What brawling knave is there at the court-gate so early?
WILL. It is some brainsick villain, I durst lay a penny.
JACK. Was it you,[95] sir, that cried so loud, I trow,
And bid us take in coals for the king’s mouth even now?
GRIM. ’Twas I, indeed.
JACK. Why, sir, how dare you speak such petty treason?
Doth the king eat coals at any season?
GRIM. Here is a gay world! boys now sets old men to school.
I said well enough: what, Jack-sauce, think’st cham a fool?
At bakehouse, butt’ry-hatch, kitchen, and cellar,
Do[96] they not say for the king’s mouth?
WILL. What, then, goodman collier?
GRIM. What, then! seeing without coals thee cannot finely dress the
king’s meat,
May I not say, take in coals for the king’s mouth, though coals he
do not eat?
JACK. James Christe! came ever from a collier an answer so trim?
You are learned, are you not, father Grim?
GRIM. Grim is my name indeed, cham not learned, and yet the king’s
collier:
This vorty winter cha been to the king a servitor,
Though I be not learned, yet cha mother-wit enough, whole and some.
WILL. So it seems, you have so much mother-wit, that you lack your
father’s wisdom.
GRIM. Mass, cham well-beset, here’s a trim cast of murlons.[97]
What be you, my pretty cockerels, that ask me these questions?
JACK. Good faith, Master Grim,[98] if such merlins on your pouch may
light,
They are so quick of wing, that quickly they can carry it out of
your sight;
And though we are cockerels now, we shall have spurs one day,
And shall be able perhaps to make you a capon [to your pay.[99]]
But to tell you the truth, we are the porter’s men, which early and
late
Wait on such gentlemen as you, to open the court-gate.
GRIM. Are ye servants then?
WILL. Yea, sir; are we not pretty men?
GRIM. Pretty men, quoth you? nay, you are strong men, else you could
not bear these breeches.
WILL. Are these such[100] great hose? in faith, goodman collier, you
see with your nose:
By mine honesty, I have but one lining in one hose, but seven ells
of rug.[101]
GRIM. This is but a little, yet it makes thee seem a great bug.
JACK. How say you, goodman collier, can you find any fault here?[102]
GRIM. Nay, you should [not] find fau’t, marry, here’s trim gear!
Alas, little knave, dost not sweat? thou goest with great pain,
These are no hose, but water-bougets,[103] I tell thee plain;
Good for none but such as have no buttocks.
Did you ever see two such little Robin ruddocks[104]
So laden with breeches? chill say no more, lest I offend.
Who invented these monsters[105] first, did it to a ghostly end,
To have a mail ready to put in other folks’ stuff,
We see this evident by daily proof.
One preached of late not far hence in no pulpit, but in a wain-cart,
That spake enough of this; but for my part,
Chill say no more: your own necessity
In the end will force you to find some remedy.
JACK. Will,[106] hold this railing knave with a talk, when I am gone:
I will fetch him his filling ale for his good sermon.
[_Exit._
WILL. Go thy way, Father Grim, gaily well you do say,
It is but young men’s folly, that list to play,
And mask awhile in the net of their own device;
When they come to your age, they will be wise.
GRIM. Bum troth, but few such roisters come to my years at this day;
They be cut off betimes, ere they have gone half their journey:
I will not tell why: let them guess that can, I mean somewhat
thereby.
_Enter_ JACK _with a pot of wine, and a cup to drink on._
JACK. Father Grim, because you are stirring so early,
I have brought you a bowl of wine to make you merry.
GRIM. Wine, marry! this is welcome to colliers, chill swap’t off by
and by:
Chwas stirring so early, that my very soul is dry.
JACK. This is stoutly done: will you have it warmed, Father Grim?
GRIM. No; it is warm enough; it is very lousious[107] and trim.
’Tis musselden,[108] ich ween; of fellowship let me have another
spurt,
Ich can drink as easily now, as if I satin my shirt.
JACK. By Cock, and you shall have it; but I will begin, and that
anon,
_Je bois a vous mon compagnon_.[109]
GRIM. _J’ai vous pleigé, petit Zawne._[110]
JACK. Can you speak French? here is a trim collier, by this day!
