Context:

Location: Bulby, Lincolnshire, England (TF0526)
Year: Col. 1913 to 1916
Time of Occurrence: [Not given]
Collective Name: [Not given]

Source:

R.J.E.Tiddy
The Mummers' Play
Oxford, University Press, 1923, pp.237-240

Cast:

Text:

Tom Fool

In comes I as never bin before,
There 's many more actors at the door;
Some can laugh and some can sing:
By your consent they shall walk in.

Soldier

In comes I the Recruiting Sergeant,
I've arrived here just now
With orders from the King,
To test all you jolly fellows
That follows horse or plough.
Tinkers, Tailors, Pedlars, Nailers,
Does any one advance?
More I hear the fiddle play
The better I could dance.

Farmer's Boy

In comes I the Farmer's Boy,
Do n't you see my whip in hand?
Straight I go from end to end,
Scarcely make a baulk or bend,
To my horses I attend
As they go marching round the end,
Gee woa!

[Lady Bright and Gay] [? sings.]

Behold a lady bright and gay,
Sad fortunes and sweet charms,
So scornful I've been torn away
Right out of my true love's arms;
He swears if I won't wed with him,
As you may understand,
He'll list for a soldier
And go to some foreign land.

Soldier

Come all young men that's a mind for listing,
List and do not be afraid,
Your hats shall be neatly decked with ribbons
Likewise this pretty fair maid.

Old Jane

In comes I old Jane
My neck as long as a crane
As I go dib dub over the meadows
Seeking all the old maids & widows.
Long time I've sought thee Tom
And now I've found thee,
And pray, Tommie, take thy Charlie.

{She hands him a wooden doll.}

Tom Fool

It's not mine and I won't have it!

Old Jane

Look at its eyes, nose, cheek and chin,
It 's the picture of you as ever it can grin.
Take a spoon and feed it.

Tom Fool

Get out of my sight: I'll talk to you tomorrow

Beelzebub

In comes I Beelzebub,
Over my shoulder I carry my club,
In my hand a whitleather dripping pan.
Do n't you think I ain't a funny old man?
What old woman can stand before me?

Old Jane

I can.
My head 's made of brass,
My body's made of steel,
My fingers are made of knucklebone,
No man can make me feel.

Beelzebub

If your head 's made of brass
If your body's made of steel,
If your fingers are made of knucklebone,
I can make you feel.
I'll slash you, slash you
To small mince pies
And send you to Jameacas
To make mince pies.

{Beelzebub knocks Jane down on The floor.}

Tom Fool

O Belze, O Belze, what hast thou done?
Thou killed the finest young woman under the sun
Five pounds for a doctor.

Beelzebub

Ten pounds to keep him away.

Tom Fool

Fifteen pounds.
He must come in a case like this.

Doctor {outside}

Wo, boy, take hold of my 'orse; hold him by his tail.
He's only a donkey: take care he doesn't kick.
{He comes in}
In comes I the doctor.

Tom Fool

You the doctor?

Doctor

Yes, I'm the doctor.

Tom Fool

What pains can you cure ?

Doctor

Ypsey, Pipsy, Palsy, Gout,
Pains within and pains without,
Heal the sick, cure the lame
Almost rise a dead man to life again.

Tom Fool

Well, Doctor, is them all the cures you can do?

Doctor

No: when I was up down under in York
I cured old Mrs. Cork.
She tumbled upstairs:
empty tea-pot half full of barley-meal
grazed her shin again her elbow,
made her stocking bleed
and I set that.

Tom Fool

Well, Doctor, try your experience on this young woman.

Doctor

I'll feel of her pulse.

{He feels her pulse and then the back of her neck.}

Tom Fool

Is that where you feel of a young woman's pulse?

Doctor

Yes: where would you have me feel?

Tom Fool

Why, back of the neck underneath her elbow of course.

Doctor {after feeling her again}

She's in a very low way, very low indeed!
She won't get any lower than I'll look for her.
Been trying a new experiment.

Tom Fool

What 's that, Doctor?

Doctor

Swallowed the donkey and cart last night,
and the wheels are n't digested.
But the young woman's not dead: she 's only in a trance.
Rise up and let 's have a dance.
If she can dance, we can sing,
Rise her up and let's begin.

{Then they all sing.}

[All]

Good master and good mistress
As you sit round the fire
Remember us poor plough boys
Ploughs through mud and mire.
The mire it is so wet and deep,
We travel but far and near;
So what you please into our box
And a pitcher of your best beer!

Tom Fool

Be steady about your beer;
we've nought in the hopper yet.

Farmer's Boy

What do you want in the hopper, Tommy ?

Tom Fool

A good old piece of pork-pie, mince-pie;
I'm as hungry as you're dry.
Go round with your hat & so collect money.

{Then they all sing.}

[All]

Here's a health unto our master,
Our mistress also,
Likewise the little children
Around the table go:
Let 's hope that they may never want
While nation [Note 1] does provide
Us happiness and plentiness
And attend to the fireside.
You hear our song is ended.
{Exit Tom Fool.}
And you see our fool is gone:
We make it our business
To follow him along:
And we thank you for civility
And for what you gave us here:
We wish you all good night
And another Happy New Year

Notes:

Tiddy's Notes:

Note 1: = nature?

Peter Millington's Notes:

Scanned text downloaded from http://members.tripod.co.uk/Sandmartyn/mum28.htm

File History:

1999-01-15 - Scanned by Martin Collins
1999-11-09 - Encoded by Peter Millington
2021-01-15 - TEI-encoded by Peter Millington

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