_Enter_ VOTARIUS, _with_ ANSELMUS.
VOT. You shall stand here, my lord, unseen,
And hear all; do I deal now like a right
Friend with you?
ANS. Like a most faithful.
VOT. You shall have her mind, e'en as it comes to me,
Though I undo her by't; your friendship, sir,
Is the sweet mistress that I only serve;
I prize the roughness of a man's embrace
Before the soft lips of a hundred ladies.
ANS. And that's an honest mind of thee.
VOT. Lock yourself, sir,
Into that closet, and be sure none see you.
Trust not a creature; we'll have all round clear,
E'en as the heart affords it.
ANS. 'Tis a match, sir. [_Exit._
VOT. Troth, he says true then, 'tis a match indeed.
He does not know the strength of his own words;
For, if he did, there were no masering on him.
He's cleft the pin in two with a blind man's eyes;
Though I shoot wide, I'll cosen him of the game.[473] [_Exit._
_Enter_ LEONELLA _above in a gallery, with her lover_
BELLARIUS.
LEO. Dost thou see thine enemy walk?
BEL. I would I did not.
LEO. Prythee, rest quiet, man; I have fee'd one for him,
A trusty catchpole, too, that will be sure of him;
Thou know'st this gallery? well, 'tis at thy use now,
'T 'as been at mine full often; thou may'st sit
Like a most private gallant in yon corner
For all the play, and ne'er be seen thyself.
BEL. Therefore I chose it.
LEO. Thou shalt see my lady
Play her part naturally--more to the life
Than she's aware on.
BEL. Then must I be pleased.
Thou'rt one of the actors: thou'lt be miss'd anon.
LEO. Alas! a woman's action's always ready;
Yet I'll down, now I think on't.
BEL. Do: 'tis time, i' faith. [LEONELLA _descends_.
ANS. I know not yet, where I should plant belief:
I am so strangely toss'd between two tales.
I'm told by my wife's woman the deed's done,
And in Votarius' tongue 'tis yet to come.
The castle is but upon yielding yet,
'Tis not deliver'd up. Well, we shall find
The mystery shortly; I will entertain
The patience of a prisoner i' th' meantime. [_Locks himself in._
_Enter_ ANSELMUS' _Lady, with_ LEONELLA.
WIFE. Is all set ready, wench?
LEO. Push! madam! all.
WIFE. Tell not me so; she lives not for a lady,
That has less peace than I.
LEO. Nay, good sweet madam.
You would not think how much this passion alters you;
It drinks up all the beauty of your cheek.
I promise you, madam, you have lost much blood.
WIFE. Let it draw death upon me, for till then
I shall be mistress of no true content:
Who could endure hourly temptation,
And bear it as I do?
LEO. Nay, that's most certain:
Unless it were myself again: I can do't,
I suffer the like daily; you should complain, madam.
WIFE. Which way, were that wisdom? prythee, wench, to whom?
LEO. To him that makes all whole again--my lord.
To one that, if he be a kind, good husband,
Will let you bear no more than you are able.
WIFE. Thou know'st not what thou speakest; why, my lord's he
That gives him the house's freedom, all his boldness--
Keeps him o' purpose here to war with me.
LEO. Now I hold wiser of my lord than so:
He knows the world; he would not be so idle.
WIFE. I speak sad truth to thee; I am not private
In mine own chamber, such his impudence is:
Nay, my repenting-time is scarce bless'd from him--
He will offend my prayers.
LEO. Out upon him!
I believe, madam, he's of no religion.
WIFE. He serves my lord, and that's enough for him:
And preys upon poor ladies like myself--
There's all the gentleman's devotion.
LEO. Marry, the devil of hell give him his blessing!
WIFE. Pray, watch the door, and suffer none to trouble us,
Unless it be my lord.
LEO. 'Twas finely spoke, that!
My lord indeed is the most trouble to her.
Now must I show a piece of service here:
How do I spend my days? shall I never
Get higher than a lady's doorkeeper?
I must be married (as my lady is) first,
And then my maid may do as much for me.
[_Aside._
WIFE. O miserable time! except my lord
Do wake in honourable pity to me,
And rid this vicious gamester from his house.
Whom I have check'd so often: here I vow
I'll imitate my noble sister's fate,
Late mistress to the worthy Govianus,
And cast away my life, as she did hers.
_Enter_ VOTARIUS _to the door within_.
LEO. Back, you're too forward, sir! there's no coming for you.
VOT. How, Mistress Len, my lady's smock-woman,
Am I no further in your duty yet?
LEO. Duty! look for't of them you keep under, sir.
VOT. You'll let me in?
LEO. Who would you speak withal?
VOT. Why, the best lady you make courtesy to.
LEO. She will not speak with you.
VOT. Have you her mind?
I scorn to take her answer of her broker.
LEO. Madam?
WIFE. What's there? How now, sir, what's your business?
We see your boldness plain.
VOT. I came to see you, madam.
WIFE. Farewell, then! though 'twas impudence too much,
When I was private.
VOT. Madam!
WIFE. He was born
To beggar all my patience.
VOT. I'm bold
Still to prefer my love; your woman hears me not.
WIFE. Where's modesty and honour? Have I not thrice
Answer'd thy lust?
LEO. By'r lady, I think oft'ner. [_Aside._
WIFE. And darest thou yet look with temptation on us?
Since nothing will prevail, come, death--come, vengeance--
I will forget the weakness of my kind,
And force thee from my chamber.
[_She thrusts at_ VOTARIUS _with the sword_.
VOT. How now, lady!
'Ud's life, you prick me, madam!
WIFE. Prythee, peace!
I will not hurt thee; will you yet be gone, sir?
LEO. He's upon going, I think.
VOT. Madam, you deal false with me; O, I feel it;
You're a most treacherous lady! this thy glory!
My breast is all a-fire! O-- [_Dies._
LEO. Ha, ha, ha!
ANS. Ha! I believe her constancy too late,
Confirm'd e'en in the blood of my best friend;
Take thou my vengeance, thou bold, pernicious strumpet,
[_Kills_ LEONELLA.
_Enter_ BELLARTUS.
That durst accuse thy virtuous lady falsely!
BEL. O deadly poison after a sweet banquet!
