BOTH. No, indeed.
NEW. Where learn'd you to stand capp'd before a judge?
You souterly[337] knaves, show you all your manners at once?
RALPH. Why, Nichol, all we are content.
NEW. And am I plain Nichol? and yet it is in my arbitrement
To judge which of you two is the verier knave.
I am Master Nichol Newfangle, both gay and brave;
For, seeing you make me your judge, I trow,
I shall teach you both your liripup[338] to know.
[_He fighteth._
TOM. Stay yourself, sir, I pray you heartily.
RALPH. I pray you, be content, and we will be more mannerly.
NEW. Nay, I cannot put up such an injury;
For, seeing I am in office, I will be known therefore:
Fend your heads, sirs, for I will to it more once.
[_He fighteth again._
RALPH. I pray you be content, good gentle Master Nichol:
TOM. I never saw the like, by Gog's soul.
NEW. Well, my masters, because you do intend
To learn good manners, and your conditions to amend,
I will have but one fit more, and so make an end.
RALPH. I pray you, sir, let us no more contend.
NEW. Marry, this hath breathed me very well:
Now let me hear, how your tales ye can tell.
And I (master judge) will so bring to pass,
That I will judge who shall be knave of clubs at Christmas.[339]
TOM. Gog's wounds, I am like Phalaris, that made a bull of brass--
NEW. Thou art like a false knave now, and evermore was.
TOM. Nay, I am like Phalaris, that made a bull of brass,
As a cruel torment for such as did offend,
And he himself first therein put was:
Even so are we brought now to this end,
In ordaining him a judge, who will be honoured as a god,
So for our own tails we have made a rod.
RALPH. And I am served as Haman, that prepar'd--
NEW. How was he served, I pray thee, do me tell?
RALPH. Who I speak of? thou knowest well.
NEW. Thou art served as Harry Hangman, captain of the black guard.
RALPH. Nay, I am served as Haman, that prepared
A high pair of gallows for Mordecai the Jew,
And was the first himself that thereon was hanged:
So I feel the smart of mine own rod, this is true.
But hereafter I will learn to be wise,
And ere I leap once, I will look twice.
NEW. Well, Tom Tosspot, first let me hear thee.
How canst thou prove thyself a verier knave than he?
TOM. You know that Tom Tosspot men do me call?
NEW. A knave thou hast always been, and evermore shall.
TOM. My conditions, I am sure, ye know as well as I.
NEW. A knave thou was born, and so thou shalt die.
TOM. But that you are a judge, I would say unto you,
Knaves are Christian men, else you were a Jew.
NEW. He calls me knave by craft, do you not see?
Sirrah, I will remember it, when you think not on me.
Well, say what thou canst for thine own behoof;
If thou provest thyself the verier knave by good proof,
Thou must be the elder brother, and have the patrimony;
And when he hath said, then do thou reply.
Even Thomas-a-Waterings or Tyburn Hill[340]
To the falsest thief of you both, by my father's will!
RALPH. I pray you, sir, what is that patrimony?
NEW. I pray you leave your courtesy, and I will tell you by and by.
If he be the more knave, the patrimony he must have,
But thou shalt have it, if thou prove thyself the verier knave;
A piece of ground it is, that of Beggars' manor do[th] hold,
And whoso deserves it, shall have it, ye may be bold--
Call'd Saint Thomas-a-Waterings or else Tyburn Hill,
Given and so bequeathed to the falsest by will.
TOM. Then I trow I am he, that this patrimony shall possess,
For I Tom Tosspot do use this trade doubtless:
From morning till night I sit tossing the black bowl,[341]
Then come I home, and pray for my father's soul.
Saying my prayers with wounds, blood, guts, and heart:
Swearing and staring, thus play I my part.
If any poor man have in a whole week earn'd one groat,
He shall spend it in one hour in tossing the pot.
I use to call servants and poor men to my company,
And make them spend all they have unthriftily;
So that my company they think to be so good,
That in short space their hair grows through their hood.
NEW. But will no gossips keep thee company now and then?
TOM. Tush, I am acquainted with many a woman,
That with me will sit in every house and place;
But then their husbands had need fend their face.
