Folk-lore of Shakespeare, Thomas Firminger Thiselton Dyer [e reader comics TXT] 📗
- Author: Thomas Firminger Thiselton Dyer
- Performer: -
Book online «Folk-lore of Shakespeare, Thomas Firminger Thiselton Dyer [e reader comics TXT] 📗». Author Thomas Firminger Thiselton Dyer
Many a tester by his game, and bets.”
Cotgrave speaks of “Le jeu des merelles,” the boyish game called “merills,” or “five pennie morris,” played here most commonly with stones, but in France with pawns or men made on purpose, and termed “merelles.” It was also called “peg morris,” as is evidenced by Clare, who, in his “Rural Muse,” speaking of the shepherd boy, says:
To spend the leisure which his toils bestow,
By nine-peg morris nicked upon the green.”
The game is fully described by James, in the “Variorum Shakespeare,” as follows: “In that part of Warwickshire where Shakespeare was educated, and the neighbouring parts of Northamptonshire, the shepherds and other boys dig up the turf with their knives to represent a sort of imperfect chessboard. It consists of a square, sometimes only a foot diameter, sometimes three or four yards. Within this is another square, every side of which is parallel to the external square; and these squares are joined by lines drawn from each corner of both squares, and the middle of each line. One party or player has wooden pegs, the other stones, which they move in such a manner as to take up each other’s men, as they are called, and the area of the inner square is called the pound, in which the men taken up are impounded. These figures are, by the country people, called nine-men’s-morris, or merrils; and are so called because each party has nine men. These figures are always cut upon the green turf or leys, as they are called, or upon the grass at the end of ploughed lands, and in rainy seasons never fail to be choked up with mud.” This verifies the allusion made by Shakespeare in “A Midsummer-Night’s Dream” (ii. 1):
And the quaint mazes in the wanton green,
For lack of tread are undistinguishable.”
This game was also transferred to a board, and continues a fireside recreation of the agricultural laborer. It is often called by the name of “Mill,” or “Shepherd’s Mill.”[807]
Noddy. Some doubt exists as to what game at cards was signified by this term. It has been suggested that cribbage is meant. Mr. Singer thinks it bore some resemblance to the more recent game of “Beat the Knave out of Doors,” which is mentioned together with “Ruff and new coat” in Heywood’s play of “A Woman Killed with Kindness.” The game is probably alluded to in “Troilus and Cressida” (i. 2), in the following dialogue:
“Pandarus. When comes Troilus?—I’ll show you Troilus anon: if he see me, you shall see him nod at me.
Cressida. Will he give you the nod?
Pandarus. You shall see.
Cressida. If he do, the rich shall have more.”[808]
The term “noddy” was also applied to a fool, because, says Minsheu, he nods when he should speak. In this sense it occurs in “Two Gentlemen of Verona” (i. 1):
“Speed. You mistook, sir: I say, she did nod; and you ask me, if she did nod; and I say, ‘Ay.’
Proteus. And that set together is noddy.”
Novem Quinque. A game of dice, so called from its principal throws being five and nine. It is alluded to in “Love’s Labour’s Lost” (v. 2) by Biron, who speaks of it simply as “novem.”
Parish-top. Formerly a top was kept for public exercise in a parish—a custom to which the old writers often refer. Thus, in “Twelfth Night” (i. 3), Sir Toby Belch says: “He’s a coward, and a coystril, that will not drink to my niece till his brains turn o’ the toe like a parish-top.” On which passage Mr. Steevens says: “A large top was kept in every village, to be whipped in frosty weather, that the peasants might be kept warm by exercise, and out of mischief while they could not work.” Beaumont and Fletcher, in “Thierry and Theodoret” (ii. 3), speak of the practice:
My life upon it, that a body of twelve
Should scourge him hither like a parish top,
And make him dance before you.”
And in their “Night Walker” (i. 3) they mention the “town-top.” Evelyn, enumerating the uses of willow-wood, speaks of “great town-topps.” Mr. Knight[809] remarks that the custom which existed in the time of Elizabeth, and probably long before, of a large top being provided for the amusement of the peasants in frosty weather, presents a curious illustration of the mitigating influences of social kindness in an age of penal legislation.
