Kemps nine daies wonder. Performed in a dance from London to Norwich. Containing the pleasure, pains and kind entertainment of William Kemp between London and that city in his late morris. Wherein is somewhat set down worth note; to reprove the slanders spread of him: many things merry, nothing hurtful. Written by himself to satisfy his friends. Woodcut illustration of a morris dancer with bellpads on his shins leaping to the tune of a pipe and tabor played by a man walking alongside him. LONDON Printed by E. A. for Nicholas Ling, and are to be sold at his shop at the west door of Saint Paules Church. 1600. Decorative woodcut headpiece with two cherubs. To the true Ennobled Lady, and his most bountiful Mistris, Mistris Anne Fitton, maid of Honour to the most sacred maid royal queen Elizabeth. honourable Mistris in the wain of my little wit, I am forced to desire your protection, else every Ballad-singer will proclaim me bankrupt of honesty. A sortof mad fellows seeing me merrily disposed in a morris, haue so bepainted me in print since my gambols began from London to Norwich, that( having but an ill face before) I shall appear to the world without a face, if your fair hand wipe not away their foul colours. One hath written Kempsfarewell to the tune of Kery, merry, buff: another his desperate dangers in his late travail: the third his entertainment to New-Market; which town I came never near by the length of half the heath. Some swear in a Trenchmore I haue trode a good way to win the world: others that guess righter, affirm, I haue without good help danced myself out of the world: many say many things that were never thought. But in a word your poor seruant offers the truth of his progress and profit to your honourable view, receive it I beseech you, such as it is, rude and plain, for I know your pure iudgement, looks as soon to see beauty in a blackamoor, or hear smooth speech from a Stammerer, as to find any thing, but blunt mirth in a morris dancer, especially such a one as Will Kemp, that hath spent his life in mad ligges and merry jests. Three reasons move me to make public this journey, one to reprove lying fools I never knew: the other to commend loving friends, which by the way I daily found: the third to show my duty to your honourable self, whose favours( among other bountiful friends) makes me( despite of this sad world) judge my hart cork,& my heels feathers, so that me thinks I could fly to Rome( at least hop to Rome, as the old Prouerbis) with a mortar on my head: In which light conceit I lowly beg pardon and leave, for my Tabrer strikes his huntsup, I must to Norwich: Imagine Noble Mistris, I am now setting from my Lord Mayors, the hour about seven, the morning gloomy, the company many, my hart merry. Your worthy ladyships most unworthy seruant, William Kemp. Kemps nine daies wonder: Performed in a morris from London to Norwich. Wherein every dayes journey is pleasantly set down, to satisfy his friends the truth, against all lying Ballad-makers; What he did, how he was welcome, and by whom entertained. The first daies journey, being the first monday in clean Lent, from the right honourable the Lord Mayors of London. THe first mundaye in Lent, the close morning promising a clear day,( attended on by Thomas sly my Taberer, William Bee my seruant, and George Sprat, appointed for my overseer, that I should take no other ease but my prescribed order) myself, thats I. otherwise called Caualiero Kemp, head Master of morris dancers, Sion near Brainford, and mount Surrey by Norwich. high Head-borough of heighs, and onely tricker of your Trill-lilles, and best bel-shangles between Sion and mount Surrey, began frolickly to foot it, from the right honourable the Lord Mayors of London, towards the right worshipful( and truly bountiful) Master Mayors of Norwich. My setting forward was somewhat before seven in the morning, my Taberer stroke up merrily, and as fast as kind pepples thronging together would give me leave, thorough London I leaped: By the way many good old people, and diuers others of younger yeeres, of mere kindness, gave me bowd sixepences and groats, blessing me with their hearty prayers and God-speedes. Being past White chapel, and having left faire London, with all that northeast Suburb before name, multitudes of Londoners left not me: but either to keep a custom which many hold, that Mile-end is no walk without a recreation at Stratford Bow with cream and Cakes, or else for love they bear toward me; of perhaps, to make themselves merry, if I should chance( as many thought) to give over my morris within a mile of Mile-end. How ever, many a thousand brought me to Bow, where I restend a while from dancing, but had small rest with these that would haue urged me to drinking. But I warrant you Will Kemp was wise enough: to their full cups, kind thanks was my return, with Gentlemanlike protestations: as truly sir, I dare not: it stands not with the congruity of my health. congruity said I? how came that strange language in my mouth? I think scarcely that it is any Christen word, and yet it may be a good word for ought I know, though I never made it, nor do