The Sources and Analogues of 'A Midsummer night's Dream' by Compiled by Frank Sidgwick

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Many old women, that then had more wit than those that are now living and
have less, said that a fairy had gotten her with child; and they bid her be
of good comfort, for the child must needs be fortunate that had so noble a
father as a fairy was, and should work many strange wonders. To be short,
her time grew on, and she was delivered of a man child, who (it should
seem) so rejoiced his father's heart, that every night his mother was
supplied with necessary things that are befitting a woman in child-birth,
so that in no mean manner neither; for there had she rich embroidered
cushions, stools, carpets, coverlets, delicate linen: then for meat she had
capons, chickens, mutton, lamb, pheasant, snite[2], woodcock, partridge,
quail. The gossips liked this fare so well that she never wanted company;
wine had she of all sorts, muskadine, sack, malmsey, claret, white and
bastard; this pleased her neighbours well, so that few that came to see
her, but they had home with them a medicine for the fleas. Sweetmeats too
had they in such abundance that some of their teeth are rotten to this day;
and for music she wanted not, or any other thing she desired.

All praised this honest fairy for his care, and the child for his beauty,
and the mother for a happy woman. In brief, christened he was, at the which
all this good cheer was doubled, which made most of the women so wise, that
they forgot to make themselves unready, and so lay in their clothes; and
none of them next day could remember the child's name but the clerk, and he
may thank his book for it, or else it had been utterly lost. So much for
the birth of little Robin.

OF ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW'S BEHAVIOUR WHEN HE WAS YOUNG

When Robin was grown to six years of age, he was so knavish that all the
neighbours did complain of him; for no sooner was his mother's back turned,
but he was in one knavish action or other, so that his mother was
constrained (to avoid the complaints) to take him with her to market, or
wheresoever she went or rode. But this helped little or nothing, for if he
rode before her, then would he make mouths and ill-favoured faces at those
he met; if he rode behind her, then would he clap his hand on his tail; so
that his mother was weary of the many complaints that came against him, yet
knew she not how to beat him justly for it, because she never saw him do
that which was worthy blows. The complaints were daily so renewed that his
mother promised him a whipping. Robin did not like that cheer, and
therefore, to avoid it, he ran away, and left his mother a heavy woman for
him.

HOW ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW DWELT WITH A TAILOR

After that Robin Good-fellow had gone a great way from his mother's house,
he began to be hungry, and going to a tailor's house, he asked something
for God's sake. The tailor gave him meat, and understanding that he was
masterless, he took him for his man, and Robin so plied his work that he
got his master's love.

On a time his master had a gown to make for a woman, and it was to be done
that night: they both sat up late so that they had done all but setting on
the sleeves by twelve o'clock. This master then being sleepy said, "Robin,
whip thou on the sleeves, and then come thou to bed; I will go to bed
before." "I will," said Robin. So soon as his master was gone, Robin hung
up the gown, and taking both sleeves in his hands, he whipped and lashed
them on the gown. So stood he till the morning that his master came down:
his master seeing him stand in that fashion asked him what he did? "Why,"
quoth he, "as you bid me, whip on the sleeves." "Thou rogue," said his
master, "I did mean that thou shouldst have set them on quickly and
slightly." "I would you had said so," said Robin, "for then had I not lost
all this sleep." To be short, his master was fain to do the work, but ere
he had made an end of it, the woman came for it, and with a loud voice
chafed for her gown. The tailor, thinking to please her, bid Robin fetch
the remnants that they left yesterday (meaning thereby meat that was left);
but Robin, to cross his master the more, brought down the remnants of the
cloth that was left of the gown. At the sight of this, his master looked
pale, but the woman was glad, saying, "I like this breakfast so well, that
I will give you a pint of wine to it." She sent Robin for the wine, but he
never returned again to his master.

WHAT HAPPENED TO ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW AFTER HE WENT FROM THE TAILOR

After Robin had travelled a good day's journey from his master's house he
sat down, and being weary he fell asleep. No sooner had slumber taken full
possession of him, and closed his long-opened eyelids, but he thought he
saw many goodly proper personages in antic measures tripping about him, and
withal he heard such music as he thought that Orpheus, that famous Greek
fiddler (had he been alive), compared to one of these, had been as infamous
as a Welsh harper that plays for cheese and onions. As delights commonly
last not long, so did those end sooner than he would willingly they should
have done; and for very grief he awaked, and found by him lying a scroll,
wherein was written these lines following in golden letters.

