertainment till the Satterday. From whose
house having hope somewhat to amend my way to Bury, I determined
to goe by Clare, but I found it to be both farther and fouler.
The sixt dayes journey
being Satterday of the second weeke.
From Wednesday
night til Satterday having bin very troublesome, but much more
welcome to master Colts: in the morning I tooke my leave, and
was accompanied with many Gentlemen a myle of my way. Whicn
myle master Calts his foole would needs daunce with me, and
had his desire, where leaving me, two fooles parted faire in
a foule way: I keeping on my course to Clare, where I a wahile
rested, and then cheerefully set forward to Bury.
Passing from Clare towards Bury, I was invited to the house
of a very bountiful widdow, whose husband during his life was
a Yeoman of that Countrie, dying rich no doubt, as might well
appeare, by the riches and plentie, that abounded in every corner
of the house. She is called the Widdow Everet.
At her house were met above thirty Gentlemen. Such, and so
plentifull variety of good fare, I have very sildome seene in
any Commoners house. Her behavious being very modest and freendly,
argued her bringing up not to be rude. She was a woman of good
presence: and if a foole may judge, of no small discretioin.
From this widdowes I daunst to Bury, comming in on the Satterday
in the afternoone, at what time the right Honorable, the Lord
Chiefe Justice antred at an other gate of the towne, the wondring
and regardles multitude making his honor cleere way, left the
streetes where he past to gape at me: the throng of them being
so great, that poore Will Kemp was seaven times stayed ere hee
could recover his Inne. By reason of the great snow that then
fell, I stayd at Bury from Satterday in the second week of my
setting foorth, til Thursday night the next weeke following.
The seaventh dayes journey
being Friday of the third weeke.
Upon Fryday morning
I set on towardes Thetford, dauncing that tenne mile in three
houres: for I left Bury fomewhat after seaven in the morning,
and was at Thetford somewhat after ten that same forenoone.
But indeed considering how I had been booted the other journeys
before, and that all this way ar the most of it was over a heath,
it was no great wonder: for I far'd like one that had escaped
the stockes, and tride the use of his legs to out-run the Constable:
so light was my heeles, that I counted the ten mile no bettr
than a leape.
At my entrance into Thetford, the people came in great numbers
to see mee: for there were many there, being Size time. The
noble Gentleman Sir Edwin Rich, gave me entertainment in such
bountifull sort, during my continuance there Satterday and Sunday,
that I want fitte words to expresse the least part of his worthy
usage of my unwortines: and to conclude liberally as hee had
begun and continued, at my departure on Munday, his worship
gave me five pound.
The eyght dayes journey
being Munday of the fourth weeke.
On Munday morning
I daunst to Rackland ere I rested, and comming to my Inne where
the hoast was a very boone companion, I desir'd to see him:
but in no case he would be spoken with, till he had shifted
himselfe from his working dayes sute. Being armed at all poyntes,
from the cap to the codpeece, his blacke shooes shining, and
made straght with copper buckles of the best, his garters in
the fashion, and every garment fitting Corremsquandam (to use
his owne word): hee enters the hass with his bonnet in his hand,
began to crye out.
O Kemp deere Master Kemp: you are even as welcome as as as,
and so stammering, he began to study for a fit comparison, and
I thanke him at last he fitted me: fo saith he, thou art even
as welcome, as the Queenes best grey-hound. After this dogged
yet well-meaning salutation, the Carrowles were called in: and
my friendly Hoast of Rackland began with. All this: blessing
the houre uppon his knees, that any of the Queenes Majesties
well-willer or friends would vouchsafe to come within his house:
as if never had any such had been within his doores before.