For when they come home, they will not be afeard,
To shake the goodman, and sometime shave his beard.
And as for Flemish[342] servants I have such a train,
That will quass and carouse, and therein spend their gain.
From week to week I have all this company;
Wherefore I am worthy to have the patrimony.
NEW. Thus thou may'st be called a knave in grain;
And where knaves are scant, thou shalt go for twain.
But now, Ralph Roister, let me hear what thou canst say.
RALPH. You know that Ralph Roister I am called alway,
And my conditions in knavery so far doth surmount,
That to have this patrimony I make mine account,
For I entice young gentlemen all virtue to eschew,
And to give themselves to riotousness, this is true.
Serving-men also by me are so seduced,
That all in bravery their minds are confused.
Then, if they have not themselves to maintain,
To pick and to steal they must be fain.
And, I may say to you, I have such a train,
That sometime I pitch a field on Salisbury plain.[343]
And much more, if need were, I could say verily:
Wherefore I am worthy to have the patrimony.
NEW. He, that shall judge this matter, had need have more wit than I;
But, seeing you have referred it unto my arbitrement,
In faith I will give such equal judgment,
That both of you shall be well-pleased and content.
TOM. Nay, I have not done, for I can say much more.
NEW. Well, I will not have you contend any more.
But this farm, which to Beggars' manor doth appertain,
I will equally divide between you twain.
Are you not content, that so it shall be?
BOTH. As it pleaseth you, so shall we agree.
NEW. Then see, that anon ye come both unto me.
RALPH. Sir, for my part, I thank you heartily:
I promised of late to come unto a company,
Which at Hob Filcher's for me do remain:
God be with you, and anon I will come again.
TOM. Farewell, brother Ralph, I will come to you anon.
[_Exit_ TOM.[344]
NEW. Come again, for you shall not so suddenly be gone.
_Here entereth_ HANCE _with a pot, and singeth as followeth_.
_See ye not who comes yonder? an old friend of yours:
One that is ready to quass at all hours._
[_He singeth the first two lines, and speaketh the rest as stammeringly
as may be._
_Quass in heart, and quass again, and quass about the house-a:
And toss the black bowl to and fro, and I brinks[345] them all
carouse-a._
Be go-go-gog's nowns, ch-ch-cha drunk zo-zo-much to-day:
That be-be-mass, ch-cham a-most drunk, ich da-da-dare zay.
Chud spe-spe-spend a goo-goo-good groat:
Tha-that ich cud vi-vind my ca-ca-captain To-To-Tom Tosspot.
[_He setteth him in the chair._
NEW. Sit down, good Hance, lest thou lie on the ground,
He knoweth not Tom Tosspot, I dare jeopard twenty pound.
TOM.[346] He will know me by and by, I hold you a crown.
How dost thou, servant Hance? how comes this to pass?
HANCE. Ma-ma-master To-To-Tom, ch-ch-cham glad by-by mass--
[_He drinketh._
Ca-ca-carouse to-to-to thee, go-go-good Tom.
NEW. Hold up, good Hance, I will pledge thee anon.
RALPH. Well, there is no remedy, but I must be gone.
HANCE. Ta-ta-tarry, good vellow, a wo-wo-word or twain:
If tho-tho-thou thyself do-do-do not come again.
Bi-bi-bid Philip Fleming co-co-come hither to me,
Vo-vo-vor he must lead me home, now ich do ze.
RALPH. Then, farewell, Hance, I will remember thy errant:
He will be here by and by, I dare be his warrant.
[_Exit_ RALPH ROISTER.
NEW. Farewell, Ralph Roister, with all my heart:
Come anon, and I will deliver thee thy part.
TOM. Now, Hance, right now thou drank'st to me,
Drink again, and I will pledge thee.
HANCE. _Omni po-po-po-tenti_, all the po-po-pot is empty.
NEW. Why, Hance, thou hast Latin in thy belly methink:
I thought there was no room for Latin, there is so much drink!
HANCE. Ich le-le-learned zome La-La-Latin, when ich was a la-la-lad:
Ich ca-ca-can zay _Tu es nebulo_, ich learn'd of my dad.
