The English Dramatists
JOHN MARSTON
VOLUME THE THIRD
THE WORKS
OF
JOHN MARSTON
EDITED BY
A. H. BULLEN, B.A.
IN THREE VOLUMES
VOLUME THE THIRD
[Illustration: printer's logo]
LONDON
JOHN C. NIMMO
14, KING WILLIAM STREET, STRAND, W.C.
MDCCCLXXXVII
_Two hundred copies of this Edition on Laid paper, medium 8vo, have
been printed_, viz., _120 for the English Market, and 80 for America.
Each copy numbered as issued._
_No. 30_
CONTENTS OF VOL. III.
PAGE
EASTWARD HO 1
THE INSATIATE COUNTESS 125
THE METAMORPHOSIS OF PYGMALION'S IMAGE,
AND CERTAIN SATIRES 245
THE SCOURGE OF VILLAINY 295
ENTERTAINMENT OF ALICE, DOWAGER-COUNTESS
OF DERBY 383
CITY PAGEANT 405
VERSES FROM CHESTER'S LOVE'S MARTYR 413
THE MOUNTEBANK'S MASQUE 417
COMMENDATORY VERSES PREFIXED TO BEN JONSON'S
SEJANUS 444
INDEX 445
EASTWARD HO.
_Eastward Hoe. As It was playd in the Black-friers. By The Children
of her Maiesties Reuels. Made by Geo: Chapman. Ben: Jonson. Ioh:
Marston. At London Printed for William Aspley._ 1605. 4to.
STORY OF THE PLAY.
Master Touchstone, an honest goldsmith, has two daughters and two
apprentices. The elder daughter, Gertrude, is proud, extravagant, and
wanton; the younger, Mildred, is simple, thrifty, and modest. So with
the apprentices: Quicksilver is a graceless unthrift, but Golding is a
model of industry and sobriety. A needy knight, Sir Petronel Flash,
who represents himself to be the owner of a castle, marries Gertrude;
and Golding, released from his apprenticeship, marries Mildred. Sir
Petronel's aim is to acquire some land of which Gertrude is possessed,
turn it into ready money, and take ship with some adventurous spirits
for Virginia, leaving his wife to find her way to the imaginary
castle. Quicksilver, who has been dismissed from Touchstone's service
for riotous living, introduces Sir Petronel to an old usurer,
Security; and Gertrude signs a deed, by which her estate is conveyed
into Security's hands. The knight is in love with Security's wife,
Winifred, and is anxious to have her society on the voyage. He tells
Security that he intends to run away with the wife of one Bramble, a
lawyer, and Security enters heartily into the scheme. It is contrived
by Sir Petronel and Quicksilver that on the eve of the voyage Security
brings Winifred in disguise (imagining her to be Bramble's wife) to a
river-side tavern, where are gathered Sir Petronel, Quicksilver,
Seagull (the captain of the ship which is to sail for Virginia),
Bramble, and the knight's fellow-passengers, Scapethrift and Spendall.
After drinking heavily at the tavern, the company rises to take boat
for Blackwall, where Sir Petronel's ship lies. As there is a stormy
wind blowing and the tide is against them, the watermen urge that it
would be unsafe to venture; but the company insists in starting, and
the result is that the boats--one driven one way, another another--are
capsized, and the drunken occupants are soused in the Thames. Security
swims ashore at Cuckold's Haven; Winifred is rescued at St.
Katherine's; Quicksilver finds himself by the gallows at Wapping; Sir
Petronel and Seagull are cast-up on the Isle of Dogs, which the
cupshot knight takes to be a spot on the French coast. Quicksilver
falls in with Sir Petronel and the two repair to London, where they
are arrested at the suit of Touchstone and, after being examined
before Golding (who has been appointed deputy to the alderman of his
ward), are committed to the Counter. Here, having leisure to review
their conduct, they become deeply penitent, and set a wholesome
example to the rest of the prisoners. By Golding's kind offices they
are released from the Counter and are taken into the good graces of
Touchstone, who has had convincing proof of their reformation.
Gertrude, though she has been slower to express contrition, finally
humbles her pride and is received back into favour. Quicksilver
marries his cast mistress, Sindefy, and lives cleanly; Security takes
back Winifred.
PROLOGUS.
Not out of envy, for there's no effect
Where there's no cause; nor out of imitation,
For we have evermore been imitated;[1]
Nor out of our contention to do better
Than that[2] which is opposed to ours in title,
For that was good; and better cannot be:
And for the title, if it seem affected,
We might as well have call'd it, "God[3] you good even:"
Only that eastward westwards still exceeds,
Honour the sun's fair rising, not his setting. 10
Nor is our title utterly enforced,
As by the points we touch at you shall see.
Bear with our willing pains, if dull or witty,
We only dedicate it to the City.
[1] This tone of arrogant assumption is very characteristic of
Ben Jonson, who probably contributed the prologue. Cf. Prologue
to _Cynthia's Revels_:--
"In this alone his Muse her sweetness hath;
She shuns the print of any beaten path,
And proves new ways to come to learned ears," &c.
[2] The comedy of _Westward Ho_, by Webster and Dekker; it
was not published until 1607.--_Eastward Ho_ and _Westward
Ho_ were the cries of the watermen who plied on the Thames.
[3] A shortened form of "God give you good even."
_DRAMATIS PERSONÆ_.[4]
TOUCHSTONE, _a goldsmith_.
QUICKSILVER,}
GOLDING, } _apprentices to_ TOUCHSTONE.
Sir PETRONEL FLASH, _a shifty knight_.
SECURITY, _an old usurer_.
BRAMBLE, _a lawyer_.
SEAGULL, _a sea-captain_.
SCAPETHRIFT,}
SPENDALL } _adventurers bound for Virginia_.
SLITGUT, _a butcher's apprentice_.
POLDAVY, _a tailor_.
HOLDFAST,}
WOLF } _officers of the Counter_.
HAMLET, _a footman_.
POTKIN, _a tankard-bearer_.
Drawer.
Mistress TOUCHSTONE.
GERTRUDE,}
MILDRED } _her daughters_.
WINIFRED, _wife to_ SECURITY.
SINDEFY, _mistress to_ QUICKSILVER.
BETTRICE, _a waiting-woman_.
Mrs. FORD, Mrs. GAZER, Coachman, Page, Constables, Prisoners, &c.
SCENE--LONDON AND THAMES-SIDE.
[4] Not marked in old ed.
EASTWARD HO.
ACT I.
SCENE I.
_Goldsmiths' Row._
_Enter_ Master TOUCHSTONE _and_ QUICKSILVER _at several doors_;
QUICKSILVER _with his hat, pumps, short sword and dagger, and a
racket trussed up under his cloak. At the middle door, enter_
GOLDING, _discovering a goldsmith's shop, and walking short turns
before it_.
_To._ And whither with you now? what loose action
are you bound for? Come, what comrades are you
to meet withal? where's the supper? where's the
rendezvous?
_Qu._ Indeed, and in very good sober truth, sir----
_To._ Indeed, and in very good sober truth, sir! Behind
my back thou wilt swear faster than a French foot-boy,
and talk more bawdily than a common midwife;
and now "indeed and in very good sober truth, sir!"
but if a privy search should be made, with what furniture
are you rigged now? Sirrah, I tell thee, I am thy
master, William Touchstone, goldsmith; and thou my
prentice, Francis Quicksilver, and I will see whither
you are running. Work upon that now. 14
_Qu._ Why, sir, I hope a man may use his recreation
with his master's profit.
_To._ Prentices' recreations are seldom with their
master's profit. Work upon that now. You shall give
up your cloak, though you be no alderman. Heyday!
ruffians'-hall sword, pumps, here's a racket indeed!
[TOUCHSTONE _uncloaks_ QUICKSILVER.
_Qu._ Work upon that now.
_To._ Thou shameless varlet! dost thou jest at thy
lawful master, contrary to thy indentures? 23
_Qu._ Why 'sblood, sir, my mother's a gentlewoman,
and my father a justice of peace and of Quorum; and
though I am a younger brother and a prentice, yet I
hope I am my father's son; and by God's lid, 'tis for
your worship and for your commodity that I keep company.
I am entertained among gallants, true;[5] they
call me cousin Frank, right; I lend them moneys, good;
they spend it, well. But when they are spent, must not
they strive to get more, must not their land fly? and to
whom? Shall not your worship ha' the refusal? Well,
I am a good member of the city, if I were well considered.
How would merchants thrive, if gentlemen would not be
unthrifts? How could gentlemen be unthrifts if their
humours were not fed? How should their humours be fed
but by white meat, and cunning secondings? Well, the
city might consider us. I am going to an ordinary now:
the gallants fall to play; I carry light gold with me; the
gallants call, "Cousin Frank, some gold for silver;" I
change, gain by it; the gallants lose the gold, and then
call, "Cousin Frank, lend me some silver." Why---- 43
_To._ Why? I cannot tell. Seven-score pound art thou
out in the cash; but look to it, I will not be gallanted
out of my moneys. And as for my rising by other men's
fall, God shield me! did I gain my wealth by ordinaries?
no: by exchanging of gold? no: by keeping of gallants'
company? no. I hired me a little shop, fought low,
took small gain, kept no debt-book, garnished my shop,
for want of plate, with good wholesome thrifty sentences;
as, "Touchstone, keep thy shop, and thy shop will keep
thee;" "Light gains makes heavy purses;" "'Tis
good to be merry and wise." And when I was wived,
having something to stick to, I had the horn of suretyship
ever before my eyes. You all know the device of
the horn, where the young fellow slips in at the butt-end,
and comes squeezed out at the buckall: and I grew up,
and I praise providence, I bear my brows now as high
as the best of my neighbours: but thou----well, look to
the accounts; your father's bond lies for you: seven-score
pound is yet in the rear. 62
_Qu._ Why 'slid, sir, I have as good, as proper gallants'
words for it as any are in London--gentlemen of good
phrase, perfect language, passingly behaved; gallants that
wear socks and clean linen, and call me "kind cousin
Frank," "good cousin Frank," for they know my father:
and by God's lid shall I not trust 'hem?--not trust?
_Enter a_ Page _as inquiring for_ TOUCHSTONE'S _shop_.
_Go._ What do ye lack, sir? What is't you'll buy, sir?
_To._ Ay, marry sir; there's a youth of another piece.
There's thy fellow-prentice, as good a gentleman born as
thou art: nay, and better meaned. But does he pump
it, or racket it? Well, if he thrive not, if he outlast not
a hundred such crackling bavins as thou art, God and
men neglect industry. 75
_Go._ It is his shop, and here my master walks.
[_To the_ Page.
_To._ With me, boy?
_Pa._ My master, Sir Petronel Flash, recommends his
love to you, and will instantly visit you.
_To._ To make up the match with my eldest daughter,
my wife's dilling,[6] whom she longs to call madam. He
shall find me unwillingly ready, boy. [_Exit_ Page.]
There's another affliction too. As I have two prentices,
the one of a boundless prodigality, the other of a most
hopeful industry--so have I only two daughters: the
eldest, of a proud ambition and nice wantonness; the
other of a modest humility and comely soberness. The
one must be ladified, forsooth, and be attired just to the
court-cut and long tail.[7] So far is she ill-natured to the
place and means of my preferment and fortune, that she
throws all the contempt and despite hatred itself can
cast upon it. Well, a piece of land she has; 'twas her
grandmother's gift; let her, and her Sir Petronel, flash
out that; but as for my substance, she that scorns me,
as I am a citizen and tradesman, shall never pamper her
pride with my industry; shall never use me as men do
foxes, keep themselves warm in the skin, and throw the
body that bare it to the dunghill. I must go entertain
this Sir Petronel. Golding, my utmost care's for thee,
and only trust in thee; look to the shop. As for you,
Master Quicksilver, think of husks, for thy course is
running directly to the prodigal's hog's-trough; husks,
sirrah! Work upon that now.
[_Exit_ TOUCHSTONE.
_Qu._ Marry faugh,[8] goodman flat-cap![9] 'sfoot! though
I am a prentice I can give arms;[10] and my father's a
justice-a-peace by descent, and 'sblood---- 106
_Go._ Fie, how you swear!
_Qu._ 'Sfoot, man, I am a gentleman, and may swear
by my pedigree. God's my life! Sirrah Golding, wilt
be ruled by a fool? Turn good fellow, turn swaggering
gallant, and let the welkin roar, and Erebus also.[11] Look
not westward to the fall of Dan Phoebus, but to the east--Eastward-ho!
_Where radiant beams of lusty Sol appear,
And bright Eous makes the welkin clear._
We are both gentlemen, and therefore should be no
coxcombs: let's be no longer fools to this flat-cap,
Touchstone. Eastward, bully, this satin belly, and
canvas-backed Touchstone: 'slife! man, his father was a
maltman, and his mother sold gingerbread in Christchurch.[12] 121
_Go._ What would you ha' me to do?
_Qu._ Why, do nothing, be like a gentleman, be idle;
the curse of man is labour. Wipe thy bum with testones,
and make ducks and drakes with shillings. What, Eastward-ho!
Wilt thou cry, "what is't ye lack?" stand
with a bare pate, and a dropping nose, under a wooden
pent-house, and art a gentleman? Wilt thou bear
tankards, and mayst bear arms? Be ruled; turn gallant;
Eastward-ho! ta, lirra, lirra, ro! "Who[13] calls Jeronimo?
Speak, here I am." God's so! how like a sheep thou
look'st: o' my conscience, some cowherd begot thee,
thou Golding of Golding-hall! Ha, boy? 133
_Go._ Go, ye are a prodigal coxcomb! I a cowherd's
son, because I turn not a drunken whore-hunting rake-hell
like thyself!
_Qu._ Rake-hell! rake-hell!
[_Offers to draw, and_ GOLDING _trips up
his heels and holds him_.
_Go._ Pish, in soft terms, ye are a cowardly bragging
boy. I'll ha' you whipt.
_Qu._ Whipt?--that's good, i'faith! untruss me? 140
_Go._ No, thou wilt undo thyself. Alas! I behold
thee with pity, not with anger: thou common shot-clog,[14]
gull of all companies; methinks I see thee already walk-in
Moorfields[15] without a cloak, with half a hat, without
a band, a doublet with three buttons, without a girdle, a
hose with one point, and no garter, with a cudgel under
thine arm, borrowing and begging threepence.
_Qu._ Nay, 'slife! take this and take all; as I am a
gentleman born, I'll be drunk, grow valiant, and beat
thee.
[_Exit._
_Go._ Go, thou most madly vain, whom nothing can
recover but that which reclaims atheists, and makes
great persons sometimes religious--calamity. As for
my place and life, thus I have read:-- 154
_Whate'er some vainer youth may term disgrace,
The gain of honest pains is never base;
From trades, from arts, from valour, honour springs,
These three are founts of gentry, yea, of kings._
_Enter_ GERTRUDE, MILDRED, BETTRICE, _and_ POLDAVY, _a tailor_;
POLDAVY _with a fair gown, Scotch farthingale and French-fall in
his arms_; GERTRUDE _in a French head-attire, and citizen's
gown_; MILDRED _sewing and_ BETTRICE _leading a monkey after
her_.[16]
_Ge._ For the passion of patience, look if Sir Petronel
approach--that sweet, that fine, that delicate, that--for
love's sake tell me if he come. O sister Mill, though my
father be a low-capped tradesman, yet I must be a lady;
and I praise God my mother must call me madam. Does
he come? Off with this gown, for shame's sake, off with
this gown: let not my knight take me in the city-cut in
any hand: tear't, pax on't (does he come?) tear't off.
"Thus whilst she sleeps, I sorrow for her sake," &c.[17] 167
_Mi._ Lord, sister, with what an immodest impatiency
and disgraceful scorn do you put off your city 'tire; I am
sorry to think you imagine to right yourself in wronging
that which hath made both you and us.
_Ge._ I tell you I cannot endure it, I must be a lady: do
you wear your coif with a London licket,[18] your stammel[19]
petticoat with two guards,[20] the buffin[21] gown with the
tuff-taffety cape, and the velvet lace. I must be a lady,
and I will be a lady. I like some humours of the city-dames
well: to eat cherries[22] only at an angel a pound,
good; to dye rich scarlet, black, pretty; to line a grogram
gown clean thorough with velvet, tolerable; their
pure linen, their smocks of three pounds a smock, are to
be borne withal. But your mincing niceries, taffeta pipkins,
durance[23] petticoats, and silver bodkins--God's
my life, as I shall be a lady, I cannot endure it! Is he
come yet? Lord, what a long knight 'tis! "And ever
she cried, Shoot[24] home!" and yet I knew one longer;
"And ever she cried, Shoot[24] home," fa, la, ly, re, lo, la!
_Mi._ Well, sister, those that scorn their nest, oft fly with
a sick wing. 188
_Ge._ Bow-bell!
_Mi._ Where titles presume to thrust before fit means
to second them, wealth and respect often grow sullen,
and will not follow. For sure in this, I would for your
sake I spake not truth: _Where ambition of place goes before
fitness of birth, contempt and disgrace follow._ I heard
a scholar once say, that Ulysses, when he counterfeited
himself mad, yoked cats[25] and foxes and dogs together to
draw his plough, whiles he followed and sowed salt; but
sure I judge them truly mad, that yoke citizens and
courtiers, tradesmen and soldiers, a goldsmith's daughter
and a knight. Well, sister, pray God my father sow not
salt too. 201
_Ge._ Alas! poor Mildred, when I am a lady, I'll pray
for thee yet, i'faith: nay, and I'll vouchsafe to call thee
sister Mill still; for though thou art not like to be a lady
as I am, yet sure thou art a creature of God's making;
and mayest peradventure to be saved as soon as I (does
he come?). "And ever and anon she doubled in her
song." Now, lady's my comfort, what profane ape's
here? Tailor, Poldavy, prithee, fit it, fit it: is this a right
Scot?[26] Does it clip close, and bear up round? 210
_Po._ Fine and stiffly, i'faith; 'twill keep your thighs so
cool, and make your waist so small; here was a fault in
your body, but I have supplied the defect, with the effect of
my steel instrument, which, though it have but one eye,
can see to rectify the imperfection of the proportion.
_Ge._ Most edifying tailor! I protest you tailors are
most sanctified members, and make many crooked things
go upright. How must I bear my hands? Light?
light? 219
_Po._ O ay, now you are in the lady-fashion, you must
do all things light. Tread light, light. Ay, and fall so:
that's the Court-amble.
[_She trips about the stage._
_Ge._ Has the Court ne'er a trot?
_Po._ No, but a false gallop, lady.
_Ge._ _And if she will not go to bed_--
[_Cantat._
_Be._ The knight's come, forsooth.
_Enter_ Sir PETRONEL, Master TOUCHSTONE, _and_
Mistress TOUCHSTONE.
_Ge._ Is my knight come? O the Lord, my band!
Sister, do my cheeks look well? Give me a little box o'
the ear, that I may seem to blush; now, now! So, there,
there, there! here he is: O my dearest delight! Lord,
Lord! and how does my knight? 231
_To._ Fie! with more modesty.
_Ge._ Modesty! why, I am no citizen now--modesty!
Am I not to be married? y'are best to keep me modest,
now I am to be a lady.
_Sir Pe._ Boldness is good fashion and courtlike.
_Ge._ Ay, in a country lady I hope it is, as I shall be.
And how chance ye came no sooner, knight?
_Sir Pe._ 'Faith, I was so entertained in the progress
with one Count Epernoum, a Welsh knight; we had a
match at balloon[27] too with my Lord Whachum, for four
crowns. 242
_Ge._ At baboon? Jesu! you and I will play at baboon
in the country, knight.
_Sir Pe._ O, sweet lady! 'tis a strong play with the
arm.
_Ge._ With arm or leg, or any other member, if it be a
Court-sport. And when shall's be married, my knight?
_Sir Pe._ I come now to consummate it, and your father
may call a poor knight son-in-law. 250
_M. To._ Sir, ye are come; what is not mine to keep I
must not be sorry to forego. A 100 li. land her grandmother
left her, 'tis yours; herself (as her mother's gift)
is yours. But if you expect aught from me, know, my
hand and mine eyes open together; I do not give blindly.
Work upon that now.
_Sir Pe._ Sir, you mistrust not my means? I am a
knight.
_To._ Sir, sir, what I know not, you will give me leave
to say I am ignorant of. 260
_Mist. To._ Yes, that he is a knight; I know where he
had money to pay the gentlemen-ushers and heralds their
fees. Ay, that he is a knight, and so might you have
been too, if you had been aught else than an ass, as well
as some of your neighbours. And I thought you would
not ha' been knighted, as I am an honest woman, I would
ha' dubbed you myself. I praise God I have wherewithal.
But as for your daughter----
_Ge._ Ay, mother, I must be a lady to-morrow; and by
your leave, mother (I speak it not without my duty, but
only in the right of my husband), I must take place of
you, mother. 272
_Mist. To._ That you shall, lady-daughter, and have a
coach as well as I too.
_Ge._ Yes, mother. But by your leave, mother (I speak
it not without my duty, but only in my husband's right),
my coach-horses must take the wall of your coach-horses.
_To._ Come, come, the day grows low; 'tis supper-time;
use my house; the wedding solemnity is at my wife's cost;
thank me for nothing but my [un]willing blessing; for
I cannot feign, my hopes are faint. And, sir, respect
my daughter; she has refused for you wealthy and honest
matches, known good men, well-moneyed, better traded,
best reputed. 284
_Ge._ Body-o'-truth! chittizens,[28] chittizens! Sweet knight,
as soon as ever we are married, take me to thy mercy out
of this miserable chitty; presently carry me out of the
scent of Newcastle coal, and the hearing of Bow-bell; I
beseech thee down with me, for God sake!
_To._ Well, daughter, I have read that old wit sings:--
_The greatest rivers flow from little springs:
Though thou art full, scorn not thy means at first,
He that's most drunk may soonest be athirst._
Work upon that now. 294
[_All but_ TOUCHSTONE, MILDRED, _and_
GOLDING _depart_.
No, no! yond' stand my hopes--Mildred, come hither,
daughter. And how approve you your sister's fashion?
how do you fancy her choice? what dost thou think?
_Mi._ I hope as a sister, well.
_To._ Nay but, nay but, how dost thou like her behaviour
and humour? Speak freely. 300
_Mi._ I am loth to speak ill; and yet I am sorry of
this, I cannot speak well.
_To._ Well; very good, as I would wish; a modest
answer. Golding, come hither; hither, Golding. How
dost thou like the knight, Sir Flash? does he not look
big? how likest thou the elephant? he says he has a
castle in the country.
_Go._ Pray heaven, the elephant carry not his castle on
his back.[29] 309
_To._ 'Fore heaven, very well! but seriously, how dost
repute him?
_Go._ The best I can say of him is, I know him not.
_To._ Ha, Golding! I commend thee, I approve thee,
and will make it appear my affection is strong to thee.
My wife has her humour, and I will ha' mine. Dost
thou see my daughter here? She is not fair, well-favoured
or so indifferent, which modest measure of
beauty shall not make it thy only work to watch her,
nor sufficient mischance to suspect her. Thou art
towardly, she is modest; thou art provident, she is
careful. She's now mine; give me thy hand, she's now
thine. Work upon that now. 322
_Go._ Sir, as your son, I honour you; and as your
servant, obey you.
_To._ Sayest thou so? Come hither, Mildred. Do
you see yond' fellow? he is a gentleman, though my
prentice, and has somewhat to take too; a youth of
good hope; well friended, well parted.[30] Are you mine?
you are his. Work upon that now. 329
_Mi._ Sir, I am all yours; your body gave me life;
your care and love, happiness of life; let your virtue
still direct it, for to your wisdom I wholly dispose
myself.
_To._ Say'st thou so? Be you two better acquainted.
Lip her, lip her, knave. So, shut up shop; in. We
must make holiday.
[_Exeunt_ GOLDING _and_ MILDRED.
This match shall on, for I intend to prove
Which thrives the best, the mean or lofty love.
Whether fit wedlock vow'd 'twixt like and like,
Or prouder hopes, which daringly o'erstrike 340
Their place and means. 'Tis honest time's expense,
When seeming lightness bears a moral sense.
Work upon that now.
[_Exit._
[5] Compare the turn of this sentence with a passage of _The
Fawn_ (vol. ii. p. 181):--"His brother your husband, right; he
cuckold his eldest brother, true; he get her with child, just."
[6] Darling.
[7] An allusion to the proverbial expression, "cut and long tail"
(_i.e._, dogs of every kind).
[8] "Marry, faugh"--a common expression of disgust.
[9] A nickname for a citizen.
[10] "Give arms"--show armorial bearings.
[11] Scraps of Pistol's rant.--"To the infernal deep with Erebus
and tortures vile also," &c.
[12] The parishes of St. Ewin, St. Nicholas, and part of St.
Sepulchre's were amalgamated into one large parish and called
Christ Church. It has been suggested that the reference is to
Christ Church in Hampshire!
[13] "Who calls, &c."--a line from _The Spanish Tragedy_
(Hazlitt's _Dodsley_, v. 54).
[14] One who paid the reckoning for the whole company at a
tavern. Cf. Jonson, _Poetaster_, i. 1:--"What shall I have
my son ... a gull, a rook, a _shot-clog_, to make suppers
and be laugh'd at?"
[15] A favourite spot for sturdy beggars.--"I took him begging o'
the way this morning as I came over Moorfields."--_Every Man in
his Humour_, iv. 4.
[16] Bettrice is not introduced elsewhere in the play. I presume
she is a waiting-woman in attendance upon Gertrude, and that it
is part of her duty to look after her mistress's monkey. Formerly
ladies kept monkeys for pets,--a custom to which the dramatists
constantly allude.
[17] A line from a song in John Dowland's _First Book of Songs
or Airs_, 1597. The song begins--"Sleep, wayward thoughts, and
rest you with my love."
[18] "I have a notion," says Nares in his _Glossary_, "of
having seen a _London licket_ somewhere else, but cannot
recall the place." I regret to say that I am in the same
difficulty. Possibly we were both thinking of _London
lickpenny_.--"Licket" may be another form of "tippet."
[19] Red.
[20] Facing, trimmings.
[21] A sort of coarse cloth.
[22] Cf. Middleton, i. 65.--Dekker, in the _Bachelors
Banquet_ (1603), describing "The humour of a woman lying in
child-bed," says:--"She must have _cherries_, though for a
pound he pay ten shillings, or green peacods at four nobles a
peck."
[23] Durance was the name of a sort of strong buff-coloured
stuff.
[24] Old ed. "shoute." I have not been able to discover the song
(if discoverable it is) from which Gertrude is quoting; there is
something similar in one of the _Roxburghe Ballads_ (vol.
ii. p. 207) entitled "Have at a venture," but the passage is
hardly quotable.
[25] It was a horse (or an ass) and an ox that Ulysses yoked
together, according to the ordinary account. See Hyginus
_Fab._ xcv., and the notes of the commentators thereon.
[26] The Scotch farthingale is mentioned in Dekker and Webster's
_Westward Ho_, i. 1.
[27] A game in which a large inflated ball of leather was driven
to and fro by a flat piece of wood attached to the arm.
[28] This affected pronunciation of the word _citizens_
occurs frequently in Middleton's _Blurt, Master Constable_.
[29] "'Tis an ordinary thing," says Burton (_Anat. of Mel._,
ed. 1660, p. 476), "to put a thousand oaks and an hundred oxen
into a suit of apparel, to _wear a whole manor on his
back_." Cf. _Henry VIII._, i. 1, 30-35, &c.
[30] "Well parted" = of good abilities. The expression is
Jonsonian. Macilente in "The Character of the Persons" prefixed
to _Every Man out of his Humour_ is described as "A man
_well parted_, a sufficient scholar," &c.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
_Goldsmiths' Row._
TOUCHSTONE, QUICKSILVER, GOLDING, _and_ MILDRED, _sitting on either
side of the stall_.
_To._ Quicksilver, Master Francis Quicksilver, Master
Quicksilver!
_Enter_ QUICKSILVER.
_Qu._ Here, sir (ump).
_To._ So, sir; nothing but flat Master Quicksilver
(without any familiar addition) will fetch you; will you
truss my points, sir?
_Qu._ Ay, forsooth (ump).
_To._ How now, sir? the drunken hiccup so soon this
morning?
_Qu._ 'Tis but the coldness of my stomach, forsooth. 10
_To._ What? have you the cause natural for it? y'are
a very learned drunkard: I believe I shall miss some of
my silver spoons with your learning. The nuptial night
will not moisten your throat sufficiently, but the morning
likewise must rain her dews into your gluttonous
weasand.
_Qu._ An't please you, sir, we did but drink (ump) to
the coming off of the knightly bridegroom.
_To._ To the coming off an' him? 19
_Qu._ Ay, forsooth, we drunk to his coming on (ump)
when we went to bed; and now we are up, we must
drink to his coming off: for that's the chief honour of a
soldier, sir; and therefore we must drink so much the
more to it, forsooth (ump).
_To._ A very capital reason! So that you go to bed
late, and rise early to commit drunkenness; you fulfil
the scripture very sufficient wickedly, forsooth.
_Qu._ The knight's men, forsooth, be still o' their knees
at it (ump), and because 'tis for your credit, sir, I would
be loth to flinch. 30
_To._ I pray, sir, e'en to 'hem again then; y'are one
of the separated crew, one of my wife's faction, and my
young lady's, with whom, and with their great match, I
will have nothing to do.
_Qu._ So, sir, now I will go keep my (ump) credit with
'hem, an't please you, sir.
_To._ In any case, sir, lay one cup of sack more o' your
cold stomach, I beseech you. 38
_Qu._ Yes, forsooth.
[_Exit_ QUICKSILVER.
_To._ This is for my credit! servants ever maintain
drunkenness in their master's house for their master's
credit; a good idle serving-man's reason. I thank time
the night is past; I ne'er waked to such cost; I think
we have stowed more sorts of flesh in our bellies than
ever Noah's ark received; and for wine, why my house
turns giddy with it, and more noise in it than at a
conduit. Ay me! even beasts condemn our gluttony.
Well, 'tis our city's fault, which, because we commit
seldom, we commit the more sinfully; we lose no time
in our sensuality, but we make amends for it. O that
we would do so in virtue, and religious negligences!
But see here are all the sober parcels my house can
show; I'll eavesdrop, hear what thoughts they utter
this morning. 54
_Enter_ GOLDING _and_ MILDRED.
_Go._ But is it possible that you, seeing your sister
preferred to the bed of a knight, should contain your
affections in the arms of a prentice?
_Mi._ I had rather make up the garment of my affections
in some of the same piece, than, like a fool, wear gowns
of two colours, or mix sackcloth with satin.
_Go._ And do the costly garments--the title and fame
of a lady, the fashion, observation, and reverence proper
to such preferment--no more inflame you than such
convenience as my poor means and industry can offer
to your virtues? 65
_Mi._ I have observed that the bridle given to those
violent flatteries of fortune is seldom recovered; they
bear one headlong in desire from one novelty to another,
and where those ranging appetites reign, there is ever
more passion than reason: no stay, and so no happiness.
These hasty advancements are not natural. Nature
hath given us legs to go to our objects; not wings to fly
to them. 73
_Go._ How dear an object you are to my desires I
cannot express; whose fruition would my master's
absolute consent and yours vouchsafe me, I should be
absolutely happy. And though it were a grace so far
beyond my merit, that I should blush with unworthiness
to receive it, yet thus far both my love and my means
shall assure your requital: you shall want nothing fit for
your birth and education; what increase of wealth and
advancement the honest and orderly industry and skill
of our trade will afford in any, I doubt not will be
aspired by me; I will ever make your contentment the
end of my endeavours; I will love you above all; and
only your grief shall be my misery, and your delight my
felicity. 87
_To._ Work upon that now. By my hopes, he wooes
honestly and orderly; he shall be anchor of my hopes!
Look, see the ill-yoked monster, his fellow!
_Enter_ QUICKSILVER _unlaced, a towel about his neck, in
his flat-cap, drunk_.
_Qu._ Eastward-ho! _Holla, ye pampered jades of
Asia!_[31]
_To._ Drunk now downright, o' my fidelity!
_Qu._ (Ump).[32] Pull eo, pullo! showse, quoth the
caliver. 95
_Go._ Fie, fellow Quicksilver, what a pickle are you in!
_Qu._ Pickle? pickle in thy throat; zounds, pickle!
Wa, ha, ho! good-morrow, knight Petronel: morrow,
lady goldsmith; come off, knight, with a counterbuff,
for the honour of knighthood.
_Go._ Why, how now, sir? do ye know where you
are? 102
_Qu._ Where I am? why, 'sblood! you jolthead, where
I am!
