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The Dio English Jesters

No. III.

int ;






THE PLEASANT CONCEITES OF OLD Laugh not to see so plaine a man in print ; HOBSON THE MERRY LONDONER, FULL The shadows homely, yet ther's something

Witnes the bagg he wears (though seeming QUICKEST WITTES MAY LAUGH, AND

poore) WISER SORT TAKE PLEASURE. The fertile mother of a thousand more : PRINTED AT LONDON

He was a thriueing man through lawfull WRIGHT, AND ARE TO BEE SOLD AT

gaine, HIS SHOPPE NEERE CHRIST CHURCH And wealthy grew by warrantable paine. GATE, 1607. 4to. containing 44 pages. Then laugh at them that spend, not them It has been no uncommon thing to

yt gather, confound old HOBSON the merry

Like thriueing sonnes of such a thrifty

father.. Londoner, with old Hobson the Cambridge carrier, who, though a He died immensely rich, leaving great personage in his day, would large estates in the neighbourhood of long since have been forgotten * but Cambridge, and dividing his profor Milton's epitaphs t on him, which, perty among his children and grandas well as the proverb related in the children, apparently with great imSpectator, and originating more in partiality; and, it seems that, unlike his craftiness than caprice, are too most hoarders of wealth, he had diswell known to be here repeated. Of tributed liberally to some of them Hobson the carrier, whose name, by during his life, “ And because I have the way, was Thomas, there is a very already provided sufficiently for my rare portrait by Payne, published daughter Dorothy the wife of Sir soon after his death, in 1630-1, un- Simon Clarke Knt. & Bart. and der which are the following lines : also for Elizabeth the wife of Tho


* Not so at Cambridge: when we wrote thus, we had ourselves forgotten the conduit in the market-place, which was originally erected by Hobson, at his sole charges, in 1614, and to maintain which he bequeathed seven lays of pasture ground.

+ Warton, in his edition of the minor poems of Milton, mentions a copy of verses on the same subject in manuscript, among archbishop Sancroft's transcripts of poetry, at Oxford. They are anonymous, and as follow:

Upon Hobson the Carrier.
Heere lies old Hobson among his betters,
A man not learned, yett a man of letters :
His carriage is well knowne : oft hath he gone
On an embassage twixt father and sonne.
In Cambridge few (to his praise bee it spoken)
But may remember him by some good token.
From hence to London rode he day by day,
Till, death benighting him, he lost his way.
Noe wonder is it, that he thus is gone,
Since all men know he long was drawing on.
His teame was of the best ; nor would he haue
Bin mir'd in any way, but in the graue.
And heerc he sticks, still like to stand
Vntill some angell lend his helping hand.
Thus rest in peace, thou euer-toyling swaine,

And supreme waggoner, next to Charles's waine.
# The superscription to the plate is “Mr. Hobson. obijt año 1630. vixit annos 86."
It has been badly copied for the illustrators of Granger and Milton.
Dec. 1823.


mas Parker, Esq. and have given them old traditional poetry, entitled A large portions, whereby my estate is Crowne Garland of Golden Roses, gamuch less than heretofore it was, I thered out of England's Royal Garden. do therefore &c."

Being the Liues and strange fortunes The «

merry Londoner” was Wils of many great personages of this land. liam Hobson, á haberdasher of small Šet forth in many pleasant new songs wares, living in the Poultry, where and sonetts neuer before imprinted. his father, who followed the same oca London, by G. Eld, &c. 1612. 12mo. cupation, lived and died before him; He dedicates his collection of Hobit appearing from Stow's Survey, that son's jests to Sir William Stone, they were both buried in St. Mildred's Knight, mercer to the queene's most 'church, the elder in 1559, the son in excellent majesty ; supposing him not

1581, and where costly monuments to have altogether forgotten the merry "Were erected to their memories.t Londoner, to whom he is indebted

There lived (says the collector of his for the materials of his pamphlet, Conceites) in the citty of London a merry and, therefore, not doubting but the cittizen named old Hobson, dwelling at the knight will like well of the labour, lower end of Cheapside, in the Poultry, as and besides the honest recreation well knowne thorough this part of England which it affordeth, apply what his as a sargeant knows the counter-gate. He worship maketh choyse of, unto his was a homely plaine man, most commonly own private pleasure meaning, we wearing a buttond cap close to his eares, a short gowne girt hard about his midle and suppose, that he may play the same

tricks and utter the same jokes, passa paire of slippers vpon his feete, of an ancient fashion. As for his wealth, it was

ing them for specimens of his own answerable to the better sort of our citti- wit and ingenuity. zens, but of so mery a disposition, that his

We learn from the details of Hobequal therein is hardly to be found. son's merry pranks, that the first

