Chapter 1
Conversion, as it was, by the social fireside, in the time of anal coat搏responders. 1601. CONVERSATION AS IT WAS BY THE SOCIAL FIRE-SIDE, IN THE TIME OF THE TUTORS.
MEMORANDUM. The following is supposed to be an extract from the diary of the peeps of that day, the same being Queen Elizabeth's cup-bearer. He is to be of ancient and noble lineage, that he despises these literary cani, that his soul consumes with wrath to see the Queen stooping to
talk with such, and that the old man feels that his nobility is defiled by contact with Shakespeare, etc. And yet he has got to stay there till her Majesty chooses to dismiss him. Yes, tonight took Her Majesty the Queen a fantasy such as she sometimes has, and had to her closet certain that do write plays, books, and of
such like, these being My Lord Bacon, His Worship Sir Walter Raleigh, Mr. Ben Jonson, and the Child, Francis Beaumont, which, being but sixteen, hath yet turned his hand to the doing of the Latin masters into our English tongue, with great discretion and much applause. Also came with these the famous Shakespeare, a right strange mix truly of mighty blood
with men, yet more in a special since the Queen's Grace was present, as likewise these following to wit, the Duchess of Bilgewater, twenty-two years of age, the Countess of Granby, twenty-six, her daughter, the Lady Helen, fifteen, as also these two maids of honour, to wit, the Lady Marguerite Boothy, sixty-five, and the Lady Alice Dilbury, turned seventy,
she being two years the Queen's Grace's elder. I, being Her Majesty's cup bearer, had no choice but to remain and behold rank forgot, and the high hold conversed with the low as upon equal terms a great scandal did the world hear thereof. In the heat of the talk it befell that one did break wind, yielding an exceeding mighty and distressful sting. Whereat all did laugh
full soar, and then... Verily, in mine eight and sixty years have I not heard the fellow to this fart. It seemeth by the great sound and clamour of it, it was male. Yet the belly it did lurk behind should now fall lean and flat against the spine of him that hath been delivered of so stately and so waste a bulk. Whereas the guts of them that do quiff splitters bear stand calmly still
and round. Pre thee let the author confess the offspring. Will my Lady Alice testify? Good your Grace, and I had room for such a thunder-gust within mine ancient bowels. Tis not in reason I could discharge the same and live to thank God for that he did choose handmaid so humble whereby to show his power. Nay, tis not I that have brought forth this rich o'ermastering fog, this fragrant gloom, so
pray you seek the further. Mayhap the Lady Marjorie hath done the company this favour. So please you, Madam, my limbs are feeble with the weight and droth of five and sixty winters, and it behooveth that I be tender unto them. In the good providence of God, and I had contained this wonder, for sooth would I have given the whole evening of my
sinking life to the dribbling of it forth with trembling and uneasy soul, not launched its sudden and its matchless might, taking mine own life with violence, rending my weak frame like rotten rags. It was not I, your Majesty. O God's name, who hath favoured us? Hath it come to pass that a fart shall fart itself? Not such a one as this, I throw, young Master Beaumont. But no, it would have wafted him to
heaven like down of Goose's body. It was not the little Lady Helen. Nay, never blush, my child. Thou tickled thy tender maiden head with many a mousy squeak before thou learn'st to blow a hurricane like this. Wasn't you, my learned and ingenious Johnson? So fell a blast hath ne'er my ears saluted, nor yet a stench so all-pervading and immortal. Twas not a novice did it, good your Majesty, but one
of veteran experience, else had he failed of confidence. In sooth it was not I. My Lord Bacon. Not from my lean entrails had this prodigy burst forth, so please your grace. Nor doth so befit the great as great performance. And haply shall ye find that tis not from mediocrity this miracle hath issued. Though ye subject be but a fart, yet will this tedious sink of learning ponderously philosophise.
Meantime did the foul and deadly stink pervade all places to that degree that never smell either like. Yet dare I not to leave the presence, albeit I was like to suffocate. What saith the worshipful Master Shakespeare? In the great hand of God I stand and so proclaim mine innocence. Though ye sinless hosts of heaven had foretold the coming of this most desolating breath, proclaiming it a
work of uninspired man, its quaking thunders, its firmament clogging rottenness, his own achievement in due course of nature, yet had not I believed it, but had said the pit itself hath furnished forth the stink, and heaven's artillery hath shook the globe in admiration of it. There was a silence, and each did turn him toward the worshipful Sir Walter Raleigh,
that browned embattled bloody swashbuckler, who rising up did smile and simpering say, Most gracious Majesty, it was I that did it, but indeed it was so poor and frail a note compared with such as I am wont to furnish, that in sooth I was ashamed to call the weakling mine in so august a presence. It was nothing, less than nothing, madam. I did it but to clear my nether throat, but had I come
prepared, then had I delivered something worthy. Bear with me, please your grace, till I can make amends. Then he delivered he himself of such a godless and rock shivering blast, that all were feigned to stop their ears, and following it did come so dense and foul a stink, that that which went before did seem a poor and trifling thing beside it. Then saith he, feigning that he blushed and was
confused, I perceive that I am weak today and cannot justice do unto my powers. And sat him down as who should say, There it is not much, yet he that hath an arse to spare, let him follow that. And he think he can, by God! But I were the Queen, I would even tip this swaggering braggart out of the court, and let him air his grandeurs, and break his intolerable wind before the death and
such as suffocation pleases. Then fell they to talk about manners and customs of many people, and Master Shakespeare spake of the book of the Sir Michael de Montaigne, wherein was mention of the custom of widows of Perigord to wear upon the headdress, in sign of widowhood, a jewel in the similitude of a man's member wilted and limber. Whereat the Queen did laugh and say widows in
England do wear pricks too, but betwixt the thighs, and not wilted neither, till coition hath done that office for them. Master Shakespeare did likewise observe now that the Sir de Montaigne have also spoke of a certain Emperor of such mighty prowess, that he did take ten maiden heads in the compass of a single night. Yet while his Empress did entertain two and twenty lusty nights between her sheets,
yet was not satisfied. Whereat the Mary Countess Granby said a ram is yet the Emperor's superior. Sayeth he will top above a hundred ewes, twixt son and son, and after, if he can have none more to shag, will masturbate until he hath enriched whole acres with his seed. Then spake he damned windmill, Sir Walter, of a people in the uttermost parts of America, that capulate not until they be five and thirty
years of age, the women being eight and twenty, and do it then but once in seven years. How doth that like my little lady Helen? Shall we send thee thither and preserve thy belly? Please, Your Highness's grace, mine old nurse has told me there are more ways of serving God than by locking the thighs together. Yes, am I willing to serve him that way too, since Your Highness's grace has set the example.