Robin, my only son and heir,
How to live take thou no care:
By nature thou hast cunning shifts,
Which I'll increase with other gifts.
Wish what thou wilt, thou shalt it have;
And for to vex both fool and knave,
Thou hast the power to change thy shape,
To horse, to hog, to dog, to ape.
Transformed thus, by any means
See none thou harm'st but knaves and queans;
But love thou those that honest be,
And help them in necessity.
Do thus, and all the world shall know
The pranks of Robin Good-fellow;
For by that name thou called shalt be
To age's last posterity.
If thou observe my just command,
One day thou shalt see Fairy Land.
This more I give: who tells thy pranks
From those that hear them shall have thanks.

Robin having read this was very joyful, yet longed he to know whether he
had this power or not, and to try it he wished for some meat: presently[3]
it was before him. Then wished he for beer and wine: he straightway had it.
This liked him well, and because he was weary, he wished himself a horse:
no sooner was his wish ended, but he was transformed, and seemed a horse of
twenty pound price, and leaped and curveted as nimble as if he had been in
stable at rack and manger a good month. Then wished he himself a dog, and
was so: then a tree, and was so: so from one thing to another, till he was
certain and well assured that he could change himself to any thing
whatsoever.

HOW ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW SERVED A CLOWNISH FELLOW

Robin Good-fellow going over a field met with a clownish fellow, to whom he
spake in this manner. "Friend," quoth he, "what is a clock?" "A thing,"
answered the clown, "that shows the time of the day." "Why then," said
Robin Good-fellow, "be thou a clock, and tell me what time of the day it
is." "I owe thee not so much service," answered he again, "but because thou
shalt think thyself beholden to me, know that it is the same time of the
day as it was yesterday at this time."

These cross-answers vexed Robin Good-fellow, so that in himself he vowed to
be revenged of him, which he did in this manner.

Robin Good-fellow turned himself into a bird, and followed this fellow, who
was going into a field a little from that place to catch a horse that was
at grass. The horse being wild ran over dyke and hedge, and the fellow
after; but to little purpose, for the horse was too swift for him. Robin
was glad of this occasion, for now or never was the time to put his revenge
in action.

Presently Robin shaped himself like to the horse that the fellow followed,
and so stood before the fellow: presently the fellow took hold of him and
got on his back, but long had he not rid, but with a stumble he hurled this
churlish clown to the ground, that he almost broke his neck; yet took he
not this for a sufficient revenge for the cross-answers he had received,
but stood still and let the fellow mount him once more.

In the way the fellow was to ride was a great plash of water of a good
depth: through this must he of necessity ride. No sooner was he in the
midst of it, but Robin Good-fellow left him with nothing but a pack-saddle
betwixt his legs, and in the shape of a fish swam to the shore, and ran
away laughing, _ho, ho, hoh!_[4] leaving the poor fellow almost drowned.

HOW ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW HELPED TWO LOVERS AND DECEIVED AN OLD MAN

Robin going by a wood heard two lovers make great lamentation, because they
were hindered from enjoying each other by a cruel old lecher, who would not
suffer this loving couple to marry. Robin, pitying them, went to them and
said: "I have heard your complaints, and do pity you; be ruled by me, and I
will see that you shall have both your hearts' content, and that suddenly
if you please." After some amazement the maiden said, "Alas! sir, how can
that be? My uncle, because I will not grant to his lust, is so straight
over me, and so oppresseth me with work night and day, that I have not so
much time as to drink or speak with this young man, whom I love above all
men living." "If your work be all that hindereth you," said Robin, "I will
see that done: ask me not how, nor make any doubt of the performance; I
will do it. Go you with your love: for twenty-four hours I will free you.
In that time marry or do what you will. If you refuse my proffered kindness
never look to enjoy your wished-for happiness. I love true lovers, honest
men, good fellows, good housewives, good meat, good drink, and all things
that good is, but nothing that is ill; for my name is Robin Good-fellow,
and that you shall see that I have power to perform what I have undertaken,
see what I can do." Presently he turned himself into a horse, and away he
ran: at the sight of which they were both amazed, but better considering
with themselves, they both determined to make good use of their time, and
presently they went to an old friar, who presently married them. They paid
him, and went their way. Where they supped and lay, I know not, but surely
they liked their lodging well the next day.