London merchants (for haberdashers The collector and publisher of the were merchant-adventurers in those volume now before us, was RICHARD days, as well as their betters in the Johnson, a very popular writer in present,) appeared in person at the the reign of James I, and to whom country fairs, those of Bristol and we are indebted for that marvellously Sturbidge being continually alluded entertaining book, The Seven Cham- to: that they were regularly attended pions of Christendom. Besides this, to church by their apprentices, who he wrote The Pleasant Walkes of More- are accused of following them to the fields, London, 1607, 4to. A Remem- doorand then slipping away to the tabrance of the Honors due to the Life vern: # that they were not over-atand Death of Robert, Earle of Salis- tentive to the cleanliness of their perbury, London, 1612, 4to. and an un- sons; $ but, however careless the commonly rare and curious volume of good citizens might be in that parti

* See the whole will, in No. X. of “ A Collection of divers curious historical Pieces," appended to Peck's Memoirs of Oliver Cromwell, Lond. 1740, 4to.

+ Stow's Survey of London, by A. Munday, Lond. 1618, 4to. p. 480.

# The London apprentices were not the best regulated persons in those days. In the year 1590 they, in company with other riotous fellows, called in a proclamation “ magterlesse men, were guilty of a great outrage in Lincoln's Inn, which they assaulted, broke into, and then spoyled divers chambers in the said house. The commotion occasioned by this breach of the peace was considered of sufficient importance to occasion a proclamation from the Queen and her privy council, commanding that every apprentice in the parishes of St. Dunstan's, St. Bride's, St. Andrew's Holborn, St. Giles's, St. Martin's, the Strand, and St. Clement's, should be within his master's house, by nine o'clock at night, for six days subsequent to the date of the proclamation, which is given at Ely-place, Septe 24, 1590, and was printed on a large broadside in order to be stuck up in the most public places of the city. The punishment was imprisonment on the part of the apprentice, and for the master a summons before the alderman or deputy, or before the justice of the peace, then and there to answer for contempt of her majesty's express commandment.

& Vpon a time maister Hobson going to my Lord Maiors to dinner, amongst the liuery of his company, and being waited on by one of his prentices, the said prentice spied a louse creeping vpon the side of his gowne, and tooke it off. Maister Hobson espying him to doe some thing in secret, asked what it was ? the fellow being ashamed, was loath to tell

cular, it seems their wives made am- Hang out your lantorne and candle light!" ple amends in attention to their own,

which Maister Hobson at last did, to his for maister Hobson's wife delighted great commendations ; which cry of lanin braue apparell, wore silke stock- thorne and candlight is in right manner ings, would seldom goe out of doores

ysed to this day. without her man before her, and once, This is but a poor conceit at the when she lay sicke in her bed, could best, nor can one very well uneate nothing but caudles made of derstand how a tradesman of repumuskadine.

tation and riches should be twice We will now, as usual with us, sent to the counter for bantering give our readers a few of Mr. Hobo with the parish beadle. Another of son's merriments, which are mighty his pranks on the citizens is not much dull specimens of city wit, although better : Hobson invited the Livery of they are curious enough as illustrative his Company to a light banquet “ at of ancient manners:

the greatest tauerne in all London,”

and when the citizens came, which How maister Hobson hung out a lanterne they all did, clad in their richest and candle light.

dresses, “ they found each one a cup In the beginning of Queene Elizabeath's of wine and a manchet of bread on raigne, when the order of hanging out lan- his trencher," the room, however, terne and candle light first of all was brought vp, the bedell of the warde where being lighted up with five hundred Maister Hobson dwelt , in a darke euening this

was no very sure way of conci

candles ! One would imagine that crieng vp and downe, “ Hang out your lantornes ! Hang out your lantornes !” liating a hungry alderman and his vsing no other words ; wherevpon Maister brethren ; but the joke took so well, Hobson tooke an empty lantorne, and ac- that Hobson wanting a little ready cording to the beadles call hung it out. This money soon after, borrowed 1501. for flout, by the Lord Maior was taken in ill two years without interest from his part, and for the same offence was sent to hall, he having, as Mr. Johnson exthe counter, but being released, the next pressly informs us, “gained such night following, the beadle thinking to love of his companie, by this merry amend his call, cried out with a loud voice,

jest." There is another tale told of “ Hang out your lantorne and candle !" Maister Hobson here-vpon hung out a lan. him, which gives some idea of his torne and candle vnlighted, as the beadle shrewdness, and good sense. Having againe commanded, where vpon he was sent

two thousand pounds worth of French againe to the counter ; but the next night matches on his hands (no very marthe_beadle being better aduised, cryed, ketable commodity with a haber“ Hang out your lantorne and candle light! dasher of small wares, but they had him, but being importuned by his maister, said it was a louse. Oh! (qd maister Hobson) this is good lucke, for it showeth me to be a man, for this kind of vermine chiefly breedeth on mankind, and therevpon gaue fiue shillings to his man for his labour-Sign D. 1. Sir Hugh Evans, if we remember, in the Merry Wives of Windsor, says the louse“ is a familiar beast to man, and signifies love." Quære whether luck would not be a better reading than love?