What make I here? I had forgot my part;[474]
I am an actor too, and never thought on't,
The blackness of this season cannot miss me.
Sirrah, you lord!
WIFE. Is he there? welcome, ruin!
BEL. There is a life due to me in that bosom
For this poor gentlewoman.
ANS. And art thou then receiver!
I'll pay thee largely, slave, for thy last 'scape.
[_They make a dangerous pass at one another,_
_the lady purposely runs between them, and_
_is killed_.
WIFE. I come, Votarius!
ANS. Hold, if manhood guide thee!
O, what has fury done now?
BEL. What has it done now?
Why, kill'd an honourable whore, that's all.
ANS. Villain! I'll seal that lie upon thy heart.
A constant lady---- [_He kneels at his wife's side._
BEL. ----to the devil, as could be!
Must I prick you forward; either up
Or, sir, I'll take my chance; thou couldst kill her
Without repenting, that deserv'd more pity;
And spend'st thy time and tears upon a quean.
ANS. Slave!
BEL. That was deceiv'd once in her own deceit,
[_They fight: both are mortally wounded._
As I am now; the poison I prepar'd
Upon that weapon for mine enemy's bosom,
Is bold to take acquaintance of my blood too,
And serves us both to make up death withal.
ANS. I ask no more of destiny, but to fall
Close by the chaste side of my virtuous mistress;
If all the treasure of my weeping strength
Be left so wealthy but to purchase that,
I have the dear wish of a great man's spirit,
Yet favour me, O, yet--I thank thee, fate,
I expire cheerfully, and give death a smile.
[ANSELMUS _dies_.
BEL. O rage! I pity now mine enemy's flesh.
_Enter_ GOVIANUS, _with Servants_.
GOV. Where should he be?
1ST SER. My lady, sir, will tell you.
She's in her chamber here.
2D SER. O my lord!
GOV. Peace--my honourable brother--madam--all?
So many dreadful deeds, and not one tongue
Left to proclaim 'em.
BEL. Yes, here, if a voice
Some minutes' long may satisfy your ear,
I have that time allowed it.
GOV. 'Tis enough,
Bestow it quickly, ere death snatch it from thee.
BEL. That lord, your brother, made his friend Votarius
To tempt his lady; she was won to lust,
The act reveal'd here by her serving-woman;
But that wise close adultress, stor'd with art
To prey upon the weakness of that lord,
Dissembled a, great rage upon her love,
And indeed kill'd him, which so won her husband,
He slew this right discoverer in his fury,
Who (being my mistress) I was mov'd in haste
To take some pains with him, and he's paid me for it.
As for the cunning lady, I commend her;
She perform'd that which never woman tried:
She ran upon our weapons, and so died.
Now you have all, I hope I shall sleep quiet. [_Dies._
ANS. O thunder! that awakes me e'en from death,
And makes me curse my confidence with cold lips;
I feel his words in flames about my soul,
He's more than kill'd me.
GOV. Brother!
ANS. I repent the smile
That I bestow'd on destiny? O whore!
I fling thee thus from my believing breast
With all the strength I have; my rage is great,
Although my veins grow beggars; now I sue
To die far from thee; may we never meet.
Were my soul bid to joy's eternal banquet,
And were assur'd to find thee there a guest,
I'd sup with torments, and refuse that feast.
O thou beguiler of man's easy trust!
The serpent's wisdom is in women's lust. [_Dies._
GOV. Is death so long a-coming to mankind,
It must be met half-way? O cruel speed!
There's few men pay their debts before their day;
If they be ready at their time, 'tis well--
And but a few that are so. What strange haste
Was made among these people! My heart weeps for't.
Go, bear those bodies to a place more comely.
Brother, I came for thy advice; but I
Find thee so ill a councillor to thyself,
That I repent my pains, and depart sighing.
The body of my love is still at court:
I am not well to think on't; the poor spirit
Was with me once again about it, troth;
And I can put it off no more for shame,
Though I desire to have it haunt me still,
And never to give over, 'tis so pleasing.
I must to court, I've plighted my faith to't;
'T has open'd me the way to the revenge.
Tyrant, I'll run thee on a dangerous shelf,
Though I be forc'd to fly this land myself. [_Exit._
SCENE II.
_Enter_ TYRANT, _with Attendants_.
TYR. In vain my spirit wrastles with my blood:
Affection will be mistress here on earth.
The house is hers: the soul is but a tenant.
I have task'd myself but with the abstinence
Of one poor hour, yet cannot conquer that.
I cannot keep from sight of her so long;
I starve mine eye too much: go, bring her forth,
As we have caus'd her body to be deck'd
In all the glorious riches of our palace;
Our mind has felt a famine for the time;
All comfort has been dear and scarce with us.
The times are alter'd since--strike on, sweet harmony!
_Enter_ SOLDIERS, _with the_ LADY.
[_Music playing._
A braver world comes towards us.
[_They bring the body in a chair, dressed up in_
_black velvet, which sets out the paleness of_
_the hands and face; and a fair chain of_
_pearl across the breast, and the crucifix_
_above it; he stands silent awhile, letting the_
_music play, beckoning the soldiers that_
_bring her in to make obeisance to her, and_
_he himself makes a low honour to the body,_
_and kisses the hand._
_A Song._
_O, what is beauty that's so much adored?_
_A flattering glass that cosens her beholders,_
_One night of death makes it look pale and horrid,_
_The dainty preservd flesh how soon it moulders,_
_To love it living it bewitcheth many,_
_But after life is seldom heard of any_.
1ST SOL. By this hand, mere idolatry; I make courtesy
To my damnation: I have learnt so much,
Though I could never know the meaning yet
Of all my Latin prayers, nor ne'er sought for't.
TYR. How pleasing art thou to us even in death!
I love thee yet above all women living;
I can see nothing to be mended in thee,
But the too constant paleness of thy cheek.
I'd give the kingdom but to purchase there
The breadth of a red rose in natural colours,
And think it the best bargain that ever king made yet,
But fate's my hindrance;
And I must only rest content with art,
And that I'll have in spite on't. Is he come, sir?
2D SOL. Who, my lord?