And ich could once he-he-help the p-p-priest to say mass:
By giss, ma-man, ich ha' been cu-cu-cunning, when 'twas.
TOM. I knew Hance, when he was, as he say'th:
For he was once a scholar in good faith;
But through my company he was withdrawn from thence,
Through his riot and excessive expense.
Unto this trade, which now you do in him see:
So that now he is wholly addicted to follow me;
And one of my guard he is now become.
Well, Hance, well, thou wast once a white son![347]
NEW. Now, so God help me, thou art a pretty fellow, Hance;
A clean-legged gentleman, and as proper a paunch,
As any I know between this and France.
HANCE. Yes, by-by-by God, ich co'd once dance.
NEW. I speak of no dancing, little-bellied Hance;
But, seeing thou say'st thou canst so well dance,
Let me see where thou canst dance lively.
HANCE. Tha-tha-that ca-ca-can I do vull trimly.
[_He danceth as evil-favoured as may be demised,
and in the dancing he falleth
down, and when he riseth, he must groan._
NEW. Rise again, Hance, thou hadst almost got a fall:
But thou dancest trimly, legs and all.
Body of me, Hance, how doth thy belly, canst thou tell?
By the mass, he hath beray'd his breeches, methink by the smell.
TOM. I will help thee up, Hance, give me thy hand.
[_He riseth._
HANCE. By-by mass, ch-ch-chwas almost down, I think ve-verily.
NEW. Wast thou almost down, Hance? marry, so think I,
But thou art sick, methink by the groaning:
He grunts like a bear, when he is a-moaning.
Hark, how his head aches, and how his pulses do beat:
I think he will be hang'd, his belly is so great.
HANCE. Go-Go-God-amercy, good Tom, with all my heart:
NEW. If thou canst not leap, Hance, let me see thee drink a quart,
And get thee out abroad into the air.
TOM. Tush, he had more need to sleep in this chair.
Sit down, Hance, and thou shalt see anon,
Philip Fleming will come to fetch thee home.
[HANCE _sitteth in the chair, and snorteth, as
though he were fast asleep_.
NEW. I pray thee, Tom Tosspot, is this one of thy men?
TOM. He is a companion of mine now and then.
NEW. By the faith of my body, such carpenter, such chips,
And as the wise man said, such lettuce, such lips.
For, like master, like man: like tutor, like scholar;
And, like will to like, quoth the Devil to the Collier.
TOM. It is no remedy, for it must needs so be;
Like will to like, you may believe me.
[PHILIP FLEMING _entereth with a pot in his hand_.
NEW. Lo, where Philip Fleming cometh even in pudding time!
TOM. He bringeth in his hand either good ale or else good wine.
PHILIP FLEMING _singeth these four lines following_:
_Troll the bowl and drink to me, and troll the bowl again,
And put a brown toast in [the] pot for Philip Fleming's brain.
And I shall toss it to and fro, even round about the house-a:
Good hostess, now let it be so, I brink them all carouse-a._
PHILIP. Marry, here is a pot of noppy good ale.
As clear as crystal pure and stale.
Now a crab in the fire were worth a good groat,
That I might quass with my captain Tom Tosspot.
What? I can no sooner wish, but by and by I have!
God save mine eyesight, methink I see a knave.
What, captain! how goeth the world with you?
Why, now I see the old proverb to be true;
Like will to like, both with Christian, Turk, and Jew.
Marry, Philip, even as I was wont to do:
PHILIP. Ralph Roister told me that I should find Hance here,
Where is he, that he doth not appear?
NEW. I hold twenty pound the knave is blind.
Turn about, Philip Fleming, and look behind.
Hast thou drunk so much that thy eyes be out?
Lo, how he snoreth like a lazy lout.
Go to him, for he sleepeth sound:
Two such paunches in all England can scant be found.
PHILIP. Why, Hance, art thou in thy prayers so devoutly?
Awake, man, and we two will quass together stoutly.
HANCE. _Domine, dominus noster_;
Me-think ich a spied three knaves on a cluster.
NEW. Stay a while, for he sayeth his _pater noster_.