very well understand it; yet I am sure I haue bought it at the word mongers, at as dear a rate, as I could haue had a whole 100. of Bauines at the wood-mongers. farewell congruity for I mean now to be more concise, and stand vpon eeuener bases: but I must neither stand nor sit, the Tabrer strikes alarum. Tickle it good Tom, Ile follow thee. farewell bow, haue over the Bridge, where I heard say, honest Conscience was once drowned. Its pittye if it were so: but thats no matter belonging to out morris, lets now along to Stratford Langton. Many good fellows bring there met, and knowing how well I loved the sport, had prepared a Beare-bayting: but so unreasonable were the multitudes of people, that I could only hear the bear roar, and the dogges howl: therefore forward I went with my hey de gaies to Ilford, where I again restend, and was by the people of the town and country there-about, very very well welcomd: being offered carowses in the great spoon, A great spoon in Ilford holding above a quart. one whole draft being able at that time to haue drawn my little wit dry: but being afraid of the old proverb( He had need of a long spoon that eats with the devill) I soberly gave my boon companions the slip. From Ilford by Moone-shine, I set forward, dancing within a quarter of a mile of Romford: where in the high way, two strong jades( having belike some great quarrel to me unknown) were beating& biting either of other. And such through Gods help was my good hap, that I escaped their hoofes, both being raised with their fore feet over my head, like two smiths over an Anuyle. There being the end of my first dayes morris, a kind Gentleman of London lighting from his horse, would haue no nay but I should leap into his saddle. To be plain with ye, I was not proud, but kindly took his kindlyer offer, chiefly thereto urged by my weariness: so I rid to my inn at Romford. In that town, to give rest to my well laboured limbs, I continued two dayes, being much beholding to the towns-men for their love, but more to the Londoners, that came hourly thither in great numbers to visit me: offering much more kindness then I was willing to accept. The second dayes journey, being Thursday of the first weeke. THursday being Market day at Burnt-wood, Tom sly was earlier up then the Lark, and sounded merrily the morris: I roused myself, and returned from Romford to the place where I took horse the first night, dancing that quarter of a mile back again thorough Romford, and so merrily to Burnt-wood: yet now I remember it well, I had no great cause of mirth, for at Romford towns end I strained my hip, and for a time endured exceeding pain: but being loathe to trouble a Surgeon I held on, finding remedy by labour that had hurt me, for it came in a turn, and so in my dance I turned it out of my service again. The multitudes were so great at my coming to Burntwood, that I had much a do( though I made many entreaties and stays) to get passage to my inn. In this town two Cut-purses were taken, that with other two of their companions followed me from London( as many better disposed persons did:) but these two dy-doppers gave out when they were apprehended, that they had laid wagers and betted about my journey. whereupon the Officers bringing them to my inn, I justly denied their acquaintance, saving that I remembered one of them to be a noted Cut-purse, such a one as we tie to a post on our stage, for all people to wonder at, when at a play they are taken pilfering. This fellow& his half brother being found with the dead, were sent to jail: their other two consorts had the charity of the town,& after a dance of Trenchmore at the whipping cross, they were sent back to London: where I am afraid there are too many of their occupation. To bee short I thought myself well rid of four such followers, and I wish heartily that the whole world were clear of such companions. having restend well at Burntwood, the moon shining clearly, and the weather being calm, in the evening I tripped it to Ingerstone, stealing away from those numbers of people that followed me: yet do I what I could, I had above fifty in the company, some of London, the other of the Country thereabout, that would needs when they heard my Taber, trudge after me through thick and thin. The third dayes journey, being Friday of the first week. ON Friday morning I set forward towards Chelmsford, not having past two hundred, being the least company that I had in the day time: between 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 see me. Sir Thomas Mildmay standing at his park pale, received gently a pair of garters of me: gloves, points, and garters, being my ordinary merchandise, that I put out to venture for performance of my merry voyage. So much a do I had to pass by the people at Chelmsford, that it was more than an hour ere I could recover my inn gate, where I was fain to lock myself in my Chamber, and pacify them with words out of a window instead of deeds: to deal plainly I was so weary, that I could dance no more. The next morning I footed it three mile of my way toward Braintree: but returned back again to Chelmsford, where I lay that