The Knight of the Burning Pestle

by Francis Beaumont

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Last Updated September 5, 2023.

The Knight of the Burning Pestle is a 1607 satirical pastiche written by Francis Beaumont. It is considered the first parody written in English, as it makes fun of two Elizabethan chivalric romances: The Four Prentices of London by Thomas Heywood and The Shoemaker's Holiday by Thomas Dekker.

The play explores two plot-lines. The main plot centers on a grocer who, alongside his family and his servants, goes to see a play. The play is titled “The London Merchant,” and it is a classical chivalric romance. Unsatisfied with the play’s plot, the grocer stands up and confronts the actors, accusing them of unjustly treatment of the middle class and the nobles.

Citizen: That you have no good meaning:
this seven years there hath been plays at this house,
I have observed it, you have still girds at citizens;
and now you call your play "The London Merchant."
Down with your title, boy!
Down with your title!

Thus, the grocer and his wife propose a unique and interesting solution and demand of the cast to include a new character into the play. The character will be played by Ralph—the grocer’s apprentice, and he will be a heroic knight errand.

Citizen: I do not like that; but I will have a citizen,
and he shall be of my own trade.

Citizen: 'Tis all one for that; I will have a grocer,
and he shall do admirable things.

The subplot tells the romantic love story of Jasper and Luce. Their families, especially Luce’s father, disapprove of their relationship, and, typical of all chivalric romances, Jasper and Luce must fight for their love.

Luce: Why, how now, friend? struck with my father's thunder!
Jasper: Struck, and struck dead, unless the remedy
Be full of speed and virtue; I am now,
What I expected long, no more your father's.
Luce. But mine.
Jasper: But yours, and only yours, I am;
That's all I have to keep me from the statute . . .

Jasper: . . . Shall I but see my love again? Oh, no!
She will not deign to look upon her butcher,
Nor is it fit she should; yet I must venture.
Oh, Chance, or Fortune, or whate'er thou art,
That men adore for powerful, hear my cry,
And let me loving live, or losing die!

Ralph, on the other hand, is trying to fit his new character into the story and even manages to give a decent performance, thus proving his resourcefulness, and satisfying his master’s demands.

Ralph: My beloved squire, and George my dwarf,
I charge you that from henceforth
you never call me by any other name but
"the right courteous and valiant Knight of the Burning Pestle;"
and that you never call any female
by the name of a woman or wench, but “fair lady,"
if she have her desires, if not, "distressed damsel;"
that you call all forests and heaths "deserts," and all horses "palfreys."

The play has many interesting characters that Beaumont often mocks, mainly because they all have exaggerated personality traits. Through his stereotypical characters, Beaumont delivers the message of The Knight of the Burning Pestle, as he encourages the readers and the theater audience to be more carefree and enjoy all of life’s merits.

Mr. Merrythought: Your daughter! what a stir's here wi' your daughter?
Let her go, think no more on her, but sing loud.
If both my sons were on the gallows, I would sing,
(Sings)
Down, down, down they fall;
Down, and arise they never shall.

Both the main and sub plot have their own separate resolutions. In the main plot,...

(This entire section contains 757 words.)

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the grocer’s wishes are honored and his “knight” dies a heroic death. The sub-plot, or “The London Merchant,” has a happy ending, in which the merchant asks for forgiveness for his wrongdoings and allows his daughter to marry Jasper, finally accepting their love. Thus,The Knight of the Burning Pestle has a satisfying end for everyone.

Venturewell: Oh, Master Merrythought, I'm come to ask you
Forgiveness for the wrongs I offered you,
And your most virtuous son! they're infinite;
Yet my contrition shall be more than they:
I do confess my hardness broke his heart.

Ralph: . . . Farewell, all you good boys in merry London!
Ne'er shall we more upon Shrove-Tuesday meet,
And pluck down houses of iniquity;—
My pain increaseth;—I shall never more
Hold open, whilst another pumps both legs,
Nor daub a satin gown with rotten eggs;
Set up a stake, oh, never more I shall!
I die! fly, fly, my soul, to Grocers' Hall!