The custom of hanging out lanthorns, before lamps were in use, was earlier than queen Elizabeth's reign. In the very rare volume generally known under the title of Arnolde's Chronicle, or the Customes of London, printed probably at Antwerp soon after 1502, under the head of " The charge of the queste of warmot in every warde," we read, among other articles to be enquired of_“ Also yf ther be ony man that hangith not out a lanterne with a candel breñyng therin acording to the mayrs crye. " so that the order was one of much earlier date than Johnson supposes. In a book of which we have already given an account (in our first number) is the following story illustrative of this subject :

“ A company of merry gallants, comming in a winter night late from a tauerne, to increase that mirth in the streetes (as they went along) which the wine had begotten in them before, fell to taking downe of lathornes that their hung out. And one of them being nibling to yntie the cord at which a sconce hung, a seruant of the house by chance suddenly opened the doore, and tooke him at his worke, roughly asking him what he meant to doe there ? Nothing, sir, saies the other, but to snufe your candle.” Jests to make you merie. London, 1607, 4to. page 6. If the Variorum edition of Shakspeare be not already voluminous enough, this note may be added to Mr. Steevens's

remarks on one of Falstaff's speeches to Bardolph, in the third scene of Act III. First Part of King Henry IV.

been consigned to him from his factor deed, why didst not thou tarry there still ?" in France) he applied to Queen Eli- quoth Maister Hobson. “ Nay, Si,” zabeth for a patent, giving him the quoth the begger, “ there is no roome for exclusive sale of that article, and such begerr men as I am, for all is kept kneeling down in her Majesty's pre- This wity answere caused Maister Hobson

for such gentlemen cittizens as you be." sence, urged his suit with great hu

to giue the poore man a teaster. mility.

How maister Hobson was a Iudge betreirt “ The Queene perceauing for what

two Women. intent he came, and considering the great There dwelled not farre from maister benefit that would come by such a grant, Hobson two very ancient women, the and meaning to giue it to some gentleman youngest of them both, was aboue threenear vnto her, as a recompence for his score yeares of age, and vppon a time, sitseruice, said vnto Maister Hobson, “ My ting at the tauerne together, they grew at friend (sayd the Queene), bee content, varience which of them should be the for thou shalt not haue thy pattent sealed, youngest (as women indeede desier to be nor will I giue thee thy request.”- accoumpted younger then they be) in such Maister Hobson, hearing the Queenes manner that they layd a good supper of the denial, said “I most hartely thanke valew of twenty shillings, for the truth your maiesty ; both I and all mine are thereof; and maister Hobson they agreed bound to thanke and pray for your high- vpon to bee their judge of the difference. nes ;” and so, making lowe obeysance, So, after maister Hobson had knowledge went his way. At these his words, the thereof, the one eame to him, and as a Queene much maruailed, and when he had present gaue him a very faire pidgion pye, gone a little from her, she caused him to worth some fiue shillings, desiering him be sent for backe againe, whome when he to passe the vardet of her side. Within was returned, the Queene asked, if he did a while after, the other came, and gaue well understand what answer her grace did maister Hobson a very faire grayhound, giue him? “ Yes, truely:" saide Mais- which kind of dogges he much delighted ter Hobson. “ What said I?” (quoth in, praying him likewise to be fauorable the Queene) “Marry! your Grace bad on her side. Wherefore hee gaue iudg. me be content, for I should not haue my ment that the woman that gaue him the desire, nor my pattent sealed.” " Why grayhound was the yonger, and so she woun did you then (qd the Queene) giue me such the supper of twenty shillings: which she great thanks ?"

Because (said Maister (the first] perceiuing, came to him, and Hobson) Your grace gaue mee so soone sayd “ Sír, I gave you a pidgion pie, and an answere, without either longer sute or you promised the verdit should goe on my losse of time, the which would haue bene side.” To whome maister Hobson said; to my very much harme and great hin. • Of a truth, good woman, there came a drance, for I haue at home a mighty charge grayhound into my house, and eate vp the of househould, to which I am bound in pidgion pye, and so by that meanes I duety to looke diligently, and to maintaine quite forgot thee, carefully."