saturday and the next Sunday. The good cheer and kind welcome I had at Chelmsford, was much more than I was willing to entertain: for my onely desire was to refrain drink, and be temperate in my diet. At Chelmsford a maid not passing fourteen yeares of age, dwelling with one Sudley my kind friend, made request to her Master and Dame, that she might dance the morris with me in a great large room. They being entreated, I was soon won, to fit her with bells, besides she would haue the old fashion with napking on her arms, and to our jumps we fell. A whole hour she held out: but then being ready to lie down I left her off: but thus much in her praise, I would haue challenged the strongest man in Chelmsford, and amongst many I think few would haue done so much. The fourth dayes journey, being monday of the second weeke. ON monday morning very early, I rid the 3. miles that I danced the saturday before: where alighting, my Taberer struck up, and lightly I tripped forward, but I had the heaviest way that ever mad Morrice-dancer trod: yet With hey and ho, through thick and thin, the hobby horse quiter forgotten, I followed as I did begin, although the way were rotten. This foul way I could find no ease in, thick woods being on either side the lane: the lane likewise being full of deep holes, sometimes I skipped up to the waste: but it is an old proverb. That it is a little comfort to the miserable to haue companions, and amid this miry way, I had some mirth by an unlooked for accident. It was the custom of honest Country fellows my unknown friends, vpon hearing of my pipe( which might well be heard in a still morning or evening a mile) to get up and bear me company a little way. In this foul way two pretty plain youths watched me, and with their kindness somewhat hindered me. One a fine light fellow would be still before me, the other ever at my heels. At length coming to a broad plash of water and mud, which could not be avoyded, I fetched a rise, yet fell in over the ankles at the further end. My youth that followed me, took his jump, and stuck fast in the midst, crying out to his companion, come George, call ye this dancing, Ile go no further: for indeed he could go no further, till his fellow was fain to wade and help him out. I could not choose but lough to see howe like two frogs they laboured: a hearty farewell I gave them, and they faintly bad God speed me, saying if I danced that dirty way this seven yeares again, they would never dance after me. Well, with much a do I got unto Braintree by noon, tarried there monday night and the next day: onely I danced three miles on tuesday, 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 whom I fared well, slept well, and was every way well used. The fift dayes journey being Wednesday of the second week. TAking advantage of my 3. miles that I had danced the day before, this wednesday morning I tripped it to Sudbury, whether came to see a very kind Gentleman Master Foskew, that had before travailed a foot from London to Barwick: who giuing me good counsel to observe temperate diet for my health, and other aduise to bee careful of my company, besides his liberal entertainment, departed leaving me much indebted to his love. In this town of Sudbury, there came a lusty tall fellow, a butcher by his profession, that would in a morris keep me company to Bury: I being glad of his friendly offer, gave him thankes, and forward wee did set: but ere ever wee had measured half 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 place in dancing is not ordinary. As he and I were parting, a lusty Country lasse being among the people, called him faint hearted lout: saying, if I had begun to dance, I would haue held out one mile though it had cost my life. At which words many laughed. Nay saith she, if the dancer will lend me a leash of his belles, Ile venture to tread one mile with him myself. I looked vpon her, saw mirth in her eyes, heard boldness in her words, and beholded her ready to tuck up her russet petticoat, I fitted her with bells: which he merrily taking, garnished her thick short legs, and with a smooth brow bad the Tabrer begin. The Drum struck, forward marched I with my merry Maydemarian: who shooke her fat sides: and footed it merrily to Melfoord, bring a long mile. There parting with her, I gave her( besides her skinfull of drink) an English crown to buy more drink, for good wench she was in a piteous heat: my kindness she required with dropping some dozen of short courtsies, and bidding God bless the dancer, I bad her adieu: and to give her her due, she had a good care, danced truly, and wee partend friendly. But ere I part with her, a good fellow my friend, hauin writ an odd rhyme of her, I will make bold to set it down. A Country Lasse brown as a berry, blithe of blee in heart as merry, cheeks well fed and sides well larded, every bone with fat flesh guarded, Meeting merry Kemp by chance, Was Marrian in his morris dance, Her stump legs with bells were garnished, Her brown brows with sweeting varnish; Her brown hips when she was lag, To win her ground, went swig a swag, Which to see all that came after, Were replete with