GRIM. What man! ich learned this, when ich was a soldier;
When ich was a lusty fellow, and could yerk a whip trimly,
Better than these boy-colliers, that come to the court daily:
When there were[111] not so many captious fellows as now,
That would torup[112] men for every trifle, I wot not how:
As there was one Damon, not long since taken for a spy;
How justly I know not, but he was condemned to die.
WILL (_aside._) This wine hath warmed him, this comes well to pass,
We shall know all now, for in _Vino veritas_.
Father Grim, who accused this Damon to King Dionysius?
GRIM. A vengeance take him! ’twas a gentleman, one Master Crowsphus.
WILL. Crowsphus! you clip the king’s language, you would have said
Carisophus.
But I perceive now either the wind is at the south,
Or else your tongue cleaveth to the roof of your mouth.
GRIM. A murrain take thilk wine, it so intoxicate my brain,
That to be hanged by and by I cannot speak plain.
JACK. You speak knavishly plain, seeing my master you do mock:
In faith, ere you go, I will make you a lobcock. [_Aside._
Father Grim, what say they of this Damon abroad?
GRIM. All men are sorry for him, so help me God.
They say a false knave ’cused him to the king wrongfully;
And he is gone, and should be here to-morrow to die,
Or else his fellow, which is in prison, his room shall supply.
Chill not be his half for vorty shillings, I tell you plain,
I think Damon be too wise to return again.
WILL. Will no man speak for them in this woful case?
GRIM. No, chill warrant you, one Master Stippus is in place,
Where he may do good, but he frames himself so,
Whatsoever Dionysius willeth, to that he will not say no:
’Tis a subtle vox, he will not tread on thorns for none,
A merry harecop[113] ’tis, and a pleasant companion;
A right courtier, and can provide for one.
JACK. Will, how like you this gear? your master Aristippus also
At this collier’s hand hath had a blow!
But in faith, Father Grim, cannot ye colliers
Provide for yourselves far better than courtiers?
GRIM. Yes, I trow: black colliers go in threadbare coats,
Yet so provide they, that they have the fair white groats.
Ich may say in counsel, though all day I moil in dirt,
Chill not change lives with any in Dionysius’ court:
For though their apparel be never so fine,
Yet sure their credit is far worse than mine.
And, by Cock, I may say, for all their high looks,
I know some sticks full deep in merchants’ books:
And deeper will fall in, as fame me tells,
As long as instead of money they take up hauks’ hoods and bells:
Whereby they fall into a swelling disease, which colliers do not
know;
’T ’ath a mad name: it is called, ich ween, _Centum pro cento_.
Some other in courts make others laugh merrily,
When they wail and lament their own estate secretly.
Friendship is dead in court, hypocrisy doth reign;
Who is in favour now, to-morrow is out again:
The state is so uncertain that I, by my will,
Will never be courtier, but a collier still.
WILL. It seemeth that colliers have a very[114] trim life.
GRIM. Colliers get money still: tell me of troth,
Is not that a trim life now, as the world go’th?
All day though I toil with my main and might,
With money in my pouch I come home merry at night,
And sit down in my chair by my wife fair Alison,
And turn a crab in the fire,[115] as merry as Pope John.
JACK. That pope was a merry fellow, of whom folk talk so much.
GRIM. H’ad to be merry withal, h’ad gold enough in his hutch.
JACK. Can gold make men merry? they say, who can sing so merry a
note,
As he that is not able to change a groat?[116]
GRIM. Who sings in that case, sings never in tune. I know for my
part,
That a heavy pouch with gold makes a light heart;
Of which I have provided for a dear year good store,
And these benters,[117] I trow, shall anon get me more.
WILL. By serving the court with coals, you gain’d all this money.
GRIM. By the court only, I assure ye.
JACK. After what sort, I pray thee tell me?
GRIM. Nay, there bate an ace (quod Bolton[118]); I can wear a horn
and blow it not.
JACK. By ’r Lady, the wiser man.
GRIM. Shall I tell you by what sleight I got all this money?
Then ich were a noddy indeed; no, no, I warrant ye.
Yet in few words I tell you this one thing,
He is a very fool that cannot gain by the king.
