Part 10
"Randolph havinge not soe much as ferry money, sought out Ben Johnson, and comminge to a place in London where he and three more were drinkinge, peeps in att the chamber doore. Ben Johnson espyinge him, said, 'Come in, Jack Bo-peepe.' Randolph, beinge very thirsty, it beeing then summer, and willinge to quench his thirst, willingly obeyed his command. The company dranke untill it came to five shillings: every man drawinge his money, Randolph made this motion, viz. that he that made the first coppy of verses upon the reckoninge should goe scot-free. Ben and all the rest, beeinge poetts, readily consented. Randolph, surpassinge them in acutenesse, utter'd forthwith these followinge,—
I, Jack Bo-peep, And you foure sheep, Lett every one yeeld his fleece: Here's five shillinge, If you are willinge, That will be fifteene pence a-peece. _Et sic impune evasit inops._"
We conclude in the words of Shakespeare,—
They then for sudden joy did weep, And I for sorrow sung, That such a king should play _bo-peep_, And go the fools among.
MISCELLANEOUS PUERILE AMUSEMENTS.
I went to the sea, And saw twentee Geese all in a row: My glove I would give Full of gold, if my wife Was as white as those.
These lines are to be repeated rapidly and correctly, inserting the word _cother_ after _every_ word, under pain of a forfeit.
It's time, I believe, For us to get leave: The little dog says It isn't, it is; it 'tisnt, it is, &c.
Said by a schoolboy, who places his book between his knees. His two forefingers are then placed together, and the breadth of each is measured alternately along the length of the book. The time to get leave (to be dismissed) is supposed to have arrived or not according as one finger or the other fills up the last space.
A duck and a drake, And a white penny cake. It's time to go home, It isn't, it is, &c.
So going on with the fingers one over the other along the edge of a book or desk, till the last finger determines the question.
Put your finger in foxy's hole, Foxy is not at home: Foxy is at the back door, Picking of a bone.
Holding the fist in such a way that if a child puts its finger in, you can secure it, still leaving the hole at top open.
Jack's alive and in very good health, If he dies in your hand you must look to yourself.
Played with a stick, one end burnt red-hot: it is passed round a circle from one to the other, the one who passes it saying this, and the one whose hand it goes out in paying a forfeit.
SEE-SAW.
A common game, children vacillating on either end of a plank supported on its centre. While enjoying this recreation, they have a song of appropriate cadence, the burden of which is,—
Titty cum tawtay, The ducks in the water: Titty cum tawtay, The geese follow after.
HITTY-TITTY.
Hitty-titty in-doors, Hitty-titty out; You touch Hitty-titty, And Hitty-titty will bite you.
These lines are said by children when one of them has hid herself. They then run away, and the one who is bitten (caught) becomes Hitty-titty, and hides in her turn. A variation of the above lines occurs in MS. Harl. 1962, as a riddle, the solution of which is _a nettle_.
BEANS AND BUTTER.
So the game of _hide-and-seek_ is called in some parts of Oxfordshire. Children hide from each other, and when it is time to commence the search, the cry is,
Hot boil'd beans and very good butter, If you please to come to supper!
DROP-CAP.
In the game where the following lines are used, one person goes round inside a ring of children, clapping a cap between his hands. When he drops it at the foot of any one, that one leaves his position and gives chase, and is obliged to thread the very same course among the children till the first is caught. The first then stands with his back towards the centre of the ring, the one called out takes his place, and thus they continue till nearly all are "turned."
My hand burns hot, hot, hot, And whoever I love best, I'll drop this at his foot!
MY SOW HAS PIGGED.
A game at cards, played now only by children. It is alluded to by Taylor the Water-poet, in his Motto, 12mo. Lond. 1622, and it is also mentioned in Poor Robin's Almanac for 1734. The following distich is used in this game:
Higgory, diggory, digg'd, My sow has pigg'd.
NIDDY-NODDY.
A simple but very amusing game at cards, at which any number can play. The cards are dealt round, and one person commences the game by placing down a card, and the persons next in succession who hold the same card in the various suits place them down upon it, the holder of the last winning the trick. The four persons who hold the cards say, when they put them down,—
1. There's a good card for thee. 2. There's a still better than he! 3. There's the best of all three. 4. And there is Niddy-noddee!