I tooke his good meaning, and gave him great thankes for his
kindnesse: and having rested mee well, began to take my course
for Hingham, whether my honest hoast of Rackland would needs
be my guide: but good true fat-belly he had not followed mee
two fieldes, but he lyes all along, and cryes after me to come
backe and speake with him, dauncer quoth hee if thou daunce
a Gods name God speede thee: I cannot follow thee a foote farther,
but adieu good dauncer, God speed thee of thou daunce a Gods
name. I having haste of my way, and he being able to keep no
way, there wee parted. Farewell he, he was a kinde good fellow,
a true Troyan: and it ever be my lucke to meete him at more
leasure, Ile make him full amendes with a Cup full of Canarie,
But nowe I am a little better advis'd, wee must not thus let
my madde hoast passe: for my friend late mentioned before, that
made the odde rime ob my Maide-marian, would needes remember
my hoast. Such as it is Ile bluntly set downe.
He was a man not over spare,
In his eybals dwelt no care,
Anon anon and welcome friend,
Were the most wordes he usde to spend,
Save sometime he would sit and tell,
What wonders once in Bullayne fell;
Closing each period of his tale,
With a full cup of Nut-browne Ale.
Turwin and Turneys siedge were hot,
Yet all my Hoast remembers not.
Ketsfield and Muselborough fray,
Were batlles fought but yesterday.
O twas a goodly matter then,
To see your sword and buckler men;
They would meete them every where:
And now a man is but a pricke,
A boy arm'd with a poating sticke,
Will dare to challenge Cutting Dicke.
O t'is a world the world to see,
But twill not mend for thee nor mee.
By this some guest cryes ho the house,
A fresh friend hath a fresh carouse,
Still he will drinke, and still be dry,
And quafee with every company.
Saint Martin send him merry mates
To anter at his hostree gates:
For a blither lad than he
Cannot an Inkeeper be.
Well once againe farewell mine Hoast at Rockland: after al
these farewels I am sure to Hingham I found a foule way, as
before I had done from Thetford to Rockland.
Yet besides the deep way I was much hindred by the desire
people had to see me. For even as our Shop-keepers will hayle,
and pull a man with Lack ye :`what do you lack Gentlemen:' My
ware is best cryes one: mine best in England sayes an other:
heere shall you have choyse saith the third: so was the dyvers
?oyees of the young men and Maydens, which I should meete at
everie myles ende, thronging by twentie, and sometime fortie,
yea hundreths in a companie: One crying the fayrest way was
thorow their Village: another, this is the nearest and fayrest
way, when you have past but a myle and a halfe: an other sort
crie, turne on the left hand, some on the right hand: that I
was so amazed, I knewe not sometime which way I might best take:
but hap hazard, the people still accompanying me, wherewith
I was much comforted, though the wayes were badde: but as I
said before at last I overtooke it.
The ninth dayes journey,
being Wednesday of the seconde weeke.
The next
morning I left Hingham, nor staying till I came to Barford-bridge,
five young men running all the way with me, for othrewise my
pace was not for footemen.
From Barford bridge I daunst to Norwich: but coming within
sight of the Citty, perceiving so great a multitude and throng
of people still crowding more and more about me, mistrusting
it would be a let to my determined expedition, and pleasurable
humour: which I long before conceived to delight this Citty
with (so far, as my best skill, and industry of my long travelled
sinewes could affoord them) I was advised, and so tooke ease
by that advise, to stay my Morrice a little above Saint Giles
his gate, where I tooke my gelding, and so rid into the Citty,
procrastinating my merry Morrice daunce through the Citty till
better opportunitie.
Being come into the Citty: Master Roger Wiler the Maior, and
sundry other of his worshipfull Brethren sent for me: who perceiveing
howe I intended to daunce into the Cittye that nyght: and being
well satisfied with the reasons, they allotted me time enough
not to daunce in till Satterday after: to the end that divers
knights and Gentlemen, together with their wines and Children
(who had beene many dayes before deceyved with expectation of
my comming) might nowe have sufficient warning, accordinly by
Satterday following.