TYR. Dull! The fellow that we sent
For a picture-drawer;
A lady's forenoon tutor; is he come, sir?
1ST SOL. Not yet return'd, my lord.
TYR. The fool, belike,
Makes his choice carefully, for so we charg'd him,
To fit our close deeds with some private hand.
It is no shame for thee, most silent mistress,
To stand in need of art, when youth
And all thy warm friends have forsook thee!
Women alive are glad to seek her friendship,
To make up the fair number of their graces,
Or else the reckoning would fall short sometimes,
And servants would look out for better wages.
_Enter_ 3D SOLDIER, _with_ GOVIANUS _disguised_.
2D SOL. He's come, my lord.
TYR. Depart then: is that he?
3D SOL. The privatest I could get, my lord.
GOV. [_Aside._] O heaven! marry patience to my spirit!
Give me a sober fury, I beseech thee:
A rage that may not overcharge my blood,
And do myself most hurt! 'tis strange to me
To see thee here at court, and gone from hence.
Didst thou make haste to leave the world for this?
O, who dares play with destiny but he
That wears security so thick upon him,
The thought of death and hell cannot pierce through?
TYR. 'Twas circumspectly carried: leave us, go!
Be nearer, sir: thou'rt much commended to us.
GOV. It is the hand, my lord, commends the workman.
TYR. Thou speak'st both modesty and truth in that:
We need that art that thou art master of.
GOV. My king is master both of that and me.
TYR. Look on yon face, and tell me what it wants.
GOV. Which? that, sir?
TYR. That! what wants it?
GOV. Troth, my lord,
Some thousand years' sleep and a marble pillow.
TYR. What's that? observe it still: all the best arts
Have the most fools and drunkards to their master.
Thy apprehension has too gross a film
To be employed at court; what colour wants she?
GOV. By my troth, all, sir; T see none she has,
Nor none she cares for.
TYR. I am overmatch'd here. [_Aside._
GOV. A lower chamber, with less noise, were kindlier
For her, poor woman, whatsoe'er she was.
TYR. But how, if we be pleas'd to have it thus,
And thou well-hired to do what we command?
Is not your work for money I
GOV. Yes, my lord:
I would not trust but few, an' I could choose.
TYR. Let but thy art hide death upon her face,
That now looks fearfully on us, and strive
To give our eye delight in that pale part,
Which draws so many pities from these springs,
And thy reward for't shall outlast thy end,
And reach to thy friend's fortunes and his friend.
GOV. Say you so, my lord? I'll work out my heart then,
But I'll show art enough.
TYR. About it, then:
I never wish'd so seriously for health
After long sickness.
GOV. [_Aside._] A religious trembling shakes me by the hand,
And bids me put by such unhallow'd business,
But revenge calls for't, and it must go forward,
'Tis time the spirit of my love took rest;
Poor soul! 'tis weary, much abus'd and toil'd.
[GOVIANUS _paints the face of the body_.
TYR. Could I now send for one to renew heat
Within her bosom, that were a fine workman!
I should but too much love him; but, alas!
'Tis as impossible for living fire to take
Hold there, as for dead ashes to burn back again
Into those hard, tough bodies, whence they tell.
Life is removed from her now, as the warmth
Of the bright sun from us, when it makes winter,
And kills with unkind coldness; so is't yonder.
An everlasting frost hangs now upon her,
And in such a season men will force
A heat into their bloods with exercise,
In spite of extreme weather. So shall we
By art force beauty on yon lady's face,
Though death sit frowning on't a storm of hail,
To beat it off--our pleasure shall prevail.
GOV. My lord!
TYR. Hast done so soon?
GOV. That's as your grace
Gives approbation.
TYR. O, she lives again!
She'll presently speak to me, keep her up!
I'll have her swoon no more, there's treachery in't;
Does she not feel warmer to thee?
GOV. Very little, sir.
TYR. The heat wants cherishing then: our arms and lips
Shall labour life into her. Wake, sweet mistress!
'Tis I that call thee at the door of life. [_Kisses the body._] Ha!
I talk so long to death, I'm sick myself:
Methinks an evil scent still follows me.
GOV. Maybe, 'tis nothing but the colour, sir,
That I laid on.
TYR. Is that so strong?
GOV. Yes, faith, sir,
'Twas the best poison I could get for money.
[_Throws off his disguise._
TYR. Govianus!
GOV. O thou sacrilegious villain!
Thou thief of rest, robber of monuments!
Cannot the body, after funeral,
Sleep in the grave for thee? must it be rais'd
Only to please the wickedness of thine eye?
Do all things end with death, and not thy lust?
Hast thou devis'd a new way to damnation,
More dreadful than the soul of any sin
Did ever pass yet between earth and hell?
Dost strive to be particularly plagu'd
Above all ghosts beside?
Thou scorn'st a partner in thy torments too!
TYR. What fury gave thee boldness to attempt
This deed, for which I'll doom thee with a death
Beyond the extremest tortures?
GOV. I smile at thee.
Draw all the deaths that ever mankind suffer'd
Unto one head to help thine own invention,
And make my end as rare as this thy sin,
And full as fearful to the eyes of women,
My spirit shall fly singing to his lodging,
In midst of that rough weather. Doom me, tyrant!
Had I fear'd death, I'd never appear'd noble,
To seal this act upon me, which e'en honours me,
Unto my mistress' spirit: it loves me for't.
I told my heart 'twould prove destruction to't,
Who (hearing 'twas for her) charg'd me to do't.
_Enter the_ GHOST, _in the same form as the body in_
_the chair_.
TYR. Thy glories shall be shorten'd, who's within there?
[_He sees the_ GHOST.
I call'd not thee, thou enemy to firmness,
Mortality's earthquake!
GOV. Welcome to mine eyes,
As is the dayspring from the morning's womb
Unto that wretch, whose nights are tedious!
As liberty to captives, health to labourers,
And life still to old people never weary on't,
So welcome art thou to me! The deed's done,
Thou queen of spirits! he has his end upon him:
Thy body shall return to rise again,
For thy abuser falls, and has no power
To vex thee farther.
GHOST. My truest love!
Live ever-honoured here, and bless'd above,
TYR. O, if there be a hell for flesh and spirit,
'Tis built within this bosom--
_Enter_ NOBLES.
