A Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 4 eBook

This eBook from the Gutenberg Project consists of approximately 342 pages of information about A Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 4.

Host.  Fore God a mad spirit.

Hostis.  Will ye beeleeve what such a bisket brain’d fellow as this saies? he has a mouth like a double cannon, the report will be heard all ore the towne.

Cittie wife.  I warrant he ranne mad for love, because no good face could indure the sight of him, and ever since he railes against women like a whot-shot.

Len.  Nay, nay, we must have all friendes,
Jarring discords are no marriage musick;
Throw not Hymen in a cuckstoole; dimple
Your furrowed browes; since all but mirth was ment,
Let us not then conclude in discontent,
Say, shall we all
In friendly straine measure our paces to bed-ward?

Tul.  Will Terentia follow?

Teren.  If Tully be her Leader.

Host.  Good bloods, good spirits, let me answer for all, none speake but mine Host; hee has his pols, and his aedypols, his times and his tricks, his quirkes, and his quilits, and his demise and dementions.  God blesse thee, noble Caesar, and all these brave spirits!  I am Host of the Hobby, Cornutus is my neighbour, Graccus, a mad spirit, Accutus is my friend, Sir Scillicet is my guest; al mad comrades of the true seede of Troy, that love juce of Grapes; we are all true friends, merrie harts live long, let Pipers strike up, ile daunce my cinquepace, cut aloft my brave capers, whirle about my toe, doe my tricks above ground, ile kisse my sweet hostesse, make a curtesie to thy grace; God blesse thy Maiestie and the Mouse shall be dun.

Cor.  Come wife, will you dance?

Wife.  Ile not daunce, I, must you come to Court to have hornes set on your head?  I could have done that at home.

Host.  I, I, be rulde at this time; what? for one merrie day wele find a whole moone at midsommer.


Caes.  Gentles, wee thanke yee all, the night hath spent
His youth, and drowsie Morpheus bids us battell. 
We will defie him still, weele keep him out
While we have power to doe it.  Sound
Your loudest noise:  set forward to our chamber.

Gra.  Advance your light.

Caes.  Good rest to all.

Omn.  God give your grace God-night.




VOL.  II. Tragedy of Sir John Van Olden Barnavelt.  In The Athenaeum of January 19, 1884, my friend, Mr. S.L.  Lee, pointed out that the first performance of this remarkable play took place in August, 1619.  I had thrown out the suggestion that the play was produced at Michaelmas, 1619.  “I have been fortunate enough,” says Mr. Lee, “to meet with passages in the State Papers that give us positive information on this point.  In two letters from Thomas Locke to Carleton, the English ambassador at

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A Collection of Old English Plays, Volume 4 from Project Gutenberg. Public domain.
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