_Go._ Go to, go to, for shame; go to bed and sleep out
this immodesty: thou shamest both my master and his
house.
_Qu._ Shame? what shame? I thought thou wouldst
show thy bringing-up; and thou wert a gentleman as I
am, thou wouldst think it no shame to be drunk. Lend
me some money, save my credit; I must dine with the
serving-men and their wives--and their wives, sirrah! 112
_Go._ E'en who you will; I'll not lend thee threepence.
_Qu._ 'Sfoot; lend me some money; _hast thou not
Hiren here?_[33]
_To._ Why, how now, sirrah? what vein's this, ha?
_Qu._ _Who cries on murther? Lady, was it you?_[34] how
does our master? pray thee cry Eastward-ho!
_To._ Sirrah, sirrah, y'are past your hiccup now; I see
y'are drunk. 121
_Qu._ 'Tis for your credit, master.
_To._ And hear you keep a whore in town.
_Qu._ 'Tis for your credit, master.
_To._ And what you are out in cash, I know.
_Qu._ So do I; my father's a gentleman. Work upon
that now. Eastward-ho!
_To._ Sir, Eastward-ho will make you go Westward-ho:[35]
I will no longer dishonest my house, nor endanger my
stock, with your licence. There, sir, there's your indenture;
all your apparel (that I must know) is on your
back, and from this time my door is shut to you: from
me be free; but for other freedom, and the moneys you
have wasted, Eastward-ho shall not serve you. 134
_Qu._ Am I free o' my fetters? Rent, fly with a duck
in thy mouth, and now I tell thee, Touchstone----
_To._ Good sir----
_Qu._ _When_[36] _this eternal substance of my soul_--
_To._ Well said; change your gold-ends[37] for your
play-ends. 140
_Qu._ _Did live imprison'd in my wanton flesh_--
_To._ What then, sir?
_Qu._ _I was a courtier in the Spanish Court, and Don
Andrea was my name._
_To._ Good master Don Andrea, will you march?
_Qu._ Sweet Touchstone, will you lend me two shillings?
_To._ Not a penny.
_Qu._ Not a penny? I have friends, and I have
acquaintance; I will piss at thy shop-posts, and throw
rotten eggs at thy sign. Work upon that now. 150
[_Exit staggering._
_To._ Now, sirrah, you! hear you? you shall serve me
no more neither--not an hour longer.
_Go._ What mean you, sir?
_To._ I mean to give thee thy freedom, and with thy
freedom my daughter, and with my daughter a father's
love. And with all these such a portion as shall make
Knight Petronel himself envy thee! Y'are both agreed,
are ye not?
_Am._ With all submission, both of thanks and duty.
_To._ Well then, the great Power of heaven bless and
confirm you. And, Golding, that my love to thee may
not show less than my wife's love to my eldest daughter,
thy marriage feast shall equal the knight's and hers. 163
_Go._ Let me beseech you, no, sir; the superfluity and
cold meat left at their nuptials will with bounty furnish
ours. The grossest prodigality is superfluous cost of
the belly; nor would I wish any invitement of states or
friends, only your reverent[38] presence and witness shall
sufficiently grace and confirm us. 169
_To._ Son to my own bosom, take her and my blessing.
The nice fondling, my lady, sir-reverence, that I must not
now presume to call daughter, is so ravished with desire
to hansell her new coach, and see her knight's Eastward
Castle, that the next morning will sweat with her busy
setting forth. Away will she and her mother, and while
their preparation is making, ourselves, with some two
or three other friends, will consummate the humble
match we have in God's name concluded.
'Tis to my wish, for I have often read,
Fit birth, fit age, keeps long a quiet bed. 180
'Tis to my wish; for tradesmen, well 'tis known,
Get with more ease than gentry keeps his own.
[_Exeunt._
[31] A hackneyed quotation from _Tamburlaine_.
[32] Old ed. "Am pum pull eo," &c.
[33] A favourite quotation of Pistol's ("_Have we_ not Hiren
here?"). It is supposed to come from Peele's lost play _The
Turkish Mahomet and Hyren the Fair Greek_.
[34] This line would seem to belong to the _Spanish
Tragedy_, but it is not in the text that has come down. When
Horatio is stabbed by the assassins, Bellimperia cries:--"Murder!
murder! Help, Hieronimo, help!" She is forced off the stage, and
then Hieronimo enters, exclaiming, "What outcries pluck me from
my naked bed!" (a much-ridiculed line). But in a passage of
Jonson's _Poetaster_ (iii. 1), where there is clearly an
allusion to Jeronimo, we find the line (slightly altered) that
Quicksilver quotes:--
"_2d Pyr._ Ay, but somebody must cry _Murder!_
then in a small voice.
_Tuc._ Your fellow-sharer there shall do't: cry,
sirrah, cry!
_1st Pyr._ _Murder, murder!_
_2d Pyr._ _Who calls out murder? lady, was it you?_"
[35] "_I.e._, will make you go to Tyburn. So in Greene's
_Second Part of the Art of Conny Catching_, sig. 2:--'And
yet at last so long the pitcher goeth to the brooke that it
cometh broken home: and so long the foists put their villainie in
practice that _Westward they goe_, and there solemnly make a
rehearsal sermon at _tiborne_.' Again in the third part,
sig. C, 'the end of such (though they scape a while)
will be sailing _Westward in a carte to
Tiborn_.'"--_Reed._
[36] "When this eternal substance of my soul
Did live imprison'd in my wanton flesh,
Each in their function serving other's need,
I was a courtier in the Spanish court:
My name was Don Andrea."
--Opening lines of the _Spanish Tragedy_.
[37] Broken pieces of gold.
[38] Frequently used for _reverend_.
SCENE II.
_Room in_ SECURITY'S _house_.
SECURITY _solus_.
_Sec._ My privy guest, lusty Quicksilver, has drunk too
deep of the bride-bowl; but with a little sleep, he is
much recovered; and, I think, is making himself ready
to be drunk in a gallanter likeness. My house is as
'twere the cave where the young outlaw hoards the
stolen vails of his occupation; and here, when he will
revel it in his prodigal similitude, he retires to his trunks,
and (I may say softly) his punks; he dares trust me
with the keeping of both; for I am Security itself; my
name is Security, the famous usurer.
[_Exit._
SCENE III.
_Room in_ SECURITY'S _house_.
_Enter_ QUICKSILVER _in his prentice's coat and cap, his gallant
breeches and stockings, gartering himself_, SECURITY _following_.
_Qu._ Come, old Security, thou father of destruction!
th' indented sheepskin is burned wherein I was wrapt;
and I am now loose, to get more children of perdition
into thy usurous bonds. Thou feed'st my lechery, and
I thy covetousness; thou art pander to me for my
wench, and I to thee for thy cozenages. Ka me, ka
thee,[39] runs through court and country.
_Sec._ Well said, my subtle Quicksilver! These ka's
ope the doors to all this world's felicity: the dullest forehead
sees it. Let not master courtier think he carries
all the knavery on his shoulders: I have known poor
Hob, in the country, that has worn hob-nails on's hoes,
have as much villainy in's head as he that wears gold
buttons in's cap. 14
_Qu._ Why, man, 'tis the London highway to thrift;
if virtue be used, 'tis but as a scape to the net of
villainy. They that use it simply, thrive simply, I
warrant. Weight and fashion makes goldsmiths cuckolds.
_Enter_ SINDEFY, _with_ QUICKSILVER'S _doublet, cloak,
rapier, and dagger_.
_Si._ Here, sir, put off the other half of your prenticeship.
_Qu._ Well said, sweet Sin! Bring forth my bravery.
Now let my trunks shoot[40] forth their silks conceal'd. 22
I now am free, and now will justify
My trunks and punks. Avaunt, dull flatcap, then!
_Via_ the curtain that shadow'd Borgia![41]
There lie, thou husk of my envassail'd state,
I, Sampson, now have burst the Philistines' bands,
And in thy lap, my lovely Dalila,
I'll lie, and snore out my enfranchised state.
_When_[42] _Sampson was a tall young man, 30
His power and strength increased than;
He sold no more nor cup nor can;
But did them all despise.
Old Touchstone, now write to thy friends
For one to sell thy base gold-ends;
Quicksilver now no more attends
Thee, Touchstone._
But, dad, hast thou seen my running gelding dressed
to-day?
_Sec._ That I have, Frank. The ostler a'th' Cock
dressed him for a breakfast. 41
_Qu._ What! did he eat him?
_Sec._ No, but he eat his breakfast for dressing him;
and so dressed him for breakfast.
_Qu._ O witty age! where age is young in wit,
And all youths' words have gray-beards full of it!
_Sec._ But alas, Frank! how will all this be maintained
now? Your place maintained it before. 48
_Qu._ Why, and I maintained my place. I'll to the
court: another manner of place for maintenance, I
hope, than the silly City! I heard my father say, I
heard my mother sing an old song and a true: _Thou_
_art a she-fool, and know'st not what belongs to our male
wisdom._ I shall be a merchant, forsooth! trust my
estate in a wooden trough as he does! What are these
ships but tennis-balls for the winds to play withal?
tossed from one wave to another; now under line, now
over the house; sometimes brick-walled against a rock,
so that the guts fly out again; sometimes strook under
the wide hazard, and farewell, master merchant! 60
_Si._ Well, Frank, well: the seas you say, are uncertain:
but he that sails in your Court seas shall find 'hem ten
times fuller of hazard; wherein to see what is to be seen
is torment more than a free spirit can endure; but when
you come to suffer, how many injuries swallow you!
What care and devotion must you use to humour an
imperious lord, proportion your looks to his looks,
smiles to his smiles; fit your sails to the winds of his
breath!
_Qu._ Tush! he's no journeyman in his craft that
cannot do that. 71
_Si._ But he's worse than a prentice that does it; not
only humouring the lord, but every trencher-bearer,
every groom, that by indulgence and intelligence crept
into his favour, and by panderism into his chamber;
he rules the roast; and when my honourable lord says
it shall be thus, my worshipful rascal, the groom of his
close stool, says it shall not be thus, claps the door
after him, and who dares enter? A prentice, quoth
you? 'Tis but to learn to live; and does that disgrace
a man? He that rises hardly stands firmly; but he
that rises with ease, alas! falls as easily. 82
_Qu._ A pox on you! who taught you this morality?
_Sec._ 'Tis 'long of this witty age, Master Francis. But,
indeed, Mistress Sindefy, all trades complain of inconvenience,
and therefore 'tis best to have none. The
merchant, he complains and says, traffic is subject to
much uncertainty and loss; let 'hem keep their goods
on dry land, with a vengeance, and not expose other
men's substances to the mercy of the winds, under protection
of a wooden wall (as Master Francis says); and
all for greedy desire to enrich themselves with unconscionable
gain, two for one, or so; where I, and
such other honest men as live by lending money, are
content with moderate profit; thirty or forty i' th' hundred,
so we may have it with quietness, and out of peril
of wind and weather, rather than run those dangerous
courses of trading, as they do. 98
[_Exit_[43] SINDEFY.
_Qu._ Ay, dad, thou may'st well be called Security, for
thou takest the safest course.
_Sec._ 'Faith, the quieter, and the more contented, and,
out of doubt, the more godly; for merchants, in their
courses, are never pleased, but ever repining against
heaven: one prays for a westerly wind, to carry his ship
forth; another for an easterly, to bring his ship home,
and at every shaking of a leaf[44] he falls into an agony,
to think what danger his ship is in on such a coast, and
so forth. The farmer, he is ever at odds with the
weather: sometimes the clouds have been too barren;
sometimes the heavens forget themselves; their harvests
answer not their hopes; sometimes the season falls out
too fruitful, corn will bear no price, and so forth. The
artificer, he's all for a stirring world: if his trade be too
full, and fall short of his expectation, then falls he out
of joint. Where we that trade nothing but money are
free from all this; we are pleased with all weathers,
let it rain or hold up, be calm or windy; let the season
be whatsoever, let trade go how it will, we take all in
good part, e'en what please the heavens to send us, so
the sun stand not still, and the moon keep her usual
returns, and make up days, months, and years. 121
_Qu._ And you have good security?
_Sec._ Ay, marry, Frank, that's the special point.
_Qu._ And yet, forsooth, we must have trades to live
withal; for we cannot stand without legs, nor fly without
wings, and a number of such scurvy phrases. No,
I say still, he that has wit, let him live by his wit; he
that has none, let him be a tradesman.
_Sec._ Witty Master Francis! 'tis pity any trade should
dull that quick brain of yours. Do but bring Knight
Petronel into my parchment toils once, and you shall
never need to toil in any trade, o' my credit. You know
his wife's land? 133
_Qu._ Even to a foot, sir; I have been often there; a
pretty fine seat, good land, all entire within itself.
_Sec._ Well wooded?
_Qu._ Two hundred pounds' worth of wood ready to
fell, and a fine sweet house, that stands just in the
midst on't, like a prick in the midst of a circle; would
I were your farmer, for a hundred pound a year!
_Sec._ Excellent Master Francis! how I do long to do
thee good! How I do hunger and thirst to have the
honour to enrich thee! ay, even to die, that thou
mightest inherit my living! even hunger and thirst! for
o' my religion, Master Francis, and so tell Knight
Petronel, I do it to do him a pleasure. 146
_Qu._ Marry, dad! his horses are now coming up to
bear down his lady; wilt thou lend him thy stable to
set 'hem in?
_Sec._ 'Faith, Master Francis, I would be loth to lend
my stable out of doors; in a greater matter I will pleasure
him, but not in this.
_Qu._ A pox of your hunger and thirst! Well, dad, let
him have money; all he could any way get is bestowed
on a ship now bound for Virginia; the frame of which
voyage is so closely conveyed that his new lady nor any
of her friends know it. Notwithstanding, as soon as
his lady's hand is gotten to the sale of her inheritance,
and you have furnished him with money, he will instantly
hoist sail and away. 160
_Sec._ Now, a frank gale of wind go with him, Master
Frank! we have too few such knight adventurers; who
would not sell away competent certainties to purchase,
with any danger, excellent uncertainties? your true knight
venturer ever does. Let his wife seal to-day; he shall
have his money to-day.
_Qu._ To-morrow she shall, dad, before she goes into
the country; to work her to which action with the more
engines, I purpose presently to prefer my sweet Sin here
to the place of her gentlewoman; whom you (for the
more credit) shall present as your friend's daughter, a
gentlewoman of the country, new come up with a will
for awhile to learn fashions forsooth, and be toward some
lady; and she shall buzz pretty devices into her lady's
ear; feeding her humours so serviceably (as the manner
of such as she is, you know). 176
_Sec._ True, good Master Francis.
_Re-enter_ SINDEFY.
_Qu._ That she shall keep her port open to anything
she commends to her.
_Sec._ O' my religion, a most fashionable project; as
good she spoil the lady, as the lady spoil her; for 'tis
three to one of one side. Sweet Mistress Sin, how are
you bound to Master Francis! I do not doubt to see
you shortly wed one of the head-men[45] of our city.
_Si._ But, sweet Frank, when shall my father Security
present me? 186
_Qu._ With all festination; I have broken the ice to it
already; and will presently to the knight's house, whither,
my good old dad, let me pray thee, with all formality to
man her.
_Sec._ Command me, Master Francis, I do hunger and
thirst to do thee service. Come, sweet Mistress Sin,
take leave of my Winifred, and we will instantly meet
Frank, Master Francis, at your lady's.
_Enter_ WINIFRED _above_.
_Wi._ Where is my Cu there? Cu?
_Sec._ Ay, Winnie. 196
_Wi._ Wilt thou come in, sweet Cu?
_Sec._ Ay, Winnie, presently.
[_Exeunt_ SECURITY _and_ SINDEFY.
_Qu._ Ay, Winnie, quod he, that's all he can do, poor
man, he may well cut off her name at Winnie. O, 'tis
an egregious pander! What will not an usurous knave
be, so he may be rich? O, 'tis a notable Jew's trump!
I hope to live to see dogs' meat made of the old usurer's
flesh, dice of his bones, and indentures of his skin; and
yet his skin is too thick to make parchment, 'twould
make good boots for a peter-man[46] to catch salmon in.
Your only smooth skin to make fine vellum is your
Puritan's skin; they be the smoothest and slickest knaves
in a country. 209
_Enter_ Sir PETRONEL _in boots, with a riding-wand_.[47]
_Pe._ I'll out of this wicked town as fast as my horse
can trot! Here's now no good action for a man to
spend his time in. Taverns grow dead; ordinaries are
blown up; plays are at a stand; houses of hospitality
at a fall; not a feather waving, nor a spur jingling anywhere.
I'll away instantly.
_Qu._ Y'ad best take some crowns in your purse, knight,
or else your Eastward Castle will smoke but miserably.
_Pe._ O, Frank! my castle? Alas! all the castles I
have are built with air, thou know'st. 219
_Qu._ I know it, knight, and therefore wonder whither
your lady is going.
_Pe._ 'Faith, to seek her fortune, I think. I said I had
a castle and land eastward, and eastward she will, without
contradiction; her coach and the coach of the sun
must meet full butt. And the sun being outshined with
her ladyship's glory, she fears he goes westward to hang
himself.
_Qu._ And I fear, when her enchanted castle becomes
invisible, her ladyship will return and follow his example.
_Pe._ Oh, that she would have the grace! for I shall
never be able to pacify her, when she sees herself deceived
so. 232
_Qu._ As easily as can be. Tell her she mistook your
directions, and that shortly yourself will down with her
to approve it; and then clothe but her crouper in a new
gown, and you may drive her any way you list. For
these women, sir, are like Essex calves, you must wriggle
'hem on by the tail still, or they will never drive orderly.
_Pe._ But, alas! sweet Frank, thou knowest my ability
will not furnish her blood with those costly humours.
_Qu._ Cast that cost on me, sir. I have spoken to my
old pander, Security, for money or commodity; and commodity
(if you will) I know he will procure you. 243
_Pe._ Commodity! Alas! what commodity?
_Qu._ Why, sir! what say you to figs and raisins?
_Pe._ A plague of figs and raisins, and all such frail[48]
commodities! We shall make nothing of 'hem.
_Qu._ Why then, sir, what say you to forty pound in
roasted beef?[49]
_Pe._ Out upon't, I have less stomach to that than to
the figs and raisins; I'll out of town, though I sojourn
with a friend of mine, for stay here I must not; my
creditors have laid to arrest me, and I have no friend
under heaven but my sword to bail me. 254
_Qu._ God's me, knight, put 'hem in sufficient sureties,
rather than let your sword bail you! Let 'hem take their
choice, either the King's Bench or the Fleet, or which of
the two Counters they like best, for, by the Lord, I like
none of 'hem.
_Pe._ Well, Frank, there is no jesting with my earnest
necessity; thou know'st if I make not present money to
further my voyage begun, all's lost, and all I have laid
out about it. 263
_Qu._ Why, then, sir, in earnest, if you can get your
wise lady to set her hand to the sale of her inheritance,
the bloodhound, Security, will smell out ready money
for you instantly.
_Pe._ There spake an angel: to bring her to which
conformity, I must feign myself extremely amorous;
and alleging urgent excuses for my stay behind, part
with her as passionately as she would from her foisting
hound.[50] 272
_Qu._ You have the sow by the right ear, sir. I warrant
there was never child longed more to ride a cock-horse
or wear his new coat, than she longs to ride in her new
coach. She would long for everything when she was a
maid, and now she will run mad for 'hem. I lay my life,
she will have every year four children; and what charge
and change of humour you must endure while she is with
child, and how she will tie you to your tackling till she
be with child, a dog would not endure. Nay, there is
no turnspit dog bound to his wheel[51] more servilely than
you shall be to her wheel; for, as that dog can never
climb the top of his wheel but when the top comes under
him, so shall you never climb the top of her contentment
but when she is under you. 286
_Pe._ 'Slight, how thou terrifiest me!
_Qu._ Nay, hark you, sir; what nurses, what midwives,
what fools, what physicians, what cunning women must
be sought for (fearing sometimes she is bewitched, sometimes
in a consumption), to tell her tales, to talk bawdy
to her, to make her laugh, to give her glisters, to let her
blood under the tongue and betwixt the toes; how she
will revile and kiss you, spit in your face, and lick it off
again; how she will vaunt you are her creature; she made
you of nothing; how she could have had thousand mark
jointures; she could have been made a lady by a Scotch
knight, and never ha' married him; she could have had
ponados[52] in her bed every morning; how she set you
up, and how she will pull you down: you'll never be able
to stand of your legs to endure it. 301
_Pe._ Out of my fortune, what a death is my life bound
face to face to! The best is, a large time-fitted conscience
is bound to nothing: marriage is but a form in
the school of policy, to which scholars sit fastened only
with painted chains. Old Security's young wife is ne'er
the further off with me.
_Qu._ Thereby lies a tale, sir. The old usurer will be
here instantly, with my punk Sindefy, whom you know
your lady has promised me to entertain for her gentlewoman;
and he (with a purpose to feed on you) invites
you most solemnly by me to supper. 312
_Pe._ It falls out excellently fitly: I see desire of gain
makes jealousy venturous.
_Enter_ GERTRUDE.
See, Frank, here comes my lady. Lord! how she views
thee! she knows thee not, I think, in this bravery.
_Ge._ How now? who be you, I pray?
_Qu._ One Master Francis Quicksilver, an't please your
ladyship.
_Ge._ God's my dignity! as I am a lady, if he did not
make me blush so that mine eyes stood a-water. Would
I were unmarried again! 322
_Enter_ SECURITY _and_ SINDEFY.
Where's my woman, I pray?
_Qu._ See, madam, she now comes to attend you.
_Sec._ God save my honourable knight and his worshipful
lady.
_Ge._ Y'are very welcome; you must not put on your
hat yet.
_Sec._ No, madam; till I know your ladyship's further
pleasure, I will not presume.
_Ge._ And is this a gentleman's daughter new come out
of the country? 332
_Sec._ She is, madam; and one that her father hath a
special care to bestow in some honourable lady's service,
to put her out of her honest humours, forsooth; for she
had a great desire to be a nun, an't please you.
_Ge._ A nun? what nun? a nun substantive? or a nun
adjective?
_Sec._ A nun substantive, madam, I hope, if a nun be a
noun. But I mean, lady, a vowed maid of that order.
_Ge._ I'll teach her to be a maid of the order, I warrant
you. And can you do any work belongs to a lady's
chamber? 343
_Si._ What I cannot do, madam, I would be glad to
learn.
_Ge._ Well said; hold up, then; hold up your head, I
say; come hither a little.
_Si._ I thank your ladyship.
_Ge._ And hark you, good man, you may put on your
hat now; I do not look on you. I must have you of
my faction now; not of my knight's, maid. 351
_Si._ No, forsooth, madam, of yours.
_Ge._ And draw all my servants in my bow, and keep
my counsel, and tell me tales, and put me riddles, and
read on a book sometimes when I am busy, and laugh
at country gentlewomen, and command anything in the
house for my retainers; and care not what you spend,
for it is all mine; and in any case be still a maid, whatsoever
you do, or whatsoever any man can do unto you.
_Sec._ I warrant your ladyship for that. 360
_Ge._ Very well; you shall ride in my coach with me
into the country, to-morrow morning. Come, knight,
pray thee let's make a short supper, and to bed presently.
_Sec._ Nay, good madam, this night I have a short
supper at home waits on his worship's acceptation.
_Ge._ By my faith, but he shall not go, sir; I shall
swoon and he sup from me.
_Pe._ Pray thee, forbear; shall he lose his provision?
_Ge._ Ay, by-lady, sir, rather than I lose my longing.
Come in, I say; as I am a lady, you shall not go. 370
_Qu._ I told him what a burr he had gotten.
_Sec._ If you will not sup from your knight, madam, let
me entreat your ladyship to sup at my house with him.
_Ge._ No, by my faith, sir; then we cannot be abed
soon enough after supper.
_Pe._ What a medicine is this! Well, Master Security,
you are new married as well as I; I hope you are bound
as well. We must honour our young wives, you know.
_Qu._ In policy, dad, till to-morrow she has sealed.
_Sec._ I hope in the morning yet your knighthood will
breakfast with me? 381
_Pe._ As early as you will, sir.
_Sec._ I thank your good worship; I do hunger and
thirst to do you good, sir.
_Ge._ Come, sweet knight, come; I do hunger and
thirst to be abed with thee.
[_Exeunt._
[39] "Ka me, ka thee"--one good turn deserves another. See Nares'
_Glossary_.
[40] _Trunk_ was a term for a pea-shooter.
[41] "This alludes to a scene in the tragedy of _Mulleasses the
Turke_, 1610, by Mason, where Borgias appears as a ghost, and
is addressed by Mulleasses in these words:--
'Illusive ayre, false shape of Borgias,
Could thy vaine shadow worke a feare in him
That like an Atlas under went the earth,
When with a prim and constant eye he saw
Hell's fifty-headed porter; thus I'd prove
Thy apparition idle. [_Runnes at Borgias._
_Borg._ Treason! I live.'"--_Reed._
[42] A parody of an old ballad. See Evans' _Old Ballads_, i.
283 (1810); Chappell's _Popular Music of the Olden Time_, i.
241.
[43] Not marked in old ed.--She leaves the stage while Security
and Quicksilver are conversing; and presently (p. 37) returns.
[Transcriber's note: after line 177, above scene.]
[44] Cf. _Merchant of Venice_, i. 1:--
"My wind, cooling my broth,
Would blow me to an ague, when I thought
What harm a wind too great at sea might do."
[45] A jocular term for _cuckolds_.
[46] Nickname for a fisherman (one who followed the occupation of
the apostle Peter).
[47] "A hollie wand or _riding wand_. Houssine."--_Cotgrave._
[48] Used with a quibble. _Frail_ was a basket for figs,
raisins, &c.
[49] In _Lanthorn and Candlelight_ (1609) Dekker mentions
this extraordinary commodity:--"After a revelling, when younger
brothers have spent all, or in gaming have lost all, they sit
plotting in their chambers with necessity how to be furnished
presently with a new supply of money. They would take up any
commodity whatsoever, but their names stand in too many texted
letters in mercers' and scriveners' books. Upon _a hundred
pounds' worth of roasted beef_ they could find in their hearts
to venture, for that would away in turning of a hand; but where
shall they find a butcher or a cook that will let any man run so
much upon the score for flesh only?" (_Works_, ed. Grosart,
iii. 231.)
[50] "Foisting hound" = a dog with an evil smell.
[51] "There is comprehended under the curs of the coarsest kind a
certain dog in kitchen service excellent. For when any meat is to
be roasted _they go into a wheel_, which they turning round
about with the weight of their bodies so diligently look to their
business that no drudger nor scullion can do the feat more
cunningly: whom the popular sort hereupon call
turnspits."--Topsel's _History of Four-footed Beasts_, ed.
1658 (p. 139).
[52] The old ed. gives "poynados" (= poniards), which modern
editors strangely retain. _Ponado_ (_panado_) was a
caudle made of bread, currants, sack, eggs, &c.
ACT III.
SCENE I.
SECURITY'S _house_.
_Enter_ SIR PETRONEL, QUICKSILVER, SECURITY, BRAMBLE,
_and_ WINIFRED.
_Pe._ Thanks for your feast-like breakfast, good Master
Security; I am sorry (by reason of my instant haste to
so long a voyage as Virginia) I am without means by
any kind amends to show how affectionately I take your
kindness, and to confirm by some worthy ceremony a
perpetual league of friendship betwixt us.
_Sec._ Excellent knight! let this be a token betwixt us
of inviolable friendship. I am new married to this fair
gentlewoman, you know; and by my hope to make her
fruitful, though I be something in years, I vow faithfully
unto you to make you godfather, though in your absence,
to the first child I am blest withal; and henceforth call
me gossip, I beseech you, if you please to accept it. 13
_Pe._ In the highest degree of gratitude, my most worthy
gossip; for confirmation of which friendly title, let me
entreat my fair gossip, your wife here, to accept this
diamond, and keep it as my gift to her first child, wheresoever
my fortune, in event of my voyage, shall bestow
me.
_Sec._ How now, my coy wedlock;[53] I make you strange
of so noble a favour? Take it, I charge you, with all
affection, and, by way of taking your leave, present
boldly your lips to our honourable gossip. 23
_Qu._ How venturous he is to him, and how jealous to
others!
_Pe._ Long may this kind touch of our lips print in our
hearts all the forms of affection. And now, my good
gossip, if the writings be ready to which my wife should
seal, let them be brought this morning before she takes
coach into the country, and my kindness shall work her
to despatch it. 31
_Sec._ The writings are ready, sir. My learned counsel
here, Master Bramble the lawyer, hath perused them;
and within this hour I will bring the scrivener with them
to your worshipful lady.
_Pe._ Good Master Bramble, I will here take my leave
of you then. God send you fortunate pleas, sir, and
contentious clients!
_Br._ And you foreright winds, sir, and a fortunate
voyage.
[_Exit._
_Enter a_ Messenger.
_Me._ Sir Petronel, here are three or four gentlemen
desire to speak with you. 42
_Pe._ What are they?
_Qu._ They are your followers in this voyage, knight:
Captain Seagull and his associates; I met them this
morning, and told them you would be here.
_Pe._ Let them enter, I pray you; I know they long to
be gone, for their stay is dangerous.
_Enter_ SEAGULL, SCAPETHRIFT, _and_ SPENDALL.
_Sea._ God save my honourable colonel! 49
_Pe._ Welcome, good Captain Seagull, and worthy
gentlemen. If you will meet my friend Frank here, and
me, at the Blue Anchor Tavern by Billingsgate this
evening, we will there drink to our happy voyage, be
merry, and take boat to our ship with all expedition.
_Sp._ Defer it no longer, I beseech you, sir; but as your
voyage is hitherto carried closely, and in another knight's
name, so for your own safety and ours, let it be continued:
our meeting and speedy purpose of departing known to
as few as is possible, lest your ship and goods be
attached. 60
_Qu._ Well advised, captain; our colonel shall have
money this morning to despatch all our departures;
bring those gentlemen at night to the place appointed,
and, with our skins full of vintage, we'll take occasion by
the vantage,[54] and away.
_Sp._ We will not fail, but be there, sir.
_Pe._ Good morrow, good captain, and my worthy
associates. Health and all sovereignty to my beautiful
gossip; for you, sir, we shall see you presently with the
writings. 70
_Sec._ With writings and crowns to my honourable
gossip. I do hunger and thirst to do you good, sir.
[_Exeunt._
[53] Wife.
[54] Collier compares Nashe's _Summer's Last Will_,
&c.:--"Our vintage was a vintage, for it did not work upon the
advantage."
SCENE II.
_An inn-yard._
_Enter a_ Coachman _in haste, in his frock, feeding_.
_Co._ Here's a stir when citizens ride out of town, indeed
as if all the house were a-fire! 'Slight! they will not
give a man leave to eat's breakfast afore he rises.
_Enter_ HAMLET, _a footman, in haste_.
_Ha._ What, coachman--my lady's coach! for shame!
her ladyship's ready to come down.
_Enter_ POTKIN, _a tankard-bearer_.
_Po._ 'Sfoot! Hamlet, are you mad?[55] Whither run
you now? you should brush up my old mistress!
_Enter_ SINDEFY.
_Si._ What, Potkin?--you must put off your tankard
and put on your blue coat,[56] and wait upon Mistress
Touchstone into the country.
[_Exit._
_Po._ I will, forsooth, presently.
[_Exit._
_Enter_ Mistress FOND _and_ Mistress GAZER.
_Fo._ Come, sweet Mistress Gazer, let's watch here, and
see my Lady Flash take coach. 13
_Ga._ O' my word here's a most fine place to stand in;
did you see the new ship launched last day, Mistress
Fond?
_Fo._ O God! and we citizens should lose such a sight!
_Ga._ I warrant here will be double as many people to
see her take coach as there were to see it take water.
_Fo._ O she's married to a most fine castle i' th' country,
they say. 21
_Ga._ But there are no giants in the castle, are there?
_Fo._ O no: they say her knight killed 'hem all, and
therefore he was knighted.
_Ga._ Would to God her ladyship would come away!
_Enter_ GERTRUDE, Mistress TOUCHSTONE, SINDEFY,
HAMLET, POTKIN.
_Fo._ She comes, she comes, she comes!
_Ga._ } Pray heaven bless your ladyship!
_Fo._ }
_Ge._ Thank you, good people. My coach, for the love
of heaven, my coach! In good truth I shall swoon else.
_Ha._ Coach, coach, my lady's coach!
