Notes and Queries, Number 13, January 26, 1850

Notes and Queries, Number 13, January 26, 1850
Various

Various

Notes and Queries, Number 13, January 26, 1850

NOTES

DOMINGO LOMELYN, JESTER TO HENRY VIII

Shakespeare, in the Second Part of Henry IV. act v. sc. 3 makes Silence sing the following scrap:—

"Do me right,
And dub me knight:
Samingo."

And Nash, in his Summer's Last Will and Testament, 1600 (reprinted in the last edition of Dodsley's Old Plays, vol. xi. p. 47.) has

"Monsieur Mingo for quaffing doth surpass,
In cup, in can, or glass;
God Bacchus, do me right,
And dub me knight,
Domingo"

T. Warton, in a note in vol. xvii. of the Variorum Shakespeare, says, "Samingo, that is San Domingo, as some of the commentators have observed. But what is the meaning and propriety of the name here, has not yet been shown. Justice Silence is here introduced as in the midst of his cups; and I remember a black-letter ballad, in which either a San Domingo or a Signior Domingo, is celebrated for his miraculous feats in drinking. Silence, in the abundance of his festivity, touches upon some old song, in which this convivial saint, or signior, was the burden. Perhaps, too, the pronounciation in here suited to the character." I must own that I cannot see what San Domingo has to do with a drinking song. May it not be an allusion to a ballad or song on Domingo, one of King Henry the Eighth's jesters?

"—Domyngo Lomelyn,
That was wont to wyn
Moche money of the kynge,
At the cardys and haserdynge."
Skelton's Why come ye not to Courte,
ed. Dyce, ii. p. 63.

None of the commentators have noticed this, but I think my suggestion carries with it some weight.

In the Privy Purse Expenses of King Henry the Eighth (published by Sir H. Nichols, in 1827), are many entries concerning this Domingo, most of which relate to payments of money that he had won from the king at cards and dice. He was evidently, as Sir Harris Nichols observes, one of King Henry's "diverting vagabonds," and seems to have accompanied his majesty wherever he went, for we find that he was with him at Calais in 1532. In all these entries he is only mentioned as Domingo; his surname, and the fact of his being a Lombard, we learn from Skelton's poem, mentioned above.

The following story, told of Domingo, occurs in Mr. (afterwards Sir John) Harington's Treatise on Playe, 1597, printed in the Nugae Antiquae, edit. Park, vol. i. p.222.:—

"The other tale I wold tell of a willinge and wise loss I have hearde dyversly tolde. Some tell it of Kyng Phillip and a favoryte of his; some of our worthy King Henry VIII. and Domingo; and I may call it a tale; becawse perhappes it is but a tale, but thus they tell it:—The kinge, 55 eldest hand, set up all restes, and discarded flush; Domingo or Dundego (call him how you will), helde it upon 49, or som such game; when all restes were up and they had discarded, the kinge threw his 55 on the boord open, with great lafter, supposing the game (as it was) in a manner sewer. Domingo was at his last carde incownterd flush, as the standers by saw, and tolde the day after; but seeing the king so mery, would not for a reste at primero, put him owt of that pleasawnt conceyt, and put up his cardes quietly, yielding it lost."

Park was not acquainted with any particulars of this Domingo Lomelyn, for he says, in a note, "Query, jester to the king?"

The first epigram in Samuel Rowland's entertaining tract, The Letting of Humours Blood in the Head-waine, &c. 1600, is upon "Monsieur Domingo;" but whether it relates to King Henry's jester is a matter of some question.

    EDWARD F. RIMBAULT.

MARLOWE AND THE OLD "TAMING OF A SHREW."