mirthful laughter. Yet she thumped it on her way, With a sportly hey de gay, At a mile her dance she ended, Kindly paid and well commended. At Melford, diuers Gentlemen met me, who brought me to one master Colts, a very kind and worshipful Gentleman, where I had unexpected entertainment till the saturday. From whose house having hope somewhat to amend my way to Bury, I determined to go by clear, but I found it to be both farther and fouler. The sixth dayes journey, being saturday of the second week. FRom Wednesday night till saturday having been very troublesone, but much more welcome to master Colts: in the morning I took my leave, and was accompanied with many Gentlemen a mile of my way. Which mile master Colts his fool would needs dance with me, and had his desire, where leaving me, two fools partend faire in a foul way: I keeping on my course to clear, where I a while restend, and then cheerfully set forward to Bury. Passing from clear towards Bury, I was inuitted to the house of a very bountiful widow, whose husband during his life was a Yeoman of that country, dying rich no doubt, as might well appear, by the riches and plenty, that abounded in every corner of the house. She is called the widow Eueret. At her house were met above thirty Gentlemen. Such, and so plentiful variety of good fare, I haue very seldom seen in any Commoners house. Her behaviour being very modest and friendly, argued her bringing up not to be rude. She was a woman of good presence: and if a fool may judge, of no small discretion. From this widows I danced to Bury, coming in on the saturday in the afternoon, at what time the right honourable, the Lord chief Iustice entred at an other gate of the town, the wondering and regardless multitude making his honor clear way, left the streets where he past to gape at me: the throng of them being so great, that poor Will Kemp was seven times stayed ere he could recover his inn. By reason of the great snow that then fell, I stayed at Bury from saturday in the second week of my setting forth, till Thursday night the next week following. The seventh dayes journey being Friday of the third week. VPon friday morning I set on towards Thetford, dancing that ten mile in three houres: for I left Bury somewhat after seven in the morning, and was at Thetford somewhat after ten that same forenoon. But indeed considering how I had been booted the other journeys before, and that all this way or the most of it was over a heath, it was no great wonder: for I fared like one that had escaped the stocks, and tried the use of his legs to out run the Constable: so light was my heels, that I counted the ten mile no better than a leap. At my entrance into Therford, the people came in great numbers to see me: for there were many there, being Size time. The noble Gentleman Sir Edwin Rich, gave me entertainment in such bountiful and liberal sort, during my continuance there saturday and Sunday, that I want fit words to express the least part of his worthy usage of my unworthiness: and to conclude liberally as he had begun and continued, at my departure on monday, his worship gave me five pound. The eight dayes journey being monday of the fourth weeke. ON monday morning I danced to Rockland ere I restend, and coming to my inn, wherethe host was a very boon companion, I desired to see him: but in no case he would be spoken with, till he had shifted himself from his working dayes suit. Being armed at all poyntes, from the cap to the codpeece, his black shoes shining, and made straght with copper buckles of the best, his garters in the fashion, and every garment fitting Corremsquandam( to use his own word): he enters the Hall with his bonnet in his hand, began to cry 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 thank him at last he fitted me: for saith he, thou art even as welcome, as the queens best grey-hound. After this dogged yet well-meaning salutation, the Carrowses were called in: and my friendly host of Rockland began with. All this: blessing the hour upon his knees, that any of the queens majesties well-willers or friends would vouchsafe to come within his house: as if never any such had been within his doors before. I took his good meaning, and gave him great thankes for his kindness: and having restend me well, began to take my course for Hingham, whether my honest host of Rockland would needs be my guide: but good true fat-belly he had not followed me two fields, but he lies all along, and cries after me to come back and speak with him. I fulfilled his request: and coming to him, dancer quoth he if thou dance a Gods name God speed thee: I cannot follow thee a foot farther, but adieu good dancer, God speed thee if thou dance a Gods name. I having hast of my way, and he being able to keep no way, there wee partend. Farewell he, he was a kind good fellow, a true trojan: and it ever be my lucks to meet him at more leisure, Ile make him full amendes with a Cup full of canary. But now I am a little better aduis'd, wee must not thus let my mad host pass: for my friend late mentioned before, that made the odd rhyme on my Maide-marian, would needs remember my host. Such