Robin, when that he came near the old man's house, turned himself into the
shape of the young maid, and entered the house, where, after much chiding,
he fell to the work that the maid had to do, which he did in half the time
that another could do it in. The old man, seeing the speed he made, thought
that she had some meeting that night (for he took Robin Good-fellow for his
niece); therefore he gave him order for other work, that was too much for
any one to do in one night; Robin did that in a trice, and played many mad
pranks beside ere the day appeared.

In the morning he went to the two lovers to their bed-side, and bid God
give them joy, and told them all things went well, and that ere night he
would bring them ten pounds of her uncle's to begin the world with. They
both thanked him, which was all the requital that he looked for, and being
therewith well contented he went his way laughing.

Home went he to the old man, who then was by, and marvelled how the work
was done so soon. Robin, seeing that, said: "Sir, I pray marvel not, for a
greater wonder than that this night hath happened to me." "Good niece, what
is that?" said the old man. "This, Sir; but I shame to speak it, yet I
will: weary with work, I slept, and did dream that I consented to that
which you have so often desired of me (you know what it is I mean), and
methought you gave me as a reward ten pounds, with your consent to marry
that young man that I have loved so long." "Didst thou dream so? thy dream
I will make good, for under my handwriting I give my free consent to marry
him, or whom thou dost please to marry (and withal writ); and for the ten
pounds, go but into the out-barn, and I will bring it thee presently. How
sayest thou," said the old lecher; "wilt thou?" Robin with silence did seem
to grant, and went toward the barn. The old man made haste, told out his
money, and followed.

Being come thither, he hurled the money on the ground, saying, "This is the
most pleasing bargain that ever I made;" and going to embrace Robin, Robin
took him up in his arms and carried him forth; first drew him through a
pond to cool his hot blood, then did he carry him where the young married
couple were, and said, "Here is your uncle's consent under his hand; then,
here is the ten pounds he gave you, and there is your uncle: let him deny
it if he can."

The old man, for fear of worse usage, said all was true. "Then am I as good
as my word," said Robin, and so went, away laughing. The old man knew
himself duly punished, and turned his hatred into love, and thought
afterward as well of them as if she had been his own. The second part shall
show many incredible things done by Robin Good-fellow (or otherwise called
Hob-goblin) and his companions, by turning himself into divers sundry
shapes.

THE SECOND PART OF ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW, COMMONLY CALLED HOB-GOBLIN

HOW ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW HELPED A MAID TO WORK

Robin Good-fellow oftentimes would in the night visit farmers' houses, and
help the maids to break hemp, to bolt[5], to dress flax, and to spin and do
other work, for he was excellent in everything. One night he came to a
farmer's house, where there was a good handsome maid: this maid having much
work to do, Robin one night did help her, and in six hours did bolt more
than she could have done in twelve hours. The maid wondered the next day
how her work came, and to know the doer, she watched the next night that
did follow. About twelve of the clock in came Robin, and fell to breaking
of hemp, and for to delight himself he sung this mad song.

And can the physician make sick men well?
And can the magician a fortune divine?
Without lily, germander and sops-in-wine?
With sweet-brier
And bon-fire,
And strawberry wire,
And columbine.

Within and out, in and out, round as a ball,
With hither and thither, as straight as a line,
With lily, germander and sops-in-wine.
With sweet-brier,
And bon-fire,
And strawberry wire,
And columbine.

When Saturn did live, there lived no poor,
The king and the beggar with roots did dine,
With lily, germander and sops-in-wine.
With sweet-brier,
And bon-fire,
And strawberry wire,
And columbine.

The maid, seeing him bare in clothes, pitied him, and against the next
night provided him a waistcoat. Robin, coming the next night to work, as he
did before, espied the waistcoat, whereat he started and said--

Because thou lay'st me, himpen, hampen,[6]
I will neither bolt nor stampen;
'Tis not your garments new or old
That Robin loves: I feel no cold.
Had you left me milk or cream,
You should have had a pleasing dream:
Because you left no drop or crumb,
Robin never more will come.

So went he away laughing, _ho, ho, hoh!_ The maid was much grieved and
discontented at his anger: for ever after she was fain to do her work
herself without the help of Robin Good-fellow.