[_Exit._
_Ge._ As I am a lady, I think I am with child already,
I long for a coach so. May one be with child afore they
are married, mother? 33
_Mist. T._ Ay, by'r lady, madam; a little thing does
that; I have seen a little prick no bigger than a pin's
head swell bigger and bigger, till it has come to an
ancome;[57] and e'en so 'tis in these cases.
_Enter_ HAMLET.
_Ha._ Your coach is coming, madam.
_Ge._ That's well said. Now, heaven! methinks I am
e'en up to the knees in preferment. 40
_But a little higher, but a little higher, but a little higher,
There, there, there lies Cupid's fire!_
_Mist. T._ But must this young man, an't please you,
madam, run by your coach all the way a-foot?
_Ge._ Ay, by my faith, I warrant him; he gives no other
milk, as I have another servant does.
_Mist. T._ Alas! 'tis e'en pity, methinks; for God's sake,
madam, buy him but a hobby-horse; let the poor youth
have something betwixt his legs to ease 'hem. Alas! we
must do as we would be done to. 50
_Ge._ Go to, hold your peace, dame; you talk like an
old fool, I tell you!
_Enter_ Sir PETRONEL _and_ QUICKSILVER.
_Pe._ Wilt thou be gone, sweet honey-suckle, before I
can go with thee?
_Ge._ I pray thee, sweet knight, let me; I do so long to
dress up thy castle afore thou comest. But I marle how
my modest sister occupies herself this morning, that she
cannot wait on me to my coach, as well as her mother.
_Qu._ Marry, madam, she's married by this time to
prentice Golding. Your father, and some one more,
stole to church with 'hem in all the haste, that the cold
meat left at your wedding might serve to furnish their
nuptial table. 63
_Ge._ There's no base fellow, my father, now; but he's
e'en fit to father such a daughter: he must call me
daughter no more now: but "madam," and "please you,
madam;" and "please your worship, madam," indeed.
Out upon him! marry his daughter to a base prentice!
_Mist. T._ What should one do? Is there no law for
one that marries a woman's daughter against her will?
How shall we punish him, madam? 71
_Ge._ As I am a lady, an't would snow, we'd so pebble
'hem with snow-balls as they come from church; but,
sirrah Frank Quicksilver.
_Qu._ Ay, madam.
_Ge._ Dost remember since thou and I clapt what-d'ye-call'ts
in the garret?
_Qu._ I know not what you mean, madam.
_Ge._ _His_[58] _head as white as milk, all flaxen was his hair;_
_But now he is dead, and laid in his bed,_ 80
_And never will come again._
God be at your labour!
_Enter_ TOUCHSTONE, GOLDING, MILDRED, _with rosemary_.[59]
_Pe._ Was there ever such a lady?
_Qu._ See, madam, the bride and bridegroom!
_Ge._ God's my precious! God give you joy, mistress.
What lack you? Now out upon thee, baggage! My
sister married in a taffeta hat! Marry, hang you!
Westward with a wanion[60] t'ye! Nay, I have done wi'
ye, minion, then, i'faith; never look to have my
countenance any more, nor anything I can do for thee.
Thou ride in my coach, or come down to my castle! fie
upon thee! I charge thee in my ladyship's name, call
me sister no more. 93
_To._ An't please your worship, this is not your sister:
this is my daughter, and she calls me father, and so does
not your ladyship, an't please your worship, madam.
_Mist. T._ No, nor she must not call thee father by
heraldry, because thou makest thy prentice thy son as
well as she. Ah! thou misproud prentice, darest thou
presume to marry a lady's sister? 100
_Go._ It pleased my master, forsooth, to embolden me
with his favour; and though I confess myself far unworthy
so worthy a wife (being in part her servant, as I am your
prentice) yet (since I may say it without boasting) I am
born a gentleman, and by the trade I have learned of my
master (which I trust taints not my blood), able, with
mine own industry and portion, to maintain your
daughter, my hope is, heaven will so bless our humble
beginning, that in the end I shall be no disgrace to the
grace with which my master has bound me his double
prentice. 111
_To._ Master me no more, son, if thou think'st me
worthy to be thy father.
_Ge._ Son! Now, good Lord, how he shines! and you
mark him, he's a gentleman!
_Go._ Ay, indeed, madam, a gentleman born.
_Pe._ Never stand o' your gentry, Master Bridegroom;
if your legs be no better than your arms, you'll be able
to stand upright on neither shortly. 119
_To._ An't please your good worship, sir, there are two
sorts of gentlemen.
_Pe._ What mean you, sir?
_To._ Bold to put off my hat to your worship----
_Pe._ Nay, pray forbear, sir, and then forth with your
two sorts of gentlemen.
_To._ If your worship will have it so, I say there are
two sorts of gentlemen. There is a gentleman artificial,
and a gentleman natural. Now though your worship be
a gentleman natural: work upon that now. 129
_Qu._ Well said, old Touchstone; I am proud to
hear thee enter a set speech, i'faith; forth, I beseech
thee.
_To._ Cry your mercy, sir, your worship's a gentleman I
do not know. If you be one of my acquaintance, y'are
very much disguised, sir.
_Qu._ Go to, old quipper; forth with thy speech, I
say. 137
_To._ What, sir, my speeches were ever in vain to your
gracious worship; and therefore, till I speak to you
gallantry indeed, I will save my breath for my broth anon.
Come, my poor son and daughter, let us hide ourselves in
our poor humility, and live safe. Ambition consumes
itself with the very show. Work upon that now.
_Ge._ Let him go, let him go, for God's sake! let him
make his prentice his son, for God's sake! give away
his daughter, for God's sake! and when they come a-begging
to us for God's sake, let's laugh at their good
husbandry for God's sake. Farewell, sweet knight, pray
thee make haste after. 149
_Pe._ What shall I say?--I would not have thee go.
_Qu._ _Now,_[61] _O now, I must depart,
_Parting though it absence move._
This ditty, knight, do I see in thy looks in capital
letters.
_What a grief 'tis to depart, and leave the flower that
has my heart!_
_My sweet lady, and alack for woe, why, should we
part so?_
Tell truth, knight, and shame all dissembling lovers;
does not your pain lie on that side? 158
_Pe._ If it do, canst thou tell me how I may cure it?
_Qu._ Excellent easily. Divide yourself in two halves,
just by the girdlestead; send one half with your lady,
and keep t'other yourself; or else do as all true lovers
do--part with your heart, and leave your body behind.
I have seen't done a hundred times: 'tis as easy a matter
for a lover to part without a heart from his sweetheart,
and he ne'er the worse, as for a mouse to get from a trap
and leave her [_sic_] tail behind him. See, here comes the
writings. 168
_Enter_ SECURITY _with a_ Scrivener.
_Sec._ Good morrow to my worshipful lady. I present
your ladyship with this writing, to which if you please to
set your hand with your knight's, a velvet gown shall
attend your journey, o' my credit.
_Ge._ What writing is it, knight?
_Pe._ The sale, sweetheart, of the poor tenement I told
thee of, only to make a little money to send thee down
furniture for my castle, to which my hand shall lead
thee.
_Ge._ Very well. Now give me your pen, I pray.
_Qu._ It goes down without chewing, i'faith.
_Scr._ Your worships deliver this as your deed? 180
_Ambo._ We do.
_Ge._ So now, knight, farewell till I see thee.
_Pe._ All farewell to my sweetheart!
_Mist. T._ God-b'w'y', son knight.
_Pe._ Farewell, my good mother.
_Ge._ Farewell, Frank; I would fain take thee down if
I could.
_Qu._ I thank your good ladyship; farewell, Mistress
Sindefy.
[_Exeunt._
_Pe._ O tedious voyage, whereof there is no end!
What will they think of me? 191
_Qu._ Think what they list. They longed for a vagary
into the country, and now they are fitted. So a woman
marry to ride in a coach, she cares not if she ride to her
ruin. 'Tis the great end of many of their marriages.
This is not the first time a lady has rid a false journey in
her coach, I hope.
_Pe._ Nay, 'tis no matter, I care little what they think;
he that weighs men's thoughts has his hands full of
nothing. A man, in the course of this world, should be
like a surgeon's instrument--work in the wounds of
others, and feel nothing himself. The sharper and
subtler, the better. 203
_Qu._ As it falls out now, knight, you shall not need
to devise excuses, or endure her outcries, when she returns;
we shall now begone before, where they cannot
reach us.
_Pe._ Well, my kind compeer, you have now the assurance
we both can make you; let me now entreat you,
the money we agreed on may be brought to the Blue
Anchor, near to Billingsgate, by six o'clock; where I and
my chief friends, bound for this voyage, will with feasts
attend you. 213
_Sec._ The money, my most honourable compeer, shall
without fail observe your appointed hour.
_Pe._ Thanks, my dear gossip. I must now impart
To your approved love, a loving secret;
As one on whom my life doth more rely
In friendly trust than any man alive.
Nor shall you be the chosen secretary 220
Of my affections for affection only:
For I protest (if God bless my return)
To make you partner in my actions' gain
As deeply as if you had ventured with me
Half my expenses. Know then, honest gossip,
I have enjoy'd with such divine contentment
A gentlewoman's bed whom you well know,
That I shall ne'er enjoy this tedious voyage,
Nor live the least part of the time it asketh,
Without her presence; so I thirst and hunger 230
To taste the dear feast of her company.
And if the hunger and the thirst you vow
As my sworn gossip, to my wishèd good
Be, as I know it is, unfeign'd and firm,
Do me an easy favour in your power.
_Sec._ Be sure, brave gossip, all that I can do,
To my best nerve, is wholly at your service:
Who is the woman, first, that is your friend?
_Pe._ The woman is your learned counsel's wife,
The lawyer, Master Bramble; whom would you 240
Bring out this even in honest neighbourhood,
To take his leave with you, of me your gossip,
I, in the meantime, will send this my friend
Home to his house, to bring his wife disguised,
Before his face, into our company;
For love hath made her look for such a wile,
To free her from his tyrannous jealousy.
And I would take this course before another,
In stealing her away to make us sport,
And gull his circumspection the more grossly; 250
And I am sure that no man like yourself
Hath credit with him to entice his jealousy
To so long stay abroad as may give time
To her enlargement, in such safe disguise.
_Sec._ A pretty, pithy, and most pleasant project!
Who would not strain a point of neighbourhood
For such a point device? that as the ship[62]
Of famous Draco went about the world,
Will wind about the lawyer, compassing
The world himself; he hath it in his arms, 260
And that's enough for him, without his wife.
A lawyer is ambitious, and his head
Cannot be praised nor raised too high,
With any fork of highest knavery.
I'll go fetch her straight.
[_Exit_ SECURITY.
_Pe._ So, so. Now, Frank, go thou home to his house,
'Stead of his lawyer's, and bring his wife hither,
Who, just like to the lawyer's wife, is prison'd
With his[63] stern usurous jealousy, which could never
Be over-reach'd thus but with over-reaching. 270
_Re-enter_ SECURITY.
_Sec._ And, Master Francis, watch you th' instant time
To enter with his exit: 'twill be rare,
Two fine horn'd beasts!--a camel and a lawyer!
_Qu._ How the old villain joys in villainy!
_Sec._ And hark you, gossip, when you have her here,
Have your boat ready, ship her to your ship
With utmost haste, lest Master Bramble stay you.
To o'er-reach that head that out-reacheth all heads,
'Tis a trick rampant!--'tis a very quiblin![64]
I hope this harvest to pitch cart with lawyers, 280
Their heads will be so forked. This sly touch
Will get apes to invent a number such.
[_Exit._
_Qu._ Was ever rascal honey'd so with poison?
He that delights in slavish avarice,
Is apt to joy in every sort of vice.
Well, I'll go fetch his wife, whilst he the lawyer's.
_Pe._ But stay, Frank, let's think how we may disguise
her upon this sudden. 288
_Qu._ God's me! there's the mischief! But hark you,
here's an excellent device: 'fore God, a rare one! I will
carry her a sailor's gown and cap, and cover her, and a
player's beard.
_Pe._ And what upon her head?
_Qu._ I tell you, a sailor's cap! 'Slight, God forgive
me! what kind of figent[65] memory have you?
_Pe._ Nay, then, what kind of figent wit hast thou?
A sailor's cap?--how shall she put it off
When thou present'st her to our company?
_Qu._ Tush, man, for that, make her a saucy sailor. 299
_Pe._ Tush, tush! 'tis no fit sauce for such sweet mutton,
I know not what t' advise.
_Re-enter_ SECURITY _with his wife's gown_.
_Sec._ Knight, knight, a rare device!
_Pe._ 'Swounds, yet again!
_Qu._ What stratagem have you now?
_Sec._ The best that ever. You talk of disguising?
_Pe._ Ay, marry, gossip, that's our present care.
_Sec._ Cast care away then; here's the best device
For plain Security (for I am no better)
I think, that ever lived: here's my wife's gown,
Which you may put upon the lawyer's wife, 310
And which I brought you, sir, for two great reasons;
One is, that Master Bramble may take hold
Of some suspicion that it is my wife,
And gird me so perhaps with his law-wit;
The other (which is policy indeed)
Is, that my wife may now be tied at home,
Having no more but her old gown abroad,
And not show me a quirk, while I firk others.
Is not this rare?
_Ambo._ The best that ever was.
_Sec._ Am I not born to furnish gentlemen? 320
_Pe._ O my dear gossip!
_Sec._ Well hold, Master Francis; watch when the
lawyer's out, and put it in. And now I will go fetch
him.
[_Exit._
_Qu._ O my dad! he goes as 'twere the devil to fetch
the lawyer; and devil shall he be, if horns will make
him.
_Pe._ Why, how now, gossip? why stay you there
musing?
_Sec._ A toy, a toy runs in my head, i'faith. 330
_Qu._ A pox of that head! is there more toys yet?
_Pe._ What is it, pray thee, gossip?
_Sec._ Why, sir, what if you should slip away now with
my wife's best gown, I having no security for it?
_Qu._ For that I hope, dad, you will take our words.
_Sec._ Ay, by th' mass, your word--that's a proper staff
For wise Security to lean upon!
But 'tis no matter, once I'll trust my name
On your crack'd credits; let it take no shame.
Fetch the wench, Frank.
[_Exit._
_Qu._ I'll wait upon you, sir, 340
And fetch you over, you were ne'er so fetch'd.
Go to the tavern, knight; your followers
Dare not be drunk, I think, before their captain.
[_Exit._
_Pe._ Would I might lead them to no hotter service
Till our Virginian gold were in our purses!
[_Exit._
[55] One of many allusions that show the early popularity of
Shakespeare's play.
[56] "Blue coat"--the livery of a serving-man.
[57] Ulcerous swelling.
[58] A variation of the snatch sung by Ophelia.
[59] The herb of remembrance, used at weddings and funerals.
[60] "With a wanion,"--with a plague!
[61] A misquotation from a song in John Dowland's _First Book
of Songs or Airs_ (1597):--
"Now, O now, I needs must part,
Parting though I absent mourn," &c.
[62] Sir Francis Drake's ship, in which he sailed round the
world. By order of Queen Elizabeth it was laid up at Deptford,
whither it attracted many sightseers. See Nares' _Glossary_.
[63] "Both the quartos [there is only one] have it 'With
_eyes_ stern usurous jealousy,' which may be right, though
the sense is rather forced."--_Collier._ The copy that lies
before me gives, "With his sterne vsurous Ielosie."
[64] Device, trick.--In _The Insatiate Countess_, ii. 3, we
have the word "whiblin" used in the same sense.
[65] Fidgetty, volatile.
SCENE III.
_The Blue Anchor, Billingsgate._
_Enter_ SEAGULL, SPENDALL, _and_ SCAPETHRIFT, _in the Tavern, with a
Drawer_.
_Sea._ Come, drawer, pierce your neatest hogsheads,
and let's have cheer--not fit for your Billingsgate
tavern, but for our Virginian colonel; he will be here
instantly.
_Dr._ You shall have all things fit, sir; please you
have any more wine?
_Sp._ More wine, slave! whether we drink it or no,
spill it, and draw more.
_Sea._ Fill all the pots in your house with all sorts of
liquor, and let 'hem wait on us here like soldiers in their
pewter coats; and though we do not employ them now,
yet we will maintain 'hem till we do. 12
_Dr._ Said like an honourable captain; you shall have
all you can command, sir.
[_Exit_ Drawer.
_Sea._ Come, boys, Virginia longs till we share the rest
of her maidenhead.
_Sp._ Why, is she inhabited already with any English?
_Sea._ A whole country of English is there, man, bred
of those that were left there in '79;[66] they have married
with the Indians, and make 'hem bring forth as beautiful
faces as any we have in England; and therefore the
Indians are so in love with 'hem, that all the treasure
they have they lay at their feet. 23
_Sca._ But is there such treasure there, captain, as I
have heard?
_Sea._ I tell thee, gold is more plentiful there than
copper is with us; and for as much red copper as I can
bring, I'll have thrice the weight in gold. Why, man,
all their dripping-pans and their chamber-pots are pure
gold; and all the chains with which they chain up their
streets are massy gold; all the prisoners they take are
fettered in gold; and for rubies and diamonds, they go
forth on holidays and gather 'hem by the seashore, to
hang on their children's coats, and stick in their caps,
as commonly as our children wear saffron-gilt brooches
and groats with holes in 'hem. 36
_Sca._ And is it a pleasant country withal?
_Sea._ As ever the sun shined on; temperate and full
of all sorts of excellent viands: wild boar is as common
there as our tamest bacon is here; venison as mutton.
And then you shall live freely there, without sergeants,
or courtiers, or lawyers, or intelligencers, only[67] a few
industrious Scots, perhaps, who indeed are dispersed
over the face of the whole earth. But as for them, there
are no greater friends to Englishmen and England,
when they are out on't, in the world, than they are.
And for my part, I would a hundred thousand of 'hem
were there, for we are all one countrymen now, ye
know, and we should find ten times more comfort of
them there than we do here. Then for your means to
advancement, there it is simple, and not preposterously
mixed. You may be an alderman there, and never be
scavenger: you may be a nobleman, and never be a
slave. You may come to preferment enough, and never
be a pander; to riches and fortune enough, and have
never the more villainy nor the less wit. Besides,[68] there
we shall have no more law than conscience, and not too
much of either; serve God enough, eat and drink enough,
and enough is as good as a feast. 59
_Sp._ God's me! and how far is it thither?
_Sea._ Some six weeks' sail, no more, with any indifferent
good wind. And if I get to any part of the
coast of Africa, I'll sail thither with any wind; or when
I come to Cape Finisterre, there's a foreright wind
continually wafts us till we come at Virginia. See, our
colonel's come. 66
_Enter_ Sir PETRONEL _with his followers_.
_Pe._ Well met, good Captain Seagull, and my noble
gentlemen! Now the sweet hour of our freedom is at
hand. Come, drawer, fill us some carouses, and prepare
us for the mirth that will be occasioned presently. Here
will be a pretty wench, gentlemen, that will bear us
company all our voyage.
_Sea._ Whatsoever she be, here's to her health, noble
colonel, both with cap and knee.
_Pe._ Thanks, kind Captain Seagull, she's one I love
dearly, and must not be known till we be free from
all that know us. And so, gentlemen, here's to her
health. 78
_Ambo._ Let it come, worthy colonel; we do hunger
and thirst for it.
_Pe._ Afore heaven! you have hit the phrase of one
that her presence will touch from the foot to the forehead,
if ye knew it.
_Sp._ Why, then, we will join his forehead with her
health, sir; and Captain Scapethrift, here's to 'hem
both.
_Enter_ SECURITY _and_ BRAMBLE.
_Sec._ See, see, Master Bramble, 'fore heaven! their
voyage cannot but prosper; they are o' their knees
for success to it!
_Br._ And they pray to god Bacchus. 90
_Sec._ God save my brave colonel, with all his tall
captains and corporals. See, sir, my worshipful learned
counsel, Master Bramble, is come to take his leave of
you.
_Pe._ Worshipful Master Bramble, how far do you draw
us into the sweet-briar of your kindness! Come, Captain
Seagull, another health to this rare Bramble, that hath
never a prick about him.
_Sea._ I pledge his most smooth disposition, sir. Come,
Master Security, bend your supporters, and pledge this
notorious health here. 101
_Sec._ Bend you yours likewise, Master Bramble; for it
is you shall pledge me.
_Sea._ Not so, Master Security; he must not pledge his
own health.
_Sec._ No, Master Captain?
_Enter_ QUICKSILVER _with_ WINNY _disguised_.
Why, then, here's one is fitly come to do him that
honour.
_Qu._ Here's the gentlewoman your cousin, sir, whom,
with much entreaty, I have brought to take her leave of
you in a tavern; ashamed whereof, you must pardon
her if she put not off her mask. 112
_Pe._ Pardon me, sweet cousin; my kind desire to see
you before I went, made me so importunate to entreat
your presence here.
_Sec._ How now, Master Francis? have you honoured
this presence with a fair gentlewoman?
_Qu._ Pray, sir, take you no notice of her, for she will
not be known to you.
_Sec._ But my learned counsel, Master Bramble here,
I hope he may know her. 121
_Qu._ No more than you, sir, at this time; his learning
must pardon her.
_Sec._ Well, God pardon her for my part, and I do, I'll
be sworn; and so, Master Francis, here's to all that are
going eastward to-night towards Cuckold's Haven;[69] and
so to the health of Master Bramble.
_Qu._ I pledge it, sir. Hath it gone round, Captain?
_Sea._ It has, sweet Frank; and the round closes with
thee. 130
_Qu._ Well, sir, here's to all eastward and toward
cuckolds, and so to famous Cuckold's Haven, so fatally
remembered.
[_Surgit._
_Pe._ Nay, pray thee, coz, weep not; gossip Security.
_Sec._ Ay, my brave gossip.
_Pe._ A word, I beseech you, sir. Our friend, Mistress
Bramble here, is so dissolved in tears, that she drowns
the whole mirth of our meeting. Sweet gossip, take
her aside and comfort her. 139
_Sec._ Pity of all true love, Mistress Bramble; what,
weep you to enjoy your love? What's the cause, lady?
Is't because your husband is so near, and your heart
yearns to have a little abused him? Alas, alas! the
offence is too common to be respected. So great a
grace hath seldom chanced to so unthankful a woman,
to be rid of an old jealous dotard, to enjoy the arms of
a loving young knight, that when your prickless Bramble
is withered with grief of your loss, will make you flourish
afresh in the bed of a lady. 149
_Enter_ Drawer.
_Dr._ Sir Petronel, here's one of your watermen come
to tell you it will be flood these three hours; and that
'twill be dangerous going against the tide, for the sky
is overcast, and there was a porcpisce[70] even now seen
at London Bridge, which is always the messenger of
tempests, he says.
_Pe._ A porcpisce!--what's that to th' purpose? Charge
him, if he love his life, to attend us; can we not reach
Blackwall (where my ship lies) against the tide, and in
spite of tempests? Captains and gentlemen, we'll begin
a new ceremony at the beginning of our voyage, which
I believe will be followed of all future adventurers. 161
_Sea._ What's that, good colonel?
_Pe._ This, Captain Seagull. We'll have our provided
supper brought aboard Sir Francis Drake's ship,[71] that
hath compassed the world; where, with full cups and
banquets, we will do sacrifice for a prosperous voyage.
My mind gives me that some good spirits of the waters
should haunt the desert ribs of her, and be auspicious
to all that honour her memory, and will with like orgies
enter their voyages. 170
_Sea._ Rarely conceited! One health more to this
motion, and aboard to perform it. He that will not this
night be drunk, may he never be sober.
[_They compass in_ WINIFRED, _dance the
drunken round, and drink carouses_.
_Br._ Sir Petronel and his honourable captains, in
these young services we old servitors may be spared.
We only came to take our leaves, and with one health
to you all, I'll be bold to do so. Here, neighbour
Security, to the health of Sir Petronel, and all his
captains.
_Sec._ You must bend then, Master Bramble; so now
I am for you. I have one corner of my brain, I hope,
fit to bear one carouse more. Here, lady, to you that
are encompassed there, and are ashamed of our company.
Ha, ha, ha! by my troth, my learned counsel,
Master Bramble, my mind runs so of Cuckold's Haven
to-night, that my head runs over with admiration. 186
_Br._ But is not that your wife, neighbour?
_Sec._ No, by my troth, Master Bramble. Ha, ha, ha!
A pox of all Cuckold's Havens, I say!
_Br._ O' my faith, her garments are exceeding like
your wife's.
_Sec._ _Cucullus non facit monachum_, my learned counsel;
all are not cuckolds that seem so, nor all seem not that
are so. Give me your hand, my learned counsel; you
and I will sup somewhere else than at Sir Francis
Drake's ship to-night. Adieu, my noble gossip.
_Br._ Good fortune, brave captains; fair skies God
send ye!
_Omnes._ Farewell, my hearts, farewell! 199
_Pe._ Gossip, laugh no more at Cuckold's Haven, gossip.
_Sec._ I have done, I have done, sir; will you lead,
Master Bramble? Ha, ha, ha!
_Pe._ Captain Seagull, charge a boat.
_Omnes._ A boat, a boat, a boat!
[_Exeunt all but_ Drawer.
_Dr._ Y'are in a proper taking indeed, to take a boat,
especially at this time of night, and against tide and
tempest. They say yet, "drunken men never take
harm." This night will try the truth of that proverb. 208
[_Exit._
[66] This date is too early. The first colony was established (by
Sir Richard Grenville) in 1585; see Hakluyt's _Voyages_ (ed.
1600), iii. 254. These colonists stayed only a year in Virginia.
A second batch was sent out in 1587.
[67] "Only a few ... than we do here."--This is one of the
passages that gave offence and procured the author's
imprisonment. It is found only in a few copies. Englishmen were
disgusted at the favours lavished by James on the needy Scots who
swarmed southwards "with pride and hungry hopes completely
arm'd." See Jesse's _Court of England under the Stuarts_,
ed. 1855, i. 52-3.
[68] "Besides ... good as a feast."--This passage is omitted in
the copies that contain the cancelled passage about the Scots.
[69] A spot on the Thames below Rotherhithe.
[70] Old form of porpoise: it occurs in Jonson's _Silent
Woman_, &c. The gambolling of porpoises was supposed to
portend a storm.
[71] See note 1, p. 59. [Transcriber's Note: Footnote [63]]
SCENE IV.
_Outside_ SECURITY'S _house_.
_Enter_ SECURITY.
_Sec._ What, Winny!--wife, I say! out of doors at this
time! where should I seek the gad-fly? Billingsgate,
Billingsgate, Billingsgate! She's gone with the knight,
she's gone with the knight; woe be to thee, Billingsgate!
A boat, a boat, a boat! a full hundred marks for a
boat![72]
[_Exit._
[72] See note 2, vol. ii. p. 349.
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
_Cuckold's Haven._
_Enter_ SLITGUT _with a pair of ox-horns, discovering Cuckold's Haven
above_.
_Sl._ All hail, fair haven of married men only! for there
are none but married men cuckolds. For my part, I
presume not to arrive here, but in my masters behalf (a
poor butcher of East-cheap), who sends me to set up (in
honour of Saint Luke) these necessary ensigns of his
homage.[73] And up I got this morning, thus early, to get
up to the top of this famous tree, that is all fruit and no
leaves, to advance this crest of my master's occupation.
Up then; heaven and Saint Luke bless me, that I be
not blown into the Thames as I climb, with this furious
tempest. 'Slight! I think the devil be abroad, in likeness
of a storm, to rob me of my horns! Hark how he
roars! Lord! what a coil the Thames keeps! she bears
some unjust burthen, I believe, that she kicks and
curvets thus to cast it. Heaven bless all honest passengers
that are upon her back now; for the bit is out
of her mouth, I see, and she will run away with 'hem!
So, so, I think I have made it look the right way; it
runs against London Bridge, as it were, even full butt.
And now let me discover from this lofty prospect, what
pranks the rude Thames plays in her desperate lunacy.
O me! here's a boat has been cast away hard by. Alas,
alas! see one of her passengers labouring for his life to
land at this haven here! pray heaven he may recover
it! His next land is even just under me; hold out yet
a little, whatsoever thou art; pray, and take a good
heart to thee. 'Tis a man; take a man's heart to thee;
yet a little further, get up a' thy legs, man; now 'tis
shallow enough. So, so, so! Alas! he's down again.
Hold thy wind, father: 'tis a man in a nightcap. So!
now he's got up again; now he's past the worst: yet,
thanks be to heaven, he comes towards me pretty and
strongly. 33
_Enter_ SECURITY _without his hat, in a nightcap,
wet band, &c._
_Sec._ Heaven, I beseech thee, how have I offended
thee! where am I cast ashore now, that I may go a
righter way home by land? Let me see; O I am
scarce able to look about me: where is there any seamark
that I am acquainted withal?
_Sl._ Look up, father; are you acquainted with this
mark? 40
_Sec._ What! landed at Cuckold's Haven! Hell and
damnation! I will run back and drown myself.
[_He falls down._
_Sl._ Poor man, how weak he is! the weak water has
washed away his strength.
_Sec._ Landed at Cuckold's Haven! If it had not been
to die twenty times alive, I should never have 'scaped
death! I will never arise more; I will grovel here and
eat dirt till I be choked; I will make the gentle earth
do that, which the cruel water has denied me. 49
_Sl._ Alas! good father, be not so desperate! Rise,
man; if you will I'll come presently and lead you home.
_Sec._ Home! shall I make any know my home, that
has known me thus abroad? How low shall I crouch
away, that no eye may see me? I will creep on the
earth while I live, and never look heaven in the face
more.
[_Exit creeping._
_Sl._ What young planet reigns now, trow,[74] that old
men are so foolish? What desperate young swaggerer
would have been abroad such a weather as this, upon
the water? Ay me! see another remnant of this unfortunate
shipwreck, or some other. A woman, i'faith,
a woman; though it be almost at St. Katherine's, I discern
it to be a woman, for all her body is above the
water, and her clothes swim about her most handsomely.
O, they bear her up most bravely! has not a woman
reason to love the taking up of her clothes the better
while she lives, for this? Alas! how busy the rude
Thames is about her! a pox o' that wave! it will drown
her, i'faith, 'twill drown her! Cry God mercy, she has
'scaped it--I thank heaven she has 'scaped it! O how
she swims like a mermaid! some vigilant body look out
and save her. That's well said; just where the priest
fell in, there's one sets down a ladder, and goes to take
her up. God's blessing o' thy heart, boy! Now take
her up in thy arms and to bed with her; she's up, she's
up! She's a beautiful woman, I warrant her; the
billows durst not devour her. 77
_Enter the_ Drawer _of the Blue Anchor,_[75] _with_ WINIFRED.
_Dr._ How fare you now, lady?
_Wi._ Much better, my good friend, than I wish; as
one desperate of her fame, now my life is preserved.
_Dr._ Comfort yourself: that power that preserved you
from death can likewise defend you from infamy, howsoever
you deserve it. Were not you one that took
boat late this night, with a knight and other gentlemen
at Billingsgate?
_Wi._ Unhappy that I am, I was. 86
_Dr._ I am glad it was my good hap to come down
thus far after you, to a house of my friend's here in St.
Katherine's, since I am now happily made a mean to
your rescue from the ruthless tempest, which (when you
took boat) was so extreme, and the gentleman that
brought you forth so desperate and unsober, that I
feared long ere this I should hear of your shipwreck,
and therefore (with little other reason) made thus far
this way. And this I must tell you, since perhaps you
may make use of it, there was left behind you at our
tavern, brought by a porter (hired by the young gentleman
that brought you), a gentlewoman's gown, hat,
stockings, and shoes; which if they be yours, and you
please to shift you, taking a hard bed here in this house
of my friend, I will presently go fetch you. 101
_Wi._ Thanks, my good friend, for your more than good
news. The gown with all things bound with it are mine;
which if you please to fetch as you have promised, I will
boldly receive the kind favour you have offered till your
return; entreating you, by all the good you have done in
preserving me hitherto, to let none take knowledge of what
favour you do me, or where such a one as I am bestowed,
lest you incur me much more damage in my fame than
you have done me pleasure in preserving my life. 110
_Dr._ Come in, lady, and shift yourself; resolve that
nothing but your own pleasure shall be used in your
discovery.
_Wi._ Thank you, good friend; the time may come, I
shall requite you.
[_Exeunt._
_Slit._ See, see, see! I hold my life, there's some other
a taking up at Wapping now! Look, what a sort of
people cluster about the gallows there! in good troth
it is so. O me! a fine young gentleman! What, and
taken up at the gallows! Heaven grant he be not one
day taken down there! O' my life, it is ominous! Well,
he is delivered for the time. I see the people have all left
him; yet will I keep my prospect awhile, to see if any
more have been shipwracked. 124
_Enter_ QUICKSILVER, _bareheaded_.
