The Every-day Book and Table Book. v. 3 (of 3) / Everlasting Calerdar of Popular Amusements, Sports, Pastimes, Ceremonies, Manners, Customs and Events, Incident to Each of the Three Hundred and Sixty-five Days, in past and Present Times; Forming a Complete History of the Year, Month, and Seasons, and a Perpetual Key to the Almanac

THE GIN ACT—NAMES OF DRAMS.

On the 29th of September, 1736, when the bill against spirituous liquors took place, several people at Norwich, Bristol, and other places, as well as at London, made themselves very merry on the “Death of Madam Gin,” and some of both sexes got soundly drunk at her “funeral,” for which the mob made a formal procession, but committed no outrage.

A double guard for some days mounted at Kensington; the guard at St. James’s, and the horse-guards at Whitehall, were reinforced; a guard was placed at the Rolls Office, Chancery-lane; and a detachment of the life and horse grenadier guards paraded in Covent Garden, &c. in order to suppress any tumult that might happen at the going down of spirituous liquors.

Several of the distillers took out licenses to sell wine, others made preparations to take to the brewing-trade, and some went down to Oxford and Cambridge to open taverns there. The accounts of that period state, that the university of Oxford intended to try their right with them; the privilege of licensing vintners having been granted to it by a charter of Henry VIII., and afterwards confirmed by an act of parliament in 13 Elizabeth.

The distillers and others in different parts of the town sold a liquor, which seems to have been wine, with spices infused therein; and several continuing to sell spirituous liquors contrary to the act, informations were laid against them to the commissioners of excise.

Drams under the following names were sold at several brandy-shops in High Holborn, St. Giles’s, Tothill-street, Rosemary-lane, Shoreditch, the Mint, Kent-street, &c. viz. “Sangree,” “Tow Row,” “Cuckold’s Comfort,” “Parliament Gin,” “Bob,” “Make Shift,” “The Last Shift,” “The Ladies’ Delight,” “The Balk,” “King Theodore of Corsica,” “Cholick and Gripe Waters.” These denominations were with a view to evade the late act.

On the 14th of October, 1736, there came on before the commissioners of excise the trials of Mr. Robert Kirkpatrick, surgeon and apothecary in Turnmill-street, and Mr. John Thomas, chymist at Shoreditch, on informations for retailing spirituous liquors, contrary to the intent and meaning of the act; and they were both found guilty. The penalty was one hundred pounds each.

G. K.

A YOUNG POET’S OWN EPITAPH.

A few weeks before John Keats died of decline, at Rome, a gentleman, who was sitting by his bedside, spoke of an inscription to his memory. Keats desired that there should be no mention of his name or country. “If there be any thing,” he said, “let it be, Here lies the body of one whose name was writ in water.”

For the Table Book.

S.

HACKERSTON’S COW.

This is a Scotch proverb, the application of which may be inferred from the following account of its origin. A tenant of lord Hackerston, who was one of the judges of the court of session, one day waited on his lordship with a woful countenance. “My lord,” said he, “I am come to inform your lordship of a sad misfortune, my cow has gored one of your lordship’s cows, so that I fear it cannot live.”—“Well, then, you must pay for it.”—“Indeed, my lord, it was not my fault, and you know I am a very poor man.”—“I can’t help that, I say you must pay for it; I am not to lose my cow.”—“Well, my lord, if it must be so I cannot say against your lordship,—but stop, my lord, I believe I have made a mistake, it was your lordship’s cow that gored mine.” “O! that is quite a different affair,—go along and don’t trouble me, I am busy—go along, I say.”

ROPE-RIDING ON HORSEBACK, ON ST. MARK’S DAY AT VENICE.

The gaiety and splendour exhibited in the place of St. Mark at Venice on this anniversary, is extremely attractive. Formerly, among the remarkable customs in honour of this the patron saint of the city, it was usual for a man to ascend and descend a rope stretched from the summit of St. Mark’s tower, and secured at a considerable distance from the base.