In the meane space, and during my still continuance in the
Cittye afterwards, they not onely very courteously offered to
beare mine owne charges and my followers, but very bountifully
performed it at the common charges: the Mayor and many of the
Aldermen often times besides invited us privately to theyr severall
houses.
To make a short end of this tedious description of my entertainment:
Satterday no sooner came, but I returned without the Citty through
Saint Giles his gate: and beganne my Morrice where I left at
that gate, but I antred in at Saint Stephens gate, where one
Thomas Gilbert in name of all the rest of the Cittizens gave
me a friendly and exceeding kind welcome: I have no reason to
omit, unlesse I would condemne my selfe of ingratitude, partlye
for the private affection of the writer towardes me: as also
for the generall love and favour I found in them, from the highest
to the lowest, the richest as the poorest. It followes in these
few lynes.
Master Kemp his welcome to Norwich. With hart,
and hand, among the rest,
Especially you welcome are:
Long looked for, as welcome guest,
Come now at last you be from farre.
Of most within the Citty sure,
Many good wishes you have had.
Each one did pray you might indure,
With courage good the match you made.
Intend they did with gladsome hearts,
Like your well willers, you to meete:
Know you also they'l doe their parts,
Eyther in field or house to greete
More you then any with you came,
Procur'd thereto with trump and fame.
Your well-willer,
T.G.
Passing the gate, Wifflers (such Officers as were appointed
by the Mayor) to make me way through the throng of the people,
which prest so mightily upon me: with great labour I got thorow
that narrow preaze into the open market place. Where on the
crosse, ready prepared, stood the Citty Waytes, which not a
little refreshed my weariness with towling thorow so narrow
a lane, as the people left me: such Waytes (under Benedicite
be it spoken) fewe Citties in our Realme have the like, none
better. Who besides their excellency in wind instruments, their
rare cunning on the Vyoll, and Violin: theyr voices be admirable,
everie one of th able to serve in any Cathedrall Church in Christendome
for Quiristers.
Passing by the Market place, the presse still increasing by
the number of boyes, girles, men and women, thronging more and
more before me to see the end. It was the mischaunce of a homely
maide, that belike, was but newly crept into the fashion of
long wasted peticaotes tyde with points, had, as it seemed but
one point tyed before, as I was fetching a leape, it fell out
that I set my foote on her skirts: the point eyther breaking
or stretching, off fell her peticoate from her waste, but as
chance was, though hir smock were course, it was cleanely: yet
the poore wench was so ashamed, the rather for that she could
hardly recover her coate againe from unruly boies, that looking
before like one that had the greene sicknesse, now had she her
cheekes all coloured with scarlet. I was sorry for her, but
on I went towards the Maiors, and deceived the people, by leaping
over the Church-yard wass at S. Johns, getting so into M. Mayors
gates a neerer way: but at last I found it the further way about:
being forced on the Tewsday following to renew my former daunce,
because George Sprat my over-seer having lost me in the throng,
would not be deposed that I had daunst it, since he saw me not:
and I must confesse I did not wel, for the CIttizens had caused
all the turne-pikes to be taken up on Satterday, that I might
not bee hindred. But now I returne againe to my Jump, the measure
of which is to be seene in the Guild-hall at Norwich, where
my buskins, that I then Wore, and daunst in from London thither,
stand equally devided, nailde on the wall. The plenty of good
cheere at the Mayors, his bounty, and kinde usage, together
with the General welcomes of his wurshipful brethren, and many
other knights, Ladies, Gentlemen Gentlewomen, so much exceeded
my expectation, as I adivg'd my selfe most bound to them all.