_Qu._ Accursed that ever I was saved or born!
How fatal is my sad arrival here!
As if the stars and providence spake to me,
And said, "The drift of all unlawful courses
(Whatever end they dare propose themselves,
In frame of their licentious policies), 130
In the firm order of just destiny,
They are the ready highways to our ruins."
I know not what to do; my wicked hopes
Are, with this tempest, torn up by the roots.
O! which way shall I bend my desperate steps,
In which unsufferable shame and misery
Will not attend them? I will walk this bank,
And see if I can meet the other relics
Of our poor shipwreck'd crew, or hear of them.
The knight, alas! was so far gone with wine, 140
And th' other three, that I refused their boat,
And took the hapless woman in another,
Who cannot but be sunk, whatever fortune
Hath wrought upon the others' desperate lives.
[_Exit._
_Enter_ Sir PETRONEL _and_ SEAGULL, _bareheaded_.
_Pe._ Zounds! captain, I will tell thee, we are cast up
o' the coast of France. 'Sfoot! I am not drunk still, I
hope. Dost remember where we were last night?
_Sea._ No, by my troth, knight, not I; but methinks we
have been a horrible while upon the water and in the
water. 150
_Pe._ Ay me! we are undone for ever! Hast any
money about thee?
_Sea._ Not a penny, by Heaven!
_Pe._ Not a penny betwixt us, and cast ashore in
France!
_Sea._ 'Faith, I cannot tell that; my brains nor mine
eyes are not mine own yet. 157
_Enter two_ Gentlemen.
_Pe._ 'Sfoot! wilt not believe me? I know't by th'
elevation of the pole, and by the altitude and latitude of
the climate. See, here comes a couple of French gentlemen;
I knew we were in France; dost thou think our
Englishmen are so Frenchified, that a man knows not
whether he be in France or in England, when he sees
'hem? What shall we do? We must e'en to 'hem, and
entreat some relief of 'hem. Life is sweet, and we have
no other means to relieve our lives now but their charities.
_Sea._ Pray you, do you beg on 'hem then; you can
speak French. 168
_Pe._ Monsieur, plaist il d'avoir pitie de nostre grande
infortune. Je suis un poure chevalier d'Angleterre qui
a souffri l'infortune de naufrage.
_1st Gent._ Un poure chevalier d'Angleterre?
_Pe._ Oui, monsieur, il est trop vray; mais vous sçaves
bien nous sommes toutes subject à fortune.
_2nd Gent._ A poor knight of England?--a poor knight
of Windsor, are you not? Why speak you this broken
French when y'are a whole Englishman? On what coast
are you, think you?
_Pe._ On the coast of France, sir. 179
_1st Gent._ On the coast of Dogs, sir; y'are i'th' Isle o'
Dogs, I tell you, I see y'ave been washed in the Thames
here, and I believe ye were drowned in a tavern before,
or else you would never have took boat in such a dawning
as this was. Farewell, farewell; we will not know you
for shaming of you. I ken the man weel; he's one of
my thirty pound knights.[76]
_2nd Gent._ No, no, this is he that stole his knighthood
o' the grand day for four pound given to a page; all the
money in's purse, I wot well.
[_Exeunt._
_Sea._ Death! colonel, I knew you were over-shot. 190
_Pe._ Sure I think now, indeed, Captain Seagull, we
were something over-shot.
_Enter_ QUICKSILVER.
What! my sweet Frank Quicksilver! dost thou survive
to rejoice me? But what! nobody at thy heels, Frank?
Ay me! what is become of poor Mistress Security?
_Qu._ 'Faith, gone quite from her name, as she is from
her fame, I think; I left her to the mercy of the water.
_Sea._ Let her go, let her go! Let us go to our ship at
Blackwall, and shift us. 199
_Pe._ Nay, by my troth, let our clothes rot upon us, and
let us rot in them; twenty to one our ship is attached
by this time! If we set her not under sail this last tide,
I never looked for any other. Woe, woe is me! what
shall become of us? The last money we could make,
the greedy Thames has devoured; and if our ship be
attached, there is no hope can relieve us.
_Qu._ 'Sfoot! knight, what an unknightly faintness transports
thee! Let our ship sink, and all the world that's
without us be taken from us, I hope I have some tricks
in this brain of mine shall not let us perish. 210
_Sea._ Well said, Frank, i'faith. O, my nimble-spirited
Quicksilver! 'Fore God! would thou hadst been our
colonel!
_Pe._ I like his spirit rarely; but I see no means he
has to support that spirit.
_Qu._ Go to, knight! I have more means than thou art
aware of. I have not lived amongst goldsmiths and
goldmakers all this while, but I have learned something
worthy of my time with 'hem. And not to let thee stink
where thou stand'st, knight, I'll let thee know some of
my skill presently. 221
_Sea._ Do, good Frank, I beseech thee.
_Qu._ I will blanch copper so cunningly that it shall
endure all proofs but the test: it shall endure malleation,
it shall have the ponderosity of Luna, and the tenacity
of Luna--by no means friable.
_Pe._ 'Slight! where learn'st thou these terms, trow?
_Qu._ Tush, knight! the terms of this art every ignorant
quacksalver is perfect in; but I'll tell you how yourself
shall blanch copper thus cunningly. Take arsenic, otherwise
called realga (which indeed is plain ratsbane); sublime
'hem three or four times, then take the sublimate
of this realga, and put 'hem into a glass, into chymia,
and let them have a convenient decoction natural, four-and-twenty
hours, and he will become perfectly fixed;
then take this fixed powder, and project him upon well-purged
copper, _et habebis magisterium_. 237
_Ambo._ Excellent Frank, let us hug thee!
_Qu._ Nay, this I will do besides. I'll take you off
twelvepence from every angel, with a kind of aquafortis,
and never deface any part of the image.
_Pe._ But then it will want weight?
_Qu._ You shall restore that thus: Take your sal achime
prepared, and your distilled urine, and let your angels lie
in it but four-and-twenty hours, and they shall have their
perfect weight again. Come on, now; I hold this is
enough to put some spirit into the livers of you; I'll
infuse more another time. We have saluted the proud
air long enough with our bare sconces. Now will I have
you to a wench's house of mine at London, there make
shift to shift us, and after, take such fortunes as the stars
shall assign us. 252
_Ambo._ Notable Frank, we will ever adore thee!
[_Exeunt._
_Enter_ Drawer, _with_ WINIFRED _new-attired_.
_Wi._ Now, sweet friend, you have brought me near
enough your tavern, which I desired I might with some
colour be seen near, inquiring for my husband, who, I
must tell you, stole[77] thither the last night with my wet
gown we have left at your friend's, which, to continue
your former honest kindness, let me pray you to keep
close from the knowledge of any: and so, with all vow
of your requital, let me now entreat you to leave me to
my woman's wit and fortune. 262
_Dr._ All shall be done you desire; and so all the fortune
you can wish for attend you.
[_Exit_ Drawer.
_Enter_ SECURITY.
_Sec._ I will once more to this unhappy tavern before I
shift one rag of me more; that I may there know what
is left behind, and what news of their passengers. I have
bought me a hat and band with the little money I had
about me, and made the streets a little leave staring at
my nightcap.
_Wi._ O, my dear husband! where have you been
to-night? All night abroad at taverns! Rob me of
my garments! and fare as one run away from me!
Alas! is this seemly for a man of your credit, of your
age, and affection to your wife? 275
_Sec._ What should I say?--how miraculously sorts
this!--was not I at home, and called thee last night?
_Wi._ Yes, sir, the harmless sleep you broke; and my
answer to you would have witnessed it, if you had had
the patience to have stayed and answered me; but your
so sudden retreat made me imagine you were gone to
Master Bramble's, and so rested patient and hopeful
of your coming again, till this your unbelieved absence
brought me abroad with no less than wonder, to seek
you where the false knight had carried you. 285
_Sec._ Villain and monster that I was! how have I
abused thee! I was suddenly gone indeed; for my sudden
jealousy transferred me. I will say no more but this:
dear wife, I suspected thee.
_Wi._ Did you suspect me? 290
_Sec._ Talk not of it, I beseech thee; I am ashamed to
imagine it. I will home, I will home; and every morning
on my knees ask thee heartily forgiveness.
[_Exeunt._
[_Slit._] Now will I descend my honourable prospect;
the farthest seeing sea-mark of the world; no marvel,
then, if I could see two miles about me. I hope the
red tempest's anger be now over-blown, which sure, I
think, Heaven sent as a punishment for profaning holy
Saint Luke's memory[78] with so ridiculous a custom.
Thou dishonest satire! farewell to honest married
men, farewell to all sorts and degrees of thee! Farewell,
thou horn of hunger, that call'st the inns o' court to
their manger! Farewell, thou horn of abundance, that
adornest the headsmen of the commonwealth! Farewell,
thou horn of direction, that is the city lanthorn!
Farewell, thou horn of pleasure, the ensign of the huntsman!
Farewell, thou horn of destiny, th' ensign of the
married man! Farewell, thou horn tree, that bearest
nothing but stone-fruit! 309
[_Exit._
[73] Horn-fair was held at Charlton on St. Luke's Day, 18th
October.--The tradition was that King John cuckolded a miller who
lived near Charlton, and compensated him by giving him all the
land that he could see from his house, looking down the river;
the condition being that the miller should walk round the estate
annually on St. Luke's Day with a pair of buck's horns fastened
on his head.
[74] _I.e._, think you?
[75] Old ed. "_Enter the_ Drawer _in the tavern before_."
[76] A sneer at those who purchased the honour of knighthood from
King James. As he spoke the words the actor mimick'd James'
Scotch accent.
[77] Old ed. "stale."
[78] See note, p. 72. [Transcriber's Note: Footnote 73]
SCENE II.
_Goldsmiths' Row._
_Enter_ TOUCHSTONE.
_To._ Ha, sirrah! thinks my knight adventurer we can no
point of our compass? Do we not know nor-north-east,
north-east-and-by-east, east-and-by-north? nor plain eastward?
Ha! have we never heard of Virginia? nor the
Cavallaria? nor the Colonoria? Can we discover no discoveries?
Well, mine errant Sir Flash, and my runagate
Quicksilver, you may drink drunk,[79] crack cans, hurl away
a brown dozen of Monmouth caps[80] or so, in sea ceremony
to your _bon voyage_; but for reaching any coast, save the
coast of Kent or Essex, with this tide, or with this fleet, I'll
be your warrant for a Gravesend toast. There's that gone
afore will stay your admiral,[81] and vice-admiral and rear-admiral,
were they all (as they are) but one pinnace,
and under sail, as well as a remora,[82] doubt it not; and
from this sconce,[83] without either powder or shot. Work
upon that now. Nay, and you'll show tricks, we'll vie[84]
with you a little. My daughter, his lady, was sent eastward
by land, to a castle of his, i' the air (in what region
I know not), and, as I hear, was glad to take up her
lodging in her coach, she and her two waiting-women, her
maid, and her mother, like three snails in a shell, and the
coachman a-top on 'hem, I think. Since they have all
found the way back again by Weeping Cross;[85] but I'll
not see 'hem. And for two on 'hem, madam and her
malkin, they are like to bite o' the bridle for William, as
the poor horses have done all this while that hurried
'hem, or else go graze o' the common. So should my
Dame Touchstone too; but she has been my cross these
thirty years, and I'll now keep her to fright away sprites,
i'faith. I wonder I hear no news of my son Golding.
He was sent for to the Guildhall this morning betimes,
and I marvel at the matter; if I had not laid up comfort
and hope in him, I should grow desperate of all.
See! he is come i' my thought. How now, son? What
news at the Court of Aldermen? 35
_Enter_ GOLDING.
_Go._ Troth, sir, an accident somewhat strange, else it
hath little in it worth the reporting.
_To._ What? it is not borrowing of money, then?
_Go._ No, sir; it hath pleased the worshipful commoners
of the city to take me one i' their number at presentation
of the inquest----
_To._ Ha!
_Go._ And the alderman of the ward wherein I dwell to
appoint me his deputy----
_To._ How? 45
_Go._ In which place I have had an oath administered
me, since I went.
_To._ Now, my dear and happy son, let me kiss thy
new worship, and a little boast mine own happiness in
thee. What a fortune was it (or rather my judgment,
indeed) for me, first to see that in his disposition which
a whole city so conspires to second! Ta'en into the
livery of his company the first day of his freedom! Now
(not a week married) chosen commoner and alderman's
deputy in a day! Note but the reward of a thrifty
course. The wonder of his time! Well, I will honour
Master Alderman for this act (as becomes me), and shall
think the better of the Common Council's wisdom and
worship while I live, for thus meeting, or but coming
after me, in the opinion of his desert. Forward, my
sufficient son! and as this is the first, so esteem it the
least step to that high and prime honour that expects thee.
_Go._ Sir, as I was not ambitious of this, so I covet no
higher place; it hath dignity enough, if it will but save
me from contempt; and I had rather my bearing in
this or any other office should add worth to it, than the
place give the least opinion to me. 67
_To._ Excellently spoken! This modest answer of
thine blushes, as if it said, I will wear scarlet shortly.
Worshipful son! I cannot contain myself, I must tell
thee; I hope to see thee one o' the monuments of our
city, and reckoned among her worthies to be remembered
the same day with the Lady Ramsey[86] and grave
Gresham, when the famous fable of Whittington and
his puss shall be forgotten, and thou and thy acts become
the posies for hospitals; when thy name shall be written
upon conduits, and thy deeds, played i' thy lifetime, by the
best companies of actors,[87] and be called their get-penny.[88]
This I divine. This I prophesy. 79
_Go._ Sir, engage not your expectation farther than my
abilities will answer; I, that know mine own strengths,
fear 'hem; and there is so seldom a loss in promising
the least, that commonly it brings with it a welcome
deceit. I have other news for you, sir.
_To._ None more welcome, I am sure?
_Go._ They have their degree of welcome, I dare affirm.
The colonel and all his company, this morning putting
forth drunk from Billingsgate, had like to have been cast
away o' this side Greenwich; and (as I have intelligence
by a false brother) are come dropping to town like so
many masterless men, i' their doublets and hose, without
hat, or cloak, or any other---- 92
_To._ A miracle! the justice of Heaven! Where are
they? let's go presently and lay[89] for 'hem.
_Go._ I have done that already, sir, both by constables
and other officers, who shall take 'hem at their old
Anchor, and with less tumult or suspicion than if yourself
were seen in't--and under colour of a great press
that is now abroad, and they shall here be brought afore
me. 100
_To._ Prudent and politic son! Disgrace 'hem all that
ever thou canst; their ship I have already arrested.
How to my wish it falls out, that thou hast the place of
a justicer upon 'hem! I am partly glad of the injury
done to me, that thou may'st punish it. Be severe i' thy
place, like a new officer o' the first quarter, unreflected.
You hear how our lady is come back with her train,
from the invisible castle?
_Go._ No; where is she? 109
_To._ Within; but I ha' not seen her yet, nor her
mother, who now begins to wish her daughter undubbed,
they say, and that she had walked a foot-pace with her
sister. Here they come; stand back.
_Enter_ MISTRESS TOUCHSTONE, GERTRUDE, MILDRED,
_and_ SINDEFY.
God save your ladyship--save your good ladyship!
Your ladyship is welcome from your enchanted castle,
so are your beauteous retinue. I hear your knight
errant is travelled on strange adventures. Surely, in my
mind, your ladyship hath fished fair, and caught a frog,
as the saying is.
_Mist. T._ Speak to your father, madam, and kneel
down. 121
_Ge._ Kneel? I hope I am not brought so low yet;
though my knight be run away, and has sold my land, I
am a lady still.
_To._ Your ladyship says true, madam; and it is fitter
and a greater decorum, that I should curtsey to you that
are a knight's wife, and a lady, than you be brought o'
your knees to me, who am a poor cullion[90] and your
father.
_Ge._ Law!--my father knows his duty. 130
_Mist. T._ O child!
_To._ And therefore I do desire your ladyship, my good
Lady Flash, in all humility, to depart my obscure cottage,
and return in quest of your bright and most transparent
castle, however presently concealed to mortal eyes. And
as for one poor woman of your train here, I will take that
order, she shall no longer be a charge unto you, nor help
to spend your ladyship; she shall stay at home with me,
and not go abroad, nor put you to the pawning of an
odd coach-horse or three wheels, but take part with the
Touchstone. If we lack, we will not complain to your
ladyship. And so, good madam, with your damosel
here, please you to let us see your straight backs in
equipage; for truly here is no roost for such chickens as
you are, or birds o' your feather, if it like your
ladyship. 146
_Ge._ Marry, fist[91] o' your kindness! I thought as
much. Come away, Sin, we shall as soon get a fart
from a dead man,[92] as a farthing of courtesy here.
_Mi._ O, good sister!
_Ge._ Sister, sir reverence! Come away, I say, hunger
drops out at his nose.
_Go._ O, madam, fair words never hurt the tongue.
_Ge._ How say you by that? You come out with your
gold-ends now!
_Mist. T._ Stay, lady-daughter; good husband! 156
_To._ Wife, no man loves his fetters, be they made of
gold. I list not ha' my head fastened under my child's
girdle; as she has brewed, so let her drink, o' God's
name. She went witless to wedding, now she may go
wisely a-begging. It's but honeymoon yet with her
ladyship; she has coach-horses, apparel, jewels, yet left;
she needs care for no friends, nor take knowledge of
father, mother, brother, sister, or anybody. When those
are pawned or spent, perhaps we shall return into the
list of her acquaintance. 166
_Ge._ I scorn it, i'faith. Come, Sin.
_Mist. T._ O madam, why do you provoke your father
thus?
[_Exeunt_ GERTRUDE _and_ SINDEFY.
_To._ Nay, nay; e'en let pride go afore, shame will
follow after, I warrant you. Come, why dost thou weep
now? Thou art not the first good cow hast had an ill
calf, I trust.
_Enter_ Constable.
What's the news with that fellow?
_Go._ Sir, the knight and your man Quicksilver are
without; will you ha' 'hem brought in?
_To._ O, by any means. [_Exit Constable._] And, son,
here's a chair; appear terrible unto 'hem on the first
interview. Let them behold the melancholy of a magistrate,
and taste the fury of a citizen in office. 180
_Go._ Why, sir, I can do nothing to 'hem, except you
charge 'hem with somewhat.
_To._ I will charge 'hem and recharge 'hem, rather than
authority should want foil to set it off.
_Go._ No, good sir, I will not.
_To._ Son, it is your place; by any means----
_Go._ Believe it, I will not, sir.
_Enter_ Sir PETRONEL, QUICKSILVER, Constable, Officers.
_Pe._ How misfortune pursues us still in our misery!
_Qu._ Would it had been my fortune to have been
trussed up at Wapping[93] rather than ever ha' come here!
_Pe._ Or mine, to have famished in the island! 191
_Qu._ Must Golding sit upon us?
_Co._ You might carry an M. under your girdle[94] to
Master Deputy's worship.
_Go._ What are those, Master Constable?
_Co._ An't please your worship, a couple of masterless
men I pressed for the Low Countries, sir.
_Go._ Why do you not carry 'hem to Bridewell,
according to your order, they may be shipped away?
_Co._ An't please your worship, one of 'hem says he is
a knight; and we thought good to show him to your
worship, for our discharge. 202
_Go._ Which is he?
_Co._ This, sir.
_Go._ And what's the other?
_Co._ A knight's fellow, sir, an't please you.
_Go._ What! a knight and his fellow thus accoutred?
Where are their hats and feathers, their rapiers and their
cloaks?
_Qu._ O, they mock us. 210
_Co._ Nay, truly, sir, they had cast both their feathers
and hats too, before we see 'hem. Here's all their
furniture, an't please you, that we found. They say
knights are now to be known without feathers, like
cockerels by their spurs, sir.
_Go._ What are their names, say they?
_To._ Very well this. He should not take knowledge
of 'hem in his place, indeed.
_Co._ This is Sir Petronel Flash.
_To._ How! 220
_Co._ And this, Francis Quicksilver.
_To._ Is't possible? I thought your worship had been
gone for Virginia, sir; you are welcome home, sir.
Your worship has made a quick return, it seems, and no
doubt a good voyage. Nay, pray you be covered, sir.
How did your biscuit hold out, sir? Methought I had
seen this gentleman afore--good Master Quicksilver!
How a degree to the southward has changed you!
_Go._ Do you know 'hem, father? Forbear your offers
a little, you shall be heard anon. 230
_To._ Yes, Master Deputy; I had a small venture with
them in the voyage--a thing called a son-in-law, or so.
Officers, you may let 'hem stand alone, they will not run
away; I'll give my word for them. A couple of very
honest gentlemen. One of 'hem was my prentice, Master
Quicksilver here; and when he had two year to serve,
kept his whore and his hunting nag, would play his
hundred pound at gresco,[95] or primero, as familiarly (and
all o' my purse) as any bright piece of crimson on 'hem
all; had his changeable trunks of apparel standing at
livery with his mare, his chest of perfumed linen, and his
bathing-tubs, which when I told him of, why he!--he
was a gentleman, and I a poor Cheapside groom. The
remedy was, we must part. Since when, he hath had
the gift of gathering up some small parcels of mine, to[96]
the value of five hundred pound, dispersed among my
customers, to furnish this his Virginia venture; wherein
this knight was the chief, Sir Flash--one that married a
daughter of mine, ladyfied her, turned two thousand
pounds' worth of good land of hers into cash within the
first week, bought her a new gown and a coach; sent
her to seek her fortune by land, whilst himself prepared
for his fortune by sea; took in fresh flesh at Billingsgate,
for his own diet, to serve him the whole voyage--the
wife of a certain usurer called Security, who hath been
the broker for 'hem in all this business. Please, Master
Deputy, work upon that now. 257
_Go._ If my worshipful father have ended----
_To._ I have, it shall please Master Deputy.
_Go._ Well then, under correction----
_To._ Now, son, come over 'hem with some fine gird, as
thus, "Knight, you shall be encountered," that is, had
to the Counter; or, "Quicksilver, I will put you into a
crucible," or so.
_Go._ Sir Petronel Flash, I am sorry to see such flashes
as these proceed from a gentleman of your quality and
rank; for mine own part, I could wish I could say I
could not see them; but such is the misery of magistrates
and men in place, that they must not wink at offenders.
Take him aside; I will hear you anon, sir. 270
_To._ I like this well, yet; there's some grace i' the
knight left--he cries.
_Go._ Francis Quicksilver, would God thou hadst turned
quacksalver, rather than run into these dissolute and
lewd courses! It is great pity; thou art a proper young
man, of an honest and clean face, somewhat near a good
one; God hath done his part in thee; but thou hast
made too much, and been too proud of that face, with
the rest of thy body; for maintenance of which in neat
and garish attire, only to be looked upon by some light
housewives, thou hast prodigally consumed much of thy
master's estate; and being by him gently admonished
at several times, hast returned thyself haughty and rebellious
in thine answers, thundering out uncivil comparisons,
requiting all his kindness with a coarse and
harsh behaviour; never returning thanks for any one
benefit, but receiving all as if they had been debts to
thee, and no courtesies. I must tell thee, Francis, these
are manifest signs of an ill-nature; and God doth often
punish such pride and _outrecuidance_[97] with scorn and
infamy, which is the worst of misfortune. My worshipful
father, what do you please to charge them withal? From
the press I will free 'hem, Master Constable. 293
_Co._ Then I'll leave your worship, sir.
_Go._ No, you may stay; there will be other matters
against 'hem.
_To._ Sir, I do charge this gallant, Master Quicksilver,
on suspicion of felony; and the knight as being accessary
in the receipt of my goods.
_Qu._ O God, sir! 300
_To._ Hold thy peace, impudent varlet, hold thy peace!
With what forehead or face dost thou offer to chop logic
with me, having run such a race of riot as thou hast
done? Does not the sight of this worshipful man's
fortune and temper confound thee, that was thy younger
fellow in household, and now come to have the place of
a judge upon thee? Dost not observe this? Which of
all thy gallants and gamesters, thy swearers and thy swaggerers,
will come now to moan thy misfortune, or pity
thy penury? They'll look out at a window, as thou ridest
in triumph to Tyburn, and cry, "Yonder goes honest
Frank, mad Quicksilver!" "He was a free boon companion,
when he had money," says one; "Hang him,
fool!" says another; "he could not keep it when he had
it!" "A pox o' th' cullion, his master," says a third,
"he has brought him to this;" when their pox of pleasure,
and their piles of perdition, would have been better
bestowed upon thee, that hast ventured for 'hem with
the best, and by the clue of thy knavery brought thyself
weeping to the cart of calamity. 320
_Qu._ Worshipful master!
_To._ Offer not to speak, crocodile; I will not hear a
sound come from thee. Thou hast learnt to whine at
the play yonder. Master Deputy, pray you commit 'hem
both to safe custody, till I be able farther to charge
'hem.
_Qu._ O me! what an infortunate thing am I!
_Pe._ Will you not take security, sir?
_To._ Yes, marry, will I, Sir Flash, if I can find him,
and charge him as deep as the best on you. He has
been the plotter of all this; he is your enginer,[98] I hear.
Master Deputy, you'll dispose of these. In the meantime,
I'll to my lord mayor, and get his warrant to seize
that serpent Security into my hands, and seal up both
house and goods to the king's use or my satisfaction. 335
_Go._ Officers, take 'hem to the Counter.
_Qu._ } O God!
_Pe._ }
_To._ Nay, on, on! you see the issue of your sloth. Of
sloth cometh pleasure, of pleasure cometh riot, of riot
comes whoring, of whoring comes spending, of spending
comes want, of want comes theft, of theft comes hanging;
and there is my Quicksilver fixed.
[_Exeunt._
[79] "'Slid now, I'm quite altered! ... sit up late till it be
early; _drink drunk_ till I am sober."--Middleton, iii. 254.
[80] "Monmouth caps" were caps worn by sailors. (See "The Ballad
of the Caps" in Fairholt's _Satirical Songs and Poems on
Costume_, p. 115.)
[81] The chief ship of a fleet.
[82] A barnacle.--It was supposed to be able to stop a ship's
course by adhering to the rudder.
[83] "Sconce" = (1) head, (2) fort.
[84] _Vie_ was a term in card-playing; it meant to back
one's cards against an opponent's.
[85] A proverbial saying. See Nares' _Glossary_.
[86] Lady Mary Ramsey, second wife of Sir Thomas Ramsey (who was
lord mayor in 1577). She was a benefactress of Christ's Hospital
and other institutions: she died in 1596. See Stow's
_Annales_, ed. 1720, i. 278.
[87] There is an allusion to Heywood's play, _If you know not
me you know nobody_. The _First Part_ was printed in
1605; the _Second Part_ in 1606. In the prologue to the
_First Part_ Heywood mentions that the play had enjoyed
extraordinary popularity; and from the same source we gather that
it had been written some considerable time before the date of
publication. The _Second Part_ is largely taken up with the
building of Gresham's Royal Exchange. Lady Ramsey is one of the
characters.
[88] A theatrical term for a profitable performance. See
Middleton, iii. 134.
[89] _I.e._, set officers in ambush to arrest them.
[90] Mean rascal.
[91] An indelicate observation.--"Vessifier. To breed a
_fyste_, to make breake wind, or let a _fyste_."--_Cotgrave._
[92] A proverbial expression.--"J'aymeroy autant tirer un pet
d'un asne mort, que, &c.--I would as soone undertake to _get a
fart of a dead man_, as, &c."--_Cotgrave._
[93] Where pirates were hanged.
[94] "You might carry an M. under your girdle" = you might have
the civility to use the term _Master_. Cf. Heywood's _A
Maidenhead well Lost_, iii. 2:--
"_Wife._ Sirrah.
_Clown._ Madam.
_Lan._ Why dost view me thus?
_Clown._ To see if the tailor that made your gown hath
_put ne'er an M. under your girdle_: there belongs more
to beaten satin than _sirrah_."
[95] A game at cards.
[96] Old ed. "so."
[97] Presumption, arrogance.--Ben. Jonson has this French word in
_Cynthia's Revels_, v. 2. Nares quotes an instance from
Chapman's _Monsieur d'Olive_.
[98] Schemer.
ACT V.
SCENE I.
_Gertrude's lodging._
_Enter_ GERTRUDE _and_ SINDEFY.
_Ge._ Ah, Sin! hast thou ever read i' the chronicle of
any lady and her waiting-woman driven to that extremity
that we are, Sin?
_Si._ Not I, truly, madam; and if I had, it were but
cold comfort should come out of books now.
_Ge._ Why, good faith, Sin, I could dine with a lamentable
story, now. _O_[99] _hone, hone, o no nera!_ &c. Canst
thou tell ne'er a one, Sin?
_Si._ None but mine own, madam, which is lamentable
enough: first to be stolen from my friends, which were
worshipful and of good accompt, by a prentice, in the
habit and disguise of a gentleman, and here brought up
to London, and promised marriage, and now likely to be
forsaken, for he is in possibility to be hanged! 14
_Ge._ Nay, weep not, good Sin; my Petronel is in as
good possibility as he. Thy miseries are nothing to
mine, Sin; I was more than promised marriage, Sin; I
had it, Sin; and was made a lady; and by a knight,
Sin; which is now as good as no knight, Sin. And I
was born in London, which is more than brought up,
Sin; and already forsaken, which is past likelihood,
Sin; and instead of land i' the country, all my
knight's living lies i' the Counter, Sin; there's his
castle now! 24
_Si._ Which he cannot be forced out of, madam.
_Ge._ Yes, if he would live hungry a week or two.
"Hunger," they say, "breaks stone walls." But he is
e'en well enough served, Sin, that so soon as ever he
had got my hand to the sale of my inheritance, run
away from me, and I had been his punk, God bless us!
Would the Knight o' the Sun,[100] or Palmerin of England,
have used their ladies so, Sin? or Sir Lancelot? or Sir
Tristram?
_Si._ I do not know, madam. 34
_Ge._ Then thou know'st nothing, Sin. Thou art a
fool, Sin. The knighthood nowadays are nothing like
the knighthood of old time. They rid a-horseback; ours
go a-foot. They were attended by their squires; ours
by their lackeys. They went buckled in their armour;
ours muffled in their cloaks. They travelled wildernesses
and deserts; ours dare scarce walk the streets. They
were still pressed to engage their honour; ours still
ready to pawn their clothes. They would gallop on at
sight of a monster; ours run away at sight of a sergeant.
They would help poor ladies; ours make poor ladies.
_Si._ Ay, madam, they were knights of the Round
Table at Winchester, that sought adventures; but these
of the Square Table at ordinaries, that sit at hazard.[101] 48
_Ge._ True,[102] Sin, let him vanish. And tell me, what
shall we pawn next?
_Si._ Ay, marry, madam, a timely consideration; for
our hostess (profane woman!) has sworn by bread and
salt she will not trust us another meal.
_Ge._ Let it stink in her hand then. I'll not be beholding
to her. Let me see, my jewels be gone, and my
gowns, and my red velvet petticoat that I was married
in, and my wedding silk stockings, and all thy best
apparel, poor Sin! Good faith, rather than thou
shouldst pawn a rag more, I'd lay my ladyship in
lavender[103]--if I knew where. 60
_Si._ Alas, madam, your ladyship!
_Ge._ Ay,--why?--you do not scorn my ladyship,
though it is in a waistcoat? God's my life! you are a
peat[104] indeed! Do I offer to mortgage my ladyship for
you and for your avail, and do you turn the lip and the
alas to my ladyship?
_Si._ No, madam; but I make question who will lend
anything upon it? 68
_Ge._ Who?--marry, enow, I warrant you, if you'll seek
'hem out. I'm sure I remember the time when I would
ha' given one thousand pounds (if I had had it) to have
been a lady; and I hope I was not bred and born with
that appetite alone: some other gentle-born o' the city
have the same longing, I trust. And for my part, I
would afford 'hem a penn'orth; my ladyship is little the
worse for the wearing, and yet I would bate a good
deal of the sum. I would lend it (let me see) for forty
pound in hand, Sin; that would apparel us; and ten
pound a year, that would keep me and you, Sin (with
our needles); and we should never need to be beholding
to our scurvy parents. Good Lord! that there are
no fairies nowadays, Sin! 82
_Si._ Why, madam?
_Ge._ To do miracles, and bring ladies money. Sure,
if we lay in a cleanly house, they would haunt it, Sin.
I'll try. I'll sweep the chamber soon at night, and set
a dish of water o' the hearth. A fairy may come, and
bring a pearl or a diamond. We do not know, Sin.
