We will survey the suburbs, and make forth our sallies Down Petticoat-lane and up the Smock-alleys, To Shoreditch, Whitechapel, and so to St. Kathern's, To drink with the Dutch there, and take forth their patterns: From thence, we will put in at Custom-house key there, And see how the factors and prentices play there False with their masters, and geld many a full pack, To spend it in pies, at the Dagger and the Woolsack. Pug. Brave, brave, Iniquity! will not this do, chief? Inių. Nay, boy, I will bring thee to the bawds and the roysters, At Billinsgate, feasting with claret-wine and oysters; that "the spits of the fairies are made of Spanish needles;" but, indeed, the expression is too common for notice. In the Sun's Darling, by Ford, Folly says of one of the characters, "He is a French gentleman that trails a Spanish pike, a taylor." Upon which the editor observes, “ I cannot discover the force of this allusion, except it be to the thinness of the taylor's legs!" The editor is not fortunate in his guesses. The allusion is to the taylor's needle, which, in cant language, was commonly termed a Spanish pike. In the satirical catalogue of books by sir John Birkenhead is, "The Sting of Conscience, a tract written with the sharp end of Arise Evans's Spanish pike. Arise Evans was a taylor. Mr. Weber had not discovered that the best needles, as well as other sharp instruments, were, in that age, and indeed long before and after it, imported from Spain: if he had ever looked into Jonson, whom he is so forward to revile, he might have seen the "force of the allusion," and, probably, discovered, in addition to it, that the name of this great poet might be cited for better purposes than the gratification of wanton malice, or the sport of incorrigible folly. From thence shoot the Bridge, child, to the Cranes in the Vintry, And see there the gimblets, how they make their entry! Or if thou hadst rather to the Strand down to fall, 'Gainst the lawyers come dabbled from Westminster hall, And mark how they cling, with their clients together, Like ivy to oak, so velvet to leather: Pug. Rare, rare! Sat. Peace, dotard, And thou, more ignorant thing, that so admir'st; Art thou the spirit thou seem'st? so poor, to choose, This for a Vice, to advance the cause of hell, Most of his chamber can do now. But, Pug, 5 Cokely and Vennor.] Cokely is elsewhere mentioned by Jonson as master of a puppet-show; he seems also to have been He may perchance, in tail of a sheriff's dinner, Skip with a rhyme on the table, from Newnothing, And take his Almain-leap into a custard,' famous for tricks of legerdemain. Of Vennor, his superior in the art, I can give the reader no information. In Taylor's Cast over the Water, he mentions "Poor old Vennor, that plain dealing man, Who acted" England's Joy" at the Old Swan." If the Vennor of the text be, as I suppose, the son of this person, he seems to have turned aside from the plain dealing of his father. And take his Almain-leap into a custard.] In the earlier days, when the City kept a fool, it was customary for him, at public entertainments, to leap into a large bowl of custard set on purpose: there is an allusion to this piece of mirth in Shakspeare. WHAL. Whalley alludes to All's well that end's well. "You have made a shift to run into it, boots and all, like him that leapt into the custard." A. 2. S. 5. 66 Our old dramatists abound with pleasant allusions to the enormous size of these “ quaking custards," which were served up at the city feasts, and with which such gross fooleries were played. Thus Glapthorne: "I'll write the city annals In metre, which shall far surpass Sir Guy Wit in a Const. Indeed, no common supply was required; for, besides what the Corporation (great devourers of custard) consumed on the spot, it appears that it was thought no breach of city manners to send, or take some of it home with them for the use of their ladies. In the excellent old play quoted above, Clara twits her uncle with this practice: "Nor shall you, sir, as 'tis a frequent custom, Shall make my lady mayoress and her sisters Every week tired. We still strive to breed, And it is fear'd they have a stud o' their own Or fashion now, they take none from us. Carmen sweepers To their tobacco, and strong waters, Hum, Are got into the yellow starch, and chimney-sweepers Meath and Obarni] The ridiculous fashion, affected both by the great and small vulgar, of having their ruffs and linen stiffened with a kind of yellow starch was an object of satire to the wits of Jonson's age. It was first brought into vogue by Mrs. Turner, one of the persons employed by the countess of Essex in the poisoning of sir Thomas Overbury: and as she was soon after executed for her dealings in that affair, with a yellow starched ruff about her neck, the mode became for a time disreputable. WHAL. Enough, and more than enough has been produced on this tritest of all subjects, yellow starch. On the strong waters mentioned in the quotation, Whalley has nothing; and I have very little to the purpose. Meath is familiar to every reader under the name of metheglin. Hum, I have always understood to be an infusion of spirits in ale or beer. It is mentioned by At extraordinary subtle ones now, When we do send to keep us up in credit: As the best men and women. Tissue gowns, More certain marks of letchery now and pride, You go to earth, and visit men a day. man, Or let our tribe of brokers furnish you. several of our old dramatists, and appears to have been considered as a kind of cordial. Thus Fletcher: "Lord, what should I ail! what a cold I have over my stomach; would I had some hum!" Wild Goose Chace. Obarni is probably a preparation of usquebaugh; but this is merely conjecture. The word is an ama Ayousor, (as far as my knowledge reaches,) and I have endeavoured in vain to ascertain the meaning of it. |