WILL. Well said, Father Grim: you are a wily collier and a brave,
I see now there is no knave like to the old knave.
GRIM. Such knaves have money, when courtiers have none.
But tell me, is it true that abroad is blown?
JACK. What is that?
GRIM. Hath the king made those fair damsels his daughters,
To become now fine and trim barbers?
JACK. Yea, truly, to his own person.
GRIM. Good fellows, believe me, as the case now stands,
I would give one sack of coals to be wash’d at their hands,
If ich came so near them, for my wit chould not give three chips,
If ich could not steal one swap at their lips.
JACK. Will, this knave is drunk, let us dress him.
Let us rifle him so, that he have not one penny to bless him,
And steal away his debenters[119] too. [_Aside._
WILL. Content: invent the way, and I am ready,
JACK. Faith, and I will make him a noddy. [_Aside._
Father Grim, if you pray me well,[120] I will wash you and shave you
too,
Even after the same fashion as the king’s daughters do:
In all points as they handle Dionysius, I will dress you trim and
fine.
GRIM. Chuld vain learn that: come on then, chill give thee a whole
pint of wine
At tavern for thy labour, when ’cha money for my benters here.
[_Here_ WILL _fetcheth a barber’s bason, a pot
with water,[121] a razor, and cloths, and a
pair of spectacles._
JACK. Come, mine own Father Grim, sit down.
GRIM. Mass, to begin withal, here is a trim chair.
JACK. What, man, I will use you like a prince. Sir boy, fetch me my
gear.
WILL. Here, sir.
JACK. Hold up, Father Grim.
GRIM. Me-seem my head doth swim.
JACK. My costly perfumes make that. Away with this, sir boy: be
quick.
Aloyse, aloyse,[122] how pretty it is! is not here a good face?
A fine owl’s eyes, a mouth like an oven.
Father, you have good butter-teeth full seen.
[_Aside_] You were weaned, else you would have been a great calf.
Ah trim lips to sweep a manger! here is a chin,
As soft as the hoof of an horse.
GRIM. Doth the king’s daughters rub so hard?
JACK. Hold your head straight, man, else all will be marr’d.
By’r Lady, you are of good complexion,
A right Croyden sanguine,[123] beshrew me.
Hold up, Father Grim. Will, can you bestir ye?
GRIM. Methinks, after a marvellous fashion you do besmear me.
JACK. It is with unguentum of Daucus Maucus, that is very costly:
I give not this washing-ball to everybody.
After you have been dress’d so finely at my hand,
You may kiss any lady’s lips within this land.
Ah, you are trimly wash’d! how say you, is not this trim water?
GRIM. It may be wholesome, but it is vengeance sour.
JACK. It scours the better. Sir boy, give me my razor.
WILL. Here at hand, sir.
GRIM. God’s arms! ’tis a chopping knife, ’tis no razor.
JACK. It is a razor, and that a very good one;
It came lately from Palermo,[124] it cost me twenty crowns alone.
Your eyes dazzle after your washing, these spectacles put on:
Now view this razor, tell me, is it not a good one?
GRIM. They be gay barnacles, yet I see never the better.
JACK. Indeed they be a young sight, and that is the matter;
But I warrant you this razor is very easy.
GRIM. Go to, then; since you begun, do as [it] please ye.
JACK. Hold up, Father Grim.
GRIM. O, your razor doth hurt my lip.
JACK. No, it scrapeth off a pimple to ease you of the pip.
I have done now, how say you? are you not well?
GRIM. Cham lighter than ich was, the truth to tell.
JACK. Will you sing after your shaving?
GRIM. Mass, content; but chill be poll’d first, ere I sing.
JACK. Nay, that shall not need; you are poll’d near enough for this
time.
GRIM. Go to then lustily, I will sing in my man’s voice:
Chave a troubling base buss.
JACK. You are like to bear the bob, for we will give it:
Set out your bussing base, and we will quiddle upon it.
[GRIM _singeth Buss_.
JACK _sings_. Too nidden and too nidden.
WILL _sings_. Too nidden and toodle toodle doo nidden;
Is not Grim the collier most finely shaven?
GRIM. Why, my fellows, think ich am a cow, that you make such
toying?