On the last day of February, 1680, the doge, the senate, and the imperial ambassador, with about fifty thousand spectators, beheld the annual solemnity. In the first place appeared certain butchers, in their roast-meat clothes; one of which, with a Persian scimitar, cut off the heads of three oxen, one after another, at one blow, to the admiration of the beholders, who had never seen the like either in Venice, or any other part of the world. But that which caused greater wonder was this:—A person, adorned in a tinsel riding habit, having a gilt helmet upon his head, and holding in his right hand a lance, in his left a helmet made of a thin piece of plate gilded, and sitting upon a white horse, with a swift pace ambled up a rope six hundred feet long, fastened from the quay to the top of St. Mark’s tower. When he had arrived half way, his tinsel coat fell off, and he made a stand, and stooping his lance submissively, saluted the doge sitting in the palace, and flourished the banner three times over his head. Then, resuming his former speed, he went on, and, with his horse, entered the tower where the bell hangs; and presently returning on foot, he climbed up to the highest pinnacle of the tower; where, sitting on the golden angel, he flourished his banner again several times. This performed, he descended to the bell-tower; and there taking horse, rode down again to the bottom in like manner as he had ascended.[332]

“Whoever,” says Mrs. Piozzi, “sees St. Mark’s Place lighted up of an evening, adorned with every excellence of human art, and pregnant with pleasure, expressed by intelligent countenances sparkling with every grace of nature—the sea washing its walls—the moon-beams dancing on its subjugated waves—sport and laughter resounding from the coffee-houses—girls with guitars skipping about the square—masks and merry-makers singing as they pass you—unless a barge with a band of music is heard at some distance upon the water, and calls attention to sounds made sweeter by the element over which they are brought;—whoever is led suddenly,” says Mrs. Piozzi, “to this scene of seemingly perennial gaiety, will be apt to exclaim in Venice, as Eve does to Adam in Milton,

REV MR. WILSON, THE MAN IN THE MOON.

It will now give pain to no one, if I notice Mr. Wilson, formerly curate of Halton Gill, near Skipton in Craven, and father of the late Rev. Edward Wilson, canon of Windsor. He wrote a tract, entitled “The Man in the Moon,” which was seriously meant to convey the knowledge of common astronomy in the following strange vehicle:

A cobbler, Israel Jobson by name, is supposed to ascend first to the top of Pennigint; and thence, as a second stage equally practicable, to the moon! after which he makes a tour of the whole solar system. From this excursion, however, the traveller brings back little information which might not have been had upon earth, excepting that the inhabitants of one of the planets, I forget which, were made of “pot metal.” The work contains some other extravagancies; but the writer, after all, was a man of talent, and has abundantly shown that had he been blessed with a sound mind and a superior education, he would have been capable of much better things. If I had the book before me I could quote single sentences here and there, which in point of composition rise to no mean degree of excellence. It is rarely to be met with, having, as I am told, been industriously bought up by his family. I have only seen one copy, and my recollection of what I read in it is not very particular.[333]

Mr. Wilson had also good mechanical hands, and carved well in wood, a talent which he applied to several whimsical purposes. But his chef-d’œuvre was an oracular head, like that of friar Bacon and the disciple of the famous Escotillo, with which he diverted himself and amazed his neighbours, till a certain reverend wiseacre threatened to complain of the poor man to his metropolitan as an enchanter! After this the oracle was mute.[334]

SUMMER SHOWERS—SCORCHED LEAVES.

In the summer, after some days of fine weather, during the heat of the day, if a storm happens, accompanied with a few light showers of rain, and the sun appears immediately after with its usual splendour, it burns the foliage and the flowers on which the rain had fallen, and destroys the hopes of the orchard. The intense heat, which the ardour of the sun produces at that time on the leaves and flowers, is equal to that of burning iron. Naturalists have sought for the cause of this strange effect, but they have said nothing which satisfies a reasonable mind. This is, however, the fact: in the serene days of the summer it is visible that there gathers on the foliage and the flowers, as, indeed, on every other part, a little dust, sometimes more and sometimes less, scattered by the wind. When the rain falls on this dust, the drops mix together, and take an oval or round form, as we may frequently observe in our houses on the dusty floor, when servants scatter water before they sweep. These globes of water form convex lenses, which produce the same effect as burning mirrors. Should the rain be heavy and last long, the sun would not produce this burning heat, because the force and duration of the rain will have destroyed the dust that formed these drops of water; and the drops, losing their globular form, in which alone consisted their caustic power, will be dispersed.[335]

ROYAL SUMMER-HOUSE, IN SIAM.