HANCE. _Sanctum benedictum_, what have I dreamed?
By Gog's nowns, chad thought ich had been in my bed.
Chad dreamed such a dream, as thou wilt marvel to hear,
Me-thought I was drowned in a barrel of beer.
And by and by the barrel was turned to a ship,
Which me-thought the wind made nicely to skip.
And I did sail therein from Flanders to France:
At last ich was brought hither among a sort of knaves by chance.
NEW. Lo, Hance, here is Philip Fleming come now,
We will go drink together now, how say'st thou?
HANCE. I pray thee, good Vilip, now lead me away:
PHILIP. Give me thy hand, and I will thee stay.
HANCE. How say you, Master Nichol, will you keep us company?
NEW. Go before, Master Lick-hole,[348] and I will come by and by.
Mates matched together, depart you three;
I will come after, you may believe me.
[_They three are gone together, and_ NICHOL
NEWFANGLE _remaineth behind, but he
must not speak till they be within_.]
NEW. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!
_He sings._
_Now three knaves are gone, and I am left alone,
Myself here to solace;
Well done, gentle Jone, why begin you to moan?
Though they be gone, I am in place._
_And now will I dance, and now will I prance,
For why I have none other work:
Snip snap, butter is no bone meat:
Knave's flesh is no pork._
_Hey tisty-toisty, an owl is a bird,
Jackanapes hath an old face;
You may believe me at one bare word,
How like you, this merry case?_
_A piece of ground they think they have found,
I will tell you what it is:
For I them told of Beggars' manor it did hold,
A staff and a wallet i-wis._
_Which in short space, even in this place,
Of me they shall receive:
For when that their drift hath spent all their thrift,
Their minds I shall deceive._
_I trow you shall see more knaves come to me,
Which whensoever they do,
They shall have their meed, as they deserve indeed,
As you shall see shortly these two._
_When they do pretend to have had a good end,
Mark well, then, what shall ensue:
A bag and a bottle, or else a rope knottle,
This shall they prove too true._
_But mark well this game, I see this gear frame;
Lo, who cometh now in such haste?
It is Cuthbert Cutpurse
And Pierce Pickpurse,
Give room now a little cast._
_Here entereth_ CUTHBERT CUTPURSE _and_ PIERCE PICKPURSE. [CUTHBERT
CUTPURSE _must have in his hand a purse of money or counters in it, and
a knife in one hand and a whetstone in the other; and_ PIERCE _must have
money or counters in his hand and jingle it, as he cometh in_.]
CUTH. By Gog's wounds, it doth me good to the heart,
To see how cleanly I play'd this part.
While they stood thrusting together in the throng,
I began to go them among;
And with this knife, which here you do see,
I cut away this purse cleanly.
NEW. See to your purses, my masters, and be ruled by me,
For knaves are abroad, therefore beware.
You are warn'd: and ye take not heed, I do not care. [_Aside._
PIERCE. And also, so soon as I had espied
A woman in the throng, whose purse was fat,
I took it by the strings, and cleanly it untied:
She knew no more of it than Gib our cat.
Yet at the last she hied apace,
And said, that the money in my hand she saw.
Thou whore, said I, I will have an action of the case,
And seeing thou say'st so, I will try the law.
CUTHB. How say'st thou, Pierce Pickpurse, art thou not agreed
These two booties equally to divide?
Then let us count the total sum,
And divide it equally, when we have done.
NEW. My masters, here is a good fellow, that would fain have some.
CUTHB. What, Nichol Newfangle, be you here?
So God help me, I am glad with all my heart.
PIERCE. Then, ere we depart, we will have some cheer,
And of this booty you shall have your part.
NEW. I thank you both even heartily,
And I will do somewhat for you by and by:
Are not you two sworn brothers in every booty?
BOTH. Yes, that we are truly.
NEW. Then can I tell you news, which you do not know:
Such news as will make you full glad, I trow.
But first tell me this, Pierce Pickpurse,
Whether is the elder, thou or Cuthbert Cutpurse?
PIERCE. In faith, I think we are both of one age well nigh.
CUTHB. I suppose there is no great difference, truly:
But wherefore ask you? I pray you, tell me why?