JACK. Nay, by ’r Lady, you are no cow, by your singing;
Yet your wife told me you were an ox.
GRIM. Did she so? ’tis a pestens quean,[125] she is full of such
mocks.
But go to, let us sing out our song merrily.
_The Song at the shaving of the Collier._
JACK. _Such barbers God send you at all times of need._
WILL. _That can dress you [so] finely, and make such quick speed;_
JACK. _Your face like an inkhorn now shineth so gay--_
WILL. _That I with your nostrils of force must needs play,
With too nidden and too nidden._
JACK. _With too nidden and todle todle doo nidden.
Is not Grim the collier most finely shaven?_
WILL. _With shaving you shine like a pestle of pork._[126]
JACK. _Here is the trimmest hog’s flesh from London to York._
WILL. _It would be trim bacon to hang up awhile._
JACK. _To play with this hoglin of course I must smile,
With too nidden and too nidden._
WILL. _With too nidden and todle, &c._
GRIM. _Your shaving doth please me, I am now your debtor._
WILL. _Your wife now will buss you, because you are sweeter._
GRIM. _Near would I be polled, as near as cham shaven._
WILL. _Then out of your jerkin needs must you be shaken.
With too nidden and too nidden, &c._
GRIM. _It is a trim thing to be wash’d in the court._
WILL. _Their hands are so fine, that they never do hurt._
GRIM. _Me-think ich am lighter than ever ich was._
WILL. _Our shaving in the court hath brought this to pass.
With too nidden and too nidden._
JACK. _With too nidden and todle todle doo nidden.
Is not Grim the collier most finely_[127] _shaven?_
GRIM. This is trimly done: now chill pitch my coals not far hence,
And then at the tavern shall bestow whole tway pence.
[_Exit_ GRIM.
JACK. Farewell, [by] Cock. Before the collier again do us seek,
Let us into the court to part the spoil, share and share [a]like.
WILL. Away then.
[_Exeunt._
_Here entereth_ GRIM.
GRIM. Out alas, where shall I make my moan?
My pouch, my benters, and all is gone;
Where is that villain that did me shave?
H’ ath robbed me, alas, of all that I have.
_Here entereth_ SNAP.
SNAP. Who crieth so at the court-gate?
GRIM. I, the poor collier, that was robbed of late.
SNAP. Who robbed thee?
GRIM. Two of the porter’s men that did shave me.
SNAP. Why, the porter’s men are no barbers.
GRIM. A vengeance take them, they are quick carvers.
SNAP. What stature were they of?
GRIM. As little dapper knaves, as they trimly could scoff.
SNAP. They are lackeys, as near as I can guess them.
GRIM. Such lackeys make me lack; an halter beswinge them!
Cham undone, they have my benters too.
SNAP. Dost thou know them, if thou seest them?
GRIM. Yea, that I do.
SNAP. Then come with me, we will find them out, and that quickly.
GRIM. I follow, mast tipstaff; they be in the court, it is likely.
SNAP. Then cry no more, come away.
[_Exeunt._
_Here entereth_ CARISOPHUS _and_ ARISTIPPUS.
CARISOPHUS. If ever you will show your friendship, now is the time,
Seeing the king is displeased with me of my part without any crime.
ARISTIPPUS. It should appear, it comes of some evil behaviour,
That you so suddenly are cast out of favour.
CARISOPHUS. Nothing have I done but this; in talk I overthwarted
Eubulus,
When he lamented Pithias’ case to King Dionysius.
Which to-morrow shall die, but for that false knave Damon,
He hath left his friend in the briars, and now is gone.
We grew so hot in talk, that Eubulus protested plainly,
Which[128] held his ears open to parasitical flattery.
And now in the king’s ear like a bell he rings,
Crying that flatterers have been the destroyers of kings.
Which talk in Dionysius’ heart hath made so deep impression,
That he trusteth me not, as heretofore, in no condition:
And some words brake from him, as though that he
Began to suspect my truth and honesty,
Which you of friendship I know will defend, how so ever the world
goeth:
My friend--for my honesty will you not take an oath?
ARISTIPPUS. To swear for your honesty, I should lose mine own.
CARISOPHUS. Should you so, indeed? I would that were known.