Primero. In Shakespeare’s time this was a very fashionable game at cards, and hence is frequently alluded to by him. It was known under the various designations of Primero, Prime, and Primavista; and, according to Strutt,[810] has been reckoned among the most ancient games of cards known to have been played in England. Shakespeare speaks of Henry VIII. (v. 1) playing at primero with the Duke of Suffolk, and makes Falstaff exclaim, in “Merry Wives of Windsor” (iv. 5), “I never prospered since I forswore myself at primero.” That it was the court game is shown in a very curious picture described by Mr. Barrington, in the “Archæologia” (vol. viii. p. 132), which represents Lord Burleigh playing at this pastime with three other noblemen. Primero continued to be the most fashionable game throughout the reigns of Henry VIII., Edward VI., Mary, Elizabeth, and James I.[811] In the Earl of Northumberland’s letters about the Gunpowder-plot we find that Josceline Percy was playing at primero on Sunday, when his uncle, the conspirator, called on him at Essex House; and in the Sydney Papers there is an account of a quarrel between Lord Southampton and one Ambrose Willoughby, on account of the former persisting to play at primero in the presence-chamber after the queen had retired to rest. The manner of playing was thus: Each player had four cards dealt to him one by one; the seven was the highest card in point of number that he could avail himself of, which counted for twenty-one; the six counted for sixteen, the five for fifteen, and the ace for the same; but the two, the three, and the four for their respective points only.
There may be further allusions to this game in “Taming of the Shrew” (ii. 1), where Tranio says:
Yet I have faced it with a card of ten”
—the phrase “to face it with a card of ten” being derived, as some suggest, possibly from primero, wherein the standing boldly on a ten was often successful. “To face” meant, as it still does, to attack by impudence of face. In “1 Henry VI.” (v. 3) Suffolk speaks of a “cooling card,” which Nares considers is borrowed from primero—a card so decisive as to cool the courage of the adversary. Gifford objects to this explanation, and says a “cooling-card” is, literally, a bolus. There can be no doubt, however, that, metaphorically, the term was used to denote something which damped or overwhelmed the hopes of an expectant. Thus, in Fletcher’s “Island Princess” (i. 3), Piniero says:
I fear will find a cooling-card.”
Push-pin was a foolish sport, consisting in nothing more than pushing one pin across another. Biron, in “Love’s Labour’s Lost” (iv. 3), speaks of Nestor playing “at push-pin with the boys.”
Quintain. This was a figure set up for tilters to run at, in mock resemblance of a tournament, and is alluded to in “As You Like It” (i. 2) by Orlando, who says:
Are all thrown down, and that which here stands up
Is but a quintain, a mere lifeless block.”
It cannot be better or more minutely described than in the words of Mr. Strutt:[812] “Tilting or combating at the quintain is a military exercise of high antiquity, and antecedent, I doubt not, to the jousts and tournaments. The quintain originally was nothing more than the trunk of a tree or post set up for the practice of the tyros in chivalry. Afterwards a staff or spear was fixed in the earth, and a shield being hung upon it, was the mark to strike at. The dexterity of the performer consisted in smiting the shield in such a manner as to break the ligatures and bear it to the ground. In process of time this diversion was improved, and instead of a staff and the shield, the resemblance of a human figure carved in wood was introduced. To render the appearance of this figure more formidable, it was generally made in the likeness of a Turk or a Saracen, armed at all points, bearing a shield upon his left arm, and brandishing a club or a sabre with his right. The quintain thus fashioned was placed upon a pivot, and so contrived as to move round with facility. In running at this figure, it was necessary for the horseman to direct his lance with great adroitness, and make his stroke upon the forehead between the eyes, or upon the nose; for if he struck wide of those parts, especially upon the shield, the quintain turned about with much velocity, and, in case he was not exceedingly careful, would give him a severe blow upon the back with the wooden sabre held in the right hand, which was considered as highly disgraceful to the performer, while it excited the laughter and ridicule of the spectators.”[813] In Ben Jonson’s “Underwoods” it is thus humorously mentioned:
What horse you come on, by the blow
You give Sir Quintain, and the cuff
You ’scape o’ the sandbags counterbuff.”
Quoits. This game derived its origin, according to Strutt,[814] from the ancient discus, and with us, at the present day, it is a circular plate of iron perforated in the middle, not always of one size, but larger or smaller, to suit the strength or conveniency of the several candidates. It is referred to in “2 Henry IV.” (ii. 4), by Falstaff, who assigns as one of the reasons why Prince Henry loves Poins: “Because their legs are both of a bigness, and ’a plays at quoits well.”
Formerly, in the country, the rustics, not having the round perforated quoits to play with, used horse-shoes; and in many places the quoit itself, to this day, is called a shoe.
Running for the ring. This, according to Staunton, was the name of a sport, a ring having been one of the prizes formerly given in wrestling and running matches. Thus, in the “Taming of the Shrew” (i. 1), Hortensio says: “He that runs fastest gets the ring.”
Running the figure of eight. Steevens says that this game is alluded to by Shakespeare in “A Midsummer-Night’s Dream” (ii. 1), where Titania speaks of the “quaint mazes in the wanton green.” Mr. Halliwell-Phillipps, in referring to this passage, says: “Several mazes of the kind here alluded to are still preserved, having been kept up from time immemorial. On the top of Catherine Hill, Winchester, the usual play-place of the school, was a very perplexed and winding path, running in a very
Comments (0)