My lords, treason!
GOV. Now, death, I'm for thee; welcome!
TYR. Your king's poison'd!
MEM. The King of heaven be prais'd for it!
TYR. Lay hold on him--
On Govianus!
MEM. E'en with the best loves
And truest hearts that ever subjects owed.
TYR. How's that? I charge you all, lay hands on him.
MEM. Look you, my lord, your will shall be obey'd:
Here comes another, we'll have his hand too.
_Enter_ HELVETIUS.
HEL. You shall have both mine, if that work go forward,
Beside my voice and knee.
TYR. Helvetius!
Then my destruction was confirm'd amongst 'em;
Premeditation wrought it. O my torments!
ALL. Live Govianus long our virtuous king! [_Flourish._
TYR. That thunder strikes me dead.
GOV. I cannot better
Reward my joys than with astonish'd silence;
For all the wealth of words is not of power
To make up thanks for you, my honoured lords:
I'm like a man pluck'd up from many waters,
That never look'd for help, and am here placed
Upon this cheerful mountain, where prosperity
Shoots forth her richest beam.
MEM. Long-injured lord!
The tyranny of his actions grew so weighty,
His life so vicious--
HEL. To which this is witness,
Monster in sin!--this, the disquieted body
Of my too resolute child in honour's war.
MEM. That he became as hateful to our minds--
HEL. As death's unwelcome to a house of riches,
Or what can more express it.
GOV. Well, he's gone,
And all the kingdom's evils perish with him!
And since the body of that virtuous lady
Is taken from her rest, in memory
Of her admired mistress, 'tis our will
It receive honour dead, as it took part
With us in all afflictions when it lived;
Here place her in this throne, crown her our queen,[475]
The first and last that ever we make ours.
Her constancy strikes so much firmness in us.
That honour done, let her be solemnly borne
Unto the house of peace, from whence she came,
As queen of silence.
[_The spirit here enters again, and slays to go out_
_with the body, as it were attending it_.
O welcome, bless'd spirit!
Thou need'st not mistrust me, I have a care
As jealous as thine own: we'll see it done,
And not believe report; our zeal is such,
We cannot reverence chastity too much.
Lead on! I would those ladies that fill honour's rooms
Might all be borne so virtuous to their tombs!
[_Solemn music plays them out._
FOOTNOTES:
[473] [Should we not read _prize_, to rhyme with _eyes_?]
[474] The MS. has _hart_.
[475] A similar instance of posthumous coronation is mentioned in
Camoëns' "Lusiad," canto iii.
ENGLISHMEN FOR MY MONEY;
OR,
A WOMAN WILL HAVE HER WILL.
_EDITIONS._
English-Men for my Money: Or, A Woman will have her Will.
Imprinted at London by W. White, dwelling in Cow-Lane. 1616.
4o. Woodcut on title.
English-Men for my Money: Or, A Pleasant Comedy Called, A Woman
will have her Will. As it hath beene divers times Acted with
great Applause. London. Printed by I. N. and are to be sold
by Hugh Perry ... 1626. 4o.
A Pleasant Comedie Called, A Woman will have her Will. London,
Printed by A. M. and are to be sold by Richard Thrale ...
1631. 4o.
[PREFACE TO THE FORMER EDITION.][476]
This old comedy appears to have been extremely popular, and it was
three times printed; in 1616, 1626, and 1631; the oldest copy is, as
usual, the most correct, but in the following reprint all three have
been collated.
It is ascertained from Henslowe's Diary to have been the production of
a dramatic poet of the name of William Haughton, who generally wrote in
conjunction with Thomas Dekker, Henry Chettle, John Day, and others,
but in this instance he was alone concerned. It is entered by Henslowe
under the date of February 1597-8, and he calls it (as the performance
was no doubt named when it was then first acted), "A Woman will have
her Will." When it was printed in 1616, it seems to have been thought
that "Englishmen for my Money" would be more attractive, and "A Woman
will have her Will" was sunk into the second title; it therefore runs
thus: "Englishmen for my Money, or a pleasant comedy called A Woman
will have her Will." [But in the third edition the first part of the
title was withdrawn.]
No biographical particulars of William Haughton are known, but that in
1599 he was confined in the Clink in Southwark for debt; and on the
10th March of that year Henslowe advanced ten shillings to enable him
to obtain his liberty.
This play is full of comic characters and situations, and the
dialogue is generally well sustained. Haughton was probably young,
when he produced it, and in Henslowe's Diary he is not unfrequently
termed "Young Haughton." His versification was neither very free nor
very flowing, and it partakes in some degree of the monotony that
distinguished most of the old dramatists who preceded Shakespeare. The
old copies are not divided into acts and scenes.
FOOTNOTES:
[476] Included in the small series called "The Old English Drama,"
1830, 3 vols. 12o.
THE ACTORS' NAMES
PISARO, _a Portingal_.
LAURENTIA, }
MARINA, } _his Daughters_.
MATHEA, }
ANTHONY, _a Schoolmaster to them_.
HARVEY, }
HEIGHAM, } _Suitors to Pisaro's daughters_.
WALGRAVE, }
DELION, _a Frenchman_. }
ALVARO, _an Italian._ } _also Suitors to them,_.
VANDAL, _a Dutchman_. }
FRISCO, _a Clown; Pisaro's man_.
TOWERSON, _a Merchant_.
BALSARO.
BROWN, _a Clothier_.
_A Post, Bellman, Merchants, and Strangers._
_Scene, London._
ENGLISHMEN FOR MY MONEY;
OR
A WOMAN WILL HAVE HER WILL.
ACT I, SCENE I.
_Enter_ PISARO.
How smug this grey-ey'd morning seems to be!
A pleasant sight; but yet more pleasure have I
To think upon this moist'ning southwest wind,
That drives my laden ships from fertile Spain.
But come what will, no wind can come amiss.
For two and thirty winds that rule the seas,
And blow about this airy region,
Thirty-two ships have I to equal them,
Whose wealthy freights do make Pisaro rich:
Thus every soil to me is natural.
