single fight, and howsoever they behave themselves stoutly therein, yet they repute them to have lost as much opinion of wisdom, as they have gained of daring. Much more do they despise them who quarrel and fight in the streets publicly, and do not rather make private trial of their difference, as also those who make quarrels with men of base condition, yea they think them infamous who with disparity of number do many assail one man, and for this beastly quality, comparing them to hogs, whereof, when one grunts, all the herd comes to help him, they think them worthy of any punishment: besides that upon killing any man mercy is seldom or never shewed them, howsoever in other fair combats the prince's mercy hath many times given life to the man-slayer. And the cause why single fights are more rare in England in these times is the dangerous fight at single rapier, together with the confiscation of manslayers' goods. So as I am of opinion, contrary to the vulgar, and think them worthy of praise who invented dangerous weapons, as rapiers, pistols, guns and gunpowder, since the invention whereof much smaller number of men hath perished by single fights or open war than in former times and conquests and such inundations of barbarous people, as were those of the Goths, Huns and Longbards, are much less to be feared. Nothing did in old time more animate strong tyrants and giants to oppress weaker men than the huge weight of their clubs and of their arms, wherewith Goliath had easily quelled David, if God had not put in his mind to fight against him with a new kind of weapon more suitable to his strength. I return to the purpose, and do freely profess, that in case of single fights in England, the magistrate doth favour a wronged stranger more than one of the same nation, howsoever the law favours neither, and that a stranger, so fighting, need fear no treason by any disparity or otherwise. But in the mean time, here and in all places happy are the peaceable. Let me add one thing of corrupt custom in England, that those who are not grown men, never have the opinion of valour, till in their youth they have gained it with some single fight, which done, they shall after live more free from quarrels: but it were to be wished that a better way were found to preserve reputation than this of single fights, as well contrary to the law of God, as a capital crime by the laws of men. FYNES MORYSON, Itinerary 1617 Constables and Watchmen Dogberry. This is your charge: you shall comprehend all vagrom men; you are to bid any man stand, in the prince's name. Watchman How, if a' will not stand? Dogberry. Why, then take no note of him, but let him go; and presently call the rest of the watch together, and thank God you are rid of a knave. Verges. If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is none of the prince's subjects. Dogberry. True, and they are to meddle with none but the prince's subjects. You shall also make no noise in the streets: for, for the watch to babble and to talk is most tolerable and not to be endured. Second Watchman. We will rather sleep than talk: we know what belongs to a watch. Dogberry. Why, you speak like an ancient and most quiet watchman, for I cannot see how sleeping should offend; only have a care that your bills be not stolen. Much Ado About Nothing, III. iii. 25—45 Uxor. What number of men in harness are these? Some sleeping, and many of them seemeth to go whispering together, and behind them there appeareth other men putting forth their heads out of corners, wearing no harness. Civis. These are not only the constables with the watchmen in London, but also almost through this realm, most falsely abusing the time, coming very late to the watch, sitting down in some common place of watching, wherein some falleth on sleep by the reason of labour or much drinking before, or else nature requireth rest in the night. These fellows think every hour a thousand until they go home, home, home, every man to bed. Good night, good night! God save the Queen! sayeth the constables, farewell, neighbours. Eftsoons after their departing creepeth forth the wild rogue and his fellows, having two or three other harlots for their turn, with picklocks, handsaws, long hooks, ladders, &c., to break into houses, rob, murder, steal, and do all mischief in the houses of true men, utterly undoing honest people to maintain their harlots. Great hoses, lined cloaks, long daggers, and feathers, these must be paid for, &c. This cometh for want of punishment by the day, and idle watch in the night. God grant that some of the watch be not the scouts to the thieves. Yes; God grant that some men have not conspirators of thieves in their own houses, which, like Judases, deceive their masters. If this watch be not better looked unto, good wife, in every place in this realm, and all the night long searching every suspected corner, no man shall be able to keep a penny, no, scant his own life in a while. For they that dare attempt such matters in the city of London, what will they do in houses smally guarded, or by the highway? Yet there is much execution, but it helpeth not. It is the excess of apparel. Hose, hose, great hose! too little wages, too many serving-men, too many tippling-houses, too many drabs, too many knaves, too little labour, too much idleness. WILLIAM BULLEIN, A Dialogue against the Pestilence 1573 (1st ed. 1564) London at Night When the searching eye of heaven is hid Richard II., III. ii. 37-40 How far that little candle throws his beams! The Merchant of Venice, v. i. 90—91 An arraignment of candle-light O Candle-light! and art thou one