The Maior gave me five pound in Elsabeth angels: which Maior
(faire Madame, to whom I too presumptiously dedicate my idle
paces) as a man worthy of a singuler and impartiall admiration,
if our criticke humorous mindes could as prodigally conceive
as he deserves, for his chast life, liberality, tempreance in
possessing worldly benefits: he lives unmarried and childlesse,
never purchased house nor land: the house he dwels in thes yeere,
being but hyred: he lives upon marchandies, being a Marchant
venturer. If our marchants and Gentlemen would take example
by this man, Gentlemen would not sell their lands, to become
bankrout Marchants, nor Marchants live in the possessions of
youth-beguiled gentlemen: who cast themselves out of their parents
heritages for a few out-cast commodities. But wit whither wilt
thou: What hath Morrice tripping Will to do with that: it keeps
not time wt his dance: therefore roome you moral precepts, give
my hands leave to perfect this worthlesse poore tottered volume.
Pardon me Madame, that I am thus tedious, I cannot chuse but
c sacred liberality, which makes poore wretches partakers of
all comfortable benefits, besides the love favour already repeated:
M. Weild the mayor gave me 40. s. yeerely during my life, making
me a free man of the marchant venturers, this is the substance
of my journey: therfore let no man beleeve how ever before by
lying ballets rumours they have bin abus'd: yr either waies
were laid open for me, or that I delivered gifts to her Majesty.
Its good being merry my masters, but in a meane, al my mirths,
(meane though they be) have bin ever shal be imploi'd to the
delight of my royal Mistris: whose sacred name ought not to
be rem bred among such ribald rimes as these late thinbreecht
lying Balletsingers have proclaimed it.
It resteth now that in a word I shew, what profit I have made
by my Morrice: true it is I put out some money to have threefold
gaine at my returne, some that lave me, regard my paines, respect
their promise, have sent home the treble worth, some other at
the first sight have paide me, if I come to seek th , others
I cannot see, nor wil willingly be found, and these are the
greater number. If they had al usd me wel, or al ill: Iwould
have boldly set downe the true sum of my final gain or losse,
but I wil have patience, some few daies l ger. At ye end of
which time, if any be behinde, I wil draw a cattalogue of al
their names I ventur'd with: those yt have shewne th mselves
honest men, I wil set before them this Caracter H. for honesty:
before the other Bench-whistlers shal stand K. for Ketlers keistrels,
that wil drive a good companion without need in them to contend
for his owne, but I hope I shall have no such neede. If I have,
your Honorable protection shall thus far defend your poore servant,
that he may being a plain man, call a spade a spade. Thus fearing
your Ladyship is wearier with reading this tow, then I was in
all my merry travaile, I crave pardon: and conclude this first
pamphlet that ever Will Kemp offred to the Presse, being thereunto
prest on the one side by the pittifull papers pasted on every
poast, of that which was neither so nor so, and in the other
side urg'd thereto in duety to expresse with thankefulnes the
kind entertainment I found. Your honors porre servant.
W.K.
Kemps humble request to the impudent generation of
Ballad-makers and their coherents; that it would please their
rascalities to pitty hi paines in the great journey he pretends,
and not fill the country with lyes of his never done actes as
they did in his late Morrice to Norwich.
To the tune
of Thomas Delonies Epitaph
My notable Shakerags, the effect of my sute is discovered
in the Title of my supplication. But for your better understandings:
for that Iknow you to be a sort of witles beetle-heads, that
can understand nothing, but what is knockt into your scalpes;
These are by these presentes to certifies unto your block-headships,
that I William Kemp, whom you had neer hand rent in sunder with
your unreasonable rimes, am shortly God willing to set forward
as merily as I may; whether I my selfe know not. Wherefore by
the way I would with ye, imploy not your little wits in certifying
the world that I am gone to Rome, Jerusalem, Venice, or any
other place at your idle appoint. I knowe the best of ye by
the lyes ye writ of me, got not the price of a good hat to cover
your brainless heads: If any of ye had come to me, my bounty
should have exceeded the best of your good masters the Ballad-buiers,
I wold have apparrelled your dry pates in party coloured bonnets,
bestowed a leash of my cast belles to have crown'd ye with cox-combs.