How Maister Hobson found out the pye It is hardly necessary to continue

stealer. the story in the circumstantial detail In Christmas holy dayes, when Ma. of the pamphlet: the queen was

Hobson's wife had many pyes in the onen, pleased with the good sense of old one of his seruāts had stole one of them out; Hobson, gave orders that he should and at the tauerne had merilie eatē it

. It have his patent sealed, “ whereby in fortuned the same day, some of his frieds short time hee had quicke saile of his dined with him, and one of the best commodity of matches, to his heart's pyes were missing, the stealer whereof, at

after dinner, he found out in this maner. content, and his welthe's great en

He caled all his seruants in friendly sort together into the hall, and caused tach of

them to drinke one to another both wine, Of a begers answear to Maister Ilobson.

ale and beare, till they were al drunke: A poore begger man, that was foule, then caused hee a table to be furnished with blacke and loathsome to behould, came very good cheare, whereat hee likewise on a time to Maister Hobson as he walked pleased them. Being set altogether, he in Moore feelds, and asked something of said, “ Why sit you not downe, fellowes?" him for an almes : to whom Maister Hob. “ We be set allready; " quoth they. son said, “I prethee, good fellow, get Nay," quoth Maister Hobson," he that thee from me, for thou lookst as thou stole the pye is not set yet.” Yes, that I camst lately out of hell. The poure beg. doe! (quoth he that stole it,) by which ger, man perceuing hee would giuc him meanes he knew what was become of the nothing, answered forsooth, “ Sir you say pye: for the poore fellow, being drunke, true, foz I came lately out of Hell." “ Incould not keepe his owne secretts.


Horo maister Ilobson answered a Popish house to speake with him, (being then Fryer.

new chosen recorder of London) and asked In the rainge of Queene Mary, when

one of his men if he were within, and he this land was blinded with superstition, said he was not at home. But Maister there was a Popish frier that made an

Hobson perceuing that his master bad oration in the Charter-house-yard, where him say so, and that he was within, not many formes were placed full of people, being willing (at that time) to be spoken to here the same oration ; amoungst which withall, for that time, dissembling the number sat maister Hobson. Which fryer matter, he went his way. Within a few much extolling him that was then Pope of dayes after, it was Maister Fleetewood's Rome, comparing him to saint Peter, for chaunse to come to Maister Hobson's, and in degree he names him aboue all ye holy knocking at the dore, asked if he were fathers in time past, as doctors, marters,

within ! Maister Hobson hearing and prophets ; yea, and aboue more then pro- knowing how he was denyed Master Fleetphets, John Baptist : “ then in what high wood's speach before time, spake himselfe place," sayd the frier, “ shall we place aloud, and said, hee was not at home. this good man ? what place I say is fit for

Then said Maister Fleetewood, “ What, him or where shall he sit ? " Master Maister Hobson, thinke you that I knowe Hobson hearing him speake so prophanly

not your voyce ?” where-vnto Maister and sitting amongst the audience, starts

Hobson answered and sayd ; vp and sayd, “ If thou cun'st find no

Maister Fleetewood, am quit with you : other, euen set him here in my place, for for when I came to speake with you, Í be

leeued I am weary:" and so went his way.

your man that said, you were not

at home, and now you will not beleeue How Maister Hobson said he was not at mine owne selfe.” And this was the mery home.

conference betwixt these two merry gentleOn a time that Maister Hobson vpon some ocation came to Master Fleetewood's

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No. VII.

The passion of love, in Spain, was always associated with dangers and mysteries—and the spirit of chivalry deemed that a lover could hardly be acceptable until he had made his title good by deeds of heroism-by long and weary watchings or by acts of extravagant devotion. The prize seemed worthless that was won without toil and difficulty. In the southern provinces, even to the time of Charles III. a youth was not admitted to the common privileges of his standing, until he had watched over his arms, and had been solemnly invested with the right to bear them. He was compelled to pass the night in the vigil of prayer—in a solitary chapel-his unconsecrated weapons hanging near. When the day dawned, they received the sacerdotal blessing, and, from that moment, he was allowed to take his nightly rounds (rondar), and to watch over and protect the dwelling of liis beloved.


Zagaleja de lo verde graciosita en el mirar, quédate á Dios, alma mia que me voy de este lugar.

Yo me voy.con mi ganado zagala, de aqueste ejido, ya no verásme en el prado entre las yerbas tendido : desde agora me despido de mis pasados placeres : mis musicas y taneres tornarse han en suspirar.

Shepherdess of early spring-tide,
With thy look of innocence;
God be with thee, gentle maiden!
For I wend me far from hence.
With my flocks I quit for ever
These sweet vales, fair maid! Alas
Thou wilt see me slumbering never
’Midst the flowers, and on the grass.
Time from all these joys shall sever
Which made time so gayly pass.
Music's charm and song's endeavour
Cease-sighs break where gladness was.

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