The only known copy of the Hussie “First Folio” of c. 1625 exists in fragments in the Bodelian Library (MS. Eng. misc. c. 413). No publishing details are available, provenance is unknown.
The uncertain glory of an April day,
Which now shows all the beauty of the sun,
Limns a youth upon which no name did weigh
These thirteen springs. That burden will be one
He will take up this morn, and so in this
This gentle youth becomes a gentleman,
By taking on the name that’s rightfully his -
A token that betokes a divine plan.
Where others, who did Fate give name at birth
Can have no say in what their fortune tells
(Whether lives of misery or of mirth),
This youth may choose his Heavens, or his Hells.
He stands now at the door of childhood’s room,
Now Let him learn his name, and learn his doom.
Boy: Letters are appearing! As if drawn by
Some fiery hand - and now I ken they spell
The name “Zoosmell, Lord of Dung”? Fie on this,
Fie! A shallow jest - better be the names
Of rustics than nobility besmirched.
Boy: More words appear, these pleasing to the eye -
I’ll be “John Egbert”, a name for saints and
Kings, I trow. Now to take up arms and go,
But where among these cakes and bills for rude
Entertainments could they be? In this drawer?
Boy: No arms. Damn my addled mind: they rest
Beneath the cake inside yon magic chest.
Voice: Remove CAKE from MAGIC CHEST
Boy: No antics or hilarity for now,
I must needs store these in my Sylladex.
What else lies here? Some Gyves that feign to lock,
A Blade that cannot wound, a Hat, a Mask,
Tricks to mimic smoke or blood, a Treatise
On japes, a Volume on the life of a
Man of wisdom who traffick’d in dark arts.
All this I fain would take ‘gainst future need,
For now mayhaps this smoke will show it’s meed.
Boy: Alas! my arms I now can’t bring to hand!
This Sylladex is like unto the sack
That peddlers use to cart about their wares –
And all that they have pack’d must be unlade
‘Ere that which they pack’d first will come to light.
No matter now: anon I’ll set it right.
Boy: No spirits be as facinerious
As these. Though fell be their actions and their
Passions run to black, these hell-kites’ exploits
Enthrall me and I can’t abjure their charms.
How now, a note? My father left this here,
A birthday gift to mark my thirteenth year.
dededos
theartofmadeline
snowghoul
ellievsbear
tangentwithtanner
titsay
origamiaround