as it is Ile bluntly set down. He was a man not over spare, In his eybals dwelled no care; Anon anon and welcome friend, Were the most words he used 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 siege were hot, Yet all my host remembers not. Kets field and Muscleborough fray, Were battles fought but yesterday. Or was a goodly matter then, To see your sword and buckler men, They would lie here, and here and there, But I would meet them every where? And now a man is but a prick, A boy armed with a poating stick, Will dare to challenge Cutting dick. O t'is a world the world to see, But twill not mend for thee nor me. By this some guest cries ho the house, A fresh friend hath a fresh carovie, Still he will drink, and still be dry, And quaff with every company. Saint Martin sand him merry mates. To enter at his hostree gatese For a blither lad than he Cannot an innkeeper be. Well once again farewell mine host at Rockland: after all these farewells I am sure to Hingham I found a foul way, as before I had done from Thetford to Rockland. Yet besides the deep way I was much hindered, by the desire people had to see me. For even as our Shop-keepers will hail, and pull a man with Lack ye? what do you lack Gentlemen? My ware is best cries one: mine best in England says an other: here shall you haue choice faith the third: so was the dyvers voices of the young men and maidens, which I should meet at every miles end, thronging by twenty, and sometime forty, yea hundreds in a company: One crying the fairest way was thorough their Village: another, this is the nearest and fairest way, when you haue past but a mile and a half: an other sort cry, turn on the left hand, some on the right hand: that I was so amazed, I knew not sometime which way I might best take: but haphayard, the people still accompanying me, wherewith I was much comforted, though the ways were bad: but as I said before at last I overtook it. The ninth dayes journey, being Wednesday of the second week. THe next morning I left Hingham, not staying till I came to Barford-bridge, five young men running all the way with me, for otherwise my place was not for footmen. From Barford bridge I danced to Norwich: but coming within sight of the city, 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 city with( so far, as my best skill, and industry of my long traveled sinews could afford them) I was advised, and so took ease by that aduise, to stay my morris a little above Saint Giles his gate, where I took my gelding, and so rid into the city, procrastinating my merry morris dance through the city till better opportunity. Being come into the city: Master Roger Wiler the Maior, and fundry other of his worshipful Brethrensent for me: Who perceiving howe I intended not to dance into the city that night: and being well satisfied with the reasons, they allotted me time enough not to dance in till saturday after: to the end that diuers knights and Gentlemen, together with their wives and Children( who had been many dayes before deceived with expectation of my coming) might now haue sufficient warning, accordingly by saturday following. In the mean space, and during my still continuance in the city afterwards, they not onely very courteously offered to bear mine own 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 their several houses. To make a short end of this tedious description of my entertainment: saturday no sooner came, but I returned without the city through Saint Giles his gate: and began my morris where I left at that gate, but I entred in at Saint Stephens gate, where one Thomas Gilbert in name of all the rest of the citizens gave me a friendly and exceeding kind welcome: which I haue no reason to omit, unless I would condemn myself of ingratitude, partly for the private affection of the writer towards me: as also for the general love and favour I found in them, from the highest to the lowest, the richest as the poorest. It follows in these few lines. Master Kemp his welcome to Norwich. W With hart, and hand, among the rest, E Especially you welcome are: L Long looked for, as welcome guest, C Come now at last you be from far. O Of most within the city sure, M Many good wishes you haue had. E Each one did pray you might endure, W With courage good the match you made. I Intend they did with gladsome hearts, L Like your well willers, you to meet: K Know you also they'l do their parts, E either in field or house to greet M More you then any with you came, P procured thereto with trump and famed. 