I have made a privie search, what private Jigmonger of your
jolly number, hath been the Author of thesis abhominable ballets
written of me: I was told it was the great ballet-maker T.D.
alias Tho. Deloney, Chronicler of the memorable lives of the
6. yeomen of the west, Jack of Newbery, the Gentle-craft, such
like honest m : omitted by Stow, Hollinshead, Graft , Hal, froysart,
the rest of those wel deserving writers: but I was given since
to understand, your late generall Tho. dyd poorely, as ye all
must do, and was honestly buried: which is much to be doubted
of some of you. The quest of inquiry finding him by death acquited
of the Inditement, I was let to wit, yt another Lord of litle
wit, one whose imployment for the Pageant, was utterly spent,
he being knowne to be Eldertons immediate heyre, was vehemently
suspected: but after due inquesetion was made, he was at that
time knowne to lige lika a man in a mist, having quite given
over the mistery. Still the search continuing, I met a proper
upright youth, onely for a little stooping in the shoulders:
all hart to the heele, a penny poet whose first making was the
miserable stolne story of Macdoel, or Macdobeth, or Macsomewhat:
for I am sure a Mac it was, though I never had the maw to see
it: hee tolde me there was a fat filthy balletmaker, that should
have once been his Journeyman to the trade: who liv'd about
the towne: and ten to one, bat he had thus terribly abused me
my Taberer: for thet he was able to do such a thing in print.
A shrewd presumption: I found him about the bankside, sitting
at a play, I desired to speake with him, had him to a Taverne,
charg'd a pipe with Tobacco and then laid this terrible accusation
to his charge. He swels presently like one og the foure windes,
the violence of his breath, blew the Tobacco out of the pipe,
the heate of his wrath drunke dry two bowlfuls of Rhenish wine.
At length having power to speake. Name my accuser saith he,
or I defye thee Kemp at the quart staffe. I told him, all his
anger turned to laughter: swearing it did him good to have ill
words of a hoddy doddy, a habber de hoy, a chicken, a squib, a squall: One that hath not wit enough to make a ballet, that
by Pol and Aedipol, would Pol his father, Derick his dad: doe
anie thing how ill so ever, to please his apish humor. I hardly
beleeved, this youth that I tooke to be gracious, had bin so
graceless: but I heard afterwards his mother in law was eye
and eare witness of his fathers abuse by this blessed childe
ona publique stage, in a merry Hoast of an Innes part. Yet all this while could not I finde out the true ballet-maker. Till
buy chaunce a friend of mine puld out of his packet a booke
in Latine called Mundus Furiosus printed at Cullen written by
one of the vildest and arrantest lying Cullians that ever writ
booke, his name Jansonius, who taking upon him to write an abstract
of all the turbulent actions that had beene lately attempted
or performed in Christendome, like an unchritian wretch, writes
onely by report, partially, and scoffingly of such whose pages
showes hee was unworthy to wipe, far indeed he is now dead:
farewell he, every dog must have day. But see the luck on't:
this beggerly lying busie-bodies name, brought out the Ballad-maker:
and it was generally confirmed, it was his kinsman: he confesses
himselfe guilty, let and man look on his face: if there be not
so redde a colour that all the sope in the towne will not washe
white, let me be turned to a Whiting as I passe betweene Dover
and Calles. Well, God forgive thee honest fellow, I see thou
hast grace in thee: I prethee do so no more, leace writing these
beastly ballets, make not good wenches Prophetesses, for little
or no profit, nor for a sixe-penny matter, revive not a poore
fellowes fault thats hanged for his offence: it may be thy owne
destiny one day, prethee be good to them. Call up the olde Melpomene,
whose straubery quill may write the bloody lines of the blew
Lady, and the Prince of the burning crowne: a better subject
I can tell ye: than your knight of the Red Crosse. So farewel,
and crosse me no more I prethee with thy rabbel of bald rimes,
least at my returne I set a crosse on thy forehead, that all
men may know thhe for a foole.
F I N I S. William Kemp
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