The person who is first _out_, receives a fish for each card unplayed.
SLATE GAMES.
Entertaining puzzles or exercises upon the slate are generally great favorites with children. A great variety of them are current in the nursery, or rather were so some years ago. The story of the four rich men, the four poor men, and the pond, was one of these; the difficulty merely requiring a zig-zag inclosure to enable it to be satisfactorily solved.
Once upon a time there was a pond lying upon common land, which was extremely commodious for fishing, bathing, and various other purposes. Not far from it lived four poor men, to whom it was of great service; and farther off, there lived four rich men. The latter envied the poor men the use of the pond, and, as inclosure bills had not then come into fashion, they wished to invent an inclosure-wall which should shut out the poor men from the pond, although they lived so near it, and still give free access to the rich men, who resided at a greater distance. How was this done?
GAME OF THE CAT.
This is another slate game, in which, by means of a tale and appropriate indications on the slate, a rude figure of a cat is delineated. It requires, however, some little ingenuity to accomplish it.
Tommy would once go to see his cousin Charles. [Here one draws T for Tommy, and C for Charles, forming the forehead, nose, and mouth of the cat.] But before he went, he would make walls to his house. [Here he draws lines from the arms of the T to its foot, forming the cheeks of the cat.] But then it smoked, and he would put chimneys to it. [Here he inserts two narrow triangles on each arm of the T, forming the ears of the cat.] But then it was so dark, he would put windows into it. [Here he draws a small circle under each arm of the T, forming the eyes.] Then to make it pretty, he would spread grass at the door. [Here he scratches lines at the foot of the T, representing the cat's whiskers.] Then away he went on his journey, but after a little while, down he fell. [Here he draws down a line a little way from the foot of the T.] But he soon climbed up again. [Here he draws a zig-zag horizontally from the foot of the last line, and draws one up, forming with the last movement the first foot of the cat.] Then he walks along again, but soon falls down once more. [Here he draws a short horizontal line, and one downwards.] He soon, however, got up again, as before, &c. [The second leg is then formed, and by similar movements the four legs of the cat appear.] After thus falling down four times, Tommy determined to proceed more firmly, and climbing up, he walks along [the back of the cat] another way round till he comes to C. His journey is now accomplished, and an animal, called by courtesy a cat, appears on the slate, "the admiration of all beholders."
HANDY-DANDY.
This game is now played as follows:—a child hides something in one hand, and then places both fists endways on each other, crying,—
Handy-dandy riddledy ro, Which will you have, high or low?
Or, sometimes, the following distich,—
Handy-dandy, Jack-a-dandy, Which good hand will you have?
The party addressed either touches one hand, or guesses in which one the article (whatever it may be) is placed. If he guesses rightly, he wins its contents; if wrongly, he loses an equivalent.
Some versions read _handy-pandy_ in the first of these, with another variation, that would not now be tolerated. This is one of the oldest English games in existence, and appears to be alluded to in Piers Ploughman, ed. Wright, p. 69:
Thanne wowede Wrong Wisdom ful yerne, To maken pees with his pens, Handy-dandy played.
Florio, in his World of Worlds, ed. 1611, p. 57, translates _bazziciúre_, "to shake between two hands, to play handie-dandie." Miege, in his Great French Dictionary, 1688, says, "Handy-dandy, a kind of play with the hands, _sorte de jeu de main_;" and Douce, ii. 167, quotes an early MS., which thus curiously mentions the game: "They hould safe your children's patrymony, and play with your majestie, as men play with little children at _handye-dandye, which hand will you have_, when they are disposed to keep anythinge from them." Some of the commentators on Shakespeare have mistaken the character of the game, from having adopted Coles's erroneous interpretation of _micare digitis_. Sometimes the game is played by a sort of sleight of hand, changing the article rapidly from one hand into the other, so that the looker-on is often deceived, and induced to name the hand into which it is apparently thrown. This is what Shakespeare alludes to by changing places.