Or, there may be a pot of gold hid o' the backside,[105] if
we had tools to dig for't? Why may not we two rise
early i' the morning, Sin, afore anybody is up, and find
a jewel i' the streets worth a hundred pound? May not
some great court-lady, as she comes from revels at midnight,
look out of her coach as 'tis running, and lose
such a jewel, and we find it? Ha? 95
_Si._ They are pretty waking dreams, these.
_Ge._ Or may not some old usurer be drunk overnight,
with a bag of money, and leave it behind him on a stall?
For God's sake, Sin, let's rise to-morrow by break of
day, and see. I protest, law, if I had as much money
as an alderman, I would scatter some on't i' th' streets
for poor ladies to find, when their knights were laid up.
And, now I remember my song o' the Golden Shower,
why may not I have such a fortune? I'll sing it, and
try what luck I shall have after it. 105
"Fond fables tell of old,
How Jove in Danäe's lap
Fell in a shower of gold,
By which she caught a clap;
O had it been my hap 110
(How ere the blow doth threaten),
So well I like the play,
That I could wish all day
And night to be so beaten."
_Enter_ Mistress TOUCHSTONE.
O here's my mother! good luck, I hope. Ha' you
brought any money, mother? Pray you, mother, your
blessing. Nay, sweet mother, do not weep.
_Mist. T._ God bless you! I would I were in my
grave! 119
_Ge._ Nay, dear mother, can you steal no more money
from my father? Dry your eyes, and comfort me.
Alas! it is my knight's fault, and not mine, that I am
in a waistcoat, and attired thus simply.
_Mist. T._ Simply, 'tis better than thou deservest.
Never whimper for the matter. Thou shouldst have
looked before thou hadst leapt. Thou wert afire to be
a lady, and now your ladyship and you may both blow
at the coal, for aught I know. Self do, self have. The
hasty person never wants woe, they say. 129
_Ge._ Nay, then, mother, you should ha' looked to it.
A body would think you were the older; I did but my
kind, I. He was a knight, and I was fit to be a lady.
'Tis not lack of liking, but lack of living, that severs us.
And you talk like yourself and a cittiner in this, i'faith.
You show what husband you come on, I wis. You
smell the Touchstone--he that will do more for his
daughter, that he has married [to] a scurvy gold-end man[106]
and his prentice, than he will for his t'other daughter,
that has wedded a knight and his customer. By this
light, I think he is not my legitimate father. 140
_Si._ O, good madam, do not take up your mother so!
_Mist. T._ Nay, nay, let her e'en alone. Let her ladyship
grieve me still, with her bitter taunts and terms. I
have not dole enough to see her in this miserable case,
I--without her velvet gowns, without ribands, without
jewels, without French-wires, or cheat-bread,[107] or quails,
or a little dog, or a gentleman-usher, or anything, indeed,
that's fit for a lady----
_Si._ Except her tongue. 149
_Mist. T._ And I not able to relieve her, neither, being
kept so short by my husband. Well, God knows my
heart; I did little think that ever she should have had
need of her sister Golding.
_Ge._ Why, mother, I ha' not yet. Alas! good mother,
be not intoxicate for me; I am well enough; I would
not change husbands with my sister, I. The[108] leg of a
lark is better than the body of a kite.
_Mist. T._ I know that: but----
_Ge._ What, sweet mother, what?
_Mist. T._ It's but ill food when nothing's left but the
claw. 161
_Ge._ That's true, mother. Ay me!
_Mist. T._ Nay, sweet lady-bird,[109] sigh not. Child,
madam--why do you weep thus? Be of good cheer; I
shall die if you cry, and mar your complexion thus.
_Ge._ Alas, mother, what should I do?
_Mist. T._ Go to thy sister's, child; she'll be proud thy
ladyship will come under her roof. She'll win thy
father to release thy knight, and redeem thy gowns, and
thy coach and thy horses, and set thee up again. 170
_Ge._ But will she get him to set my knight up too?
_Mist. T._ That she will, or anything else thou'lt ask
her.
_Ge._ I will begin to love her if I thought she would do
this.
_Mist. T._ Try her, good chuck,[110] I warrant thee.
_Ge._ Dost thou think she'll do't?
_Si._ Ay, madam, and be glad you will receive it.
_Mist. T._ That's a good maiden; she tells you true.
Come, I'll take order for your debts i' the alehouse. 180
_Ge._ Go, Sin, and pray for thy Frank, as I will for my
Pet.
[_Exeunt._
[99] See Chappell's _Popular Music of the Olden Time_, i.
369.
[100] See note, vol. i. p. 30.
[101] _Hazard_ was the name of a game at dice. Cotton in the
_Complete Gamester_, 1674 (pp. 67-72), devotes a chapter to
it. He remarks:--"Certainly Hazard is the most bewitching game
that is played on the dice, for when a man begins to play he
knows not when to leave off; and having once accustomed himself
to play at Hazard, he hardly ever after minds anything else."
[102] Old ed. "Trie."
[103] "Lay in lavender" = pawn.
[104] A spoilt, self-willed girl.
[105] "Backside"--the yard at the back of a house.
[106] "Gold-end man"--one who buys ends (_i.e._, broken
pieces) of gold. See Gifford's _Jonson_, ed. 1875, iv. 76.
[107] Fine wheaten bread.
[108] An old proverb: it is among John Heywood's _Proverbs_.
[109] This term of endearment is applied by the Nurse to Juliet
(_Rom. and Jul._, 1. iii.)
[110] A favourite word with Marston.
SCENE II.
_Goldsmiths' Row._
_Enter_ TOUCHSTONE, GOLDING, WOLF.
_To._ I will receive no letters, Master Wolf; you shall
pardon me.
_Go._ Good father, let me entreat you.
_To._ Son Golding, I will not be tempted; I find mine
own easy nature, and I know not what a well-penned
subtle letter may work upon it; there may be tricks,
packing, do you see? Return with your packet, sir.
_Wo._ Believe it, sir, you need fear no packing here;
these are but letters of submission all.
_To._ Sir, I do look for no submission. I will bear
myself in this like blind Justice. Work upon that now.
When the sessions come they shall hear from me. 12
_Go._ From whom come your letters, Master Wolf?
_Wo._ And't please you, sir, one from Sir Petronel,
another from Francis Quicksilver, and a third from old
Security, who is almost mad in prison. There are two
to your worship; one from Master Francis, sir, another
from the knight.
_To._ I do wonder, Master Wolf, why you should travail
thus, in a business so contrary to kind, or the nature o'
your place: that you, being the keeper of a prison,
should labour the release of your prisoners; whereas,
methinks, it were far more natural and kindly in you to
be ranging about for more, and not let these 'scape you
have already under the tooth. But they say you Wolves,
when you ha' sucked the blood, once that they are dry,
you ha' done. 27
_Wo._ Sir, your worship may descant as you please o'
my name; but I protest I was never so mortified with
any men's discourse or behaviour in prison; yet I have
had of all sorts of men i' the kingdom under my
keys; and almost of all religions i' the land, as
Papist, Protestant, Puritan, Brownist, Anabaptist, Millenary,
Family-o'-Love, Jew, Turk, Infidel, Atheist, Good-Fellow,
&c.
_Go._ And which of all these, thinks Master Wolf, was
the best religion? 37
_Wo._ Troth, Master Deputy, they that pay fees best:
we never examine their consciences farther.
_Go._ I believe you, Master Wolf. Good faith, sir,
here's a great deal of humility i' these letters.
_Wo._ Humility, sir? Ay, were your worship an eyewitness
of it you would say so. The knight will i' the
Knight's Ward,[111] do what we can, sir; and Master Quicksilver
would be i' the Hole if we would let him. I never
knew or saw prisoners more penitent, or more devout.
They will sit you up all night singing of psalms and
edifying the whole prison; only Security sings a note
too high sometimes, because he lies i' the Twopenny
Ward, far off, and cannot take his tune. The neighbours
cannot rest for him, but come every morning to ask
what godly prisoners we have. 52
_To._ Which on 'hem is't is so devout--the knight or
the t'other?
_Wo._ Both, sir; but the young man especially. I
never heard his like. He has cut his hair too. He is
so well given, and has such good gifts, he can tell you
almost all the stories of the _Book of Martyrs_, and speak
you all the _Sick Man's Salve_[112] without book.
_To._ Ay, if he had had grace--he was brought up
where it grew, I wis. On, Master Wolf. 61
_Wo._ And he has converted one Fangs, a sergeant, a
fellow could neither write nor read; he was called the
Bandog o' the Counter; and he has brought him already
to pare his nails and say his prayers; and 'tis hoped he
will sell his place shortly, and become an intelligencer.
_To._ No more; I am coming already. If I should
give any farther care I were taken. Adieu, good Master
Wolf. Son, I do feel mine own weaknesses; do not
importune me. Pity is a rheum that I am subject to;
but I will resist it. Master Wolf, fish is cast away that
is cast in dry pools. Tell hypocrisy it will not do; I
have touched and tried too often; I am yet proof, and
I will remain so; when the sessions come they shall hear
from me. In the meantime, to all suits, to all entreaties,
to all letters, to all tricks, I will be deaf as an adder,
and blind as a beetle, lay mine ear to the ground, and
lock mine eyes i' my hand, against all temptations. 78
[_Exit._
_Go._ You see, Master Wolf, how inexorable he is.
There is no hope to recover him. Pray you commend
me to my brother knight, and to my fellow Francis;
present 'hem with this small token of my love; tell 'hem,
I wish I could do 'hem any worthier office; but in this,
'tis desperate: yet I will not fail to try the uttermost of
my power for 'hem. And, sir, as far as I have any
credit with you, pray you let 'hem want nothing; though
I am not ambitious they should know so much. 87
_Wo._ Sir, both your actions and words speak you to
be a true gentleman. They shall know only what is fit,
and no more.
[_Exeunt._
[111] The _Knight's Ward_, the _Twopenny Ward_, and the
_Hole_ were different divisions of a prison: see Fenner's
_Compter's Commonwealth_, 1617. Sir Petronel showed his
humility by choosing the inferior accommodation of the
_Knight's Ward_ when it was open to him to _lie of the
Master's side_. Cf. _Westward Ho_, iii. 2:--
"_Monopoly._ Which is the dearest ward in prison,
Sergeant? the Knight's Ward?
_Ambush._ No, sir, the Master's side."
[112] A treatise by Thomas Becon, originally published in 1561.
It was very popular, and is frequently mentioned by the
dramatists.
SCENE III.
_The Compter._
_Enter_ HOLDFAST _and_ BRAMBLE.
_Ho._ Who would you speak with, sir?
_Br._ I would speak with one Security, that is prisoner
here.
_Ho._ Y'are welcome, sir. Stay there, I'll call him to
you. Master Security!
_Enter_ SECURITY.
_Sec._ Who calls?
_Ho._ Here's a gentleman would speak with you.
_Sec._ What is he? Is't one that grafts my forehead
now I am in prison, and comes to see how the horns
shoot up and prosper? 10
_Ho._ You must pardon him, sir; the old man is a little
crazed with his imprisonment.
_Sec._ What say you to me, sir? Look you here.--My
learned counsel, Master Bramble! cry you mercy, sir!
When saw you my wife?
_Br._ She is now at my house, sir; and desired me
that I would come to visit you, and inquire of you your
case, that we might work some means to get you forth. 18
_Sec._ My case,[113] Master Bramble, is stone walls and
iron grates; you see it, this is the weakest part on't.
And for getting me forth, no means but hang myself,
and so to be carried forth, from which they have here
bound me in intolerable bands.
_Br._ Why, but what is't you are in for, sir?
_Sec._ For my sins, for my sins, sir, whereof marriage is
the greatest. O, had I never married, I had never
known this purgatory, to which hell is a kind of cool
bath in respect; my wife's confederacy, sir, with old
Touchstone, that she might keep her jubilee and the
feast of her new moon. Do you understand me, sir? 30
_Enter_ QUICKSILVER.
_Qu._ Good sir, go in and talk with him. The light
does him harm, and his example will be hurtful to the
weak prisoners. Fie! father Security, that you'll be still
so profane! Will nothing humble you?
[_Exeunt_ SECURITY, BRAMBLE, _and_
HOLDFAST.[114]
_Enter two_ Prisoners, _with a_ Friend.
_Fr._ What's he?
_1st Pr._ O, he is a rare young man! Do you not
know him?
_Fr._ Not I. I never saw him, I can remember.
_2nd Pr._ Why, it is he that was the gallant prentice of
London--Master Touchstone's man. 40
_Fr._ Who?--Quicksilver?
_1st Pr._ Ay, this is he.
_Fr._ Is this he? They say he has been a gallant
indeed.
_1st Pr._ O, the royallest fellow that ever was bred up
i' the city! He would play you his thousand pound
a-night at dice; keep knights' and lords' company; go
with them to bawdy-houses; had his six men in a livery;
kept a stable of hunting-horses, and his wench in her
velvet gown and her cloth of silver. Here's one knight
with him here in prison. 51
_Fr._ And how miserably he is changed!
_1st Pr._ O, that's voluntary in him: he gave away all
his rich clothes as soon as ever he came in here among
the prisoners; and will eat o' the basket,[115] for humility.
_Fr._ Why will he do so?
_1st Pr._ Alas, he has no hope of life! He mortifies
himself. He does but linger on till the sessions.
_2nd Pr._ O, he has penned the best thing, that he calls
his Repentance or his _Last Farewell_, that ever you heard.
He is a pretty poet; and for prose--you would wonder
how many prisoners he has helped out, with penning
petitions for 'hem, and not take a penny. Look! this is
the knight in the rug gown. Stand by. 64
_Enter_[116] Sir PETRONEL _and_ BRAMBLE.
_Br._ Sir, for Security's case, I have told him. Say he
should be condemned to be carted or whipt for a bawd,
or so, why, I'll lay an execution on him o' two hundred
pound; let him acknowledge a judgment, he shall do it
in half an hour; they shall not at all fetch him out without
paying the execution, o' my word. 70
_Pe._ But can we not be bailed, Master Bramble?
_Br._ Hardly; there are none of the judges in town,
else you should remove yourself (in spite of him) with a
_habeas corpus_. But if you have a friend to deliver your
tale sensibly to some justice o' the town, that he may
have feeling of it (do you see), you may be bailed; for
as I understand the case, 'tis only done _in terrorem_; and
you shall have an action of false imprisonment against
him when you come out, and perhaps a thousand pound
costs. 80
_Enter_ Master WOLF.
_Qu._ How now, Master Wolf?--what news?--what
return?
_Wo._ 'Faith, bad all: yonder will be no letters received.
He says the sessions shall determine it. Only, Master
Deputy Golding commends him to you, and with this
token wishes he could do you other good.
_Qu._ I thank him. Good Master Bramble, trouble
our quiet no more; do not molest us in prison thus,
with your winding devices; pray you depart. For my
part, I commit my cause to Him that can succour me;
let God work His will. Master Wolf, I pray you let this
be distributed among the prisoners, and desire 'hem to
pray for us. 93
_Wo._ It shall be done, Master Francis.
_1st Pr._ An excellent temper!
_2nd Pr._ Now God send him good luck!
[_Exeunt_[117] _two_ Prisoners _and_
Friend.
_Pe._ But what said my father-in-law, Master Wolf?
_Enter_ HOLDFAST.
_Ho._ Here's one would speak with you, sir.
_Wo._ I'll tell you anon, Sir Petronel; who is't?
_Ho._ A gentleman, sir, that will not be seen. 100
_Enter_ GOLDING.
_Wo._ Where is he? Master Deputy! your worship is
welcome----
_Go._ Peace!
_Wo._ Away, sirrah!
[_Exit_[118] BRAMBLE.
_Go._ Good faith, Master Wolf, the estate of these
gentlemen, for whom you were so late and willing a suitor,
doth much affect me; and because I am desirous to do
them some fair office, and find there is no means to make
my father relent so likely as to bring him to be a
spectator of their miseries, I have ventured on a device,
which is, to make myself your prisoner: entreating you
will presently go report it to my father, and (feigning an
action at suit of some third person) pray him by this
token, that he will presently, and with all secrecy, come
hither for my bail; which train, if any, I know will bring
him abroad; and then, having him here, I doubt not
but we shall be all fortunate in the event. 117
_Wo._ Sir, I will put on my best speed to effect it.
Please you come in.
_Go._ Yes; and let me rest concealed, I pray you.
_Wo._ See here a benefit truly done, when it is done
timely, freely, and to no ambition.
[_Exeunt._
[113] Covering.
[114] Here and elsewhere there is no stage-direction in the old
ed.
[115] The basket containing the broken victuals collected for the
poor prisoners.
[116] Old ed. "_Enter_ Sir PETRONEL, BRAMBLE, QUICKSILVER, WOLF."
[117] The stage-direction in old ed. is simply "_Exeunt_."
[118] I give this stage-direction at a venture.
SCENE IV.
_Goldsmiths' Row._
_Enter_ TOUCHSTONE, Mistress TOUCHSTONE, GERTRUDE, MILDRED, SINDEFY,
_and_ WINIFRED.
_To._ I will sail by you, and not hear you, like the wise
Ulysses.
_Mi._ Dear father!
_Mist. T._ Husband!
_Ge._ Father!
_Wi. and Si._ Master Touchstone!
_To._ Away, sirens! I will immure myself against your
cries, and lock myself up to your lamentations.
_Mist. T._ Gentle husband, hear me!
_Ge._ Father, it is I, father; my Lady Flash. My sister
and I am friends. 11
_Mi._ Good father!
_Wi._ Be not hardened, good Master Touchstone!
_Si._ I pray you, sir, be merciful!
_To._ I am deaf; I do not hear you; I have stopped
mine ears with shoemakers' wax, and drunk Lethe and
mandragora[119] to forget you. All you speak to me I
commit to the air.
_Enter_ WOLF.
_Mi._ How now, Master Wolf?
_Wo._ Where's Master Touchstone? I must speak
with him presently; I have lost my breath for haste. 21
_Mi._ What is the matter, sir? Pray all be well!
_Wo._ Master Deputy Golding is arrested upon an
execution, and desires him presently to come to him,
forthwith.
_Mi._ Ay me! do you hear, father?
_To._ Tricks, tricks, confederacy, tricks! I have 'hem in
my nose--I scent 'hem!
_Wo._ Who's that? Master Touchstone?
_Mist. T._ Why, it is Master Wolf himself, husband. 30
_Mi._ Father!
_To._ I am deaf still, I say. I will neither yield to the
song of the siren nor the voice of the hyena,[120] the tears
of the crocodile nor the howling o' the Wolf. Avoid my
habitation, monsters!
_Wo._ Why, you are not mad, sir? I pray you look
forth, and see the token I have brought you, sir.
_To._ Ha! what token is it?
_Wo._ Do you know it, sir?
_To._ My son Golding's ring! Are you in earnest,
Master Wolf? 41
_Wo._ Ay, by my faith, sir. He is in prison, and
required me to use all speed and secrecy to you.
_To._ My cloak, there (pray you be patient). I am
plagued for my austerity. My cloak! At whose suit,
Master Wolf?
_Wo._ I'll tell you as we go, sir.
[_Exeunt._
[119] A powerful soporific.
[120] See Topsel's _History of Fourfooted Beasts_, ed. 1658,
p. 341.
SCENE V.
_The Compter._
_Enter two_ Prisoners _and_ Friend.
_Fr._ Why, but is his offence such as he cannot hope of
life?
_1st Pr._ Troth, it should seem so; and 'tis great pity,
for he is exceeding penitent.
_Fr._ They say he is charged but on suspicion of felony
yet.
_2nd Pr._ Ay, but his master is a shrewd fellow; he'll
prove great matter against him.
_Fr._ I'd as lieve as anything I could see his _Farewell_.
_1st Pr._ O, 'tis rarely written; why, Toby may get him
to sing it to you; he's not curious to anybody. 11
_2nd Pr._ O no! He would that all the world should
take knowledge of his repentance, and thinks he merits
in't the more shame he suffers.
_1st Pr._ Pray thee, try what thou canst do.
_2nd Pr._ I warrant you he will not deny it, if he be
not hoarse with the often repeating of it.
[_Exit._
_1st Pr._ You never saw a more courteous creature than
he is, and the knight too: the poorest prisoner of the
house may command 'hem. You shall hear a thing
admirably penned. 21
_Fr._ Is the knight any scholar too?
_1st Pr._ No, but he will speak very well, and discourse
admirably of running horses and White-Friars, and
against bawds; and of cocks; and talk as loud as a
hunter, but is none.
_Enter_ WOLF _and_ TOUCHSTONE.
_Wo._ Please you, stay here; I'll call his worship down
to you. 28
[_Exit_ WOLF.
_Re-enter_[121] WOLF _with_ GOLDING, QUICKSILVER,
Sir PETRONEL, _and_ SECURITY.
_1st Pr._ See, he has brought him, and the knight too;
salute him, I pray. Sir, this gentleman, upon our report,
is very desirous to hear some piece of your _Repentance_.
_Qu._ Sir, with all my heart; and, as I told Master
Toby, I shall be glad to have any man a witness of it.
And the more openly I profess it, I hope it will appear
the heartier, and the more unfeigned.
_To._ Who is this?--my man Francis, and my son-in-law?
_Qu._ Sir, it is all the testimony I shall leave behind me
to the world, and my master that I have so offended.
_Fr._ Good, sir! 40
_Qu._ I writ it when my spirits were oppressed.
_Pe._ Ay, I'll be sworn for you, Francis.
_Qu._ It is in imitation of Mannington's,[122] he that was
hanged at Cambridge, that cut off the horse's head at
a blow.
_Fr._ So, sir!
_Qu._ To the tune of "I wail in woe, I plunge in pain."
_Pe._ An excellent ditty it is, and worthy of a new tune.
_Qu._ In Cheapside, famous for gold and plate,
Quicksilver I did dwell of late; 50
I had a master good and kind,
That would have wrought me to his mind.
He bade me still, Work upon that,
But, alas! I wrought I knew not what.
He was a Touchstone black, but true,
And told me still what would ensue;
Yet woe is me! I would not learn;
I saw, alas! but could not discern!
_Fr._ Excellent, excellent well!
_Go._ O let him alone: he is taken already. 60
_Qu._ I cast my coat and cap away,
I went in silks and satins gay;
False metal of good manners I
Did daily coin unlawfully.
I scorn'd my master, being drunk;
I kept my gelding and my punk;
And with a knight, Sir Flash by name,
Who now is sorry for the same,--
_Pe._ I thank you, Francis.
[_Qu._] I thought by sea to run away, 70
But Thames and tempest did me stay.
_To._ This cannot be feigned, sure. Heaven pardon
my severity! The ragged colt may prove a good horse.
_Go._ How he listens, and is transported! He has
forgot me.
_Qu._ Still Eastward-ho was all my word:
But westward I had no regard,
Nor never thought what would come after,
As did, alas! his youngest daughter.
At last the black ox trod o' my foot,[123] 80
And I saw then what long'd unto 't;
Now cry I, "Touchstone, touch me still,
And make me current by thy skill."
_To._ And I will do it, Francis.
_Wo._ Stay him, Master Deputy; now is the time: we
shall lose the song else.
_Fr._ I protest it is the best that ever I heard.
_Qu._ How like you it, gentlemen?
_All._ O admirable, sir!
_Qu._ This stanze now following, alludes to the story of
Mannington, from whence I took my project for my
invention. 92
_Fr._ Pray you go on, sir.
_Qu._ O Mannington, thy stories show,
Thou cutt'st a horse-head off at a blow!
But I confess, I have not the force
For to cut off the head of a horse;
Yet I desire this grace to win,
That I may cut off the horse-head of Sin,
And leave his body in the dust 100
Of sin's highway and bogs of lust,
Whereby I may take Virtue's purse,
And live with her for better, for worse.
_Fr._ Admirable, sir, and excellently conceited!
_Qu._ Alas, sir!
_To._ Son Golding and Master Wolf, I thank you: the
deceit is welcome, especially from thee, whose charitable
soul in this hath shown a high point of wisdom and
honesty. Listen, I am ravished with his repentance,
and could stand here a whole prenticeship to hear
him. 111
_Fr._ Forth, good sir.
_Qu._ This is the last, and the _Farewell_.--
Farewell, Cheapside, farewell, sweet trade
Of Goldsmiths all, that never shall fade;
Farewell, dear fellow prentices all,
And be you warnèd by my fall:
Shun usurers, bawds, and dice, and drabs,
Avoid them as you would French scabs.
Seek not to go beyond your tether, 120
But cut your thongs unto your leather:
So shall you thrive by little and little,
'Scape Tyburn, Counters, and the Spital!
_To._ And 'scape them shalt thou, my penitent and
dear Francis!
_Qu._ Master!
_Pe._ Father!
_To._ I can no longer forbear to do your humility right.
Arise, and let me honour your repentance with the
hearty and joyful embraces of a father and friend's love.
Quicksilver, thou hast eat into my breast, Quicksilver,
with the drops of thy sorrow, and killed the desperate
opinion I had of thy reclaim. 133
_Qu._ O, sir, I am not worthy to see your worshipful face!
_Pe._ Forgive me, father.
_To._ Speak no more; all former passages are forgotten;
and here my word shall release you. Thank this worthy
brother, and kind friend, Francis.--Master Wolf, I am
their bail.
[_A shout in the prison._
_Sec._ Master Touchstone! Master Touchstone!
_To._ Who's that?
_Wo._ Security, sir.
_Sec._ Pray you, sir, if you'll be won with a song, hear
my lamentable tune too! 144
SONG.
O Master Touchstone,
My heart is full of woe;
Alas, I am a cuckold!
And why should it be so?
Because I was a usurer
And bawd, as all you know, 150
For which, again I tell you,
My heart is full of woe.
_To._ Bring him forth, Master Wolf, and release his
bands. This day shall be sacred to mercy and the mirth
of this encounter in the Counter. See, we are encountered
with more suitors!
_Enter_ Mistress TOUCHSTONE, GERTRUDE, MILDRED,
SINDEFY, WINIFRED, _&c._
Save your breath, save your breath! All things have
succeeded to your wishes: and we are heartily satisfied
in their events.
_Ge._ Ah, runaway, runaway! have I caught you?
And how has my poor knight done all this while? 161
_Pe._ Dear lady-wife, forgive me!
_Ge._ As heartily as I would be forgiven, knight. Dear
father, give me your blessing, and forgive me too; I ha'
been proud and lascivious, father; and a fool, father;
and being raised to the state of a wanton coy thing,
called a lady, father; have scorned you, father, and my
sister, and my sister's velvet cap too; and would make
a mouth at the city as I rid through it; and stop mine
ears at Bow-bell. I have said your beard was a base
one, father; and that you looked like Twierpipe the
taberer; and that my mother was but my midwife. 172
_Mist. T._ Now, God forgi' you, child madam!
_To._ No more repetitions. What else is wanting to
make our harmony full?
_Go._ Only this, sir, that my fellow Francis make amends
to Mistress Sindefy with marriage.
_Qu._ With all my heart.
_Go._ And Security give her a dower, which shall be all
the restitution he shall make of that huge mass he hath
so unlawfully gotten. 181
_To._ Excellently devised! a good motion![124] What
says Master Security?
_Sec._ I say anything, sir, what you'll ha' me say. Would
I were no cuckold!
_Wi._ Cuckold, husband? Why, I think this wearing
of yellow[125] has infected you. 187
_To._ Why, Master Security, that should rather be a
comfort to you than a corasive. If you be a cuckold,
it's an argument you have a beautiful woman to your
wife; then you shall be much made of; you shall have
store of friends, never want money; you shall be eased of
much o' your wedlock pain, others will take it for you.
Besides, you being a usurer (and likely to go to hell),
the devils will never torment you: they'll take you for
one o' their own race. Again, if you be a cuckold, and
know it not, you are an innocent; if you know it and
endure it, a true martyr. 198
_Sec._ I am resolved, sir. Come hither, Winny.
_To._ Well, then, all are pleased, or shall be anon.
Master Wolf, you look hungry, methinks; have you no
apparel to lend Francis to shift him?
_Qu._ No, sir, nor I desire none; but here make it my
suit, that I may go home through the streets in these, as
a spectacle, or rather an example to the children of
Cheapside.
_To._ Thou hast thy wish. Now, London, look about,
And in this moral see thy glass run out:
Behold the careful father, thrifty son,
The solemn deeds which each of us have done; 210
The usurer punish'd, and from fall so steep
The prodigal child reclaim'd, and the lost sheep.
[121] Old ed. "_Enter_ QUICKSILVER, Sir PETRONEL, _&c._"
[122] There was entered in the Stationers' Books, on 7th November
1576, "A woeful Ballad made by Mr. George Mannynton, an houre
before he suffered at Cambridge-castell." The ballad is printed
in Ritson's _Ancient Songs and Ballads_ (ed. 1877), pp.
188-191. It begins:--
"I wayle in woe, I plundge in payne,
With sorrowing sobbes I do complayne,
With wallowing waves I wishe to dye,
I languish sore here as I lye," &c.
[123] "The black ox trod o' my foot"--a proverbial expression,
meaning "trouble came upon me."
[124] Proposition.
[125] The colour of (1) jealousy, (2) Security's prison-dress.
EPILOGUS.
[_Qu._] Stay, sir, I perceive the multitude are gather'd
together to view our coming out at the Counter. See
if the streets and the Fronts of the Houses be not thick
with people, and the windows fill'd with ladies as on
the solemn day of the pageant!
O may you find in this our pageant here
The same contentment which you came to seek,
And as that show but draws you once a year 220
May this attract you hither once a week.
[_Exeunt omnes._
THE
INSATIATE COUNTESS.
_The Insatiate Countesse. A Tragedie: Acted at White-Fryers. Written
By Iohn Marston. London: Printed by T. S. for Thomas Archer, and
are to be sold at his Shop in Popes-head-Pallace, neere the
Royall-Exchange._ 1613. 4to.
_The Insatiate Countesse. A Tragedie: Acted at White-Fryers. Written
By Iohn Marston. London, Printed by I. N. for Hugh Perrie, and
are to be sould at his shop, at the signe of the Harrow in
Brittaines-burse._ 1631. 4to.
STORY OF THE PLAY.
Isabella, Countess of Suevia, being left a widow, proceeds with
indecent haste to take a second husband, Roberto, Count of Cyprus. At
a masqued dance given by the bridegroom's friends on the day of the
wedding, Isabella falls in love with one of the masquers, whom she
discovers to be the Count of Massino [Messina?]. She sends him a
letter in which she proffers her love and summons him to her presence.
With her paramour she flies to Pavia, where she meets Massino's friend
Gniaca, Count of Gaza or Gazia [Gaeta?]. The Insatiate Countess
immediately falls in love with Gniaca, who--though at first unwilling
to wrong his friend--quickly yields to her blandishments. Returning
from a hunting expedition Massino is denied admittance by Isabella. He
gives vent to his indignation by penning bitter satirical verses, in
which he proclaims to the world her inordinate lust. Enraged at this
exposure, Isabella incites Gniaca to slay Massino. An encounter ensues
between Gniaca and Massino, but after a few passes the combatants put
up their weapons, hold a friendly colloquy, and part in peace.
Isabella is furious and resolves to destroy both Gniaca and Massino.
She employs the services of a Spanish colonel, Don Sago, who at first
sight of her has been violently inflamed with passion. The colonel
shoots Massino dead, is arrested, and, being brought before the Duke
of Medina, makes full confession. Isabella is condemned to be
beheaded. At the place of execution a strange friar requests that he
may have private speech with her. The friar is Count Roberto, who has
come to pronounce forgiveness, and bid a last farewell, to his erring
wife.
There is also an underplot to the play. Rogero and Claridiana, between
whom an hereditary feud exists, celebrate their marriage on the same
day. As they return from the church an altercation arises between the
bridegrooms, but by the intervention of friends they are at length
induced to declare that they will lay aside their hatred. These
professions are marked with little sincerity, for the new-made friends
are intent upon cornuting one another. The wives, who are excellent
friends, take counsel together and devise a scheme by which the
husbands, while taking their lawful pleasure, imagine that they are
tasting the sweets of adultery. Claridiana, announcing that he has
gone to his farm in the country, repairs by appointment to the house
of Rogero, where, under the impression that he is enjoying Rogero's
wife Thais, he lies with his own wife Abigail; and Rogero, under
Claridiana's roof lies with Thais in the belief that he is clipping
Abigail. While these night-sports are in progress, Mendoza, nephew of
the Duke Amago, holds a clandestine interview with the widowed Lady
Lentulus. As he is mounting to her chamber, the rope-ladder breaks.
