Kemps nine daies wonder Performed
in a daunce from
London to Norwich
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
that were 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 Bavives 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
being 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 kindlyer 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, dwelling
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 flesh 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.
W ith hart, and hand, among
the rest, E specially you welcome
are: L ong looked for, as welcome
guest, C ome now at last you
be from farre. O f most within
the Citty sure, M any good wishes
you have had. E ach one did pray
you might indure, W ith courage
good the match you made. I ntend
they did with gladsome hearts,
L ike your well willers, you
to meete: K now you also they'l
doe their parts, E yther in field
or house to greete M ore you
then any with you came, P rocur'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 them 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 comend 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 remembred 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 thee ,
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 longer. 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 themselves
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 his 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 men: omitted by Stow,
Hollinshead, Grafton, Hal, froysart, & the
rest of those wel deserving writers:
but I was given since to understand,
your late generall Thos. 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 thee for a foole. |