“His head was small, his hair long on the same; One ear was bigger than the other, far; His forehead full, his eyes shone like a flame, His nose flat, and his beard small, yet grew square. His lips but little, and his wit was less. But wide of mouth, for truth, I must confess. His middle thick. as I have said before; Indifferent thighs and knees, but very short, His legs be square, a foot long and no more; Whose very presence made the King much sport. And a pearl spoon he still wore in his cap, To eat his meat he loved and got by hap. A pretty little foot; but a big hand, On which he ever wore rings rich and good. Backward, well made as any in that land, Though thick; _and he did come of gentle blood_.” Of as gentle blood as Jamie was, he was “caught up” for the King’s sport. This fool Camber, with no wit of his own, yet gave rise to the well-known proverb, “Hit or miss.” King James, to cure the fool’s obesity, sent him to sea, under the illustrious guardianship of the Earl of Huntley, “at whose departure,” says Armin, “they discharged ordinance, as one that departed from the land with the King’s favour. Jamie, hearing the ordinance go off, would ask, ‘What do they now?’ ‘Marry!’ says the Earl, ‘they shoot at our enemies.’ ‘Oh!’ says Camber; ‘hit, I pray God!’ Again they discharge. ‘What do they now?’ quoth he. ‘Marry, now the enemy shoot at us.’ ‘Oh, miss, I pray God!’ says Jemmy Camber. So ever after it was a jest in the Scottish court, ‘Hit or miss, quoth Jemmy Camber.’... And long time after, this jest was in memory; yea I heard it myself, and some will talk of it at this day,” says Armin, whose book was published in 1608. Camber was a natural fool who was cheated out of his French crowns, and sometimes of other things, by sharp-witted lasses. He prattled of the sun blowing cold and the wind shining hot; ran mock races with gigantic footmen, the King laying a thousand marks on the fool, and Lady Carmichael backing the flunkey; and he had extremely dirty tricks played upon him, which highly amused those august personages, but the telling of which would not tend to either profit or pleasure. There is something better worth narrating in the account of Camber’s death; which I borrow from Armin. “The King’s chamberlain bid him arise and come to the King, ‘I will not,’ quoth he, ‘I will go make my grave.’ See how things chanced. He spake truer than he was aware. Jemmy arose, made him ready, takes his horse, and rides to the churchyard in the high town, where he found the sexton, _as the custom is there, making nine graves, three for men, three for women, and three for children; and whoso dies next, first come, first served_.