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 vpon me: with great labour I got thorough that narrow preaze into the open market place. Where on the cross, ready prepared, stood the city Waytes, which not a little refreshed my weariness with toiling thorough so narrow a lane, as the people left me: such Waytes( under Benedicite be it spoken) few cities in our realm haue the like, none better. Who, besides their excellency in wind instruments, their rare cunning on the Vyoll, and Violin: their voices be admirable, every one of thē able to serve in any Cathedrall Church in Christendoome for choristers. Passing by the Market place, the press still increasing by the number of boyes, girls, men and women, thronging more and more before me to see the end. It was the mischance of a homely maid, that belike, was but newly crept into the fashion of long wasted petticoats tide with points,& had, as it seemed but one point tied before, and coming unluckily in my way, as I was fetching a leap, it fell out that I set my foot on her skirts: the point either breaking or stretching, off fell her peticoate from her waste, but as chance was, though hir smock were course, it was cleanly: yet the poor wench was so ashamed, the rather for that she could hardly recover her coat again from unruly boys, that looking before like one that had the green sickness, now had she her cheeks 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 wall at S. Iohns, getting so into M. Mayors gates a nearer way: but at last I found it the further way about: being forced on the tuesday following to renew my former dance, because George Sprat my overseer having lost me in the throug, would not be deposed that I had danced it, since he saw me not: and I must confess I did not well, for the citizens had caused all the turne-pikes to be taken up on saturday, that I might not bee hindered. But now I return again to my jump, the measure of which is to be seen in the Guild-hall at Norwich, where my bufkins, that I then wore, and danced in from London thither, stand equally divided, nailde on the wall. The plenty of good cheer at the Mayors, his bounty, and kind usage, together with the general welcomes of his worshipful brethren, and many other knights, Ladies, Gentlemen& Gentlewomen, so much exceeded my expectation, as I adiudg'd myself most bound to them all. The Maior gave me five pound in Elsabeth angels: which Maior( faire madam, to whom I too presumptuously dedicate my idle paces) as a man worthy of a finguler and impartial admiration, if our critic humorous mindes could as prodigally conceive as he deserves, for his chast life, liberality,& temperance in possessing worldly benefits: he lives unmarried, and childless, never purchased house nor land: the house he dwells in this year, being but hired: he lives vpon marchandies, being a merchant venturer. If our marchants& gentlemen would take example by this man, gentlemen would not sell their lands, to become banckrout Marchants, nor Marchants live in the possessions of youth-be guiled gentlemen: who cast themselves out of their parents heritages for a few out-cast commodities. But wit whither wilt thou? What hath morris tripping Will to do with that? it keeps not time with his dance: therefore room you moral precepts, give my legs leave to end my morris, or that being ended, my hands leave to perfect this worthless poor tottered volume. Pardon me madam, that I am thus tedious, I cannot choose but commend sacred liberality, which makes poor wretches partakers of all comfortable benefits, besides the love& favour already repeated: M. wield the mayor gave me 40. s. yearly during my life, making me a free man of the merchant venterers, this is the substance of al my journey: therfore let no man beleeue how ever before by lying ballets& rumors they haue been abused: that either ways were laid open form, or that I delivered gifts to her majesty. Its good being merry my masters, but in a men,& al my mirths, mean though they be haue been& ever shal be implored to the delight of my toyal Mistris: whose sacred name ought not to be remembered among such ribald rhymes as these late thinbreecht lying Ballet singers haue proclaimed it. It resteth how that in a word I show, what profit I haue made by my morris: true it is I put out some money to haue threefold gain at my return, some that love me, regard my pains,& respect their promise, haue sent home the triple worth, some other at the first sight haue paid me, if I came to seek thē, others I cannot see, nor will they willingly be sound, and these are the greater number. If they had al used me well, or al ill? I would haue boldly set down the true sum of my small gain or loss, but I will haue patience, some few daies longer. At that end of which time, if any be behind, I will draw a cattalogue of al their names I ventured with: those that haue shown themselves honest men, I will set before them this character H. for honesty: before the other Bench-whistlers shal stand K. for Ketlers& keistrels, that will drive a good companion without need in them to contend for his own, but I hope I shall haue no such need. If I haue, your honourable protection shall thus far defend your poor seruant, that he may being a plain man, call a spade a spade. Thus fearing your Ladyship is wearier with reading this toy, then I was in all my merry travail, I crave pardon: and conclude this first Pamphlet that ever Will Kemp offered to the press, being thereunto prest on the one side by the pitiful papers pasted on every post, of that which was neither so nor so, and on the other side urged thereto in duty to express with thankfulness the kind entertainment I found. Your honors poor seruant. W. K. Decorative woodcut tailpiece. Kemps humble request to