[Mem.—The following is supposed to be an
extract from the diary of the Pepys of that day, the
same being Queen Elizabeth’s cup-bearer.
He is supposed to be of ancient and noble lineage;
that he despises these literary canaille; that his
soul consumes with wrath, to see the queen stooping
to talk with such; and that the old man feels that
his nobility is defiled by contact with Shakespeare,
etc., and yet he has got to stay there till her
Majesty chooses to dismiss him.]
YESTERNIGHT toke her maiste ye queene a fantasie
such as she sometimes hath, and had to her closet
certain that doe write playes, bokes, and such like,
these being my lord Bacon, his worship Sir Walter
Ralegh, Mr. Ben Jonson, and ye child Francis Beaumonte,
which being but sixteen, hath yet turned his hand
to ye doing of ye Lattin masters into our Englishe
tong, with grete discretion and much applaus.
Also came with these ye famous Shaxpur. A righte
straunge mixing truly of mighty blode with mean, ye
more in especial since ye queenes grace was present,
as likewise these following, to wit: Ye Duchess
of Bilgewater, twenty-two yeres of age; ye Countesse
of Granby, twenty-six; her doter, ye Lady Helen, fifteen;
as also these two maides of honor, to-wit, ye Lady
Margery Boothy, sixty-five, and ye Lady Alice Dilberry,
turned seventy, she being two yeres ye queenes graces
elder.
I being her maites cup-bearer, had no choice but to
remaine and beholde rank forgot, and ye high holde
converse wh ye low as uppon equal termes, a grete
scandal did ye world heare thereof.
In ye heat of ye talk it befel yt one did breake wind,
yielding an exceding mightie and distresfull stink,
whereat all did laugh full sore, and then—
Ye Queene.—Verily in mine eight and sixty
yeres have I not heard the fellow to this fart.
Meseemeth, by ye grete sound and clamour of it, it
was male; yet ye belly it did lurk behinde shoulde
now fall lean and flat against ye spine of him yt
hath bene delivered of so stately and so waste a bulk,
where as ye guts of them yt doe quiff-splitters bear,
stand comely still and rounde. Prithee let ye
author confess ye offspring. Will my Lady Alice
testify?
Lady Alice.—Good your grace, an’
I had room for such a thundergust within mine ancient
bowels, ’tis not in reason I coulde discharge
ye same and live to thank God for yt He did choose
handmaid so humble whereby to shew his power.
Nay, ’tis not I yt have broughte forth this
rich o’ermastering fog, this fragrant gloom,
so pray you seeke ye further.
Ye Queene.—Mayhap ye Lady Margery hath
done ye companie this favor?
Lady Margery.—So please you madam, my limbs
are feeble wh ye weighte and drouth of five and sixty
winters, and it behoveth yt I be tender unto them.
In ye good providence of God, an’ I had contained
this wonder, forsoothe wolde I have gi’en ’ye
whole evening of my sinking life to ye dribbling of
it forth, with trembling and uneasy soul, not launched
it sudden in its matchless might, taking mine own
life with violence, rending my weak frame like rotten
rags. It was not I, your maisty.