of the cursed crew? hast thou been set at the table of princes, and noblemen? have all sorts of people done reverence unto thee, and stood bare so soon as ever they have seen thee? have thieves, traitors, and murderers been afraid to come in thy presence, because they knew thee just, and that thou wouldest discover them? and art thou now a harbourer of all kinds of vices? nay, dost thou play the capital Vice thyself? Hast thou had so many learned lectures read before thee, and is the light of thy understanding now clean put out? And have so many profound scholars profited by thee? hast thou done such good to universities, been such a guide to the lame, and seen the doing of so many good works, yet dost thou now look dimly and with a dull eye upon all goodness? What comfort have sick men taken (in weary and irksome nights) but only in thee? Thou hast been their physician and apothecary, and when the relish of nothing could please them, the very shadow of thee hath been to them a restorative consolation. The nurse hath stilled her wayward infant, shewing it but to thee. What gladness hast thou put into mariners' bosoms, when thou hast met them on the sea? What joy into the faint and benighted traveller when he has met thee on the land? How many poor handicraftsmen by thee have earned the best part of their living? And art thou now become a companion for drunkards, for lechers, and for prodigals? Art thou turned reprobate? Thou wilt burn for it in hell. And so odious is this thy apostacy, and hiding thyself from the light of the truth, that at thy death and going out of the world, even they that love thee best will tread thee under their feet: yea I that have thus played the herald, and proclaimed thy good parts, will now play the crier and call thee into open court, to arraign thee for thy misdemeanours. Let the world therefore understand, that this tallow-faced gentleman (called Candle-light) so soon as ever the sun was gone out of sight, and that darkness like a thief out of a hedge crept upon the earth, sweat till he dropped again with bustling to come into the city. For having no more but one only eye (and that fiery red with drinking and sitting up late) he was ashamed to be seen by day, knowing he should be laughed to scorn and hooted at. He makes his entrance therefore at Aldersgate of set purpose, for though the street be fair and spacious, yet, few lights in misty evenings using there to thrust out their golden heads, he thought that the aptest circle for him to be raised in, because there his glittering would make greatest show. What expectation was there of his coming? Setting aside the bonfires, there is not more triumphing on midsummer night. No sooner was he advanced up into the most famous streets, but a number of shops for joy began to shut in: mercers rolled up their silks and velvets: the goldsmiths drew back their plate, and all the city looked like a private play-house, when the windows are clapped down, as if some nocturnal, or dismal tragedy were presently to be acted before all the tradesBut Cavaleiro Candle-light came for no such solemnity: no, he had other crackers in hand to which he watched but his hour to give fire. Scarce was his entrance blown abroad, but men. the bankrupt, the felon, and all that owed any money, and for fear of arrests or justices' warrants had, like so many snails, kept their houses over their heads all the day before, began now to creep out of their shells, and to stalk up and down the streets as uprightly, and with as proud a gait as if they meant to knock against the stars with the crowns of their heads. The damask-coated citizen, that sat in his shop both forenoon and afternoon, and looked more sourly on his poor neighbours than if he had drunk a quart of vinegar at a draught, sneaks out of his own doors and slips into a tavern, where either alone, or with some other that battles their money together, they so ply themselves with penny pots, which (like small-shot) go off, pouring into their fat paunches, that at length they have not an eye to see withal, nor a good leg to stand upon. In which pickle if any of them happen to be jostled down by a post (that in spite of them will take the wall) and so reels them into the kennel, who takes them up or leads them home? who has them to bed, and with a pillow smooths this stealing so of good liquor, but that brazen-face Candle-light? Nay more, he entices their very prentices to make their desperate sallies out and quick retires in (contrary to the oath of their indentures which are seven years a-swearing) only for their pints, and away. Tush, this is nothing! young shopkeepers that have but newly ventured upon the pikes of marriage, who are every hour shewing their wares to their customers, plying their business harder all day than Vulcan does his anvil, and seem better husbands than fiddlers that scrape for a poor living both day and night, yet even these if they can but get Candle-light to sit up all night with them in any house of reckoning (that's to say in a tavern) they fall roundly to play the London prize, and that's at three several weapons, drinking, dancing, and dicing; their wives lying all that time in their beds sighing like widows, which is lamentable: the giddy-brained husbands wasting the portions they had with them, which lost once, they are (like maiden-heads) never recoverable. Or which is worse, this going a-bat-fowling a-nights being noted by some wise young man or other that knows how to handle such cases, the bush is beaten for them at home, whilst they catch the bird abroad. But what bird is it? the woodcock. |