the impudent generation of Ballad-makers and their coherents; that it would please their rascalities to pitty his pains in the great journey he pretends, and not fill the country with lies of his never done acts as they did in his late morris to Norwich. To the tune of Thomas Delonies Epitaph. MY notable Shabetags, the effect of my sure is discovered in the Title of my supplication. But for your better understandings: for that I know you to be a sort of witless beetle hends, that can understand nothing, but what is knock into your scalpes. These are by these presentes to certify unto your block headships, that I William Kemp, whom you had near hand rent in sunder with your unreasonable times, am shortly God willing to set forward as merrily as I may; whether I myself know not Wherefore by the way I would wish ye, employ 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 know the best of ye by the lies ye writ of me, got not the price of a good hat to cover your brainles heads: If any of ye had come to me, my bounty should haue exceeded the best of your good masters the Ballad-buiers, I would haue appareled your dry pates in party coloured bonnets,& bestowd a leash of my cast belles to haue crowned ye with cox-combs. I haue made a privy search, what private Iigmonger of your jolly number, hath been the Author of these abominable 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 newberry, the Gentle-craft,& such like honest men: omitted by Stow, Hollinshead, Graftō, hall, froissart,& the rest of those well deserving writers: but I was given since to understand, your late general Tho. dyed poorly, as ye all must do, and was honestly butted: which is much to bee doubted of some of you. The quest of inquiry finding him by death acquitted of the Inditement, I was let to wit, that another Lord of little wit, one whose employment for the Pageant, was utterly spent, he being known to be Eldertons immediate heir, was vehemently suspected but after due inquisition was made, he was at that time known to live like a man in a mist, having quiter given over the mystery. Still the search continuing, I met a proper upright youth, onely for a little stooping in the shoulders: all hart to the heel, a penny Poet whose first making was the miserable stolen story of Macdoel, or Macdobeth, or Macsomewhat: for I am sure a Mac it was, though I never had the maw to see it:& he told me there was a fat filthy ballet-maker, that should haue once been his journeyman to the trade: who lived about the town: and ten to one, but he had thus terribly abused me& my Taberer: for that 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 speak with him, had him to a tavern, charged a pipe with Tobacco, and then laid this terrible accusation to his charge. He swells presently like one of the four winds, the violence of his breath, blew the Tobacco out of the pipe,& the heat of his wrath drunk dry two bowlefuls of Rhenish wine. At length having power to speak. Name my accuser saith he, or I defy thee Kemp at the quart staff. I told him,& all his anger turned to laughter: swearing it did him good to haue 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: do any thing how ill soever, to please his apish humour. I hardly believed, this youth that I took to be gracious, had been so graceless: but I heard afterwards his mother in law was eye and ear witness of his fathers abuse by this blessed child on a public stage, in a merry host of an inns part. Yet all this while could not I find out the true ballet-maker. Till by chance a friend of mine pulled out of his pocket a book in latin called Mundus Furiosus: printed at Cullen, written by one of the vildest and arrantest lying Cullians that ever writ book, his name Iansonius, who taking vpon him to writ an abstract of all the turbulent actions that had been lately attempted or performed in christendom, like an vnchristian wretch, writes onely by report, partially, and scoffingly, of such whose pages shoes he was unworthy to wipe, for indeed he is now dead: farewell he, every dog must haue a day. But see the luck on't: this beggarly lying busy-bodies name, brought out the Ballad-maker: and it was generally confirmed, it was his kinsman: he confesses himself guilty, let any man look on his face: if there be not so red a colour that all the soap in the town will not wash white, let me be turned to a whiteing as I pass between dover and Callis. Well, God forgive thee honest fellow, I see thou hast grace in thee: I prithee do so no more, leave writing these beastly ballets, make not good wenches Prophetesses, for little or no profit, nor for a sixe-penny matter, revive not a poor fellowes fault thats hanged for his offence: it may be thy own destiny one day, prithee be good to them. Call up thy old Melpomene, whose straubery quill may writ the bloody lines of the blew Lady, and the Prince of the burning crown: a better subject I can tell ye: than your Knight of the read cross. So farewell, and cross me no more I prithee with thy rabble of bald rhymes, least at my return I set a cross on thy forehead, that all men may know thee for a fool. William Kemp. FINIS.