HOW ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW LED A COMPANY OF FELLOWS OUT OF THEIR WAY

A company of young men having been making merry with their sweethearts,
were at their coming home to come over a heath. Robin Good-fellow, knowing
of it, met them, and to make some pastime, he led them up and down the
heath a whole night, so that they could not get out of it; for he went
before them in the shape of a walking fire, which they all saw and followed
till the day did appear: then Robin left them, and at his departure spake
these words--

Get you home, you merry lads!
Tell your mammies and your dads,
And all those that news desire,
How you saw a walking fire.
Wenches, that do smile and lisp
Use to call me Willy Wisp.
If that you but weary he,
It is sport alone for me.
Away: unto your houses go
And I'll go laughing _ho, ho, hoh!_

The fellows were glad that he was gone, for they were all in a great fear
that he would have done them some mischief.

HOW ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW SERVED A LECHEROUS GALLANT

Robin always did help those that suffered wrong, and never would hurt any
but those that did wrong to others. It was his chance one day to go through
a field where he heard one call for help: he, going near where he heard the
cry, saw a lusty gallant that would have forced a young maiden to his lust;
but the maiden in no wise would yield, which made her cry for help. Robin
Good-fellow, seeing of this, turned himself into the shape of a hare, and
so ran between the lustful gallant's legs. This gallant, thinking to have
taken him, he presently turned himself into a horse, and so perforce
carried away this gallant on his back. The gentleman cried out for help,
for he thought that the devil had been come to fetch him for his
wickedness; but his crying was in vain, for Robin did carry him into a
thick hedge, and there left him so pricked and scratched, that he more
desired a plaister for his pain than a wench for his pleasure. Thus the
poor maid was freed from this ruffian, and Robin Good-fellow, to see this
gallant so tame, went away laughing, _ho, ho, hoh!_

HOW ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW TURNED A MISERABLE USURER TO A GOOD HOUSE-KEEPER

In this country of ours there was a rich man dwelled, who to get wealth
together was so sparing that he could not find in his heart to give his
belly food enough. In the winter he never would make so much fire as would
roast a black-pudding, for he found it more profitable to sit by other
men's. His apparel was of the fashion that none did wear; for it was such
as did hang at a broker's stall, till it was as weather-beaten as an old
sign. This man for his covetousness was so hated of all his neighbours,
that there was not one that gave him a good word. Robin Good-fellow grieved
to see a man of such wealth do so little good, and therefore practised to
better him in this manner.

One night the usurer being in bed, Robin in the shape of a night-raven[7]
came to the window, and there did beat with his wings, and croaked in such
manner that this old usurer thought he should have presently died for fear.
This was but a preparation to what he did intend; for presently after he
appeared before him at his bed's feet, in the shape of a ghost, with a
torch in his hand. At the sight of this the old usurer would have risen out
of his bed, and have leaped out of the window, but he was stayed by Robin
Good-fellow, who spake to him thus--

If thou dost stir out of thy bed,
I do vow to strike thee dead.
I do come to do thee good;
Recall thy wits and starkled[8] blood.
The money which thou up dost store
In soul and body makes thee poor.
Do good with money while you may;
Thou hast not long on earth to stay.
Do good, I say, or day and night
I hourly thus will thee affright.
Think on my words, and so farewell,
For being bad I live in hell.

Having said thus he vanished away and left this usurer in great terror of
mind; and for fear of being frighted again with this ghost, he turned very
liberal, and lived amongst his neighbours as an honest man should do.

HOW ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW LOVED A WEAVER'S WIFE,
AND HOW THE WEAVER WOULD HAVE DROWNED HIM

One day Robin Good-fellow, walking through the street, found at the door
sitting a pretty woman: this woman was wife to the weaver, and was
a-winding of quills[9] for her husband. Robin liked her so well, that for
her sake he became servant to her husband, and did daily work at the loom;
but all the kindness that he showed was but lost, for his mistress would
show him no favour, which made him many times to exclaim against the whole
sex in satirical songs; and one day being at work he sung this, to the tune
of _Rejoice Bag-pipes_--

Why should my love now wax
Unconstant, wavering, fickle, unstaid?
With nought can she me tax:
I ne'er recanted what I once said.
I now do see, as nature fades,
And all her works decay,
So women all, wives, widows, maids,
From bad to worse do stray.

As herbs, trees, roots, and plants
In strength and growth are daily less,
So all things have their wants:
The heavenly signs move and digress;
And honesty in women's hearts
Hath not her former being:
Their thoughts are ill, like other parts,
Nought else in them's agreeing.