The king of Siam has in one of his country palaces a most singular pavilion. The tables, the chairs, the closets, &c. are all composed of crystal. The walls, the ceiling, and the floors, are formed of pieces of plate glass, of about an inch thick, and six feet square, so nicely united by a cement, which is as transparent as glass itself, that the most subtile fluid cannot penetrate. There is but one door, which shuts so closely, that it is as impenetrable to the water as the rest of this singular building. A Chinese engineer constructed it thus as a certain remedy against the insupportable heat of the climate. This pavilion is twenty-eight feet in length, and seventeen in breadth; it is placed in the midst of a great basin, paved and ornamented with marble of various colours. They fill this basin with water in about a quarter of an hour, and it is emptied as quickly. When you enter the pavilion the door is immediately closed, and cemented with mastic, to hinder the water from entering; it is then that they open the sluices; and this great basin is soon filled with water, which is even suffered to overflow the land; so that the pavilion is entirely under water, except the top of the dome, which is left untouched for the benefit of respiration. Nothing is more charming than the agreeable coolness of this delicious place, while the extreme heat of the sun boils the surface of the freshest fountains.[336]

SPANISH PUNCTILIO.

On occasion of the decease of the queen mother of Spain in 1696, the Paris papers gravely relate the following particulars of a dispute respecting precedence.

The officers of the crown and the grandees of the kingdom assembled at the usual time to open her majesty’s will; but finding that the first lady of the queen’s chamber, who ought by virtue of her office to have been present, was absent, the august body sent a messenger, requesting her attendance. The first lady, deeming the message a gross attack upon her privileges and high importance, indignantly replied, that it was her indispensable duty not to leave her deceased royal mistress, and therefore the nobles must wait on her.

Thereupon ensued a negotiation by messages, which occupied eight hours. In the course of the discussion, the grandees insisted on their claims of precedence as an aggregate body, yet, individually, they considered themselves happy when complying with the commands of the ladies. Fixed in her resolution, the lady high-chamberlain acquainted her opponents with her final determination. The decision of the great officers and grandees was equally unalterable; but at the last they proposed, that “without rising from their seats, or moving themselves, they should be carried to a room at an equal distance between their own apartment and the lady high-chamberlain’s, who should be carried to the same place, seated upon a high cushion, in the same manner as she sat in the queen’s chamber, to the end it might be said, that neither side had made a step to meet each other.” It seems that the performance of the solemnity happily terminated the important difference.

BOSWELLIANA.

The following anecdotes are related by, or relate to, the well-known James Boswell, who conducted Dr. Johnson to the Highlands of Scotland.

It may be recollected that when Boswell took the doctor to his father’s house, the old laird of Auchinleck remarked, that “Jamie had brought an odd kind o’ a chiel’ wi’ him.” “Sir,” said Boswell, “he is the grand luminary of our hemisphere,—quite a constellation, sir.”—“Ursa Major, (the Great Bear,) I suppose,” said the laird.

Some snip-snap wit was wont to pass between sire and son. “Jamie” was bred an advocate, and sometimes pleaded at the bar. Pleading, on a particular occasion, before his father, who, at that time, was “Ordinary on the bills,” and saying something which his lordship did not like, he exclaimed to Jamie, “Ye’re an ass, mon.”—“No, my lord,” replied Jamie, “I am not an ass, but I am a colt, the foal of an ass!”

In 1785, Boswell addressed “a Letter to the People of Scotland” on a proposed alteration in the court of session. He says in this pamphlet, “When a man of probity and spirit, a lord Newhall, whose character is ably drawn in prose by the late lord president Arniston, and elegantly in verse by Mr. Hamilton of Bangour,—when such a man sits among our judges, should they be disposed to do wrong, he can make them hear and tremble. My honoured father told me, (the late lord Auchinleck,) that sir Walter Pringle ‘spoke as one having authority’—even when he was at the bar, ‘he would cram a decision down their throats.’”

Boswell tells, in the same “Letter,” that “Duncan Forbes of Culloden, when lord president of the court, gave every day as a toast at his table, ‘Here’s to every lord of session who does not deserve to be hanged!’ Lord Auchinleck and lord Monboddo, both judges, but since his time, are my authority,” says Boswell, “for this.—I do not say that the toast was very delicate, or even quite decent, but it may give some notion what sort of judges there may be.”

It is further related by Boswell, that a person was executed to please his laird. “Before the heritable jurisdictions were abolished, a man was tried for his life in the court of one of the chieftains. The jury were going to bring him in ‘not guilty,’ but somebody whispered them, that ‘the young laird had never seen an execution,’ upon which their verdict was—‘death;’ and the man was hanged accordingly.”

This is only to be paralleled by the story of the highland dame, whose sense of submission to the chief of her clan induced her to insinuate want of proper respect in her husband, who had been condemned, and showed some reluctance to the halter. “Git up, Donald,” said the “guid wife,” to her “ain guid man,” “Git up, Donald, and be hangit, an’ dinna anger the laird.”

