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  • Title: An Humorous Day's Mirth (Quarto 1, 1599)
  • Editor: Eleanor Lowe
  • Coordinating editor: Brett Greatley-Hirsch
  • General textual editor: Helen Ostovich

    • ISBN: 978-1-55058-513-1

    Copyright Digital Renaissance Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-profit purposes; for all other uses contact the Editor.
    Author: George Chapman
    Editor: Eleanor Lowe
    Peer Reviewed

    An Humorous Day's Mirth (Quarto 1, 1599)

    An humorous
    for mee, I will eate thee, and I will deuour thee in spite of
    Fortunes spite, choake I, or burst I, mistres for thy sake, to
    end my life eate I this creame and cake.
    1530Cat. So he hath done, his Melancholy is well eased I
    warrant you.
    Host. Gods my life Gentlemen, who hath beene at this
    creame?
    Lab. Creame, had you creame? where is your creame?
    1535Ile spend my penny at your creame.
    Cat. Why, did not you eate this creame?
    Lab. Talke not to me of creame, for such vaine meate I
    do despise as food, my stomack dies drowned in the cream
    boules of my mistres eyes.
    1540Cat. Nay stay Labesha.
    Lab. No not I, not I.
    Host. O he is ashamed yfayth: but I will tell thee howe
    thou shalt make him mad indeed, say his mistres for loue
    of him hath drowned her selfe.
    1545Cat. Sblood, that will make him hang himselfe.
    Exeunt omnes.
    Enter the Queene, Lemot, and all the rest of the
    lordes, and the Countesse: Lemots
    arme in a scarffe.
    1550Lemot. haue at them yfayth with a lame counterfeite
    humor: ake on rude arme, I care not for thy paine, I got it
    nobly in the kings defence, and in the gardiance of my faire
    Queenes right.
    Qu. O tell me sweet Lemot, how fares the king? or what
    1555his right was that thou didst defend?
    Lem. That you shall know when other things are told.
    Lab. Keepe not the Queene too long without her
    longing.
    Foyes. No, for I tell you it is a daungerous thing.
    1560Coun. Little care cruell men how women long.
    Le. What would you haue me then put poyson in my
    breath, and burne the eares of my attentiue Queene.
    Quee.
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