This nickname seems to have had a long reign in the popular mouth, for we find, towards the close of the sixteenth century, Haywood writing the following epigram:—
To a justice a juggler did complaine,
Of one that dispraised his legerdemain.
What’s thy name? sayd the Justice: Dawson, sayd hee:
Is thy father alive? Nay, dead, sir, pardee:
Then thou shalt no more be Dau’s son, a clere case,
Thou art Daw thyself now in thy father’s place.[[76]]
Passing by ‘Absolom,’ ‘Solomon,’ or ‘Salamon,’ ‘Job’ and ‘Jobson,’ the story of Daniel would of course be common. This has bequeathed us itself in propria persona, and ‘Dancock,’ ‘Dankin,’ ‘Danett,’ and ‘Dannett.’ With regard to ‘Dans,’ ‘Dance,’ ‘Danse,’ and ‘Danson,’ there is a little difficulty. We have to remember that ‘Dan,’ like ‘Dame,’[[77]] figured prominently in early days as a simple title of respect. They were but the ‘Don’ and ‘Donna’ which, in one form or another, still exist in Italy, France, and Spain. ‘Dame,’ from domina, meant ‘mistress.’ ‘Don,’ from dominus, meant ‘master.’ To rank and age the two terms were equally applied. A ‘dame’s school’ still preserves this connexion of ideas. ‘As with the mistress so with the maid,’ is in early Bibles ‘As with the dame so with the maid.’ Thus there seems to be little doubt that our ‘Dames’ and ‘Damsons’ are so sprung. Why then should not ‘Dans’ and ‘Danse’ and ‘Danson’ be the masculine form? Chaucer, in his Canterbury Tales, represents the host as asking the Monk—
But, by my trothe, I cannot tell your name:
Whether shall I call you my lord Dan John,