BOWEL COMPLAINTS.
A Recipe.

The writer of a letter to the editor of the “Times,” signed “W.” in August, 1827, communicates the following prescription, as particularly useful in diarrhœa, accompanied by inflammation of the bowels:—

Take of confection of catechu 2 drachms; simple cinnamon water 4 ounces; and syrup of white poppies 1 ounce. Mix them together, and give one or two table-spoonfuls twice or thrice a day as required. To children under ten years of age give a single dessert-spoon, and under two years a tea-spoonful, two or three times, as above stated.

This mixture is very agreeable, and far preferable to the spirituous and narcotic preparations usually administered. In the course of a few hours it abates the disorder, and in almost every instance infallibly cures the patient. During the fruit season it is especially valuable.

Vol. II.—36.

Nathan Coward, Glover and Poet, of Dersingham, Norfolk.

For the Table Book.

This eccentric individual, whose fertile pen procured him notoriety, was the son of a small grocer at March in the Isle of Ely. To use his favourite expression, he “came forth” on Friday, the 13th of April, 1735, O. S. He received the rudiments of his education under “dame Hawkins,” from whom he was removed to a most sagacious schoolmaster, named Wendall; and he “astonished his schoolfellows by the brilliancy of his genius,” till he was bound to his cousin Coward, of Lynn, to learn the art and mystery of a “glover and breeches-maker.” He had nearly passed through his apprenticeship, and attained to the age of twenty, unconscious of the numerous “ills that flesh is heir to,” when one day gazing at a small shop-window, nearly blinded by gloves and second-hand unmentionables, an accidental aperture favoured him with a glimpse of the too charming Miss Barbara Green, in the act of making wash-leather gloves. She was a maiden, and though something more than fifty, her fading beauty rendered her, to Nathan, all that

From that moment his eyes lost their lustre,—

He was to be seen pursuing his avocations at his “board of green cloth” day by day, sitting

He “never told his love” till chance enabled him to make the idol of his hope the offer of his hand. “No,” said the too fascinating Barbara Green, “I will be an Evergreen.” The lady was inexorable, and Nathan was in despair; but time and reflection whispered “grieving’s a folly,” and “it’s better to have any wife than none,” and Nathan took unto himself another, with whom he enjoyed all the “ecstatic ecstasies” of domestic felicity.

Nathan’s business at Lynn became inadequate to his wants, and he removed to the village of Dersingham, a few miles distant; and there, as a “glover, poet, haberdasher, green-grocer, and psalm-singer,” he vegetated remote from vulgar throng, and beguiled his leisure by “cogitating in cogibundity of cogitation.”—Here it was, he tells us, that in 1775 he had a “wonderful, incomprehensible, and pathetic dream”—a vision of flames, in the shapes of “wig-blocks” and “Patagonian cucumbers,” attended with horrid crashes, like the noise of a thousand Merry Andrew’s rackets, which terrified and drove him to the “mouth of the sea;” where, surrounded by fire and water, he could only escape from dreadful destruction by—awaking. He believed that the fiery wig-blocks were “opened to him” in a dream as a caution, to preserve him from temptation. It was soon after this that, seeing one of his neighbours at the point of death, he “cogitated” the following

On another occasion, while his wife was dangerously ill, Nathan, sitting by her bedside, became overwhelmed with “the influence of fancy,” and believing her actually dead, concocted this

Nathan made a trifling mistake; for, “to his great surprise,” his wife recovered, and the epitaph was put by till the proper time should arrive.

Nathan’s dexterity in wielding his pen enabled him to serve unlettered swains in other matters, besides their nether garments. He wrote letters for them “on love or business,” in

The following ending of a “Love-letter written by particular desire,” is a specimen of his “effusions in prose.”

——“Marriage is like war; the battle causes fear, but the sweet hope of winning at the last stimulates us to proceed. But the effects of matrimony are much more agreeable than war, because the engagement may be accomplished without being prejudicial to the welfare of society. Were I to mention all the comparisons my warm imagination could furnish me with, it would swell this letter to a very great bulk.

“So to conclude;—the many inconveniences attending my being in business alone, are beyond conception; and I wish the fatigue to be abated by sharing it with some congenial soul, who may be intrusted with both secrets and circumstances, and all affairs of importance, too tedious to mention.”