Pope, in his Memoirs of Martinus Scriblerus, says that the game of handy-dandy is mentioned by Plato; but if, as I suppose, he refers to a well-known passage in the Lysis, the allusion appears somewhat too indistinct to warrant such an assertion,—αστρα γαλιζοντας τε δη και κεκοσμημενους απαντας. οι μεν ουν πολλοι εν τη αυλη επαιζον εξω. οι δε τινες του αποδυτηριου εν γωνια ηρτιαζον αστραγαλοις παμπολλοις, εκ φορμισκων τινων προαιρουμενοι. A passage, however, in Julius Pollux, ix. 101, referring to this, is rather more distinct, and may allude to one form of the game.—Και μην και αρτιαζειν, αστραγαλους εκ φορμισκων καθαιρομενους εν τω αποδυτηριω τους παιδας, οΠλατων εφη. το δε αρτιαζειν εν αστραγαλων πληθει κεκρυμμενων υπο ταιν χεροιν, μαντειαν ειχε των αρτιων η και περιττων. ταυτο δε τουτο και κυαμοις, η καρυοις τε και αμυγδαλαις, οι δε και αργυριω πραττειν ηξιουν, a passage which Meursius, de Ludis Græcorum, ed. 1625, p. 5, thus partially translates, "nempe ludentes sumptis in manu talis, fabis, nucibus, amygdalis, interdum etiam nummis, interrogantes alterum divinare jubebant." Here we have the exact game of handy-dandy, which is, after all, the simple form of the odd and even of children.
Browne has a curious allusion to this game in Britannia's Pastorals, i. 5,—
Who so hath sene yong lads, to sport themselves, Run in a low ebbe to the sandy shelves, Where seriously they worke in digging wels, Or building childish sorts of cockle-shels; Or liquid water each to other bandy, Or with the pibbles play at handy-dandy.
BARLEY-BRIDGE.
A string of boys and girls, each holding by his predecessor's skirts, approaches two others, who, with joined and elevated hands, form a double arch. After the dialogue is concluded, the line passes through the arch, and the last is caught, if possible, by the sudden lowering of the arms.
"How many miles to Barley-bridge?" "Three score and ten." "Can I get there by candle-light?" "Yes, if your legs be long." "A courtesy to you, and a courtesy to you, If you please will you let the king's horses through?" Through and through shall they go, For the king's sake; But the one that is hindmost Will meet with a great mistake.
THE TOWN LOVERS.
A game played by boys and girls. A girl is placed in the middle of a ring, and says the following lines, the names being altered to suit the party. She points to each one named, and at the last line, the party selected immediately runs away, and if the girl catches him, he pays a forfeit, or the game is commenced again, the boy being placed in the middle, and the lines, _mutatis mutandis_, serve for a reversed amusement:
There is a girl of our town, She often wears a flowered gown: Tommy loves her night and day, And Richard when he may, And Johnny when he can: I think Sam will be the man!
MARY BROWN. FAIR GUNDELA.
A slightly dramatic character may be observed in this game, which was obtained from Essex. Children form a ring, one girl kneeling in the centre, and sorrowfully hiding her face with her hands. One in the ring then says,—
Here we all stand round the ring, And now we shut poor Mary in; Rise up, rise up, poor Mary Brown, And see your poor mother go through the town.
To this she answers,—
I will not stand up upon my feet, To see my poor mother go through the street.
The children then cry,—
Rise up, rise up, poor Mary Brown, And see your poor father go through the town.
_Mary._
I will not stand up upon my feet, To see my poor father go through the street.
_Children._
Rise up, rise up, poor Mary Brown, To see your poor brother go through the town.
_Mary._
I will not stand up upon my feet, To see my poor brother go through the street.
_Children._
Rise up, rise up, poor Mary Brown, To see your poor sister go through the town.
_Mary._
I will not stand up upon my feet, To see my poor sister go through the street.
_Children._
Rise up, rise up, poor Mary Brown, To see the poor beggars go through the town.
_Mary._
I will not stand up upon my feet, To see the poor beggars go through the street.