Is your void friendship come thus to pass?
ARISTIPPUS. I follow the proverb: _Amicus usque ad aras_.
CARISOPHUS. Where can you say I ever lost mine honesty?
ARISTIPPUS. You never lost it, for you never had it, as far as I
know.
CARISOPHUS. Say you so, friend Aristippus, whom I trust so well?
ARISTIPPUS. Because you trust me, to you the truth I tell.
CARISOPHUS. Will you not stretch one point, to bring me in favour
again?
ARISTIPPUS. I love no stretching; so I may breed mine own pain.
CARISOPHUS. A friend ought to shun no pain, to stand his friend in
stead.
ARISTIPPUS. Where true friendship is, it is so in very deed.
CARISOPHUS. Why, sir, hath not the chain of true friendship linked
us two together?
ARISTIPPUS. The chiefest link lacked thereof, it must needs dissever.
CARISOPHUS. What link is that? fain would I know.
ARISTIPPUS. Honesty.
CARISOPHUS. Doth honesty knit the perfect knot in true friendship?
ARISTIPPUS. Yea, truly, and that knot so knit will never slip.
CARISOPHUS. Belike, then, there is no friendship but between honest
men.
ARISTIPPUS. Between the honest only; for, _Amicitia inter bonos_,[129]
saith a learned man.
CARISOPHUS. Yet evil men use friendship in things unhonest, where
fancy doth serve.
ARISTIPPUS. That is no friendship, but a lewd liking; it lasts but
a while.
CARISOPHUS. What is the perfectest friendship among men that ever
grew?
ARISTIPPUS. Where men love one another, not for profit, but for
virtue.
CARISOPHUS. Are such friends both alike in joy and also in smart?
ARISTIPPUS. They must needs; for in two bodies they have but one
heart.
CARISOPHUS. Friend Aristippus, deceive me not with sophistry:
Is there no perfect friendship, but where is virtue and honesty?
ARISTIPPUS. What a devil then meant Carisophus
To join in friendship with fine Aristippus?
In whom is as much virtue, truth and honesty,
As there are true feathers in the three Cranes of the Vintree:[130]
Yet their[131] feathers have the shadow of lively feathers, the
truth to scan,
But Carisophus hath not the shadow of an honest man.
To be plain, because I know thy villainy,
In abusing Dionysius to many men’s injury,
Under the cloak of friendship I play’d with his head,
And sought means how thou with thine own fancy might be led.
My friendship thou soughtest for thine own commodity,
As worldly men do, by profit measuring amity:
Which I perceiving, to the like myself I framed,
Wherein I know of the wise I shall not be blamed:
If you ask me; _Quare_? I answer, _Quia prudentis est multum
dissimulare_.
To speak more plainer, as the proverb doth go,
In faith, Carisophus, _cum Cretense cretizo_.
Yet a perfect friend I show myself to thee in one thing,
I do not dissemble, now I say I will not speak for thee to the king:
Therefore sink in thy sorrow, I do not deceive thee,
A false knave I found thee, a false knave I leave thee.
[_Exit_.
CARISOPHUS. He is gone! is this friendship, to leave his friend in
the plain field?
Well, I see now I myself have beguiled,
In matching with that false fox in amity,
Which hath me used to his own commodity:
Which seeing me in distress, unfeignedly goes his ways.
Lo, this is the perfect friendship among men now-a-days;
Which kind of friendship toward him I used secretly;
And he with me the like hath requited me craftily,
It is the gods’ judgment, I see it plainly,
For all the world may know, _Incidi in foveam quam feci_.
Well, I must content myself, none other help I know,
Until a merrier gale of wind may hap to blow.
[_Exit_.
_Enter_ EUBULUS.
EUBULUS. Who deals with kings in matters of great weight,
When froward will doth bear the chiefest sway,
Must yield of force; there need no subtle sleight,
No painted[132] speech the matter to convey.
No prayer can move, when kindled is the ire.
The more ye quench, the more increased[133] the fire.
This thing I prove in Pithias’ woful case,
Whose heavy hap with tears I do lament:
The day is come, when he, in Damon’s place,
Must lose his life: the time is fully spent.