God wounds a good answer, child. Mayhap twill weaken when the hair sprouts below the navel. Nay, it's sprouted two years since. I can skitz more than cover it with my hand now. Hear ye that, my little Beaumont? Have ye not a little bird about you that stirs that hearing tale of so sweet a nest? Tis not insensible, O Luscious Madam, but mousing owls and bats of low degree may not inspire to
bliss so whalming and ecstatic as is found in the downy nests of birds of paradise. By the gullet of God, tis a neat turned compliment. With such a tongue as thine, lad, thou'd spread the ivory thighs of many a willing maid in thy good time, and thy codpiece be as handy as thy speech. Then spake the Queen of how she met old Rabelais when she was turned off fifteen, and he did tell her of a man
his father knew that had a double pair of bollocks, whereon a controversy followed as concerning the most just way to spell the word, the contention running high betwixt the learned Bacon and the ingenious Johnson, until at least the old lady Marguerite, wearing of it all, sayeth, Gentles, what mattereth it how ye shall spell the word? I warrant ye when ye use your bollocks ye shall not think
of it, and my Lady Granby, be ye content, let the spelling be, ye shall enjoy the beating of them on your buttocks just the same I trow. Before I had gained my fourteenth year I had learnt that them that would explore a cunt stopped not to consider the spelling of it. In sooth, when his shifts turned up, delay is not but dalliance. Boccaccio hath the story of a priest that did beguile a maid
into his cell, then knelt him in a corner to pray for grace, to be rightly thankful for this tender maiden-head the Lord had sent him. But the abbot, spying through the keyhole, did see a tuft of brownish hair with fair white flesh about it. Wherefore, when the priest's prayer was done, his chance was gone, for as much as the little maid had but the one cunt, and that was already
occupied to her content. Then conversed they of religion and the mighty work the old dead Luther did do by the grace of God. Then next about poetry and Master Shakespeare did read a part of his King Henry IV. The witch, it seemeth to me, is not of the value of an arseful of ashes, yet they praised it bravely, one and all. The same did read a portion of his Venus and Adonis to their prodigious
admiration, whereas I, being sleepy and fatigued withal, did deem it but poultry stuff, and was the more discomforted in that the bloody Buccaneer had got his wind again, and did turn his mind to farting with such villain zeal that presently I was like to choke once more. God damn this windy ruffian and all his breed! I would that hell might get him. They talked about the wonderful defence
which old Sir Nicholas Strogmorton did make for himself before the judges in the time of Mary, which was unlucky matter to broach, sith it fetched out the Queen with a pity that he, having so much wit, had yet not enough to save his daughter's maidenhead sound for her marriage bed. And the Queen, to give the damned Sir Walter Raleigh her look that made him wince, for she hath not forgot
he was her own lover in the old day. There was silence and uncomfortableness now, twas not a good turn for talk to take. So if the Queen must find a fence in a little harmless debauching, when pricks were stiff and cunts not loathed to take the stiffness out of them, who of this company was sinless? Behold, was not the wife of Master Shakespeare, four months gone with child, when she stood
up before the altar? Was not her grace of Bilgewater, rogered by four lords before she had husband? Was not the little lady Helen, born on her mother's wedding day? And, behold, were not the lady Alice and lady Marguerite, mouthing religion, whores from the cradle? In time they came to discourse of Cervantes and of the new painter Rubens that is beginning to be heard of. Fine words and dainty wrought
phrases from the ladies now, one or two of them being, in other days, pupils of that poor arse Lil himself. And I marked how that Johnson and Shakespeare did fidget to discharge some venom of sarcasm, yet dared they not in the presence, the Queen's grace being the very flower of the euphiwists herself. But behold, these be they that having a speciality and admiring it in themselves,
be jealous when a neighbour does assay it, nor can abide it in them long. Wherefore, t'was observable that the Queen waxed uncontent and in time laboured grandiose speech out of the mouth of Lady Alice, who manifestly did mightily pride herself thereon, did quite exhaust the Queen's endurance, who listened till the gaudy speech was done, then lifted up her brows and with vast irony mincing saith,
Oh shit! We're at! They all did laugh, but not Lady Alice, the old foolish bitch. Now was so water-rally minded of a tale he once did hear the ingenious Margaret of Navarre's relate about a maid which, being like to suffer rape by an old archbishop, did smartly contrive a device to save her maiden-head, and said to him, First, my
lord, I prithee, take out thy holy tool and piss before me, which doing, lo, his member fell and would not rise again. End of 1601