Indeed, by birth I am a Portingal
Who, driven by western winds on English shore,
Here, liking of the soil, I married,
And have three daughters: but impartial death
Long since depriv'd me of her dearest life;
Since whose decease in London I have dwelt,
And by the sweet-lov'd trade of usury,
Letting for interest and on mortgages,
Do I wax rich; though many gentlemen
By my extortion come to misery.
Amongst the rest, three English gentlemen
Have pawned to me their livings and their lands:
Each several hoping, though their hopes are vain,
By marriage of my daughters to possess
Their patrimonies and their lands again.
But gold is sweet, and they deceive themselves;
For though I gild my temples with a smile,
It is but Judas-like to work their ends.
But soft, what noise of footing do I hear? [_Retires._
_Enter_ LAURENTIA, MARINA, MATHEA, _and_
ANTHONY.
LAUR. Now, master, what intend you to read to us?
ANTH. Pisaro, your father, would have me read moral philosophy.
MAR. What's that?
ANTH. First tell me how you like it?
MATH. First tell us what it is.
PIS. They be my daughters and their schoolmaster.
Pisaro, not a word, but list their talk. [_Aside._
ANTH. Gentlewomen, to paint philosophy,
Is to present youth with so sour a dish,
As their abhorring stomachs nill digest.
When first my mother Oxford (England's pride)
Foster'd me, pupil-like, with her rich store,
My study was to read philosophy;
But since my headstrong youth's unbridled will,
Scorning the leaden fetters of restraint,
Hath prun'd my feathers to a higher pitch.
Gentlewomen, moral philosophy is a kind of art,
The most contrary to your tender sexes;
It teacheth to be grave, and on that brow,
Where beauty in her rarest glory shines,
Plants the sad semblance of decayed age.
Those weeds, that with their riches should adorn
And grace fair nature's curious workmanship,
Must be converted to a black-faced veil,
Grief's livery and sorrow's semblance:
Your food must be your hearts' abundant sighs,
Steep'd in the brinish liquor of your tears:
Daylight as dark night--dark night spent in prayer:
Thoughts your companions, and repentant minds
The recreation of your tired spirits.
Gentlewomen, if you can like this modesty,[477]
Then will I read to you philosophy.
LAUR. Not I.
MAR. Fie upon it.
MATH. Hang up philosophy, I'll none of it.[478]
PIS. A tutor, said I? a tutor for the devil.
[_Aside._
ANTH. No, gentlewomen, Anthony hath learn'd
To read a letter of more pleasing worth.
Marina, read these lines; young Harvey sent them;
There every line repugns philosophy;
Then love him, for he hates the thing thou hates.
Laurentia, this is thine from Ferdinand;
Think every golden circle that thou seest
The rich unvalued circle of his worth.[479]
Mathea, with these gloves thy Ned salutes thee;
As often as these hide these from the sun,[480]
And wanton steal a kiss from thy fair hand,
Presents his serviceable true heart's zeal,
Which waits upon the censure of thy doom.
What though their lands be mortgag'd to your father,
Yet may your dowries redeem that debt:
Think they are gentlemen, and think they love,
And be that thought their true love's advocate.
Say you should wed for wealth, for to that scope
Your father's greedy disposition tends,
The world would say that you were had for wealth,
And so fair beauty's honour quite extinct.[481]
A mass of wealth being pour'd upon another,
Little augments the show, although the sum;
But being lightly scattered by itself,
It doubles what it seem'd, although but one.
Even so yourselves; for, wedded to the rich,
His style was as it was, a rich man still;
But wedding these, to wed true love is duty,
You make them rich in wealth, but more in beauty.
I need not plead: that smile shows heart's consent;
That kiss show'd love, that on that gift was lent:
And (last) thine eyes, that tears of true joy send,
As comfortable tidings for my friend.
MAR. Have done, have done: what need'st thou more procure,
When long ere this I stoop'd to that fair lure.
"Thy ever-loving Harvey," I delight it;
Marina ever loving shall requite it.
Teach us philosophy! I'll be no nun.
Age scorns delight: I love it being young.[482]
There's not a word of this, not a word's part,
But shall be stamp'd, seal'd, printed on my heart.
On this I'll read, on this my senses ply,
All arts being vain, but this philosophy.
LAUR. Why was I made a maid, but for a man?
And why Laurentia but for Ferdinand?
The chastest soul these angels could entice,
Much more himself--an angel of more price.
Wert thyself present, as my heart could wish,
Such usage thou shouldst have as I give this.
ANTH. Then you would kiss him?
LAUR. If I did, how then?
ANTH. Nay, I say nothing to it, but amen.
PIS. The clerk must have his fees: I'll pay you them. [_Aside._
MATH. Good God, how abject is this single life!
I'll not abide it: father, friends, nor kin,
Shall once dissuade me from affecting him.[483]
A man's a man; and Ned is more than one:
I' faith, I'll have thee, Ned, or I'll have none.
Do what they can, chafe, chide, or storm their fill,
Mathea is resolv'd to have her will.
PIS. I can no longer hold my patience. [_Coming forward._
Impudent villain[484] and lascivious girls,
I have o'erheard your vile conversions!
You scorn philosophy! you'll be no nun!
You must needs kiss the purse, because he sent it!
And you, forsooth, you flirtgill, minion,
A brat scant folded in the dozens at most,[485]
You'll have your will, forsooth! What will you have?
MATH. But twelve year old? Nay, father, that's not so;
Our sexton told me I was three years mo.
PIS. I say but twelve: you're best tell me I lie.
What, sirrah Anthony!
ANTH. Here, sir.
PIS. Come here, sir;
And you, light huswives, get you in:
Stare not upon me, move me not to ire. [_Exeunt sisters._
Nay, sirrah, stay you here, I'll talk with you.
Did I retain thee, villain, in my house,
Give thee a stipend, twenty marks by year,
And hast thou thus infected my three girls,
Urging the love of those I most abhorr'd?
Unthrifts [and] beggars--what is worse--
And all because they are your countrymen.
ANTH. Why, sir, I taught them not
To keep a merchant's book, or cast account:
Yet to a word much like that word account--
PIS. A knave past grace is past recovery.
Why, sirrah Frisco, villain, loggerhead!
Where art thou?
_Enter_ FRISCO _the Clown_.