One would have thought that this tiresome repetition had been continued quite long enough, but two other verses are sometimes added, introducing _gentlemen_ and _ladies_ with the same questions, to both of which it is unnecessary to say that the callous and hardhearted Mary Brown replies with perfect indifference and want of curiosity. All versions, however, conclude with the girls saying,—
Rise up, rise up, poor Mary Brown, And see your poor sweetheart go through the town.
The chord is at last touched, and Mary, frantically replying,—
I will get up upon my feet, To see my sweetheart go through the street,
rushes with impetuosity to break the ring, and generally succeeds in escaping the bonds that detain her from her imaginary love.
The Swedish ballad of the "Maiden that was sold into Slavery," has a similar dramatic character. (See an article by Mr. Stephens, on the Popular Ballads and Songs of Sweden, in the Foreign Quarterly Review for 1840.) Another Swedish ballad, or ring-dance song, entitled, "Fair Gundela," is, however, more analogous to the above. A girl sits on a stool or chair within a ring of dancers; and, with something in her hands, imitates the action of rowing. She should have a veil on her head, and at the news of her sweetheart's death, let it fall over her face, and sink down, overwhelmed with sorrow. The ring of girls dance round her, singing and pausing, and she sings in reply. The dialogue is conducted in the following manner:
_The Ring._
Why row ye so, why row ye so? Fair Gundela!
_Gundela._
Sure I may row, ay sure may I row, While groweth the grass, All summer through.
_The Ring._
But now I've speir'd that your father's dead, Fair Gundela!
_Gundela._
What matters my father? My mother lives still. Ah, thank heaven for that!
_The Ring._
But now I've speir'd that your mother's dead, Fair Gundela!
_Gundela._
What matters my mother? My brother lives still. Ah, thank heaven for that!
_The Ring._
But now I've speir'd that your brother's dead, Fair Gundela!
_Gundela._
What matters my brother? My sister lives still. Ah, thank heaven for that!
_The Ring._
But now I've speir'd that your sister's dead, Fair Gundela!
_Gundela._
What matters my sister? My sweetheart lives still. Ah, thank heaven for that!
_The Ring._
But now I've speir'd that your sweetheart's dead, Fair Gundela!
[_Here she sinks down overwhelmed with grief._]
_Gundela._
Say! can it be true, Which ye tell now to me, That my sweetheart's no more? Ah, God pity me!
_The Ring._
But now I've speir'd that your father lives still, Fair Gundela!
_Gundela._
What matters my father? My sweetheart's no more! Ah, God pity me!
_The Ring._
But now I've speir'd that you mother lives still, Fair Gundela!
_Gundela._
What matters my mother? My sweetheart's no more! Ah, God pity me!
_The Ring._
But now I've speir'd that your brother lives still, Fair Gundela!
_Gundela._
What matters my brother? My sweetheart's no more! Ah, God pity me!
_The Ring._
But now I've speir'd that your sister lives still, Fair Gundela!
_Gundela._
What matters my sister? My sweetheart's no more! Ah, God pity me!
_The Ring._
But now I've speir'd that your sweetheart lives still, Fair Gundela!
_Gundela._
Say! can it be true Which ye tell now to me, That my sweetheart lives still? Thank God, thank God for that!
The veil is thrown on one side, her face beams with joy, the circle is broken, and the juvenile drama concludes with merriment and noise. It is difficult to say whether this is the real prototype of the English game, or whether they are both indebted to a still more primitive original. There is a poetical sweetness and absolute dramatic fervour in the Swedish ballad we vainly try to discover in the English version. In the latter, all is vulgar, common-place, and phlegmatic. Cannot we trace in both the national character? Do we not see in the last that poetic simplicity which has made the works of Andersen so popular and irresistibly charming? It may be that the style pleases by contrast, and that we appreciate its genuine chasteness the more, because we have nothing similar to it in our own vernacular literature.
MY DAUGHTER JANE.
Eccleshall version, played as a game by the schoolgirls. See the Nursery Rhymes of England, p. 114.
_Suitors._ Here come two dukes all out of Spain, A courting to your daughter Jane.
