d by Sir Nicholas L'Estrange (MSS. Harl. 6395):
"Shakespeare was godfather to one of Ben Jonson's children, and after
the christ'ning, being in a deepe study, Jonson came to cheere him up,
and ask't him why he was so melancholy. 'No faith, Ben (sayes he), not
I; but I have been considering a great while what should be the fittest
gift for me to bestow upon my godchild, and I have resolv'd at last.' 'I
pr'y thee, what?' sayes he. 'I' faith, Ben, I'le e'en give him a douzen
good Latin spoones, and thou shalt translate them.'" "Shakespeare," says
Mr. Thoms,[704] "willing to show his wit, if not his wealth, gave a
dozen spoons, not of silver, but of latten, a name formerly used to
signify a mixed metal resembling brass, as being the most appropriate
gift to the child of a father so learned." In Middleton's "Chaste Maid
of Cheapside," 1620:

"_2 Gossip._ What has he given her? What is it, gossip?

_3 Gossip._ A fair, high-standing cup, and two great 'postle
spoons, one of them gilt."

[704] "Anecdotes and Traditions," 1839, p. 3.

And Beaumont and Fletcher, in the "Noble Gentleman" (v. 1):

"I'll be a gossip, Beaufort,
I have an odd apostle spoon."

The gossip's feast, held in honor of those who were associated in the
festivities of a christening, was a very ancient English custom, and is
frequently mentioned by dramatists of the Elizabethan age. The term
gossip or godsip, a Saxon word signifying _cognata ex parte dei_, or
godmother, is well defined by Richard Verstegan, in his "Restitution of
Decayed Intelligence." He says: "Our Christian ancestors, understanding
a spiritual affinity to grow between the parents and such as undertooke
for the child at baptism, called each other by the name of _godsib_,
which is as much as to say that they were _sib_ together, that is, of
_kin_ together through God. And the childe, in like manner, called such
his godfathers or godmothers."

As might be expected, it is often alluded to by Shakespeare. Thus, in
the "Comedy of Errors" (v. 1), we read:

"_Abbess._ Thirty-three years have I but gone in travail
Of you, my sons: and till this present hour
My heavy burthen ne'er delivered.
The duke, my husband, and my children both,
And you the calendars of their nativity,
Go to a gossip's feast, and go with me;
After so long grief, such festivity!

_Duke._ With all my heart I'll gossip at this feast."

And again, in "A Midsummer-N