Injured by the fall, he drags himself some distance from the house to
a spot where he is discovered by the watch. It is supposed that he has
met with foul play; a search is instituted; Rogero is discovered by
the watch in the house of Claridiana, and Claridiana in the house of
Rogero. Charged before the Duke Amago with the murder of Mendoza they
declare themselves guilty--preferring to be hanged as murderers rather
than to be derided as cuckolds. Mendoza, recovering from the effects
of his fall, asserts (in order to save the honour of the Lady
Lentulus) that he met his injuries in trying to steal some jewels from
her house. The Duke, who is in a maze of wonder at the strange
statements and confessions, condemns the three prisoners to be
executed, hoping by this means to extort from them the truth. On the
day fixed for the execution Thais and Abigail make an explanation to
the Duke; and their husbands--finding that they have not been
cuckolded--are glad to spare the hangman his labour. How Mendoza fares
is not stated.
_DRAMATIS PERSONÆ_.[126]
AMAGO, _Duke of Venice_.
DUKE OF MEDINA.
ROBERTO, _Count of Cyprus_.
Count MASSINO.
GUIDO, _Count of Arsena_.
GNIACA, _Count of Gazia_.
MENDOZA FOSCARI, _nephew to_ AMAGO.
Signior MIZALDUS.
CLARIDIANA.
ROGERO.
DON SAGO, _a Spanish Colonel_.
Cardinal.
ISABELLA, _the Insatiate Countess_.
Lady LENTULUS, _a widow_.
ABIGAIL, _wife to_ CLARIDIANA.
THAIS, _wife to_ ROGERO.
ANNA, _waiting-woman to_ ISABELLA.
Senators, captain, lieutenant, soldiers, messenger, executioner, &c.
SCENE--VENICE AND PAVIA.
[126] There is no list of characters in the old editions.
THE
INSATIATE COUNTESS.
ACT I.
SCENE I.
_Venice.--Room in_ ISABELLA'S _house_.
ISABELLA, _Countess of Suevia, discovered sitting at a table
covered with black, on which stands two black tapers lighted,
she in mourning._
_Enter_ ROBERTO _Count of Cyprus_, GUIDO _Count of Arsena,
and_ Signior MIZALDUS.
_Miz._ What should we do in this countess's dark hole?
She's sullenly retirèd as the turtle.
Every day has been
A black day with her since her husband died;
And what should we unruly members make[127] here?
_Gui._ As melancholy night masks up heaven's face,
So doth the evening star present herself
Unto the careful shepherd's gladsome eyes,
By which unto the fold he leads his flock. 9
_Miz._ Zounds! what a sheepish beginning is here?
'Tis said true love is simple; and it may well hold; and
thou art a simple lover.
_Rob._ See how yond star, like beauty in a cloud,
Illumines darkness, and beguiles the moon
Of all her glory in the firmament!
_Miz._ Well said, man i' the moon. Was ever such
astronomers? Marry, I fear none of these will fall into
the right ditch.
_Rob._ Madam.
_Isa._ Ha, Anna! what, are my doors unbarr'd? 20
_Miz._ I'll assure you the way into your ladyship is
open.
_Rob._ And God defend that any profane hand
Should offer sacrilege to such a saint!
Lovely Isabella, by this duteous kiss,
That draws part of my soul along with it,
Had I but thought my rude intrusion
Had waked the dove-like spleen harbour'd within you,
Life and my first-born should not satisfy
Such a transgression, worthy of a check; 30
But that immortals wink at my offence,
Makes me presume more boldly. I am come
To raise you from this so infernal sadness.
_Isa._ My lord of Cyprus, do not mock my grief.
Tears are as due a[128] tribute to the dead,
As fear to God, and duty unto kings,
Love to the just, or hate unto the wicked.
_Rob._ Surcease;
Believe it is a wrong unto the gods.[129]
They sail against the wind that wail the dead: 40
And since his heart hath wrestled with death's pangs,
From whose stern cave none tracts a backward path,[130]
Leave to lament this necessary change,
And thank the gods, for they can give us good.
_Isa._ I wail his loss! Sink him ten cubits deeper,
I may not fear his resurrection.
I will be sworn upon the Holy Writ
I mourn thus fervent 'cause he died no sooner:
He buried me alive,
And mewed me up like Cretan Dædalus, 50
And with wall-ey'd[131] jealousy kept me from hope
Of any waxen wings to fly to pleasure;
But now his soul her Argus' eyes hath closed,
And I am free as air. You of my sex,
In the first flow of youth, use you the sweets
Due to your proper beauties, ere the ebb
And long wane of unwelcome change shall come.
Fair women, play; she's chaste whom none will have.
Here is a man of a most mild aspect,
Temperate, effeminate, and worthy love; 60
One that with burning ardor hath pursued me.
A donative he hath of every god:
Apollo gave him locks; Jove his high front;[132]
The god of eloquence his flowing speech;
The feminine deities strew'd all their bounties
And beauty on his face; that eye was Juno's;
Those lips were hers[133] that won the golden ball;
That virgin-blush, Diana's. Here they meet,
As in a sacred synod. My lords, I must intreat
A while your wish'd forbearance.
_Gui._[134]}
_Miz._ } We obey you, lady. 70
[_Exeunt_ GUIDO _and_ MIZALDUS.
_Isa._ My lord, with you I have some conference.
I pray, my lord, do you woo every lady
In this phrase you do me?
_Rob._ Fairest, till now
Love was an infant in my oratory.
_Isa._ And kiss thus too?
[_Kisses him._
_Rob._ I never[135] was so kiss'd; leave thus to please;
Flames into flames, seas thou pour'st into seas!
_Isa._ Pray frown, my lord: let me see how many wives
You'll have.[136] Heigh ho! you'll bury me, I see----
_Rob._ In the swan's down, and tomb thee in mine arms! 80
_Isa._ Then folks shall pray in vain to send me rest.
Away, you're such another meddling lord!
_Rob._ By heaven! my love's as chaste as thou art fair,
And both exceed comparison. By this kiss,
That crowns me monarch of another world
Superior to the first, fair, thou shalt see
As unto heaven my love, so unto thee!
_Isa._ Alas!
Poor creatures, when we are once o' the falling hand,
A man may easily come over us. 90
It is as hard for us to hide our love
As to shut sin from the Creator's eyes.
I'faith, my lord, I had a month's mind[137] unto you,
As tedious as a full-riped[138] maiden-head;
And, Count of Cyprus, think my love as pure
As the first opening of the blooms in May:
(You're virtuous, man;[139] nay, let me not blush to say so:)
And see for your sake thus I leave to sorrow.
Begin this subtile conjuration with me,
And as this taper, due unto the dead, 100
I here extinguish, so my late-dead lord
I put out ever from my memory,
That his remembrance may not wrong our love,
[_Puts out the taper._
As bold-faced women, when they wed another,
Banquet their husbands with their dead loves' heads.
_Rob._ And as I sacrifice this to his ghost,
With this expire all corrupt thoughts of youth,
That fame-insatiate devil jealousy,
And all the sparks that may bring unto flame,
Hate betwixt man and wife, or breed defame. 110
[_Puts out the other taper._
_Re-enter_[140] MIZALDUS _and_ GUIDO.
_Miz._[141] Marry, amen. I say; madam, are you that
were in for all day, now come to be in for all night?
How now, Count Arsena?
_Gui._[142] Faith, signior, not unlike the condemn'd malefactor,
That hears his judgment openly pronounced;
But I ascribe to fate. Joy swell your love;
Cypress and willow grace my drooping crest.
_Rob._ We do intend our hymeneal rites
With the next rising sun. Count Arsena,[143]
Next to our bride, the welcom'st to our feast. 120
[_Exeunt_ ISABELLA _and_ ROBERTO.
_Gui._ _Sancta Maria!_ what think'st thou of this change?
A player's passion I'll believe hereafter,
And in a tragic scene weep for old Priam,[144]
When fell-revenging Pyrrhus with supposed
And artificial wounds mangles his breast,
And think it a more worthy act to me,
Than trust a female mourning o'er her love.
Naught that is done of woman shall me please,
Nature's step-children, rather her disease.[145]
_Miz._ Learn of a well-composèd epigram 130
A woman's love, and thus 'twas sung unto us;
_The_[146] _tapers that stood on her husband's hearse_,
_Isabel advances to a second bed:_
_Is it not wondrous strange for to rehearse_
_She should so soon forget her husband, dead_
_One hour? for if the husband's life once fade,_
_Both love and husband in one grave are laid._
But we forget ourselves: I am for the marriage
Of Signior Claridiana and the fine Mistress Abigail. 139
_Gui._ I for his arch-foe's wedding, Signior Rogero, and
the spruce Mistress Thais: but see, the solemn rites
are ended, and from their several temples they are
come.
_Miz._ A quarrel, on my life!
_Enter at one door_ Signior CLARIDIANA, ABIGAIL _his wife, and the_
Lady LENTULUS, _with rosemary,_[147] _as from church; at the
other door_ Signior ROGERO, THAIS _his wife, and_ MENDOZA
FOSCARI, _nephew to the Duke, from the bridal; they see one
another, and draw;_ GUIDO _and others step between them._
_Clar._ Good, my lord, detain me not; I will tilt at him.
_Miz._[148] Remember, sir, this is your wedding-day,
And that triumph belongs only to your wife.
_Rog._ If you be noble, let me cut off his head.
_Gui._[149] Remember, o' the other side, you have a
maiden-head of your own to cut off. 150
_Rog._ I'll make my marriage-day like to the bloody bridal
Alcides by the fiery Centaurs had!
_Tha._ Husband, dear husband!
_Rog._ Away with these catterwallers!
Come on, sir.
_Clar._ Thou son of a Jew!
_Gui._ Alas, poor wench, thy husband's circumcised!
_Clar._ Begot when thy father's face was toward th' east,
To show that thou would'st prove a caterpiller.
His Messias shall not save thee from me; 160
I'll send thee to him in collops!
_Gui._ O fry not in choler so, sir!
_Rog._ Mountebank, with thy pedantical action--
Rimatrix, Bugloss,[150] Rhinoceros!
_Men._ Gentlemen, I conjure you
By the virtues of men!
_Rog._ Shall any broken quacksalver's bastard oppose
him to me in my nuptials? No; but I'll show him
better metal than e'er the gallemawfrey[151] his father used.
Thou scum of his melting-pots, that wert christen'd in a
crusoile[152] with Mercury's water to[153] show thou wouldest
prove a stinging aspis! for all thou spitt'st is aqua fortis,
and thy breath is a compound of poison's stillatory: if
I get within thee, hadst thou the scaly hide of a crocodile,
as thou art partly of his nature, I would leave thee
as bare as an anatomy[154] at the second viewing. 176
_Clar._ Thou Jew of the tribe of Gad that, I were[155] sure,
were there none here but thou and I, wouldst teach me
the art of breathing; thou wouldst run like a dromedary!
_Rog._ Thou that art the tall'st man of Christendom
when thou art alone; if thou dost maintain this to my
face, I'll make thee skip like an ounce.[156]
_Men._ Nay, good sir, be you still.
_Rog._ Let the quacksalver's son be still:
His father was still, and still, and still again! 185
_Clar._ By the Almighty, I'll study negromancy but I'll
be reveng'd!
_Gui._ Gentlemen, leave these dissensions;
Signior Rogero, you are a man of worth.
_Clar._ True, all the city points at him for a knave. 190
_Gui._ You are of like reputation, Signior Claridiana.
The hatred 'twixt your grandsires first began;
Impute it to the folly of that age:
These your dissensions may erect a faction
Like to the Capulets and the Montagues.[157]
_Men._ Put it to equal arbitration, choose your friends;
The senators will think 'em happy in 't.
_Rog._[158] I'll ne'er embrace the smoke of a furnace, the
quintessence of mineral or simples, or, as I may say more
learnedly, nor the spirit of quicksilver. 200
_Clar._ Nor I, such a Centaur,--half a man, half an ass,
and all a Jew!
_Gui._ Nay, then, we will be constables, and force a
quiet. Gentlemen, keep 'em asunder, and help to persuade
'em.
[_Exeunt_[159] _at one door_ MIZALDUS _and_
CLARIDIANA; _at another_ GUIDO _and_ ROGERO.
_Men._ Well, ladies, your husbands behave 'em as
lustily on their wedding-days as e'er I heard any. Nay,
lady-widow, you and I must have a falling; you're of
Signior Mizaldus' faction, and I am your vowed enemy,
from the bodkin to the pincase. Hark in your ear. 210
_Abi._ Well, Thais. O you're a cunning carver;[160] we
two, that any time these fourteen years have called
sisters, brought and bred up together, that have told one
another all our wanton dreams, talk'd all night long of
young men, and spent many an idle hour; fasted upon
the stones on St. Agnes'[161] night together, practised all
the petulant amorousness that delights young maids, yet
have you conceal'd not only the marriage, but the man:
and well you might deceive me, for I'll be sworn you
never dream'd of him, and it stands against all reason
you should enjoy him you never dream'd of. 221
_Tha._ Is not all this the same in you? Did you ever
manifest your sweetheart's nose, that I might nose him
by't? commended his calf or his nether lip? apparent
signs that you were not in love, or wisely covered it.
Have you ever said, such a man goes upright, or has a
better gait than any of the rest, as indeed, since he is
proved a magnifico, I thought thou would'st have put
it into my hands whate'er 't had been. 229
_Abi._ Well, wench, we have cross fates; our husbands
such inveterate foes, and we such entire friends; but the
best is we are neighbours, and our back arbors may
afford visitation freely. Prithee, let us maintain our
familiarity still, whatsoever thy husband do unto thee, as
I am afraid he will cross it i' the nick.
_Tha._ Faith, you little one, if I please him in one thing,
he shall please me in all, that's certain. Who shall I
have to keep my counsel if I miss thee? who shall teach
me to use the bridle when the reins are in mine own
hand? what to long for? when to take physic? where to
be melancholy? Why, we two are one another's grounds,[162]
without which would be no music. 242
_Abi._ Well said, wench; and the prick-song we use
shall be our husbands.
_Tha._ I will long for swine's-flesh o' the first child.
_Abi._ Wilt 'ou, little Jew? And I to kiss thy husband
upon the least belly-ache. This will mad 'em.
_Tha._ I kiss thee, wench, for that, and with it confirm
our friendship.
_Men._ By these sweet lips, widow! 250
_Lady Lent._ Good my lord, learn to swear by rote;
Your birth and fortune makes my brain suppose
That, like a man heated with wines and lust,
She that is next your object is your mate,
Till the foul water have quench'd out the fire.
You, the duke's kinsman, tell me I am young,
Fair, rich, and virtuous. I myself will flatter
Myself, till you are gone that are more fair,
More rich, more virtuous, and more debonair:
All which are ladders to an higher reach. 260
Who drinks a puddle that may taste a spring?
Who kiss a subject that may hug a king?
_Men._ Yes, the camel always drinks in puddle-water;
And as for huggings, read antiquities.
Faith, madam, I'll board thee one of these days.
_Lady Lent._ Ay, but ne'er bed me, my lord. My vow is firm,
Since God hath called me to this noble state,
Much to my grief, of virtuous widow-hood,
No man shall ever come within my gates.
_Men._ Wilt thou ram up thy porch-hold? O widow, I perceive 270
You're ignorant of the lover's legerdemain!
There is a fellow that by magic will assist
To murder princes invisible; I can command his spirit.
Or what say you to a fine scaling-ladder of ropes?
I can tell you I am a mad wag-halter;
But by the virtue I see seated in you,
And by the worthy fame is blazon'd of you;
By little Cupid, that is mighty nam'd,
And can command my looser follies down,
I love, and must enjoy, yet with such limits 280
As one that knows enforcèd marriage
To be the Furies' sister. Think of me.
_Abig._ }
_Tha._ } Ha, ha, ha!
_Men._ How now, lady? does the toy take you, as they
say?
_Abi._ No, my lord; nor do we take your toy, as they say.
This is a child's birth that must not be delivered before a man,
Though your lordship might be a midwife for your chin.
_Men._ Some bawdy riddle, is 't not? You long till 't
be night. 290
_Tha._ No, my lord, women's longing comes after their
marriage night. Sister, see you be constant now.
_Abi._ Why, dost think I'll make my husband a cuckold?
O here they come!
_Enter at several doors_ MIZALDUS[163] _with_ CLARIDIANA;
GUIDO, _with_ ROGERO, _at another door_; MENDOZA
_meets them_.
_Men._ Signior Rogero, are you yet qualified?
_Rog._ Yes; does any man think I'll go like a sheep to
the slaughter? Hands off, my lord; your lordship may
chance come under my hands. If you do, I shall show
myself a citizen, and revenge basely. 299
_Clar._ I think, if I were receiving the Holy Sacrament,
His sight would make me gnash my teeth terribly.
But there's the beauty without parallel,[164]
In whom the Graces and the Virtues meet!
In her aspect mild Honour sits and smiles;
And who looks there, were it the savage bear
But would derive new nature from her eyes?
But to be reconciled simply for him,
Were mankind to be lost again, I'd let it,
And a new heap of stones should stock the world.
In heaven and earth this power beauty hath-- 310
It inflames temperance and temp'rates wrath.
Whate'er thou art, mine art thou, wise or chaste;
I shall set hard upon thy marriage-vow,
And write revenge high in thy husband's brow
In a strange character.--You may begin, sir.
_Men._ Signior Claridiana, I hope Signior Rogero thus
employed me about a good office: 'twere worthy Cicero's
tongue, a famous oration now; but friendship, that is
mutually embraced of the gods,
And is Jove's usher to each sacred synod, 320
Without the which he could not reign in heaven,--
That over-goes my admiration, shall not
Under-go my censure!
These hot flames of rage, that else will be
As fire midst your nuptial jollity,
Burning the edge off from[165] the present joy,
And keep you wake to terror.
_Clar._ I have not yet swallowed the rhimatrix nor the
onocentaur--the rhinoceros[166] was monstrous!
_Gui._ Sir, be you of the more flexible nature, and confess
an error. 331
_Clar._ I must; the gods of love command,
And that bright star her eye, that guides my fate.--
Signior Rogero, joy, then, Signior Rogero!
_Rog._ Signior, sir? O devil!
_Tha._ Good husband, show yourself a temperate man!
Your mother was a woman, I dare swear--
No tiger got you, nor no bear was rival
In your conception--you seem like the issue
The painters limn leaping from Envy's mouth, 340
That devours all he meets.
_Rog._ Had the last, or the least syllable
Of this more than immortal eloquence
Commenced to me when rage had been so high
Within my blood that it o'er-topt my soul,
Like to the lion when he hears the sound
Of Dian's bowstring in some shady wood,
I should have couch'd my lowly limb on earth
And held my silence a proud sacrifice.
_Clar._ Slave, I will fight with thee at any odds; 350
Or name an instrument fit for destruction,
That e'er[167] was made to make away a man,
I'll meet thee on the ridges of the Alps,[168]
Or some inhospitable wilderness,
Stark-naked, at push of pike, or keen curtle-axe,
At Turkish sickle, Babylonian saw,
The ancient hooks of great Cadwallader,
Or any other heathen invention!
_Tha._ O God bless the man!
_Lady Len._ Counsel him, good my lord! 360
_Men._ Our tongues are weary, and he desperate.
He does refuse to hear. What shall we do?
_Clar._ I am not mad--I can hear, I can see, I can feel!
But a wise rage in man, wrong'd[169] past compare,
Should be well nourish'd, as his virtues are.
I'd have it known unto each valiant sprite,[170]
He wrongs no man that to himself does right.
Catzo,[171] I ha' done; Signior Rogero, I ha' done!
_Gui._ By heaven!
This voluntary reconciliation, made 370
Freely and of itself, argues unfeign'd
And virtuous knot of love. So, sirs, embrace!
_Rog._ Sir, by the conscience of a Catholic man,
And by our mother Church, that binds
And doth atone in amity with God
The souls of men, that they with men be one,
I tread into the centre all the thoughts
Of ill in me toward you, and memory
Of what from you might aught disparage me;
Wishing unfeignedly it may sink low, 380
And, as untimely births, want power to grow.
_Men._ Christianly said! Signior, what would you have more?
_Clar._ And so I swear. You're honest, onocentaur!
_Gui._ Nay, see now! Fie upon your turbulent spirit!
Did he doo 't in this form?
_Clar._ If you think not this sufficient, you shall command
me to be reconciled in another form--as a rhimatrix
or a rhinoceros.[172]
_Men._ 'Sblood! what will you do? 389
_Clar._ Well, give me your hands first: I am friends
with you, i'faith. Thereupon I embrace you, kiss your
wife, and God give us joy!
[_To_ THAIS.
_Tha._ You mean me and my husband?
_Clar._ You take the meaning better than the speech, lady.
_Rog._ The like wish I, but ne'er can be the like,
And therefore wish I thee.
_Clar._ By this bright light, that is deriv'd from thee----
_Tha._ So, sir, you make me a very light creature!
_Clar._ But that thou art a blessèd angel, sent
Down from the gods t' atone mortal men, 400
I would have thought deeds beyond all men's thoughts,
And executed more upon his corps.
O let him thank the beauty of this eye,
And not his resolute swords or destiny.
_Gui._ What say'st thou, Mizaldus? Come, applaud this jubilee,
A day these hundred years before not truly known
To these divided factions.
_Clar._ No, nor this day had it been falsely born,
But that I mean to sound it with his horn. 409
_Miz._ I liked the former jar better. Then they show'd
like men and soldiers, now like cowards and lechers.
_Gui._ Well said, Mizaldus; thou art like the bass viol
in a consort,--let the other instruments[173] wish and delight
in your highest sense, thou art still grumbling.
_Clar._ Nay, sweet, receive it [_gives a letter to_ THAIS[174]],
and in it my heart:
And when thou read'st a moving syllable,
Think that my soul was secretary to 't.
It is your love, and not the odious wish
Of my revenge in styling him a cuckold,
Makes me presume thus far. Then read it, fair, 420
My passion's ample, as your[175] beauties are.
_Tha._[176] Well, sir, we will not stick with you.
_Gui._ And, gentlemen, since it hath hapt so fortunately,
I do entreat we may all meet to-morrow
In some heroic masque, to grace the nuptials
Of the most noble Count of Cyprus.[177]
_Men._ Who does the young count marry?
_Gui._ O, sir,
Who but the very heir of all her sex,
That bears the palm of beauty from 'em all?
Others, compared to her, show like faint stars 430
To the full moon of wonder in her face:--
The Lady Isabella, the late widow
To the deceased and noble Viscount Hermus.
_Men._ Law you there, widow, there's one of the last edition,
Whose husband yet retains in his cold trunk
Some little airing of his noble guest;[178]
Yet she a fresh bride as the month of May.
_Lady Len._ Well, my lord, I am none of these
That have my second husband bespoke;
My door shall be a testimony of it; 440
And but these noble marriages incite me,
My much abstracted presence should have show'd it.
If you come to me, hark in your ear, my lord,
Look your ladder of ropes be strong,
For I shall tie you to your tackling.
_Gui._ Gentlemen, your answer to the masque.
_Omnes._ Your honour leads: we'll follow.
_Rog._ Signior Claridiana.
_Clar._ I attend you, sir.
_Tha._[179] You'll be constant? 450
[_Exeunt all but_ CLARIDIANA.
_Clar._ Above the adamant; the goat's blood[180] shall not break me.
Yet shallow fools and plainer moral men,
That understand not what they undertake,
Fall in their own snares or come short of vengeance.
No; let the sun view with an open face,
And afterward shrink in his blushing cheeks,
Ashamed and cursing of the fix'd decree,
That makes his light bawd to the crimes of men.
When I have ended what I now devise,
Apollo's oracle shall swear me wise. 460
Strumpet his wife! branch my false-seeming friend!
And make him foster what my hate begot,
A bastard, that, when age and sickness seize him,
Shall be a corsive[181] to his griping heart.
I'll write to her; for what her modesty
Will not permit, nor my adulterate forcing,
That blushless herald shall not fear to tell.
Rogero shall know yet that his foe's a man,
And, what is more, a true Italian!
[_Exit._
[127] "What should we make here?" = What business have we here?
See Middleton, i. 202.
[128] So ed. 1613.--Ed. 1631 "as."
[129] Cf. _Hamlet_, i. 2:--
"Fie, 'tis a fault to heaven,
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature," &c.
[130] Cf. _Hamlet_, iii. 1:--
"The undiscovered country, from whose bourn
No traveller returns."
[131] "Wall-ey'd"--having eyes in which the proportion of white
is too large; fierce-eyed. "OEil de chevre. A _whall_, or
over-white eye; an eye full of white spots, or whose apple seems
divided by a streake of white."--_Cotgrave_.
[132] Cf. _Hamlet_, iii. 4:--
"See what a grace was seated on this brow
Hyperion's curls; the front of Jove himself," &c.
[133] Old eds. "his."
[134] Old eds. "_Omnes._"
[135] Old eds. "ne'er."
[136] "It is a vulgar belief that a man is destined to have as
many wives as there appear wrinkles in his forehead when he
frowns."--Ed. of 1820.
[137] "Month's mind" = a strong desire. See Dyce's _Shakesp.
Gloss._
[138] So ed. 1613.--Ed. 1631 "full-ri'dd."
[139] Ed. 1613 gives "Your vertues man."--Ed. 1631 "Your vertues
may."
[140] Old eds. "_Enter_ MIZALDUS _and_ MENDOSA."
[141] Old eds. "_Guid._"
[142] Old eds. "_Miz._"
[143] Old eds. "Cypres."
[144] This play bears many traces of the study of _Hamlet_.
The present passage was clearly suggested by the player's speech,
"The rugged Pyrrhus," &c., and Hamlet's comments thereon.
[145] Old eds. "desire."
[146] Cf. _Hamlet_, i. 2:--
"The funeral baked meats
Did coldly furnish forth the marriage-tables."
[147] Branches of rosemary were formerly used at weddings. See
note on Middleton, i. 9, 10.
[148] Old eds. "_Rogero._"
[149] Old eds. "_Clarid._"
[150] Old eds. "Buglors, Rhimocers."--The herb bugloss was much
used for medicinal purposes. The same virtues were attributed to
the rhinoceros' horn as to the unicorn's horn: see Topsel's
_Hist. of Four-footed Beasts_.
[151] Hotchpotch, farrago; a contemptuous term for an apothecary.
[152] Crucible.
[153] Ed. 1631 "O."
[154] Subject for dissection.
[155] "I were"--omitted in ed. 1613.
[156] Ed. 1631 "skip on ounce."
[157] If _Romeo and Juliet_ had not been a highly popular play
the allusion to the Montagues and Capulets could hardly have
been generally intelligible.
[158] Old eds. "_Miz._"
[159] Not marked in old eds.
[160] _i.e._, you are a clever schemer.
[161] Girls who fasted on St. Agnes' night (January 21) dreamed
of their future husbands.--"They'll give anything to know when
they shall be married, how many husbands they shall have by
Cromnyomantia, a kind of divination with onions laid on the altar
on Christmas eve, or _by fasting on St. Agnes' eve or night to
know who shall be their first husband_." Burton's _Anatomy
of Melancholy_, ed. 1660, p. 538. See the sixth stanza of
Keats' _Eve of St. Agnes_.
[162] See note, vol. i. p. 37.
[163] Old eds. "_Count_ ARS."
[164] In old eds. is the stage-direction "_To
Abigall_."--Claridiana is of course glancing at Thais.
[165] Ed. 1631 "to."
[166] So ed. 1631.--Ed. I, "rimocheros."
[167] Old eds. "ne'er" and "ne're."
[168] An echo from _Richard II._ (i. 1):--
"Which to maintain I would allow him odds
And meet him, were I tied to run a-foot
Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps,
Or any other ground inhabitable."
[169] Old eds. "wrongs."
[170] Ed. 1613 "sp'rit."--Ed. 1631 "spirit."
[171] A vulgar oath.
[172] Ed. 1613 "rimocheros."
[173] Ed. 1613 "instrument."
[174] Old eds. "_Abigall_" and "_Abigail_."
[175] Old eds. "our."
[176] Old eds. "_Abig._"
[177] Ed. 1631 "Countesse of Sweuia."
[178] Cf. vol. 1, p. 62.
[179] Old eds. "_Abigall_" and "_Abig._"
[180] In _Vulgar Errors_, ii. 5, Sir Thomas Browne discusses
the question whether "a diamond, which is the hardest of stones,
not yielding unto steel, emery, or anything but its own powder,
is yet made soft or broke by the blood of a goat."
[181] Contracted form (found in Spenser, Jonson, &c.) for
_corrosive_.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
_Venice.--Hall in_ ROBERTO'S _house_.
_Enter_ ROBERTO, Lord Cardinal, ISABELLA, Lady LENTULUS,
ABIGAIL, _and_ THAIS. _Lights._
_Rob._ My grave Lord Cardinal, we congratulate,
And zealously do entertain your love,
That from your high and divine contemplation
You have vouchsafed to consummate a day
Due to our nuptials. O may this knot you knit--
This individual Gordian grasp of hands,
In sight of God so fairly intermixt--
Never be sever'd, as Heaven smiles at it,
By all the darts shot by infernal Jove!
Angels of grace, Amen, Amen, say to 't! 10
Fair lady-widow, and my worthy mistress,
Do you keep silence for a wager?
_Tha._ Do you ask a woman that question, my lord,
when she enforcedly pursues what she's forbidden? I
think, if I had been tied to silence, I should have been
worthy the cucking-stool ere this time.
_Rob._ You shall not be my orator, lady, that pleads
thus for your self.
_Enter a_ Servant.[182]
_Ser._ My lord, the masquers are at hand.
_Rob._ Give them kind entertainment.--Some worthy
friends of mine, my lord, unknown to me, too lavish of
their loves, bring their own welcome in a solemn
masque. 23
_Abi._ I am glad there's noblemen in the masque, with
our husbands to overrule them; they had shamed us
all[183] else.
_Tha._ Why? for why, I pray?
_Abi._ Why?--marry, they had come in with some city
show else; hired a few tinsel coats, at the vizard-makers,
which would ha' made them look for all the world like
bakers in their linen bases[184] and mealy vizards, new come
from boulting. I saw a show once at the marriage of
Magnificero's daughter, presented by Time, which Time
was an old bald thing, a servant: 'twas the best man; he
was a dyer, and came in likeness of the rainbow, in all
manner of colours, to show his art; but the rainbow smelt
of urine so we were all afraid the property was changed,
and look'd for a shower. Then came in after him,
one that, it seem'd, feared no colours[185]--a grocer that
had trimm'd up himself handsomely: he was justice, and
show'd reasons[186] why. And I think this grocer--I mean
this justice--had borrowed a weather-beaten balance
from some justice of a conduit, both which scales were
replenish'd with the choice of his ware. And the more
liberally to show his nature, he gave every woman in
the room her handful. 46
_Tha._ O great act of justice! Well, and my husband
come cleanly off with this, he shall ne'er betray his weakness
more, but confess himself a citizen hereafter, and
acknowledge their wit, for alas! they come short.
_Enter in the Masque, the_ Count of MASSINO,[187] MENDOZA,
CLARIDIANA, _and_ Torch-bearers. _They deliver their shields
to their several mistresses--that is to say,_ MENDOZA _to the_
Lady LENTULUS; CLARIDIANA _to_ THAIS;[188] _to_ ISABELLA,
MASSINO; _to_ ABIGAIL, ROGERO.
_Isa._ Good my lord, be my expositor.
[_To the_ Cardinal.
_Car._ The sun setting, a man pointing at it:
The motto, _Senso tamen ipse calorem_.
Fair bride, some servant of yours, that here imitates
To have felt the heat of love bred in your brightness,
But setting thus from him by marriage;
He only here acknowledgeth your power,
And must[189] expect beams of a morrow-sun.
_Lady Len._ Lord Bridegroom, will you interpret me?
_Rob._ A sable shield: the word,[190] _Vidua spes_. 60
What--the forlorn hope, in black, despairing?
Lady Lentulus, is this the badge of all your suitors?
_Lady Len._ Ay, by my troth, my lord, if they come to me.
_Rob._ I could give it another interpretation. Methinks
this lover has learn'd of women to deal by contraries; if
so, then here he says, the widow is his only hope.
_Lady Len._ No; good my lord, let the first stand.
_Rob._ Inquire of him, and he'll resolve the doubt.
_Abi._ What's here?--a ship sailing nigh her haven?
With good ware belike: 'tis well ballast. 70
_Tha._ O this your device smells of the merchant.