FRIS. Here's a calling indeed! a man were better to live a
lord's life and do nothing, than a serving creature, and never
be idle. O master, what a mess of brewis stands now upon the
point of spoiling by your hastiness. Why, they were able to
have got a good stomach with child, even with the sight of
them; and for a vapour--O precious vapour! Let but a wench come
near them with a painted face, and you should see the paint
drop and curdle on her cheeks, like a piece of dry Essex cheese
toasted at the fire.
PIS. Well, sirrah, leave this thought, and mind my words.
Give diligence; inquire about
For one that is expert in languages,
A good musician and a Frenchman born,
And bring him hither to instruct my daughters.
I'll ne'er trust more a smooth-fac'd Englishman.
FRIS. What, must I bring one that can speak languages? what an
old ass is my master! [_Aside._] Why, he may speak _flaunte
taunte_ as well as French, for I cannot understand him.
PIS. If he speak French, thus he will say, _Oui, Oui_.
What, can'st thou remember it?
FRIS. O, I have it now, for I remember my great grandfather's
grandmother's sister's cousin told me, that pigs and Frenchmen
speak one language, _awee, awee_; I am dog at this. But what
must he speak else?
PIS. Dutch.
FRIS. Let's hear it?
PIS. _Haunce butterkin slowpin._
FRIS. O, this is nothing, for I can speak perfect Dutch when I
list.
PIS. Can you? I pray let's hear some.
FRIS. Nay, I must have my mouth full of meat first, and then
you shall hear me grumble it forth full-mouth; as, _haunce
butterkin slowpin frokin_. O,[486] I am a simple Dutchman.
Well, I'll about it.
PIS. Stay, sirrah, you are too hasty; for he must speak one
language more.
FRIS. More languages? I trust he shall have tongues enough for
one mouth. But what is the third?
PIS. Italian.
FRIS. Why, that is the easiest of all, for I can tell whether
lie have any Italian in him even by looking on him.
PIS. Can you so? as how?
FRIS. Marry, by these three points: a wanton eye, pride in his
apparel, and the devil in his countenance. Well, God keep me
from the devil in seeking this Frenchman. But do you hear me,
master? what shall my fellow Anthony do? it seems he shall
serve for nothing but to put Latin into my young mistresses.
PIS. Hence, ass! hence, loggerhead! begone, I say.
And now to you that read philosophy. [_Exit_ FRISCO.
Pack from my house: I do discharge thy service,
And come not near my doors: for if thou dost,
I'll make thee a public example to the world.
ANTH. Well, crafty fox, you that work by wit,
It may be I may live to fit you yet.
[_Aside. Exit_ ANTHONY.
PIS. Ah! sirrah, this trick was spied in time,
For if but two such lectures more they'd heard,
For ever had their honest names been marr'd.
I'll in and rate them; yet that's not best:
The girls are wilful, and severity
May make them careless, mad, or desperate.
What shall I do? O, I have found it now.
There are three wealthy merchants in the town,
All strangers, and my very special friends:
The one of them is an Italian,
A Frenchman and a Dutchman be the other.
These three entirely do affect my daughters,
And therefore mean I they shall have the tongues,
That they may answer in their several language.
But what helps that? they must not stay so long;
For whiles they are a-learning languages,
My English youths both wed and bed them too.
Which to prevent, I'll seek the strangers out.
Let's look; 'tis past eleven; Exchange time full:
There shall I meet them, and confer with them.
This work craves haste, my daughters must be wed;
For one month's stay saith,[487] farewell, maidenhead. [_Exit._
SCENE II.
_Enter_ HARVEY, HEIGHAM, _and_ WALGRAVE.
HEIGH. Come, gentlemen, we're almost at the house.
I promise you, this walk o'er Tower-hill,
Of all the places London can afford,
Hath sweetest air, and fitting our desires.
HAR. Good reason so, it leads to Crutched Friars,
Where old Pisaro and his daughters dwell.
Look to your feet: the broad way leads to hell.
They say hell stands below, down in the deep,
I'll down that hell, where such good wenches keep
But, sirrah Ned, what says Mathea to thee?
Wilt fadge?[488] wilt fadge? What, will it be a match?
WAL. A match, say you? a mischief 'twill as soon;
For I can scarce begin to speak to her,
But I am interrupted by her father;
"Ha! what say you?" and then puts o'er his snout,
Able to shadow Paul's, it is so great.[489]
Well, 'tis no matter, sirs, this is his house:
Knock for the churl, bid him bring out his daughter;
Ay, 'sblood,[490] I will, though I be hang'd for it.
HEIGH. Heyday, heyday! nothing with you but up and ride!
You'll be within, ere you can reach the door!
And have the wench, before you compass her.
You are too hasty: Pisaro is a man,
Not to be fed with words, but won with gold.
But who comes here?
_Enter_ ANTHONY.
WAL. Whom? Anthony our friend?
Say, man, how fare our loves? how doth Mathea?
Can she love Ned? how doth she like my suit?
Will old Pisaro take me for his son?
For, I thank God, he kindly takes our lands,
Swearing, "Good gentlemen, you shall not want,
Whilst old Pisaro and his credit hold:"
He will be damn'd, the rogue, before he do't!
HAR. Prythee, talk milder: let but thee alone,
And thou in one bare hour will ask him more
Than he'll remember in a hundred years.
Come from him, Anthony, and say, what news.
ANTH. The news for me is bad; and this it is:
Pisaro hath discharg'd me of his service.
HEIGH. Discharg'd thee of his service! for what cause?
ANTH. Nothing,
But that his daughters learn philosophy.
HAR. Maids should read that; it teacheth modesty.
ANTH. Ay, but I left out mediocrity,
And with effectual reasons urged your loves.
WAL. The fault was small: we three will to thy master,
And beg thy pardon.
ANTH. O, that cannot be:
He hates you far worse than he hates me;
For all the love he shows is for your lands,
Which he hopes, sure, will fall into his hands.
Yet, gentlemen, this comfort take of me,
His daughters to your loves affected be.
Their father is abroad, they three at home.
Go cheerly in, and seize that is your own.
And, for myself, but grace what I intend:
I'll overreach the churl, and help my friend.
HEIGH. Build on our helps, and but devise the means.