NEW. I will tell you the cause without any delay:
For a piece of land is fallen, as I hear say,
Which by succession must come to one of you:
A proper plot it is, this is most true.
For thou, Cuthbert Cutpurse, was Cuthbert Cutthroat's son,
And thou, Pierce Pickpurse, by that time thou hast done,
Canst derive thy pedigree from an ancient house:
Thy father was Tom Thief, and thy mother was Tib Louse.
This piece of land, whereto you inheritors are,
Is called the land of the two-legged mare;[349]
In which piece of ground there is a mare indeed,
Which is the quickest mare in England for speed.
Therefore, if you will come anon unto me,
I will put you in possession, and that you shall see.
CUTHB. I cannot believe that such luck is happen'd to us.
NEW. It is true, that I to you do discuss.
PIERCE. If you will help us to this piece of ground,
Both of us to you shall think ourselves bound.
NEW. Yes, in faith, you shall have it, you may believe me;
I will be as good as my word, as shortly you shall see.
CUTHB. Then, brother Pierce, we may think ourselves happy,
That ever we were with him acquainted.
PIERCE. Even so we may of a certainty,
That such good luck unto us hath happened.
But, brother Cuthbert, is it not best
To go in for awhile, and distribute this booty?
Whereas we three will make some feast,
And quass together, and be merry.
CUTHB. What say you, Nichol?
NEW. I do agree.
_Here entereth_ VIRTUOUS LIVING.
But, soft, awhile be ruled by me,
Look, yonder a little do you not see,
Who cometh yonder? awhile we will abide;
Let him say his pleasure, and we will stand aside.
V. L. O gracious God, how wonderful are thy works,
How highly art thou of all men to be praised:
Of Christians, Saracens, Jews, and also Turks,
Thy glory ought to be erected and raised.
What joys hast thou prepared for the virtuous life,
And such as have thy name in love and in awe;
Thou hast promised salvation to man, child, and wife,
That thy precepts observe, and keep well thy law.
And to the virtuous life what doth ensue?
_Virtutis premium honor_, Tully doth say;
Honour is thy guerdon for virtue due,
And eternal salvation at the latter day.
How clear in conscience is the virtuous life!
The vicious hath consciences so heavy as lead.
Their conscience and their doing is alway at strife;
And altogether they live yet to sin they are dead.
NEW. God give you good-morrow, sir, how do you to-day?
V. L. God bless you also both now and alway.
I pray you, with me have you any acquaintance?
NEW. Yea, marry, I am an old friend of yours, perchance.
V. L. If it be so, I marvel very much,
That the dulness of my wit should be such,
That you should be altogether out of my memory.
Tell me your name, I pray you heartily.
NEW. By the faith of my body, you will appose me by and by;
But, in faith, I was but little when I was first born;
And my mother to tell me my name thought it scorn.
V. L. I will never acquaint me with such in any place,
As are ashamed of their names, by God's grace.
NEW. I remember my name now, it is come to my mind:
I have mused much, before I could it find.
Nichol Newfangle it is; I am your old friend.
V. L. My friend? marry, I do thee defy,
And all such company I do deny.
For thou art a companion for roisters and ruffians,
And not fit for any virtuous companions.
NEW. And, in faith, art thou at plain defiance?
Then I see I must go to mine old acquaintance.
Well, Cuthbert Cutpurse and [Pierce] Pickpurse, we must go together;
For, like will to like, quoth the Devil to the Collier.
V. L. Indeed, thou say'st true, it must needs be so,
For like will ever to his like go;
And my conditions and thine so far do disagree,
That no familiarity between us may be.
For thou nourishest vice both day and night:
My name is Virtuous Life, and in virtue is my delight.
So vice and virtue cannot together be united;
But the one the other hath always spited.
For as the water quencheth fire, and the flame doth suppress,
So virtue hateth vice, and seeketh a redress.
PIERCE. Tush, if he be so dangerous, let us not him esteem,
And he is not for our company, I see very well;
For if he be so holy, as he doth seem,
We and he differ as much as heaven and hell.