Filled with self-importance by a lively sense of his vast acquirements, and his amazing utility to his village neighbours, he turned his thoughts to the “affairs of the nation” in the year 1799, and projected the salvation of the empire, by a plan of finance for raising adequate supplies to carry on the war against France with vigour. This he submitted in a spirited memorial, addressed

“To the Hon. Wm. Pitt, First of Ministers, &c. &c. &c.

“May it please your gracious Honour, Dear sir, to take into your honourable consideration the undermentioned business, which at this critical crisis and expensive period wants very much to be put in practice, to the advantage of the world, the benefit of our own government, the public’s welfare, and the glory of Dersingham.”

Nathan’s memorial runs to great length, but he states its real “business” in a few words.—“Beloved and honourable sir, be not angry at my proposal, if not approved of, which is, to beg of all dukes, lords, earls, baronets, country squires, profound justices, gentlemen, great and rich farmers, topping tradesmen, and others, who, to my certain and inconceivable knowledge, have so much unnecessary ornamental and useless plate, of all sorts and descriptions, to deliver up the same immediately to government, to be made into money for the support of this just and necessary war. Honoured sir, my plan is not to debar any one from having a sufficient quantity of such like plate, but only that which stands and remains useless and unused, which would raise many hundreds, if not thousands of money. I have but little, yet I am (so is my wife, in God’s name) minded, willing, and desirous, out of half a dozen teaspoons, to deliver up half, which you know, mighty sir, will be exactly three.”

Nathan proceeds to say, that “Many useless things, such as great waiters, tea-kettles, frying and sauce pans, and sundry other articles in the gold and silver way, too tedious to mention, were they now turned into money, would supply your wants of cash. Brass, earthenware, pipe-clay, china and glass, nothing can be sweeter, nor look neater, and sufficient for any man or woman upon earth to eat and drink out of.—Mr. Pitt, these sentiments I deliver from my heart; they are the dictates of wisdom and the fruit of experience.—Was our good and gracious king, as also yourself, worthy Mr. Pitt, once to come down into the country, and take a survey of matters, you would be astonished how abundance of individuals live. Pray, sir, in God’s name, take off a few taxes from the necessaries of life, especially salt, sugar, leather, and parchment. I myself have but six or seven shillings a week coming in, and sometimes not that, by losses and bad debts; and now corn is risen, we labour under great apprehension in other articles.—Dear and noble sir, I once heard a sermon preached on a thanksgiving day, for the proclamation of peace, by one Rev. Mr. Stony, at Lynn, Norfolk, mentioning the whole calamities of the war; and he brought your honourable father in, very fine. I wish from the bottom of my heart I may shortly hear such a like one preached upon yourself.”

In conclusion, Nathan thus inquires of Mr. Pitt, “Honoured sir, from whence comes wars, and rumours of wars, cock-fightings, and burglaries?” Finally, says Nathan, “The limits of one sheet of paper being filled, I must conclude, with wishing well to our good and gracious king, the queen, and all the royal family; as also to your honour, Mr. Pitt, your consort, sons and daughters, (if any,) and family in general.”

Nathan established his public character by his epistle to Mr. Pitt. He made known its contents to all his friends, and shortly after he had transmitted it, he received an acknowledgment of thanks and a promise of reward, in a scrawling hand with an unintelligible signature; whereupon he sagely consoled himself with this remark, that great men, “despising the common, plebeian method of writing, generally scratch their names so illegible, that neither themselves nor any body else can read them.”

Nathan’s notoriety was now at its height. He usually visited Lynn once or twice a week; and flattered by the general encomiums bestowed on his transcendent abilities by his admirers in that ancient town, he ventured to disclose a long-cherished hope, the object of his ardent ambition, to appear in print as an author. His desire was fostered by several literary youths, resident in Lynn, to whom he submitted his writings for arrangement, and in 1800 they were published to the world under the title of “Quaint Scraps, or Sudden Cogitations.” Previous to its appearance, he received repeated congratulations on the forthcoming book. Among other “Commendatory Verses” was a poetical address, purporting to have been written in America, addressed “To Nathan Coward, the sage Author of Scraps and Cogitations, by Barnabas Boldero, LL.D. VS. MOPQ. &c. of the Cogitating College, Philadelphia.” This pleasing testimonial required Milton, and the “far-famed bards of elder times,” to give place to the rising luminary of the poetical hemisphere.