What's your ship's name, I pray? _The Forlorn Hope_?
_Abi._ No; _The Merchant Royal_.
_Tha._ And why not _Adventurer_?
_Abi._ You see no likelihood of that: would it not
fain be in the haven? The word, _Ut tangerem portum._
Marry, for aught I know; God grant it. What's there?
_Tha._ Mine's an azure shield: marry, what else? I
should tell thee more than I understand; but the word
is, _Aut pretio, aut precibus_. 80
_Abi._ Ay, ay, some common-council device.
[_They take the women, and dance
the first change._
_Men._ Fair widow, how like you this change?
_Lady Len._ I chang'd too lately to like any.
_Men._ O your husband! you wear his memory like a death's-head.
For Heaven's love, think of me as of the man
Whose dancing days you see are not yet done.
_Lady Len._ Yet you sink a-pace,[191] sir.
_Men._ The fault's in my upholsterer, lady.
_Rog._ Thou shalt as soon find Truth telling a lie, 90
Virtue a bawd, Honesty a courtier,
As me turn'd recreant to thy least design.
Love makes me speak, and he makes love divine.
_Abi._[192] Would Love could make you so! but 'tis his guise
To let us surfeit ere he ope our eyes.
_Tha._[193] You grasp my hand too hard, i'faith, fair sir.
[CLARIDIANA _holds her by the hand_.
_Clar._ Not as you grasp my heart, unwilling wanton.
Were but my breast bare and anatomised,
Thou shouldst behold there how thou torturest it;
And as Apelles limn'd the Queen of Love, 100
In her right hand grasping a heart in flames,
So may I thee, fairer, but crueller.
_Tha._[193] Well, sir, your vizor gives you colour for what
you say.
_Clar._ Grace me to wear this favour; 'tis a gem
That vails to your eyes, though not to the eagle's,
And in exchange give me one word of comfort.
_Tha._[193] Ay, marry: I like this wooer well:
He'll win's pleasure out o' the stones.
[_The second change,_ ISABELLA _falls in
love with_ MASSINO;[194] _when_[195]
_they change she speaks_.
_Isa._ Change is no robbery; yet in this change 110
Thou robb'st me of my heart. Sure Cupid's here,
Disguisèd like a pretty torch-bearer,
And makes his brand a torch, that with more sleight
He may entrap weak women. Here the sparks
Fly, as in Ætna from his father's anvil.
O powerful boy!
My heart's on fire, and unto mine eyes
The raging flames ascend like to two beacons,
Summoning my strongest powers; but all too late;
The conqueror already opes the gate. 120
I will not ask his name.
_Abi._ You dare put it into my hands.
_Rog._[196] Zounds,[197] do you think I will not?
_Abi._ Then thus: to-morrow (you'll be secret, servant)--
_Rog._ All that I do, I'll do in secret.
_Abi._ My husband goes to Maurano[198] to renew the farm
he has.
_Rog._ Well, what time goes the jakes-farmer?
_Abi._ He shall not be long out, but you shall put in,
I warrant you. Have a care that you stand just i' the
nick about six o'clock in the evening; my maid shall
conduct you up. To save mine honour, you must come
up darkling, and to avoid suspicion. 133
_Rog._ Zounds! hoodwink'd! and if you'll open all,
sweet lady----
_Abi._ But if you fail to do 't----
_Rog._ The sun shall fail the day first.
_Abi._ Tie this ring fast, you may be sure to know.
You'll brag of this, now you have brought me to the bay.
_Rog._ Pox o' this masque! would 'twere done! I might
To my apothecary's for some stirring meats! 141
_Tha._ Methinks, sir, you should blush e'en through your vizor.
I have scarce patience to dance out the rest.
_Clar._[199] The worse my fate, that ploughs a marble quarry:
Pygmalion, yet thy image was more kind,
Although thy love[200] not half so true as mine.
Dance they that list, I sail against the wind.
_Tha._ Nay, sir, betray not your infirmities,
You'll make my husband jealous by and by.
We will think of you, and that presently. 150
_Mass._[201] The spheres ne'er danced unto a better tune.
Sound music there!
[_The third change ended, ladies fall off._
_Isa._ 'Twas music that he spake.
_Rob._ Gallants, I thank you, and begin a health
To your mistresses!
_Three or four._ Fair thanks, Sir Bridegroom.
_Isa._ [_Aside._] He speaks not to this pledge; has he no mistress?
Would I might choose one for him! but 't may be
He doth adore a brighter star than we.
_Rob._ Sit, ladies, sit; you have had standing long.
[MASSINO[202] _dances a Levalto or a Galliard,
and in the midst of it falleth into the
Bride's lap, but straight leaps up and danceth
it out._
_Men._ Bless the man! sprightly and nobly done!
_Tha._ What, is your ladyship hurt?
_Isa._ O no, an easy fall. 160
[_Aside._] Was I not deep enough, thou god of lust,
But I must further wade! I am his now,
As sure as Juno's Jove's! Hymen, take flight,
And see not me, 'tis not my wedding night.
[_Exit_ ISABELLA.
_Car._ The bride's departed, discontent it[203] seems.
_Rob._ We'll after her. Gallants, unmasque I pray,
And taste a homely banquet, we entreat.
[_Exeunt_ ROBERTO, Cardinal, _and lights_.
_Clar._ Candied[204] eringoes, I beseech thee.
_Men._ Come, widow, I'll be bold to put you in.
My lord, will you have a sociate? 170
[_Exeunt_ THAIS, Lady LENTULUS, ABIGAIL,
_and_ MENDOZA.
_Mass._[205] Good gentlemen, if I have any interest in you,
Let me depart unknown; 'tis a disgrace
Of an eternal memory.
_Rog._[206] What, the fall, my lord?--as common a thing as
can be. The stiffest man in Italy may fall between a
woman's legs.
_Clar._ Would I had changed places with you, my lord--would
it had been my hap!
_Mass._ What cuckold laid his horns in my way?
Signior Claridiana, you were by the lady when I fell:
Do you think I hurt her? 181
_Clar._ You could not hurt her, my lord, between the legs.
_Mass._ What was 't I fell withal?
_Rog._ A cross-point, my lord.
_Mass._ Cross-point, indeed.
Well, if you love me, let me hence unknown;
The silence yours, the disgrace mine own.
[_Exeunt_ CLARIDIANA _and_ ROGERO.[207]
_Enter_ ISABELLA _with a gilt goblet, and meets_ MASSINO.[208]
_Isa._ Sir, if wine were nectar, I'd[209] begin a health
To her that were most gracious in your eye: 190
Yet deign, as simply 'tis the gift of Bacchus,
To give her pledge that drinks. This god of wine
Cannot inflame me more to appetite,
Though he be co-supreme[210] with mighty Love,
Than thy fair shape.
_Mass._ Zounds! she comes to deride me.
_Isa._ That kiss shall serve
To be a pledge, although my lips should starve.--
[_Aside._] No trick to get that vizor from his face?
_Mass._ I will steal hence, and so conceal disgrace.
_Isa._ Sir, have you left naught behind? 200
_Mass._ Yes, Lady,[211] but the fates will not permit
(As gems once lost are seldom or never found)
I should convey it with me. Sweet, good-night!
[_Aside._] She bends to me: there's my fall again.
[_Exit._
_Isa._ He's gone! That lightning that a while doth strike
Our eyes with amaz'd brightness, and on a sudden
Leaves us in prison'd darkness! Lust, thou art high;
My similes[212] may well come from the sky.
Anna, Anna!
_Enter_ ANNA.
_Anna._ Madam, did you call? 209
_Isa._ Follow yond stranger; prithee learn his name.
We may hereafter thank him. [_Exit_ ANNA.] How I dote!
Is he not a god
That can command what other men would win
With the hard'st advantage? I must have him,
Or, shadow-like, follow his fleeting steps.
Were I as Daphne, and he followed chase,
(Though I rejected young Apollo's love,
And like a dream beguile his wand'ring steps;)
Should he pursue me through the neighbouring grove,
Each cowslip-stalk should trip a willing fall, 220
Till he were mine, who till then am his thrall.
Nor will I blush, since worthy is my chance:[213]
'Tis said that Venus with a satyr slept;
And how much short came she of my fair aim!
Then, Queen of Love, a precedent I'll be,
To teach fair women learn to love of me.
Speak, music: what's his name?
_Enter_ ANNA.
_Anna._ Madam, it was the worthy Count Massino.
_Isa._ Blest be thy tongue! The worthy count indeed,
The worthiest of the worthies. Trusty Anna, 230
Hast thou pack'd up those monies, plate, and jewels
I gave direction for?
_Anna._ Yes, madam; I have truss'd up them, that many
a proper man has been truss'd up for.
_Isa._ I thank thee. Take the wings of night,
Beloved secretary, and post with them to Pavia;[214]
There furnish up some stately palace
Worthy to entertain the king of love:
Prepare it for my coming and my love's.
Ere Phoebus' steeds once more unharness'd be, 240
Or ere he sport with his belovèd Thetis,
The silver-footed goddess of the sea,
We will set forward. Fly like the northern wind,
Or swifter, Anna,--fleet like to my mind.
_Anna._ I am just of your mind, madam. I am gone.
[_Exit_ ANNA.
_Isa._ So to the house of death the mourner goes,
That is bereft of what his soul desired,
As I to bed--I to my nuptial bed,
The heaven on earth: so to thought-slaughters went
The pale Andromeda, bedew'd with tears. 250
When every minute she expected gripes
Of a fell monster, and in vain bewail'd
The act of her creation. Sullen Night,
That look'st with sunk eyes on my nuptial bed,
With ne'er a star that smiles upon the end,
Mend thy slack pace, and lend the malcontent,
The hoping lover, and the wishing bride,
Beams that too long thou shadowest: or, if not,
In spite of thy fix'd front, when my loath'd mate
Shall struggle in due pleasure for his right, 260
I'll think 't my love, and die in that delight!
[_Exit._
[182] Not marked in old eds.
[183] Omitted in ed. 1631.
[184] Seemingly, here, a sort of apron.--The word is used in a
variety of senses: see Nares' _Glossary_.
[185] Properly a military expression, meaning--fear no enemy.
[186] Used with a quibble: (1) reason, (2) raisin.
[187] Old eds. "Count of Arsena;" and so below "_to_ Isabella,
Gvido Count of Arsena."--It was Guido who prepared the masque
(see p. 149), and he ought certainly to be one of the masquers;
but if we suppose that he is the masquer with whom Isabella falls
in love, we are involved at once in wild confusion. Throughout
this scene the prefixes are constantly wrong. The masquer who is
now called Guido is frequently transformed into Rogero: see p.
157, "The second change, ISABELLA fals in loue with Rogero" and
what follows. Later in the scene Isabella sends her waiting-woman
Anna to discover the unknown masquer's name; and Anna returns
with the announcement, "Madam, it was the worthy Count Massino."
In the third scene she sends her page to summon the stranger to
her presence. When the page returns with him, the stage-direction
is "_Enter_ Count ARSENA and a Page." She flies with her
paramour, and the first man to proffer his advice to Roberto is
this same Guido, Count of Arsena, who--according to the old
copies--is flying with the Countess to Pavia! In iii. 11 the
stage-direction is "_Enter_ Count GUIDO, ISABELLA," &c., and
presently Isabella addresses her paramour as Rogero. Isabella
pretends that she is sick and Guido goes to fetch a doctor: when
he returns the stage direction is "_Enter_ ROGERO, ANNA, _and_
Doctor." So the changes are rung through several scenes. In iv. 3
Isabella speaks of--
"False Count Guido, treacherous Gniaca,
Counties of Gazia and of rich Massino."
Gniaca is the Count of Gazia [Gaeta?], and it follows that Guido
would be the name of the Count of Massino [Messina?]. But Guido
is the Count of Arsena; and it will be intolerable to have
another Guido. Throughout I shall give the name Massino to the
paramour who elopes with the Countess, and shall prefix "_Mass._"
to his speeches. Count Arsena will have to be excluded from the
masque. It is no fault of mine; the author (or authors) and the
old printer must bear the blame.
[188] Old eds. "CLARIDIANA, _to_ ABIGAL; _to_ ISABELLA, GVIDO
_Count of Arsena_; _to_ THAIS, ROGERO."
[189] Ed. 1631 "I must."
[190] _i.e._, motto.
[191] Shakespeare has a more elaborate quibble:--"And then comes
repentance, and with his bad legs falls into the _cinque-pace_
faster and faster till he _sink_ into his _grave_."--_Much Ado_,
ii. 1. Cinque-pace was the name of a lively dance.
[192] Old eds. "_Thais_."
[193] Old eds. "_Abig._"
[194] Old eds. "_Rogero_."
[195] Old eds. "_when the changers speak_."
[196] To this speech and Rogero's five following speeches the
prefix "_Men._" is given in the old copies.
[197] Omitted in ed. 1631.
[198] Ed. 1631 "Mucaue."
[199] Old eds. "_Robert_" and "_Rob_."
[200] Ed. 1631 "love's."
[201] Old eds. "_Gui_."
[202] Old eds. "_Rogero_."
[203] Omitted in ed. 1631.
[204] Old eds. "Candidi Ernigos" and "Erignos."
[205] To Massino's speeches old eds. give the prefix
"_Rog._"
[206] Old eds. give the prefix "_Men._" here and at l. 184.
[207] Old eds. "_Mend._"
[208] Old eds. "ROGERO."
[209] Old eds. "Ile."
[210] So ed. 1613.--Ed. 1631 "to supreme."
[211] Omitted in ed. 1631.
[212] Old eds. "smiles."
[213] Quy. "choice"?
[214] Old eds. "Sweuia."
SCENE II.
_Venice.--A street._
_Enter at several doors_ ABIGAIL _and_ THAIS.
_Abi._ Thais, you're an early riser. I have that to show
will make your hair stand an-end.[215]
_Tha._ Well, lady, and I have that to show you will
bring your courage down. What would you say and I
would name a party saw your husband court, kiss, nay,
almost go through for the hole?
_Abi._ How, how? what would I say? nay, by this
light! what would I not do? If ever Amazon fought
better, or more at the face than I'll do, let me never be
thought a new married wife. Come, unmask her; 'tis
some admirable creature, whose beauty you need not
paint; I warrant you, 'tis done to your hand. 12
_Tha._ Would any woman but I be abused to her face?
Prithee read the contents. Know'st thou the character?
_Abi._ 'Tis my husband's hand, and a love-letter; but
for the contents I find none in it. Has the lustful
monster, all back and belly, starved me thus? What defect
does he see in me? I'll be sworn, wench, I am of
as pliant and yielding a body to him, e'en which way he
will--he may turn me as he list himself. What? and dedicate
to thee! Ay, marry, here's a stile so high as a man
cannot help a dog o'er it. He was wont to write to me
in the city-phrase, _My good Abigail._ Here's _astonishment
of nature, unparallel'd excellency, and most unequal rarity
of creation_!--three such words will turn any honest woman
in the world[216] whore; for a woman is never won till she
know not what to answer; and beshrew me if I understand
any of these. You are the party, I perceive, and
here's a white sheet, that your husband has promis'd me
to do penance in: you must not think to dance the
shaking of the sheets[217] alone; though there be not such
rare phrases in 't, 'tis more to the matter: a legible hand,
but for the dash or the (he) and (as):[218] short bawdy parentheses
as ever you saw, to the purpose; he has not left
out a prick, I warrant you, wherein he has promis'd to
do me any good; but the law's in mine own hand. 36
_Tha._ I ever thought by his red beard he would prove
a Judas;[219] here am I bought and sold; he makes much
of me indeed. Well, wench, we were best wisely in time
seek for prevention; I should be loath to take drink and
die on 't, as I am afraid I shall, that he will lie with thee.
_Abi._ To be short, sweetheart, I'll be true to thee,
though a liar to my husband. I have signed your husband's
bill like a woodcock, as he is held; persuaded
him (since naught but my love can assuage his violent
passions) he should enjoy, like a private friend, the
pleasures of my bed. I told him my husband was to go
to Maurano to-day, to renew a farm he has; and in the
meantime he might be tenant at will to use mine. This
false fire has so took with him, that he's ravish'd afore
he come. I have had stones on him all red. Dost
know this?
_Tha._ Ay, too well; it blushes, for his master. 53
[_Points to the ring._
_Abi._ Now my husband will be hawking about thee
anon, and thou canst meet him closely.
_Tha._ By my faith, I would be loth in the dark, and
he knew me.
_Abi._ I mean thus: the same occasion will serve him
too; they are birds of a feather, and will fly together, I
warrant thee, wench; appoint him to come; say that thy
husband's gone for Maurano, and tell me anon if thou
madest not his heart-blood spring for joy in his face. 62
_Tha._ I conceive you not all this while.
_Abi._ Then th' art a barren woman, and no marvel if
thy husband love thee not. The hour for both to come
is six--a dark time fit for purblind lovers; and with
cleanly conveyance by the nigglers our maids, they shall
be translated into our bed-chambers. Your husband into
mine, and mine into yours.
_Tha._ But you mean they shall come in at the backdoors? 71
_Abi._ Who? our husbands? nay, an' they come not in
at the fore-doors there will be no pleasure in 't. But we
two will climb over our garden-pales, and come in that
way (the chastest that are in Venice will stray for a good
turn), and thus wittily will we be stowed--you into my
house to your husband, and I into your house to my
husband; and I warrant thee before a month come to an
end, they'll crack louder of this night's lodging than the
bedsteads. 80
_Tha._ All is if our maids keep secret.
_Abi._ Mine is a maid I'll be sworn; she has kept her
secrets hitherto.
_Tha._ Troth, and I never had any sea-captain boarded
in my house.
_Abi._ Go to, then; and the better to avoid suspicion,
thus we must insist: they must come up darkling, recreate
themselves with their delight an hour or two, and after a
million kisses or so-- 89
_Tha._ But is my husband content to come darkling?
_Abi._ What, not to save mine honour? He that will
run through fire, as he has profess'd, will, by the heat of
his love, grope in the dark! I warrant him he shall
save mine honour.
_Tha._ I am afraid my voice will discover me.
_Abi._ Why, then, you're best say nothing, and take it
thus quietly when your husband comes.
_Tha._ Ay, but you know a woman cannot choose but
speak in these cases.
Abi. Bite in your nether-lip, and I warrant you; 100
Or make as if you were whiffing tobacco;
Or puich[220] like me. Gods so! I hear thy husband!
[_Exit_ ABIGAIL.
_Tha._ Farewell, wise woman.
_Enter_ ROGERO.[221]
_Rog._[222] Now 'gins my vengeance mount high in my lust:
'Tis a rare creature, she'll do 't i'faith;
And I am arm'd at all points. A rare whiblin,[223]
To be revenged, and yet gain pleasure in 't,
One height above revenge! Yet what a slave am I!
Are there not younger brothers enough, but we must
Branch one another? O but mine's revenge! 110
And who on that does dream
Must be a tyrant ever in extreme.--
O my wife Thais, get my breakfast ready;
I must into the country to my farm I have
Some two miles off, and, as I think,
Shall not come home to-night. Jaques, Jaques?
Get my vessel ready to row me down the river.
Prithee make haste, sweet girl.
[_Exit_ ROGERO.[224]
_Tha._ So, there's one fool shipp'd away. Are your cross-points
discovered? Get your breakfast ready! 120
By this light I'll tie you to hard fare; I have been too
sparing of that you prodigally offer voluntary to another:
well, you will be a tame fool hereafter,
The finest light is when we first defraud;
Husband, to-night 'tis I must lie abroad.
[_Exit._
[215] "And each particular hair to stand _an-end_".--_Hamlet_,
i. 4.
[216] Ed. 1631 "_a_ whore."
[217] "The shaking of the sheets" was the name of an old dance.
It is often used with a quibble (as in the text).
[218] I follow the reading of the old copies.
[219] In tapestry Judas was commonly represented with a red
beard.
[220] Puke, simper.
[221] Old eds. "MIZALDUS."
[222] Old eds. "_Miz._"
[223] This word is used in a variety of senses: see Nares'
_Gloss._ Here the meaning seems to be "device, trick." We
have had the word "quiblin" in this sense: see p. 60.
[Transcriber's Note: Footnote [64]]
[224] Old eds. "MIZAL."
SCENE III.
_Venice._--ROBERTO'S _house_.
_Enter_ ISABELLA, _and a_ Page _with a letter_.
_Isa._ Here, take this letter, bear it to the count.
But, boy, first tell, think'st thou I am in love?
_Page._ Madam, I cannot tell.
_Isa._ Canst thou not tell? Dost thou not see my face?
Is not the face the index of the mind?
And canst thou not distinguish love by that?
_Page._ No, madam.
_Isa._ Then take this letter and deliver it
Unto the worthy count. No, fie upon him!
Come back: tell me, why shouldst thou think 10
That same's a love-letter?
_Page._ I do not think so, madam.
_Isa._ I know thou dost; for thou dost ever use
To hold the wrong opinion. Tell me true,
Dost thou not think that letter is of love?
_Page._ If you would have me think so, madam, yes.
_Isa._ What, dost thou think thy lady is so fond?
Give me the letter; thyself shall see it.
Yet I should tear it in the breaking ope,
And make him lay a wrongful charge on thee, 20
And say thou brokest it open by the way,
And saw what heinous things I charge him with.
But 'tis all one, the letter is not of love;
Therefore deliver it unto himself,
And tell him he's deceived--I do not love him.
But if he think so, bid him come to me,
And I'll confute him straight: I'll show him reasons--
I'll show him plainly why I cannot love him.
And if he hap to read it in thy hearing,
Or chance to tell thee that the words were sweet, 30
Do not thou then disclose my lewd intent
Under those siren words, and how I mean
To use him when I have him at my will;
For then thou wilt destroy the plot[225] that's laid,
And make him fear to yield when I do wish
Only to have him yield; for when I have him,
None but myself shall know how I will use him.
Begone! why stayest thou?--yet return again.
_Page._ Ay, madam. 39
_Isa._ Why dost thou come again? I bade thee go.
If I say go, never return again.
[_Exit_ Page.
My blood, like to a troubled ocean,
Cuff'd with the winds, incertain where to rest,
Butts at the utmost shore[226] of every limb!
My husband's not the man I would have had.
O my new thoughts to this brave sprightly lord
Was fix'd to [by?] that hid fire lovers feel!
Where was my mind before--that refined judgment
That represents rare objects to our passions?
Or did my lust beguile me of my sense, 50
Making me feast upon such dangerous cates,
For present want, that needs must breed a surfeit?
How was I shipwrack'd? Yet, Isabella, think;
Thy husband is a noble gentleman,
Young, wise, and rich; think what fate follows thee,
And naught but lust doth blind thy worthy love.
I will desist. O no, it may not be.
Even as a headstrong courser bears away
His rider, vainly striving him to stay;
Or as a sudden gale thrusts into sea 60
The haven-touching bark, now near the lea,
So wavering Cupid brings me back amain,[227]
And purple Love resumes his darts again:
Here of themselves, thy shafts come as if shot,
Better than I thy quiver knows 'em not.
_Enter_ Count MASSINO[228] _and the_ Page.
_Page._ Madam, the count.
_Mass._[229] So fell the Trojan wanderer on the Greek,
And bore away his ravish'd prize to Troy.
For such a beauty, brighter than his Danae,[230]
Jove should (methinks) now come himself again. 70
Lovely Isabella, I confess me mortal--
Not worthy to serve thee in thought, I swear;
Yet shall not this same overflow of favour
Diminish my vow'd duty to your beauty.
_Isa._ Your love, my lord, I blushingly proclaim it,
Hath power to draw me through a wilderness,
Were 't armed with furies, as with furious beasts.
Boy, bid our train be ready; we'll to horse.
[_Exit_ Page.
My lord, I should say something, but I blush;
Courting is not befitting to our sex. 80
_Mass._ I'll teach you how to woo. Say you have loved me long,
And tell me that a woman's feeble tongue
Was never tuned unto a wooing-string;
Yet for my sake you will forget your sex,
And court my love with strain'd immodesty:
Then bid me make you happy with a kiss.
_Isa._ Sir, though women do not woo, yet for your sake
I am content to leave that civil custom,
And pray you kiss me.
_Mass._ Now use some unexpected ambages[231] 90
To draw me further into Vulcan's net.
_Isa._ You love not me so well as I love you.
_Mass._ Fair lady, but I do.
_Isa._ Then show your love.
_Mass._ Why, in this kiss I show 't, and in my vowed service
This wooing shall suffice: 'tis easier far
To make the current of a silver brook
Convert his flowing backward to his spring
Than turn a woman wooer. There's no cause
Can turn the settled course of Nature's laws.
_Isa._ My lord, will you pursue the plot? 100
_Mass._ The letter gives direction here for Pavy.
To horse, to horse! Thus on Eurydice,[232]
With looks regardiant [_sic_], did the Thracian gaze,
And lost his gift while he desired the sight:
But wiser I, led by more powerful charm,
I'd see the world win thee from out mine arm.
[_Exeunt._
[225] Ed. 1631 "plots."
[226] Old eds. "share."
[227] Old eds. "againe."
[228] Old eds. "ARSENA."
[229] The prefix to Massino's speeches in old eds. is "_Rog._"
[230] Old eds. "Dana."
[231] Old. eds. "vmbages." The word _ambages_ (= roundabout
statements) is not uncommon. Cf. _Spanish Tragedy_:--
"Tush, tush, my lord, let go these _ambages_,
And in plain terms acquaint me with your love."
--Hazlitt's _Dodsley_, v. 30.
[232] Old eds. "once Eridace" (and "Fridace").
SCENE IV.
_Venice.--Courtyard of Robert's house._
_Enter at several doors_ CLARIDIANA _and_ GUIDO.
_Gui._ Zounds! is the hurricano coming? Claridiana,
what's the matter?
[_A trampling of horses heard._
_Cla._ The Countess of Suevia has new taken horse.--
Fly, Phoebus, fly, the hour is six o'clock.!
_Gui._ Whither is she gone, signior?
_Cla._ Even as Jove went to meet his Semele--
To the devil, I think.
_Gui._ You know not wherefore?
_Cla._ To say sooth. I do not.--
So in immortal wise shall I arrive----
_Gui._ At the gallows. What, in a passion, signior? 10
_Cla._ Zounds! do not hold me, sir.--
Beauteous Thais, I am all thine wholly.
The staff is now advancing for the rest,
And when I tilt, Rogero,[233] 'ware thy crest!
[_Exit_ CLARIDIANA.
_Gui._ What's here?
The cap'ring god-head[234] tilting in the air?
_Enter_ ROBERTO _in his night-gown and cap, with_
Servants; _he kneels down_.
_Rob._ The gods send her remorse,[235] a poor old age,
Eternal woe, and sickness' lasting rage!
_Gui._ My lord, you may yet o'ertake 'em.
_Rob._ Furies supply that place, for I will not! No: 20
She can forsake me when pleasure's in the full,
Fresh and untired;
What would she on the least barren coldness?
I warrant you she has already got
Her bravoes and her ruffians; the meanest whore
Will have one buckler, but your great ones more.
The shores of Sicil retain not such a monster,
Though to galley-slaves they daily prostitute.
To let the nuptial tapers give light to her new lust!
Who would have thought it? She that could no more
Forsake my company than can the day 31
Forsake the glorious presence of the sun!--
When I was absent then her gallèd eyes
Would have shed April showers, and outwept
The clouds in that same o'er-passionate mood,
When they drowned all the world, yet now forsakes me!
Women, your eyes shed glances like the sun:
Now shines your brightness, now your light is done.
On the sweetest flowers[236] you shine--'tis but by chance,
And on the basest weed you'll waste a glance. 40
Your beams, once lost, can never more be found,
Unless we wait until your course run round,
And take you at fifth hand. Since I cannot
Enjoy the noble title of a man,
But after-ages, as our virtues are
Buried whilst we are living, will sound out
My infamy and her degenerate shame,
Yet in my life I'll smother 't, if I may,
And like a dead man to the world bequeath
These houses of vanity, mills, and lands. 50
Take what you will, I will not keep, among you, servants:
And welcome some religious monastery.
A true sworn beads-man I'll hereafter be,
And wake the morning cock with holy prayers.
_Ser._ Good my lord--noble master----
_Rob._ Dissuade me not, my will shall be my king;
I thank thee, wife; a fair change thou has given;
I leave thy lust to woo the love of Heaven! 58
[_Exit cum servis._
_Gui._ This is conversion, is 't not--as good as might
have been? He turns[237] religious upon his wife's turning
courtesan. This is just like some of our gallant prodigals,
when they have consum'd their patrimonies wrongfully,
they turn Capuchins for devotion.
[_Exit._
[233] Old eds. "Mizaldus aware."
[234] Ed. 1613 "Cods-head."
[235] So the editor of 1820.--Old eds. "no horse."
[236] Ed. 1631 "showres."
[237] Ed. 1631 "returnes."
ACT III.
SCENE I.
_Venice.--Outside_ Lady LENTULUS' _house_.
CLARIDIANA _and_ ROGERO, _being in a readiness, are received
in at one another's houses by their Maids_.
_Then enter_ MENDOZA, _with a_ Page, _to the_ Lady LENTULUS'
_window_.
_Men._ Night, like a solemn mourner, frowns on earth,
Envying that day should force her doff her robes,
Or Phoebus chase away her melancholy.
Heaven's eyes look faintly through her sable masque,
And silver Cynthia hides[238] her in her sphere,
Scorning to grace black Night's solemnity.
Be unpropitious, Night, to villain thoughts,
But let thy diamonds shine on virtuous love.
This is the lower house of high-built heaven, 9
Where my chaste Phoebe sits inthroned 'mong thoughts
So purely good, brings her to heaven on earth.
Such power hath souls in contemplation!
Sing, boy (though night yet), like the morning's lark--
[_Music plays._
A soul that's clear is light, though heaven be dark.
_The_ Lady LENTULUS _at her window_.
_Lady Len._ Who speaks in music to us?
_Men._ Sweet, 'tis I. Boy, leave me and to bed.
[_Exit_ Page.
_Lady Len._ I thank you for your music; now, good-night.
_Men._ Leave not the world yet, Queen of Chastity;
Keep promise with thy love Endymion,
And let me meet thee there on Latmus' top. 20
'Tis I, whose virtuous hopes are firmly fix'd
On the fruition of thy chaste vow'd love.
_Lady Len._ My lord,
Your honour made me promise you ascent
Into my house, since my vow barr'd my doors,
By some wit's engine made for theft and lust;
Yet for your honour, and my humble fame,
Check your blood's passions, and return, dear lord.
Suspicion is a dog that still doth bite
Without a cause: this act gives food to envy; 30
Swoll'n big, it bursts, and poisons our clear flames.
_Men._ Envy is stingless when she looks on thee.
_Lady Len._ Envy is blind, my lord, and cannot see.
_Men._ If you break promise, fair, you break my heart.
_Lady Len._ Then come,--yet[239] stay! ascend,--yet let us part.
I fear,--yet know not what I fear.
Your love [i]s precious, yet mine honour's dear.
_Men._ If I do stain thy honour with foul lust,
May thunder strike me to show Jove is just!
_Lady Len._ Then come, my lord; on earth your vow is given. 40
This aid I'll lend you.
[_He throws up a ladder of cords, which
she makes fast to some part of the
window; he ascends, and at top falls._
_Men._ Thus I mount my heaven:
Receive me, sweet!
_Lady Len._ O me, unhappy wretch!
How fares your honour? Speak, fate-cross'd lord!
If life retain his seat within you, speak!
Else like that Sestian dame, that saw her love
Cast by the frowning billows on the sands,
And lean death, swoll'n big with the Hellespont,
In bleak Leander's body--like his love,
Come I to thee. One grave shall serve us both!
_Men._ Stay, miracle of women! yet I breathe. 50
Though death be entered in this tower of flesh,
He is not conqueror; my heart stands out,
And yields to thee, scorning his tyranny!
_Lady Len._ My doors are vow'd shut, and I cannot help you.
Your wounds are mortal; wounded is mine honour
If there the town-guard find you. Unhappy dame!
Relief is perjur'd,--my vow kept, shame!
What hellish destiny did twist my fate!
_Men._ Rest seize thine eyelids; be not passionate;
Sweet, sleep secure; I'll remove myself, 60
That viper Envy shall not spot thy fame:
I'll take that poison with me, my soul's rest,
For like a serpent I'll creep on my breast.
_Lady Len._ Thou more than man! Love-wounded, joy and grief
Fight in my blood. Thy wounds and constancy
Are both so strong, none can have victory!
_Men._ Darken the world, earth's queen; get thee to bed;
The earth is light while those two stars are spread:
Their splendour will betray me to men's eyes.