ANTH. Pisaro did command Frisco his man
(A simple sot, kept only but for mirth),
To inquire about in London for a man
That were a Frenchman and musician,
To be (as I suppose) his daughters' tutor.
Him if you meet, as like enough you shall,
He will inquire of you of his affairs;
Then make him answer, you three came from Paul's,
And in the middle walk one you espied,
Fit for his purpose: then describe this cloak,
This beard and hat; for in this borrowed shape
Must I beguile and overreach the fool.
The maids must be acquainted with this drift.
The door doth ope: I dare not stay reply,
Lest being descried--Gentlemen, adieu,
And help him now, that oft hath helped you. [_Exit._
_Enter_ FRISCO.
WAL. How now, sirrah, whither are you going?
FRIS. Whither am I going? how shall I tell you, when I do not
know myself, nor understand myself?
HEIGH. What dost thou mean by that?
FRIS. Marry, sir, I am seeking a needle in a bottle of hay; a
monster in the likeness of a man: one that, instead of good
morrow, asketh what porridge you have to dinner? parley-vous.
signior? one that never washes his fingers, but licks them
clean with kisses; a clipper of the king's English; and, to
conclude, an eternal enemy to all good language.
HAR. What's this? what's this?
FRIS. Do not you smell me? Well, I perceive that wit doth not
always dwell in a satin-doublet. Why, 'tis a Frenchman: Basi
mon cue, how do you?
HAR. I thank you, sir: but tell me what wouldst thou do with a
Frenchman?
FRIS. Nay, faith, I would do nothing with him, unless I set
him to teach parrots to speak. Marry, the old ass, my master,
would have him to teach his daughters, though I trust the whole
world sees that there be such in his house that can serve his
daughters' turn as well as the proudest Frenchman. But if you
be good lads, tell me where I may find such a man?
HEIGH. We will. Go hie thee straight to Paul's, There shalt
thou find one fitting thy desire: Thou soon may'st know him,
for his beard is black, And such his raiment[491]: if thou
runn'st apace, Thou canst not miss him, Frisco.
FRIS. Lord, Lord, how shall poor Frisco reward your rich
tidings, gentlemen? I am yours till Shrove-Tuesday, for then
change I my copy, and look like nothing but red-herring-cobs
and stock-fish; yet I'll do somewhat for you in the meantime.
My master is abroad, and my young mistresses at home: if you
can do any good on them, before the Frenchman come, why so. Ah!
gentlemen, do not suffer a litter of languages to spring up
amongst us. I must to the walk in Paul's, you to the vestry.
Gentlemen, as to myself and so forth. [_Exit_ FRISCO.
HAR. Fools tell the truth, men say, and so may he.
Wenches, we come now; love our conduct be!
Ned, knock at the door.--But soft, forbear!
_Enter_ LAURENTIA, MARINA, _and_ MATHEA.
The cloud breaks up, and our three suns appear.
To this I fly. Shine bright, my life's sole stay,
And make grief's night a glorious summer's day.
MAR. Gentlemen, how welcome you are here,
Guess by our looks, for other means by fear
Prevented is. Our father's quick return
Forbids the welcome else we would have done.
WAL. Mathea, how these faithful thoughts obey--
MATH. No more, sweet love, I know what thou wouldst say.
You say you love me, so I wish you still:
Love hath love's hire, being balanc'd with good-will.
But say; come you to us, or come you rather
To pawn more lands for money to our father?
I know 'tis so; i' God's name, spend at large:
What, man, our marriage-day will all discharge.
Our father (by his leave) must pardon us.
Age save of age of nothing can discuss;
But in our loves the proverb we'll fulfil--
Women and maids must always have their will.
HEIGH. Say thou as much, and add life to this corse.
LAUR. Yourself and your good news do more enforce.
How these have set forth love by all their wit;
I swear in heart, I more than double it.
Sisters, be glad, for he hath made it plain,
The means to get our schoolmaster again,[492]
But, gentlemen, for this time cease our loves;
This open street perhaps suspicion moves.
Fain we would stay, bid you walk in more rather,
But that we fear the coming of our father.
Go to th' Exchange, crave gold as you intend:
Pisaro scrapes for us; for us you spend.
We say farewell more sadlier, be bold.
Than would my greedy father to his gold:
We here, you there; ask gold, and gold you shall:
We'll pay the interest and the principal. [_Exeunt Sisters._
WAL. That's my good girls, and I'll pay you for all.
HAR. Come to th' Exchange, and when I feel decay,
Send me such wenches, heavens, I still shall pray. [_Exeunt._
FOOTNOTES:
[477] Moderation.
[478] So Shakespeare, in "Romeo and Juliet," act iii. sc. 3--
"Hang up philosophy, Unless philosophy can make a Juliet!"
[479] This present is a purse, as appears afterwards, with angels in
it.
[480] That is, "as often as these _gloves_ hide these _hands_ from the
sun."
[481] Old copies, _distinct_.
[482] _Young_ is omitted in the 4o of 1616, and supplied in the two
others.
[483] _Him_ has apparently dropped out in the oldest 4o.
[484] The copy of 1616 reads, _impudent villany_.
[485] _i.e._, As we say now, "scarcely in her _teens_."
[486] Old copies, _No_.
[487] The two later quartos both read, _then farewell maidenhead_.
[488] _i.e._, "Will it do," or "Will it suit." As in "Twelfth Night,"
act ii. sc. 2, "How will this _fadge_!"
[489] We have here another instance to show that formerly Jews and
usurers were furnished with large false noses on the stage.
[490] _I'll, that I will_ is the reading of the copies of 1626 and
1631. [All the copies, _I'll_, apparently for _ay_.]
[491] [Old copies, _Such is his raiment._]
[492] Laurentia aad Heigham have been talking apart.
ACT II., SCENE I.
_Enter_ PISARO, DELION _the Frenchman_, VANDAL
_the Dutchman,[493] and other Merchants, at several_
_doors_.
PIS. Good morrow, Master Strangers.[494]
STRAN. Good morrow, sir.
PIS. This (loving friends) hath thus emboldened me;
For, knowing the affection and the love,
Master Vandallo, that you bear my daughter.