Nought can my words now with the king prevail,
Against the wind and striving stream[134] I sail:
For die thou must, alas! thou seely Greek.
Ah Pithias, now come is thy doleful hour:
A perfect friend, one[135] such a world to seek.
Though bitter death shall give thee sauce full sour,
Yet for thy faith enroll’d shall be thy name
Among the gods within the book of fame.
Who knoweth his case, and will not melt in tears?
His guiltless blood shall trickle down anon.
_Then the_ MUSES _sing._
_Alas, what hap hast thou, poor Pithias, now to die!
Woe worth the man which for his death hath given us cause to cry._
EUBULUS. _Methink I hear, with yellow rented hairs,
The Muses frame their notes, my state to moan:[136]
Among which sort, as one that mourneth with heart,
In doleful times myself will bear a part._
MUSES. _Woe worth the man which for his death, &c._
EUBULUS. _With yellow rented hairs, come on, you Muses nine;
Fill now my breast with heavy tunes, to me your plaint resign:_
_For Pithias I bewail, which presently must die,
Woe worth the man which for his death hath given us cause, &c._
MUSES. _Woe worth the man which for his, &c._
EUBULUS. _Was ever such a man, that would die for his friend?
I think even from the heavens above the gods did him down send
To show true friendship’s power, which forc’d thee now to die.
Woe worth the man which for thy death, &c._
MUSES. _Woe worth the man, &c._
EUBULUS. _What tiger’s whelp was he, that Damon did accuse?
What faith hast thou, which for thy friend thy death doth not refuse?
O heavy hap hadst thou to play this tragedy!
Woe worth the man which for thy death, &c._
MUSES. _[Woe] worth the man, &c._
EUBULUS. _Thou young and worthy Greek, that showeth such perfect
love,
The gods receive thy simple ghost into the heavens above:
Thy death we shall lament with many a weeping eye.
Woe worth the man, which for his death, &c._
MUSES. _Woe worth the man, which for thy death hath given us cause
to cry._
EUBULUS. Eternal be your fame, ye Muses, for that in misery
Ye did vouchsafe to strain your notes to walk.
My heart is rent in two with this miserable case,
Yet am I charged by Dionysius’ mouth to see this place
At all points ready for the execution of Pithias.
Need hath no law: will[137] I or nil I, it must be done,
But lo, the bloody minister is even here at hand.
_Enter_ GRONNO.
Gronno, I came hither now to understand,
If all things are well appointed for the execution of Pithias.
The king himself will see it done here in this place.
GRONNO. Sir, all things are ready, here is the place, here is the
hand, here is the sword:
Here lacketh none but Pithias, whose head at a word,
If he were present, I could finely strike off--
You may report that all things are ready.
EUBULUS. I go with an heavy heart to report it. Ah woful Pithias!
Full near now is thy misery.
[_Exit_.
GRONNO. I marvel very much, under what constellation
All hangmen are born, for they are hated of all, beloved of none:
Which hatred is showed by this point evidently:
The hangman always dwells in the vilest place of the city.
That such spite should be, I know no cause why,
Unless it be for their office’s sake, which is cruel and bloody.
Yet some men must do it to execute laws.
Me-think they hate me without any just cause.
But I must look to my toil; Pithias must lose his head at one blow,
Else the boys will stone me to death in the street, as I go.
But hark, the prisoner cometh, and the king also:
I see there is no help, Pithias his life must forego.
_Here entereth_ DIONYSIUS _and_ EUBULUS.
DIONYSIUS. Bring forth Pithias, that pleasant companion,
Which took me at my word, and became pledge for Damon.
It pricketh[138] fast upon noon, I do him no injury,
If now he lose his head, for so he requested me,
If Damon return not, which now in Greece is full merry:
Therefore shall Pithias pay his death, and that by and by.
He thought belike, if Damon were out of the city,
I would not put him to death for some foolish pity:
But seeing it was his request, I will not be mock’d, he shall die;
Bring him forth.
_Here entereth_ SNAP.[139]
SNAP. Give place; let the prisoner come by; give place.
DIONYSIUS. How say you, sir; where is Damon, your trusty friend?
You have play’d a wise part, I make God a vow:
You know what time a day it is; make you ready.