Having only just observed an announcement of a new edition of the works of Marlowe, I take the earliest opportunity of calling the attention of the editor to a circumstance which it is important that he should know, and the knowledge of which,—should it have escaped his notice, as it has that of all other writers on the subject,—I trust may not be too late for his present purpose. Without farther preface, I will introduce the subject, by asking Mr. Dyce to compare two passages which I shall shortly point out; and, having done so, I think he will agree with me in the opinion that the internal evidence, relating to our old dramatic literature, cannot have been very much studied, while such a discovery as he will then make still remained to be made. The first passage is from the so-called old "Taming of a Shrew" (six old plays, 1779, p. 161.), and runs as follows:—

"Now that the gloomy shadow of the night,
Longing to view Orion's drisling looks,
Leaps from th'Antarctic world unto the sky,
And dims the welkin with her pitchy breath;"

the second is from Doctor Faustus (Marlowe's Works, vol. ii. p. 127.), which, however, I shall save myself the trouble of transcribing; as, with the exception of "look" for "looks," in the second line, and "his" for "her," in the fourth, the two passages will be found identical. Being, some years ago, engaged, in connection with the first of these plays, in the pursuit of a very different object,—in which I cannot say that I altogether failed, and the result of which I may take an opportunity of communicating,—I made a note of the above; and at the same time followed it up by a general examination of the style of Marlowe. And, to make a long matter short, I may say that in this examination, besides meeting with a dozen instances of the identity of the writer of passages in the Taming of a Shrew and of passages in Marlowe's two plays, Doctor Faustus and Tamburlaine, I found such general resemblance in style as left no doubt upon my mind that, if one of these plays be his acknowledged work, as indisputable will be his claim to the other two. I was not aware at that time of the evidence, in Henslow's Diary, of Marlowe's authorship of Tamburlaine; but, so far from considering it inferior, I was inclined to place it, in some important respects, at the very head of his plays.

I will not take up your space now with the parallel passages which I noted; but, should you wish it, and be able to make room for them, I will furnish you with a list. It is, of course, obvious that the one I have quoted proves nothing by itself; accumulated instances, in connection with the general question of style, alone become important. I will conclude, by giving a list which I have made out of Marlowe's plays, in favour of which I conceive there to be either internal or external evidence:—

"Locrine.

Tamburlaine the Great (two parts).

Jew of Malta.

Doctor Faustus.

Edward the Second.

Massacre of Paris.

Taming of a Shrew.

Dido, Queen of Carthage (with Nash)."

    SAMUEL HICKSON

St. John's Wood, Jan. 12. 1850

[We trust our correspondent will favour us with the further communications he proposes on this very interesting point.]

BEETLE MYTHOLOGY

Mr. Editor,—I never thought of asking my Low-Norman fellow-rustics whether the ladybird had a name and a legend in the best preserved of the northern Romance dialects: on the score of a long absence (eight-and-twenty years), might not a veteran wanderer plead forgiveness? Depend upon it, Sir, nevertheless, that should any reminiscences exist among my chosen friends, the stout-hearted and industrious tenants of a soil where every croft and paddock is the leaf of a chronicle, it will be communicated without delay. There is more than usual attractiveness in the astronomical German titles of this tiny "red chafer," or rother kaefer, SONNEN KAEFER and VNSER FRAWEN KVHLEIN, the Sun-chafer, and our Lady's little cow. (Isis or Io?)

With regard to its provincial English name, Barnabee, the correct interpretation might be found in Barn-bie, the burning, or fire-fly, a compound word of Low-Dutch origin.

We have a small black beetle, common enough in summer, called PÂN, nearly hemispherical: you must recollect that the â is as broad as you can afford to make it, and the final n is nasal. Children never forgot, whenever they caught this beetle, to place it in the palm of their left hand, when it was invoked as follows:—

"PÂN, PÂN, mourtre mé ten sang,
Et j'te doûrai de bouan vin blianc!"

which means, being interpreted,

"PÂN, PÂN, show me thy blood,
And I will give thee good white wine!"

As he uttered the charm, the juvenile pontiff spat on poor Thammuz, till a torrent of blood, or what seemed such, "ran purple" over the urchin's fingers.