I sooner thought thunder
Had power o'er the laurel wreath,
Than she, women's wonder,
Such perjured thoughts should live to breathe.
They all hyena-like will weep,
When that they would deceive:
Deceit in them doth lurk and sleep,
Which makes me thus to grieve.

Young man's delight, farewell;
Wine, women, game, pleasure, adieu:
Content with me shall dwell;
I'll nothing trust but what is true.
Though she were false, for her I'll pray;
Her falsehood made me blest:
I will renew from this good day
My life by sin opprest.

Moved with this song and other complaints of his, she at last did fancy
him, so that the weaver did not like that Robin should be so saucy with his
wife, and therefore gave him warning to be gone, for he would keep him no
longer. This grieved this loving couple to part one from the other, which
made them to make use of the time that they had. The weaver one day coming
in, found them a-kissing: at this he said [nothing] but vowed in himself to
be revenged of his man that night following. Night being come, the weaver
went to Robin's bed, and took him out of it (as he then thought) and ran
apace to the river side to hurl Robin in; but the weaver was deceived, for
Robin, instead of himself, had laid in his bed a sack full of yarn: it was
that that the weaver carried to drown. The weaver standing by the river
side said:--Now will I cool your hot blood, Master Robert, and if you
cannot swim the better you shall sink and drown, With that he hurled the
sack in, thinking that it had been Robin Good-fellow. Robin, standing
behind him, said--

For this your kindness, master, I you thank:
Go swim yourself; I'll stay upon the bank.

With that Robin pushed him in, and went laughing away, _ho, ho, hoh!_

HOW ROBIN GOOD-FELLOW WENT IN THE SHAPE OF A FIDDLER TO A WEDDING,
AND OF THE SPORT THAT HE HAD THERE

On a time there was a great wedding, to which there went many young lusty
lads and pretty lasses. Robin Good-fellow longing not to be out of action,
shaped himself like unto a fiddler, and with his crowd under his arm went
amongst them, and was a very welcome man. There played he whilst they
danced, and took as much delight in seeing them, as they did in hearing
him. At dinner he was desired to sing a song, which he did to the tune of
_Watton Town's End_[10].

THE SONG

It was a country lad
That fashions strange would see,
And he came to a vaulting school,
Where tumblers used to be:
He liked his sport so well,
That from it he'd not part:
His doxy to him still did cry,
Come, buss thine own sweetheart.

They liked his gold so well,
That they were both content,
That he that night with his sweetheart
Should pass in merriment.
To bed they then did go;
Full well he knew his part,
Where he with words, and eke with deeds,
Did buss his own sweetheart.

Long were they not in bed,
But one knocked at the door,
And said, Up, rise, and let me in:
This vexed both knave and whore.
He being sore perplexed
From bed did lightly start;
No longer then could he endure
To buss his own sweetheart.

With tender steps he trod,
To see if he could spy
The man that did him so molest;
Which he with heavy eye
Had soon beheld, and said,
Alas! my own sweetheart,
I now do doubt, if e'er we buss,
It must be in a cart.

At last the bawd arose
And opened the door,
And saw Discretion cloth'd in rug,
Whose office hates a whore.
He mounted up the stairs,
Being cunning in his art;
With little search at last he found
My youth and his sweetheart.

He having wit at will,
Unto them both did say,
I will not hear them speak one word
Watchmen, with them away!
And cause they loved so well
'Tis pity they should part.
Away with them to new Bride-well;
There buss your own sweetheart.

His will it was fulfilled,
And there they had the law;
And whilst that they did nimbly spin,
The hemp he needs must taw.
He ground, he thumped, he grew
So cunning in his art,
He learnt the trade of beating hemp
By bussing his sweetheart.

But yet, he still would say,
If I could get release
To see strange fashions I'll give o'er,
And henceforth live in peace,
The town where I was bred,
And think by my desart
To come no more into this place
For bussing my sweetheart.

They all liked his song very well, and said that the young man had but
ill-luck. Thus continued he playing and singing songs till candle-light:
then he began to play his merry tricks in this manner. First he put out the
candles, and then, being dark, he struck the men good boxes on the ears:
they, thinking it had been those that did sit next them, fell a-fighting
one with the other; so that there was not one of them but had either a
broken head or a bloody nose. At this Robin laughed heartily. The women did
not escape him, for the handsomest he kissed; the other he pinched, and
made them scratch one the other, as if they had been cats. Candles being
lighted again, they all were friends, and fell again to dancing, and after
to supper.

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