NEW. You know, that like will to like alway,
And you see how holily he is now bent:
To seek his company why do we assay?
PIERCE. I promise you, do you what you will, I do not consent:
For I pass not for him, be he better or be he worse.
NEW. Friend, if you be wise, beware your purse.
For this fellow may do you good when all comes to all;
If you chance to lose your purse in Cutpurse Hall.
But, in faith, fare ye well, sith of our company you be weary:
We will go to a place, where we will be merry.
For I see your company and ours do far differ;
For like will to like, quoth the Devil to the Collier.
CUTHB. Well, let us be gone, and bid him adieu:
For I see this proverb proveth very true.
PIERCE. Then let us go to Hob Filcher's house,
Where we will be merry, and quass carouse.
And there shall we find Tom Tosspot, with other mo,
Meet makes for us: therefore let us go.
Then, seeing we are all of one mind,
Let us three go, and leave a knave here behind.
[_Exeunt_ NEW., CUTHB., _and_ PIERCE.
_They sing this song[350] as they go out from the place._
_Good hostess, lay a crab in the fire, and broil a mess of souse-a:
That we may toss the bowl to and fro, and brinks them all carouse-a._
_And I will pledge Tom Tosspot, till I be drunk as a mouse-a:
Whoso will drink to me all day, I will pledge them all carouse-a._
_Then we will not spare for any cost, so long as we be in house-a:
Then, hostess, fill the pot again, for I pledge them all carouse-a._
[_When this is spoken,_ V. LIVING _must pause
a while, and then say as followeth_.
O wicked imps, that have such delight,
In evil conversation wicked and abhoninable:
And from virtue's lore withdraw yourselves quite,
And lean to vice most vile and detestable.
How prone and ready we are vice to ensue?
How deaf we be good counsel to hear?
How strange we make it our hearts to renew?
How little we have God's threats in fear?
Saint Augustine say'th in his fifth book, _De Civitate Dei,
Conjunctæ sunt ædes Virtutis et Honoris_, say'th he;
The houses of virtue and honour joined together be.
And so the way to honour's house is disposed,
That through virtue's house he must needs pass:
Or else from honour he shall soon be deposed,
And brought to that point, that he before was.
But if through virtue honour be attained:
The path to salvation may soon be gained.
Some there be, that do fortune prefer;
Some esteem pleasure more than virtuous life.
But in my opinion all such do err;
For virtue and fortune be not at strife.
Where virtue is, fortune must needs grow:
But fortune without virtue has soon the overthrow.
Thrice happy are they, that do virtue embrace,
For a crown of glory shall be their reward:
Satan at no time may him anything deface,
For God over him will have such regard,
That his foes he shall soon tread under foot;
And by God's permission pluck them up by the root.
It booteth not vice against virtue to stir,
For why vice is feeble and of no force:
But _virtus eterna preclaraque habetur_.
Wherefore I would all men would have remorse,
And eschew evil company vile and pernicious:
Delight in virtuous men, and hate the vicious.
And as the end of virtue is honour and felicity,
So mark well the end of wickedness and vice!
Shame in this world and pain eternally,
Wherefore you, that are here, learn to be wise,
And the end of the one with the other weigh,
By that time you have heard the end of this play.
But why do I thus much say in the praise of virtue,
Sith the thing praiseworthy needs no praise at all?
It praiseth itself sufficiently, this is true,
Which chaseth away sin as bitter as gall?
And where virtue is, it need not to be praised,
For the renown thereof shall soon be raised.
_Intrat_ GOOD FAME.
G. F. O Virtuous Life, God rest you merry,
To you am I come for to attend.
V. L. Good Fame, ye are welcome heartily.
I pray you, who did you hither send?
G. F. Even God's Promise hath sent me unto you,
Willing me from you not to depart:
But always to give attendance due,
And in no wise from you to start.
For God of his promise hath most liberally
Sent me Good Fame to you Virtuous Life;
Whereby it may be seen manifestly,
God's great zeal to virtue both in man and wife.
For why they may be sure, that I, Good Fame,
From the virtuous life will never stray:
Whereby honour and renown may grow to their name,
And eternal salvation at the latter day.