Veil thy bright face; for if thou longer stay, 70
Phoebus will rise to thee and make night day.
_Lady Len._ To part and leave you hurt my soul doth fear.
_Men._ To part from hence I cannot, you being there.
_Lady Len._ We'll move together, then fate love controls;
And as we part, so bodies part from souls.
_Men._ Mine is the earth, thine the refinèd fire;
I am mortal, thou divine; then soul mount higher.
_Lady Len._ Why then, take comfort, sweet; I'll see you[240] to-morrow.
_Men._ My wounds are nothing; thy loss breeds my sorrow.
[_Exit_ Lady LENTULUS.
See now 'tis dark! 80
Support your master, legs, a little further;
Faint not, bold heart, with anguish of my wound;
Try further yet. Can blood weigh down my soul?
Desire is vain without ability.
[_He staggers on, and then falls down._
Thus falls a monarch, if fate push at him.
_Enter a_ Captain _and the_ Watch.
_Cap._ Come on, my hearts; we are the city's security.
I'll give you your charge, and then, like courtiers, every
man spy out. Let no man in my company be afraid to
speak to a cloak lined with velvet, nor tremble at the
sound of a gingling spur. 90
_Watch._ May I never be counted a cock of the game
if I fear spurs, but be gelded like a capon for the preserving
of my voice.
_Cap._ I'll have none of my band refrain to search a
venereal house, though his wife's sister be a lodger there;
nor take two shillings of the bawd to save the gentlemen's
credits that are aloft, and so, like voluntary panders,
leave them, to the shame of all halberdiers.
_2._ Nay, the wenches, we'll tickle them, that's flat. 99
_Cap._ If you meet a shevoiliero, that's in the gross
phrase a knight that swaggers in the street, and, being
taken, has no money in his purse to pay for his fees,
it shall be a part of your duty to entreat me to let him go.
_1._ O marvellous! is there such shevoiliers?
_2._ Some two hundred, that's the least, that are reveal'd.
[MENDOZA _groans_.
_Cap._ What groan is that? Bring a light. Who lies there?
It is the Lord Mendoza, kinsman to our duke.
Speak, good my lord: relate your dire mischance;
Life, like a fearful servant, flies his master; 110
Art must atone them, or th' whole man is lost.
Convey him to a surgeon's, then return;
[_Part of the_ Watch _bear away_ MENDOZA.
No place shall be unsearch'd until we find
The truth of this mischance. Make haste again.
Whose house is this stands open? In and search
What guests that house contains, and bring them forth.
[_Exit the_ Watch _to search the houses
of_ ROGERO _and_ CLARIDIANA.
This noble man's misfortune stirs my quiet,
And fills my soul with fearful fantasies;
But I'll unwind this labyrinth of doubt,
Else industry shall lose part of itself's labour. 120
[_Re-enter_[241] _the_ Watch _with_ CLARIDIANA _and_ ROGERO _taken
in one another's houses in their shirts and night-gowns. They
see one another._
Who have we there? Signiors, cannot you tell us
How our prince's kinsman came wounded to the death
Nigh to your houses?
_Rog._ Heyday! cross-ruff[242] at midnight! Is't Christmas,
You go a-gaming to your neighbour's house?
_Cla._ Dost make a mummer of me, ox-head?
_Cap._ Make answer, gentlemen, it doth concern you.
_Rog._ Ox-head will bear an action; I'll ha' the law;
I'll not be yoked. Bear witness, gentlemen, he calls me
ox-head. 130
_Cap._ Do you hear, sir?
_Cla._ Very well, very well; take law and hang thyself;
I care not. Had she no other but that good face to
dote upon? I'd rather she had dealt with a dangerous
Frenchman than with such a pagan.
_Cap._ Are you mad? Answer my demand.
_Rog._ I am as good a Christian as thyself,
Though my wife have now new christen'd me.
_Cap._ Are you deaf, you make no answer? 139
_Cla._ Would I had had the circumcising of thee, Jew;
I'd ha' cut short your cuckold-maker; I would i'faith, I
would i'faith!
_Cap._ Away with them to prison! they'll answer better
there.
_Rog._ Not too fast, gentlemen; what's our crime?
_Cap._ Murder of the duke's kinsman, Signior Mendoza.
_Ambo._ Nothing else? We did it, we did it, we did it!
_Cap._ Take heed, gentlemen, what you confess.
_Cla._ I'll confess anything, since I am made a fool
by a knave. I'll be hang'd like an innocent, that's
flat. 151
_Rog._ I'll not see my shame. Hemp instead of a
quacksalver. You shall put out mine eyes, and my head
shall be bought to make ink-horns of.
_Cap._ You do confess the murder?
_Cla._ Sir, 'tis true,
Done by a faithless Christian and a Jew.
_Cap._ To prison with them; we will hear no further;
The tongue betrays the heart of guilty murther.
[_Exeunt omnes._
[238] Old eds. "hyes."
[239] Ed. 1631 "yea."
[240] Ed. 1631 "see 'ou."--Ed. 1631 "see, on."
[241] This stage direction is omitted in ed. 1631.
[242] Ruff was the name of an old game at cards.
SCENE II.
_Pavia._
_Enter_ Count MASSINO,[243] ISABELLA, ANNA, _and_ Servants.
_Mass._ Welcome to Pavy, sweet; and may this kiss
Chase melancholy from thy company;
Speak, my soul's joy, how fare you after travel?
_Isa._ Like one that scapeth danger on the seas,
Yet trembles with cold fears, being safe on land,
With bare imagination of what's past.
_Mass._ Fear keep with cowards, air[244]-stars cannot move.
_Isa._ Fear in this kind, my lord, doth sweeten love.
_Mass._ To think fear joy, dear, I cannot conjecture.
_Isa._ Fear's sire to fervency, 10
Which makes love's sweet prove nectar;
Trembling desire, fear, hope, and doubtful leisure,
Distil from love the quintessence of pleasure.
_Mass._ Madam, I yield to you; fear keeps with love,
My oratory is too weak against you:
You have the ground of knowledge, wise experience,
Which makes your argument invincible.
_Isa._ You are Time's scholar, and can flatter weakness.
_Mass._ Custom allows it, and we plainly see
Princes and women maintain flattery. 20
_Isa._ Anna, go see my jewels and my trunks
Be aptly placèd in their several rooms.
[_Exit_ ANNA.
_Enter_ GNIACA _Count of Gaza, with_ Attendants.
My lord,
Know you this gallant? Tis a complete gentleman.
_Mass._ I do; 'tis Count Gniaca, my endeared friend.
_Gni._ Welcome to Pavy; welcome, fairest lady.
Your sight, dear friend, is life's restorative;
This day's the period of long-wish'd content,
More welcome to me than day to the world,
Night to the wearied, or gold to a miser: 30
Such joy feels friendship in society.
_Isa._ [_Aside._] A rare-shaped man: compare them both together.
_Mass._ Our loves are friendly twins, both at a birth;
The joy you taste, that joy do I conceive.
This day's the jubilee of my desire.
_Isa._ [_Aside._] He's fairer than he was when first I saw him.
This little time makes him more excellent.
_Gui._ Relate some news. Hark you; what lady's that?
Be open-breasted, so will I to thee.
[_They whisper._
_Isa._ [_Aside._] Error did blind him that paints love blind; 40
For my love plainly judges difference:
Love is clear-sighted, and with eagle's eyes,
Undazzled, looks upon bright sun-beam'd beauty.
Nature did rob herself when she made him,
Blushing to see her work excel herself;
'Tis[245] shape makes mankind femelacy.
Forgive me, Count Massino,[246] 'tis my fate
To love thy friend, and quit thy love with hate.
I must enjoy him; let hope thy passions smother;
Faith cannot cool blood; I'll clip him were 't my brother.
Such is the heat of my sincere affection, 51
Hell nor earth can keep love in subjection!
_Gni._ I crave your honour's pardon; my ignorance
Of what you were may gain a courteous pardon.
_Isa._ There needs no pardon where there's no offence.
[_Aside._] His tongue strikes music ravishing my sense:
I must be sudden, else desire confounds me.
_Mass._ What sport affords this climate for delight?
_Gni._ We'll hawk and hunt to-day; as for to-morrow,
Variety shall feed variety. 60
_Isa._ Dissimulation women's armour is,
Aid love, belief, and female constancy.--
O I am sick, my lord! Kind Massino,[247] help me!
_Mass._ Forfend it, Heaven! Madam, sit; how fare you?
My life's best comfort, speak--O speak, sweet saint!
_Isa._ Fetch art to keep life; run, my love, I faint;
My vital breath runs coldly through my veins;
I see lean death, with eyes imaginary,
Stand fearfully before me; here my end,
A wife unconstant, yet thy loving friend! 70
_Mass._ As swift as thought fly I to wish thee aid.
[_Exit._
_Isa._ Thus innocence by craft is soon betray'd.--
My Lord Gniaca, 'tis your art must heal me;
I am love-sick for your love; love, love, for loving!
I blush for speaking truth; fair sir, believe me,
Beneath the moon nought but your frown can grieve me.
_Gni._ Lady, by Heaven, methinks this fit is strange.
_Isa._ Count not my love light for this sudden change:
By Cupid's bow I swear, and will avow,
I never knew true perfect love till now. 80
_Gni._ Wrong not yourself, me, and your dearest friend;
Your love is violent, and soon will end.
Love is not love unless love doth persever;
That love is perfect love that loves for ever.
_Isa._ Such love is mine; believe it, well-shaped youth,
Though women use to lie, yet I speak truth.
Give sentence for my life, or speedy death.
Can you affect me?
_Gni._ I should belie my thoughts to give denial;
But then to friendship I must turn disloyal. 90
I will not wrong my friend; let that suffice.
_Isa._ I'll be a miracle; for love a woman dies.
[_Offers to stab herself._
_Gni._ Hold, madam; these are soul-killing passions.
I'd rather wrong my friend than you yourself.
_Isa._ Love me, or else, by Jove, death's but delay'd.
My vow is fix'd in heaven; fear shall not move me;
My life is death with tortures 'less you love me.
_Gni._ Give me some respite, and I will resolve you.
_Isa._ My heart denies it;
My blood is violent; now or else never. 100
Love me! and like love's queen I'll fall before thee,
Enticing dalliance from thee with my smiles,
And steal thy heart with my delicious kisses.
I'll study art in love, that in a rapture[248]
Thy soul shall taste pleasure's excelling nature.
Love me!
Both art and nature in large recompense
Shall be profuse in ravishing thy sense.
_Gni._ You have prevail'd; I am yours from all the world;
Thy wit and beauty have entranced my soul; 110
I long for dalliance, my blood burns like fire.
Hell's pain on earth is to delay desire!
_Isa._ I kiss thee for that breath. This day you hunt;
In midst of all your sports leave you Massino;[249]
Return to me, whose life rests in thy sight,
Where pleasure shall make nectar our delight.
_Gni._ I condescend to what thy will implores me;
He that but now neglected thee adores thee.
But see, here comes my friend; fear makes him tremble.
_Enter_ MASSINO,[250] ANNA, _and_ Doctor.
_Isa._ Women are witless that cannot dissemble: 120
Now I am sick again.--Where's my Lord Massino?[250]
His love and my health's vanish'd both together.
_Mass._ Wrong not thy friend, dear friend, in thy extremes;
Here's a profound Hippocrates, my dear,
To administer to thee the spirit of health.
_Isa._ Your sight to me, my lord, excels all physic;
I am better far, my love, than when you left me;
Your friend was comfortable to me at the last.
'Twas but a fit, my lord, and now 'tis past.
Are all things ready, sir? 130
_Anna._ Yes, madam, the house is fit.
_Gni._ Desire in women is the life of wit.
[_Exeunt omnes._
[243] Old eds. "GUIDO." The prefix to Massino's speeches
throughout the scene is "_Gui._"
[244] Quy. "our stars"?--The sense would be "Our fortunes cannot
change."
[245] Here, as frequently throughout this play, the text is
hopelessly corrupt.--Quy. "_His_ shape makes mankind _females'
jealousy_"? On p. 137 we have the word _female_ as a
substantive--"Than trust a _female_ mourning o'er her love."
[246] Old eds. "Forgiue me, Rogero."
[247] Old eds. "Rogero."
[248] Old eds. "rupture."
[249] Old eds. "Rogero."
[250] Old eds. "Rogero."
SCENE III.
_Venice.--A Street._
_Enter_ ABIGAIL _and_ THAIS _at several doors_.
_Abi._ O partner, I am with child of laughter, and none
but you can be my midwife. Was there ever such a
game at noddy?[251]
_Tha._ Our husbands think they are foremen of the
jury; they hold the heretic point of predestination, and
sure they are born to be hanged!
_Abi._ They are like to prove men of judgment; but
not for killing of him that's yet alive and well recovered.
_Tha._ As soon as my man saw the watch come up,
All his spirit was down. 10
_Abi._ But though they have made us good sport in speech,
They did hinder us of good sport in action.
O wench! imagination is strong in pleasure!
_Tha._ That's true; for the opinion my good man had
of enjoying you made him do wonders.
_Abi._ Why should a weak man, that is so soon satisfied,
desire variety?
_Tha._ Their answer is, to feed on pheasants continually
would breed a loathing.
_Abi._ Then if we seek for strange flesh that have
stomachs at will, 'tis pardonable. 21
_Tha._ Ay, if men had any feeling of it; but they judge
us by themselves.
_Abi._ Well, we will bring them to the gallows, and then,
like kind virgins,[252] beg their lives; and after live at our
pleasures, and this bridle shall still rein them.
_Tha._ Faith, if we were disposed, we might sin[253] as
safe as if we had the broad seal to warrant it; but that
night's work will stick by me this forty weeks. Come,
shall we go visit the discontented Lady Lentulus, whom
the Lord Mendoza has confess'd to his chirurgion he
would have robb'd? I thought great men would but
have robb'd the poor, yet he the rich. 33
_Abi._ He thought that the richer purchase, though with
the worse conscience; but we'll to comfort her, and then
go hear our husband's lamentations. They say mine has
compiled an ungodly volume of satires against women,
and calls his book _The Snarl_.
_Tha._ But he's in hope his book will save him.
_Abi._ God defend that it should, or any that snarl in
that fashion! 41
_Tha._ Well, wench, if I could be metamorphosed into
thy shape, I should have my husband pliant to me in
his life, and soon rid of him; for being weary with his
continual motion, he'd die of a consumption.
_Abi._ Make much of him, for all our wanton prize;
Follow the proverb, "Merry be and wise."
[_Exeunt._
[251] There was a game at cards called noddy.
[252] It was popularly supposed that a virgin might save a man
from the gallows by offering to marry him. In _Arden of
Feversham_, when the serving-man Michael promises to murder
his master, Alice Arden says--"But Michael see you do it
cunningly:" to which he replies:--
"Why, say I should be took, I'll ne'er confess
That you know anything; and _Susan, being a maid_,
May beg me from the gallows of the shrief."
Alice bids him "trust not to that;" but he is convinced that all
will be right:--
"You cannot tell me; I have seen it, I."
Many similar passages might be adduced to prove that this
extraordinary belief prevailed. I suspect that we must go back to
the ancients for an explanation. Plutarch in his life of Numa
tells us that a vestal virgin, accidentally meeting a criminal on
his way to execution, was entitled by law to give him life and
liberty.--The curious Manx custom in regard to rape may be
noticed in this connection. The injured woman was presented with
a ring, a rope, and a knife. If the offender was a bachelor, the
woman might marry him with the ring; if he was a married man, it
was left to her discretion whether she should hang him with the
rope or castrate him with the knife (an awkward dilemma--for the
married man).
[253] Old eds. "seeme."--The correction was made by the editor of
1820.
SCENE IV.
_Isabella's house at Pavia._
_Enter_ ISABELLA, ANNA, _and_ Servants.
_Isa._ Time, that devour'st all mortality,
Run swiftly these few hours,
And bring Gniaca on thy aged shoulders,
That I may clip the rarest model of creation.
Do this, gentle Time,
And I will curl thine agèd silver lock,
And dally with thee in delicious pleasure:
Medea-like I will renew thy youth,
But if thy frozen steps delay my love,
I'll poison thee, with murder curse thy paths, 10
And make thee know a time of infamy.--
Anna, give watch, and bring me certain notice
When Count Gniaca doth approach my house.
_Anna._ Madam, I go.--
I am kept for pleasure, though I never taste it;
For 'tis the usher's office still to cover
His lady's private meetings with her lover.
[_Exit._
_Isa._ Desire, thou quenchless flame that burn'st our souls,
Cease to torment me;
The dew of pleasure shall put out thy fire, 20
And quite consume thee with satiety.
Lust shall be cool'd with lust, wherein I'll prove
The life of love is only saved by love.
_Enter_ ANNA.
_Anna._ Madam, he's coming.
_Isa._ Thou blessed Mercury,
Prepare a banquet fit to please the gods;
Let sphere-like[254] music breathe delicious tones
Into our mortal ears; perfume the house
With odoriferous scents, sweeter than myrrh,
Or all the spices in Panchaia.
His sight and touching we will recreate, 30
That his five senses shall be fivefold happy.
His breath like roses casts out sweet perfume;
Time now with pleasure shall itself consume.
_Enter_ GNIACA _in his hunting weeds_.
How like Adonis in his hunting weeds,
Looks this same goddess-tempter!
And art thou come? This kiss entrance thy[255] soul!
Gods, I do not envy you; for, know this,
Way's[256] here on earth complete, excels your bliss:
I'll not change this night's pleasure with you all.
_Gni._ Thou creature made by love, composed of pleasure, 40
That makest true use of thy creation,
In thee both wit and beauty's resident;
Delightful pleasure, unpeer'd excellence.
This is the fate fix'd fast unto thy birth,
That thou alone shouldst be man's heaven on earth.
If I alone may but enjoy thy love,
I'll not change earthly joy to be heaven's Jove:
For though that women-haters now are common,
They all shall know earth's joy consists in woman.
_Isa._ My love was dotage till I lovèd thee, 50
For thy soul truly tastes our petulance;
Condition's[257] lover, Cupid's Intelligencer,
That makes man[258] understand what pleasure is:
These are fit tributes unto thy knowledge;
For women's beauty o'er men bear that rule,
Our power commands the rich, the wise, the fool.
Though scorn grows big in man, in growth and stature,
Yet women are the rarest works of[259] nature.
_Gni._ I do confess the truth, and must admire
That women can command rare man's desire. 60
_Isa._ Cease admiration, sit to Cupid's feast,
The preparation to Paphian dalliance;
Harmonious music, breathe thy silver airs
To stir up appetite to Venus' banquet,
That breath of pleasure that entrances souls,
Making that instant happiness a heaven,
In the true taste of love's deliciousness.
_Gni._ Thy words are able to stir cold desire
Into his flesh that lies entomb'd in ice,
Having lost the feeling use of warmth in blood; 70
Then how much more in me, whose youthful veins,
Like a proud river, overflow their bounds?
Pleasure's ambrosia, or love's nourisher,
I long for privacy; come, let us in;
'Tis custom, and not reason, makes love sin.
_Isa._ I'll lead the way to Venus' paradise,
Where thou shalt taste that fruit that made man wise.
[_Exit_ ISABELLA.
_Gni._ Sing notes of pleasure to elate our blood:
Why should heaven frown on joys that do us good?
I come, Isabella, keeper of love's treasure, 80
To force thy blood to lust, and ravish pleasure.
[_Exit._
_After some short song, enter_ ISABELLA _and_ GNIACA _again,
she hanging about his neck lasciviously_.
_Gni._ Still I am thy captive, yet thy thoughts are free;
To be love's bondman is true liberty.
I have swum in seas of pleasure without ground,
Ventrous desire past depth itself hath drown'd.
Such skill has beauty's art in a true lover,
That dead desire to life it can recover.
Thus beauty our desire can soon advance,
Then straight again kill it with dalliance.
Divinest women, your enchanting breaths 90
Give lovers many lives and many deaths!
_Isa._ May thy desire to me for ever last,
Not die but surfeit on my delicates;
And as I tie this jewel about thy neck,
So may I tie thy constant love to mine,
Never to seek weaking variety,
That greedy curse of man and woman's hell,
Where nought but shame and loath'd diseases dwell.
_Gni._ You counsel well, dear; learn it then;
For change is given more to you than men. 100
_Isa._ My faith to thee, like rocks, shall never move,
The sun shall change his course ere I my love.
_Enter_ ANNA.
_Ann._ Madam, the Count Massino[260] knocks.
_Isa._ Dear love, into my chamber, till I send
My hate from sight.
_Gni._ Lust makes me wrong my friend.
[_Exit_ GNIACA.
_Isa._ Anna, stand here and entertain Lord Massino;[260]
I from my window straight will give him answer.
The serpent's wit to woman rest in me;
By that man fell, then why not he by me? 109
Feign'd sighs, and tears dropp'd from a woman's eye,
Blinds man of reason, strikes his knowledge dumb.
Wit arms a woman; Count Massino,[260] come.
[_Exit_ ISABELLA.
_Ann._ My office still is under: yet in time
Ushers prove masters, degrees makes us climb.
[MASSINO[261] _knocks_.
Who knocks? Is't you, my noble lord?
_Enter_ MASSINO[261] _in his hunting weeds_.
_Mass._ Came my friend hither--Count Gniaca?
_Ann._ No, my good lord.
_Mass._ Where's my Isabella?
_Ann._ In her chamber.
_Mass._ Good: I'll visit her. 120
_Ann._ The chamber's lock'd, my lord: she will be private.
_Mass._ Lock'd against me--my saucy malapert?
_Ann._ Be patient, good my lord; she'll give you answer.
_Mass._ Isabella! life of love, speak, 'tis I that calls.
[ISABELLA at her window.[262]
_Isa._ I must desire your lordship pardon me.
_Mass._ Lordship? what's this? Isabella, art thou blind?
_Isa._ My lord,
My lust was blind, but now my soul's clear-sighted,
And sees the spots that did corrupt my flesh:
Those tokens sent from hell, brought by desire, 130
The messenger of everlasting death!
_Ann._ My lady's in her pulpit, now she'll preach.
_Mass._ Is not thy lady mad? In verity I always
Took her for a puritan, and now she shows it.
_Isa._ Mock not repentance. Profanation
Brings mortals laughing to damnation.
Believe it, lord, Isabella's ill-pass'd life,
Like gold refined, shall make a perfect wife.
I stand on firm ground now, before on ice;
We know not virtue till we taste of vice. 140
_Mass._ Do you hear dissimulation, woman sinner?
_Isa._ Leave my house, good my lord, and for my part,
I look for a most wish'd reconciliation
Betwixt myself and my most wrongèd husband.
Tempt not contrition then, religious lord.
_Mass._ Indeed I was one of your family once;
But do not I know these are but brain-tricks:
And where the devil has the fee-simple,
He'll keep possession; and will you halt
Before me that yourself has made a cripple? 150
_Isa._ Nay, then, you wrong me; and, disdainèd lord,
I paid then for thy pleasures vendible--
Whose mercenary flesh I bought with coin.
I will divulge thy baseness, 'less with speed
Thou leave my house and my society.
_Mass._ Already turn'd apostate! but now all pure,
Now damn'd your faith is, and [your] loves endure
Like dew upon the grass; when pleasure's sun
Shines on your virtues, all your virtue's done.
I'll leave thy house and thee; go, get thee in, 160
Thou gaudy child of pride, and nurse of sin.
_Isa._ Rail not on me, my lord; for if you do,
My hot desire of vengeance shall strike wonder;
Revenge in women falls like dreadful thunder!
[_Exit._
_Ann._ Your lordship will command me no further service?
_Mass._ I thank thee for thy watchful service past;
Thy usher-like attendance on the stairs,
Being true signs of thy humility.
_Ann._ I hope I did discharge my place with care. 169
_Mass._ Ushers should have much wit, but little hair;[263]
Thou hast of both sufficient: prithee leave me,
If thou hast an honest lady, commend me to her,
But she is none.
[_Exit_ ANNA.
Farewell, thou private strumpet, worse than common!
Man were on earth an angel but for woman.
That sevenfold branch of hell from them doth grow;
Pride, lust, and murder, they raise from below,
With all their fellow-sins. Women are made
Of blood, without souls; when their beauties fade,
And their lust's past, avarice or bawdry 180
Makes them still loved; then they buy venery,
Bribing damnation, and hire brothel-slaves:
Shame's their executors, infamy their graves.
Your painting will wipe off, which art did hide,
And show your ugly shape in spite of pride.
Farewell, Isabella, poor in soul and fame,
I leave thee rich in nothing but in shame.
Then, soulless women, know, whose faiths are hollow,
Your lust being quench'd a bloody act must follow.
[_Exit._
[254] Ed. 1631 "speare-like."
[255] Ed. 1631 "enters into thy."
[256] Quy. "Joy's?"
[257] The text is corrupt. Some copies of ed. 1613 have
"conditious."
[258] Ed. 1631 "men."
[259] Ed. 1631 and some copies of ed. 1613 "in."
[260] Old eds. "Rogero."
[261] Old eds. "Guido."--The prefix to his speeches throughout
the scene is "_Gui._"
[262] Evidently the window of an inner chamber.
[263] An allusion to the proverb "More hair than wit."
ACT IV.
SCENE I.
_Venice.--The Senate-house._
_Enter the_ Duke AMAGO, _the_ Captain, _and the rest of the_ Watch,
_with the_ Senators.
_Duke._ Justice, that makes princes like the gods,
Draws us unto the senate,
That with unpartial balance we may poise
The crimes and innocence of all offenders.
Our presence can chase bribery from laws;
He best can judge that hears himself the cause.
_1st Sen._ True, mighty duke, it best becomes our places,
To have our light from you the sun of virtue.
Subject authority, for gain, love, or fear,
Oft quits the guilty, and condemns the clear. 10
_Duke._ The land and people's mine; the crimes being known,
I must redress; my subjects' wrong's mine own.
Call for the two suspected for the murder
Of Mendoza, our endeared kinsman,
These voluntary murderers that confess
The murder of him that is yet alive.
We'll sport with serious justice for a while;
In show we'll frown on them that make us smile.
_2d Sen._ Bring forth the prisoners, we may hear their answers.
_Enter_ (_brought in with_ Officers) CLARIDIANA _and_ ROGERO.[264]
_Duke._ Stand forth, you vipers, [you] that have suck'd blood, 20
And lopp'd a branch sprung from a royal tree!
What can you answer to escape tortures?
_Rog._ We have confessed the fact,[265] my lord, to God and man,
Our ghostly father, and that worthy captain:
We beg not life, but favourable death.
_Duke._ On what ground sprung your hate to him we loved?
_Cla._ Upon that curse laid on Venetians, jealousy.
We thought he, being a courtier, would have made us
magnificoes of the right stamp, and have play'd at
primero in the presence, with gold of the city brought
from our Indies. 31
_Rog._ Nay, more, my lord, we feared that your kinsman,
for a mess of sonnets, would have given the plot of us
and our wives to some needy poet, and for sport and
profit brought us in some Venetian comedy upon the
stage.
_Duke._ Our justice dwells with mercy; be not desperate.
_1st Sen._ His highness fain would save your lives if
you would see it.
_Rog._ All the law in Venice shall not save me; I will
not be saved.
_Cla._ Fear not, I have a trick to bring us to hanging
in spite of the law. 43
_Rog._ Why, now I see thou lovest me; thou hast confirm'd
Thy friendship for ever to me by these words.
Why, I should never hear lanthorn and candle[266] call'd for
But I should think it was for me and my wife.
I'll hang for that, forget not thy trick;
Upon 'em with thy trick; I long for sentence.
_2d Sen._ Will you appeal for mercy to the duke? 50
_Cla._ Kill not thy justice, duke, to save our lives;
We have deserved death.
_Rog._ Make not us precedents for after-wrongs;
I will receive punishment for my sins:
It shall be a means to lift me towards heaven.
_Cla._ Let's have our desert; we crave no favour.
_Duke._ Take them asunder; grave justice makes us mirth;
That man is soulless that ne'er smiles[267] on earth.
Signor Rogero,[268] relate the weapon you kill'd him with,
and the manner. 60
_Rog._ My lord, your lustful kinsman--I can title him
no better--came sneaking to my house like a promoter to
spy flesh[269] in the Lent. Now I, having a Venetian spirit,
watch'd my time, and with my rapier run him through,
knowing all pains are but trifles to the horn of a citizen.
_Duke._ Take him aside. Signior Claridiana, what
weapon had you for this bloody act? What dart used
death?
_Cla._ My lord, I brain'd him with a [c]leaver my
neighbour lent me, and he stood by and cried, "Strike
home, old boy." 71
_Duke._ With several instruments. Bring them face to face.
With what kill'd you our nephew?
_Rog._ With a rapier, liege.
_Cla._ 'Tis a lie;
I kill'd him with a [c]leaver, and thou stood'st by.
_Rog._ Dost think to save me and hang thyself? No,
I scorn it; is this the trick thou said'st thou had'st? I
kill'd him, duke.
He only gave consent: 'twas I that did it. 80
_Cla._ Thou hast always been cross to me, and wilt be
to my death. Have I taken all this pains to bring thee
to hanging, and dost thou slip now?
_Rog._ We shall never agree in a tale till we come to
the gallows, then we shall jump.
_Cla._ I'll show you a cross-point, if you cross me thus,
when thou shalt not see it.
_Rog._ I'll make a wry mouth at that, or it shall cost
me a fall. 'Tis thy pride to be hang'd alone, because
thou scorn'st my company; but it shall be known I am
as good a man as thyself, and in these actions will keep
company with thy betters, Jew. 92
_Cla._ Monster!
_Rog._ Dog-killer!
_Cla._ Fencer!
[_They bustle._
_Duke._ Part them, part 'em!
_Rog._ Hang us, and quarter us; we shall ne'er be
parted till then.
_Duke._ You do confess the murder done by both?
_Cla._ [_Aside_] But that I would not have the slave laugh at me,
And count me a coward, I have a good mind to live.
But I am resolute: 'tis but a turn.--
I do confess.
_Rog._ So do I. 103
Pronounce our doom, we are prepared to die.
_1st Sen._ We sentence you to hang till you be dead;
Since you were men eminent in place and worth,
We give a Christian burial to you both.
_Cla._ Not in one grave together, we beseech you, we
shall ne'er agree.
_Rog._ He scorns my company till the day of judgment;
I'll not hang with him. 111
_Duke._ You hang together, that shall make you friends;
An everlasting hatred death soon ends.
To prison with them till the death;
Kings' words, like fate, must never change their breath.
_Rog._ You malice-monger, I'll be hang'd afore thee,
And 't be but to vex thee.
_Cla._ I'll do you as good a turn, or the hangman and
[I] shall fall out.
[_Exeunt ambo, guarded._
_Duke._ Now to our kinsman, shame to royal blood;
Bring him before us. 121
_Enter_ MENDOZA _in his nightgown and cap, guarded,
with the_ Captain.
Theft in a prince is sacrilege to honour;
'Tis virtue's scandal, death of royalty.
I blush to see my shame. Nephew, sit down.
Justice, that smiles on those, on him must frown!
Speak freely, captain; where found you him wounded?
_Capt._ Between the widow's house and these cross neighbours;
Besides, an artificial ladder made of ropes
Was fasten'd to her window, which he confess'd
He brought to rob her of jewels and coin. 130
My knowledge yields no further circumstance.
_Duke._ Thou know'st too much; would I were past all knowledge,
I might forget my grief springs from my shame!
Thou monster of my blood, answer in brief
To these assertions made against thy life.
Is thy soul guilty of so base a fact?
_Men._ I do confess I did intend to rob her;
In the attempt I fell and hurt myself.
Law's thunder is but death; I dread it not,
So my Lentulus' honour be preserved 140
From black suspicion of a lustful night.
_Duke._ Thy head's thy forfeit for thy heart's offence;
Thy blood's prerogative may claim that favour.
Thy person then to death doom'd by just laws;
Thy death is infamous, but worse the cause.
[_Exeunt._
[264] Old eds. "Mizaldus."
[265] Ed. 1631 "act."
[266] "Lanthorn and candle-light"--the cry of the bellman. See
Middleton, i. 70.
[267] So the editor of 1820.--Old eds. "sinnes."
[268] Old eds. "Mizaldus."
[269] Rigid rules were enacted from time to time forbidding the
consumption of flesh in Lent: see Overall's _Remembrancia_.
It may be seen from Middleton's _Chaste Maid_ that promoters
(_i.e._, informers) were busily engaged in preventing any
infringement of the regulations.