This address is printed entire in Nathan’s book, which consisted of epitaphs, love-letters, valentines, cures for the ague and consumption, reflections, songs, &c. &c. The preface, the sketch of his life, and the conclusion to the work, were drawn up by Nathan’s youthful editors. Through them Nathan appealed to the reviewers in an address, containing the following spirited passage:—“It is ye, ye mites of criticism, it is ye alone I fear; for, like your namesakes, the greater the richness and goodness of the cheese the more destructive are your depredations, and the more numerous your partisans.” Towards the public, the poet of Dersingham was equally candid and courageous.—“I shun the general path of authors,” says Nathan, “and instead of ‘feeling conscious of the numerous defects, and submitting my trifles, with all possible humility, to the candour of a generous public,’ I venture to assert, that the public must receive the greatest advantage from my labours; and every member of society shall bless the hour that ushered into existence my ‘Quaint Scraps and my Sudden Cogitations.’ For what author, were he actually conscious of his numerous defects, would wish to trust himself to the mercy of that generous public, whom every one condemns for want of discernment and liberality. No, I profess, and I am what I do profess, a man of independent spirit! and although I have hitherto dwelt in obscurity, and felt the annihilating influence of oppression and the icy grasp of poverty, yet I have ever enjoyed the praiseworthy luxury of having an opinion of my own; because,—I am conscious of the inferiority of the opinions of others.”

These were some of the preliminary means by which, with an honesty worthy to be imitated by authors of greater fame, Nathan aspired to win “golden opinions.” The final sentence of his valedictory address “to the reader” is remarkable for feeling and dignity. “I am conscious,” says Nathan, “that I begin to fade; and be assured, that if I should be so fortunate as to blossom a few years longer, it must be entirely imputed to the animating influence of your praises, which will be grateful as the pure and renovating dews of heaven. And when at length the soft breeze of evening shall fly over the spot where I once bloomed, the traveller will refresh it with the soft tears of melancholy, and sigh at the frailty of all sublunary grandeur.”

His wish accomplished, and his book published, Nathan’s spare person, (about the middle size,) clad in tight leather “shorts,” frequently ambulated the streets of Lynn, and he had the ineffable pleasure of receiving loud congratulations from his numerous friends. Here, perhaps, his literary career had terminated, had not Napoleon’s abortive threats of invasion roused Nathan to take his stand, with daring pen, in defiance of the insolent foe. Our patriotic author produced a “Sermon” on the impending event. His former editorial assistants again aided him, and announced his intentions by a prospectus, setting forth that, on such an occasion, “when address, argument, and agitation, elegy, epitaph, and epithalamium, puff, powder, poetry, and petition, have been employed to invigorate and inspirit the minds of Englishmen, it surely must be a matter of serious exultation, that a writer of such superlative celebrity as Nathan Coward should draw his pen in defence of the common cause.—Cold and disloyal indeed must be that breast which, even on the bare perusal, does not feel the glow of enthusiastic patriotism,—does not beat with rapture at the pride of Dersingham, the glory of his country, and the admiration of the universe.”

Soon after the publication of his “Sermon,” Nathan became more sensible to the infirmities of “threescore years and ten.” And the epitaph on his wife having been duly appropriated, for in good time she died, he removed to Liverpool, where he had a daughter married and settled, and there, in her arms, about the year 1815, he breathed his last at the age of eighty.—Requiescat in pace.

K.

PETER AND MARY.

Dr. Soams, master of Peterhouse, Cambridge, towards the close of the sixteenth century, by a whimsical perverseness deprived the college over which he presided of a handsome estate. Mary, the widow of Thomas Ramsey, lord mayor of London, in 1577, after conferring several favours on that foundation, proffered to settle five hundred pounds a year (a very large income at that period) upon the house, provided that it might be called “The college of Peter and Mary.” “No!” said the capricious master, “Peter, who has lived so long single, is too old now for a female partner.” Fuller says it was “a dear jest by which to lose so good a benefactress.” The lady, offended by the doctor’s fantastic scruple, turned the stream of her benevolence to the benefit of other public foundations.

Garrick Plays.
No. XXXII.

[From “Love’s Metamorphosis,” a Comedy, by John Lily, M. A. 1601.]

Love half-denied is Love half-confest.

Nisa. Niobe, her maid.

[From “Sapho and Phao,” a Comedy, by the same Author, 1601.]

Phao, a poor Ferryman, praises his condition.—He ferries over Venus; who inflames Sapho and him with a mutual passion.

Venus, Phao; She, as a mortal.

Sapho, sleepless for love of Phao, who loves her as much, consults with him about some medicinal herb: She, a great Lady; He, the poor Ferryman, but now promoted to be her Gardener.