_Mother._ My daughter Jane, she is so young, She can't abide your flattering tongue.
_Suitor._ Let her be young or let her be old, It is the price, she must be sold Either for silver or for gold. So, fare you well, my lady gay, For I must turn another way.
_Mother._ Turn back, turn back, you Spanish knight, And rub your spurs till they be bright.
_Suitor._ My spurs they are of a costliest wrought, And in this town they were not bought; Nor in this town they won't be sold, Neither for silver nor for gold. So, fare you well, my lady gay, For I must turn another way.
Through the kitchen, and through the hall, And take the fairest of them all; The fairest is, as I can see, Pretty Jane, come here to me.
Now I've got my pretty fair maid, Now I've got my pretty fair maid To dance along with me— To dance along with me!
There is a different version in Cambridgeshire, but the girl recollects it so imperfectly, and only two stanzas, that I cannot depend upon their being correct.
Here come three lords dressed all in green, For the sake of your daughter Jane. My daughter Jane she is so young, She learns to talk with a flattering tongue.
Let her be young, or let her be old, For her beauty she must be sold. My mead's not made, my cake's not baked, And you cannot have my daughter Jane.
HEWLEY-PULEY.
The children are seated and the following questions put by one of the party, holding a twisted handkerchief or something of the sort in the hand. The handkerchief was called hewley-puley, and the questions are asked by the child who holds it. If one answered wrongly, a box on the ear with the handkerchief was the consequence; but if they all replied correctly, then the one who broke silence first had that punishment.
Take this! What's this?—Hewley-puley. Where's my share?—About the kite's neck. Where's the kite?—Flown to the wood. Where's the wood?—The fire has burned it. Where's the fire?—The water has quenched it. Where's the water?—The ox has drunk it. Where's the ox?—The butcher has killed it. Where's the butcher?—The rope has hanged him. Where's the rope?—The rat has gnawed it. Where's the rat?—The cat has killed it. Where's the cat?—Behind the church door, cracking pebble-stones and marrow-bones for yours and my supper, and the one who speaks first shall have a box on the ear.
THE DIAMOND RING.
Children sit in a ring or in a line, with their hands placed together palm to palm, and held straight, the little fingers downmost between the knees. One of them is then chosen to represent a servant, who takes a ring, or some other small article as a substitute, between her two palms, which are pressed flat together like those of the rest, and goes round the circle or line, placing her hands into the hands of every player, so that she is enabled to let the ring fall wherever she pleases without detection. After this, she returns to the first child she touched, and with her hands behind her exclaims,—
My lady's lost her diamond ring: I pitch upon you to find it!
The child who is thus addressed must guess who has the ring, and the servant performs the same ceremony with each of the party. They who guess right, escape; but the rest forfeit. Should any one in the ring exclaim, "I have it," she also forfeits; nor must the servant make known who has the ring, until all have guessed, under the same penalty. The forfeits are afterwards cried as usual.
THE POOR SOLDIER.
Children form a half-circle, first choosing one of their number to represent the poor soldier. The chief regulation is that none of the players may use the words, _yes_, _no_, _black_, _white_, or _gray_. The poor soldier traverses the semicircle, thus addressing each player,—
Here's a poor soldier come to town! Have you aught to give him?
The answer must of course be evasive, else there is a fine. He continues, "Have you a pair of trousers [or old coat, shoes, cap, &c.] to give me?" The answer must again be evasive, or else another forfeit. The old soldier then asks: "Well, what colour is it?" The reply must avoid the forbidden colours, or another forfeit is the penalty. Great ingenuity may be exhibited in the manner in which the questions and answers are constructed, and, in the hands of some children, this is a most amusing recreation. The forfeits are of course cried at the end of the game.
THE BRAMBLE-BUSH.
A ring-dance imitation-play, the metrical portion of which is not without a little melody. The bramble-bush is often imaginative, but sometimes represented by a child in the centre of the ring. All join hands, and dance round in a circle, singing,—
Here we go round the bramble-bush, —The bramble-bush, the bramble-bush: Here we go round the bramble-bush On a cold frosty morning!