Likewise, and that with joy, considering too,
You, Monsieur Delion, would fain despatch,
I promise you (methinks, the time did fit,
And does by'r Lady too, in mine advice)
This day to clap a full conclusion up:
And therefore made I bold to call on you,
Meaning (our business done here at the Burse)
That you at mine entreaty should walk home,
And take in worth such viands as I have;
And then we would, and so I hope we shall,
Loosely tie up the knot that you desire,
But for a day or two, and then Church rites
Shall sure conform, confirm, and make all fast.
VAN. Seker, mester Pisaro, me do so groterly danck you, dat you
mack me so sure of de wench, dat it can niet danck you genough.
DEL. Monsieur Pisaro, mon pere, mon vader! O, de grande joy
you give me! ecoute, me sal go home to your house, sal eat
your bacon, sal eat your beef, and sal tack de wench, de fine
demoisella.
PIS. You shall, and welcome; welcome as my soul.
But were my third son, sweet Alvaro, here,
We would not stay at the Exchange[495] to-day;
But hie us home, and there end our affairs.
_Enter_ MOORE _and_ TOWERSON.
MOORE. Good day, Master Pisaro.
PIS. Master Moore, marry, with all my heart, good morrow, sir.
What news? What news?
MOORE. This merchant here, my friend, would speak with you.
TOW. Sir, this jolly south-west wind with gentle blast
Hath driven home our long-expected ships,
All laden with the wealth of ample Spain;
And but a day is pass'd, since they arriv'd
Safely at Plymouth, where they yet abide.
PIS. Thanks is too small a guerdon for such news.
How like you this news, friends? Master Vandal,
Here's somewhat towards for my daughter's dowry:
Here's somewhat more than we did yet expect.
TOW. But hear you, sir; my business is not done:
From these same ships I did receive these lines,
And there enclos'd this same bill of exchange,
To pay at sight, if so you please accept it.
PIS. Accept it, why? What, sir, should I accept?
Have you received letters, and not I?
Where is this lazy villain, this slow post?
What, brings he every man his letters home,
And makes me nobody? does he, does he?
I would not have you bring me counterfeit;
And if you do, assure you I shall smell it:
I know my factor's writing well enough.
TOW. You do, sir; then see your factor's writing.
I scorn as much as you to counterfeit.
PIS. 'Tis well you do, sir.
_Enter_ HARVEY, WALGRAVE, _and_ HEIGHAM.
What! Master Walgrave and my other friends,
You are grown strangers to Pisaro's house:
I pray, make bold with me.
WAL. Ay, with your daughters,
You may be sworn, we'll be as bold as may be.
[_Aside._
PIS. Would you have aught with me? I pray now speak.
HEIGH. Sir, I think you understand our suit,
By the repairing we have had to you:
Gentlemen, you know, must want no coin,
Nor are they slaves unto it, when they have it;
You may perceive our minds; what say you to't?
PIS. Gentlemen all, I love you all: which more
To manifest, this afternoon, between
The hours of two and three, repair to me;
And, were it half the substance that I have,
Whilst it is mine, it is yours to command.
But, gentlemen, as I have regard to you,
So do I wish you'll have respect to me:
You know that all of us are mortal men,
Subject to change and mutability;
You may, or I may, soon pitch o'er the perch,
Or so--or so--have contrary crosses.
Wherefore I deem [it] but mere equity,
That something may betwixt us be to show.
HEIGH. Master Pisaro, within this two months
Without fail we'll repay.
_Enter_ BROWN.
BROWN. God save you, gentlemen.
GENT. Good morrow, sir.
PIS. What, Master Brown! the only man I wish'd for.
Does your price fall? what, shall I have these cloths?
For I would ship them straight away[496] for Stoade.
I do wish you my money 'fore another.
BROWN. Faith, you know my price, sir, if you have them.
PIS. You are too dear in sadness. Master Heigham,
You were about to say somewhat--pray, proceed.
HEIGH. Then this it was: those lands that are not mortgag'd--
_Enter_ POST.
POST. God bless your worship.
PIS. I must crave pardon.--O sirrah, are you come?
WAL. Heyday, heyday! What is the matter now?
Sure, yonder fellow will be torn in pieces.
HAR. What's he, sweet youths, that so they flock about?
What, old Pisaro tainted with this madness?
HEIGH. Upon my life, 'tis somebody brings news.
The court breaks up, and we shall know their council:
Look, look, how busily they fall to reading!
PISA. I am the last: you should have kept it still.
Well, we shall see what news you bring with you--
[_Reads._
"Our duty premised; and we have sent unto your worship sack,
Seville oils, pepper, Barbary sugar, and such other commodities
as we thought most requisite. We wanted money, therefore we are
fain to take up £200 of Master Towerson's man, which by a bill
of exchange, sent to him, we would request your worship pay
accordingly."
You shall command, sir, you shall command, sir.
[_Reads again._
"The news here is, that the English ships, the _Fortune_ (your
ship), the _Adventure_ and _Good Luck_ of London, coasting
along by Italy towards Turkey, were set upon by two Spanish
galleys. What became of them, we know not; but doubt much, by
reason of the weather's calmness."
How is't? six to one, the weather calm?
Now, afore God, who would not doubt their safety?
A plague upon these Spanish-galley pirates!
Roaring Charybdis or devouring Scylla
Were[n't] half such terror to the antique world,
As these same antic[497] villains now of late
Have made the Straits 'twixt Spain and Barbary.
TOW. Now, sir, what doth your factor's letters say?
PIS. Marry, he saith these witless, luckless dolts
Have met, and are beset with Spanish galleys,
As they did sail along by Italy!
What a bots made the dolts near Italy?
Could they not keep the coast of Barbary?
Or, having pass'd it, gone for Tripoli,
Being on the other side of Sicily,
As near as where they were unto the Straits?
For by the globe both Tripoli and it
Lie from the Straits some twenty-five degrees,
And each degree makes threescore English miles.
TOW. Very true, sir: but it makes nothing to
My bill of exchange. This dealing fits not one
Of your account.
PIS. And what fits yours? a prating, wrangling tongue,
A woman's ceaseless and incessant babbling,
That sees the world turn'd topsy-turvy[498] with me.
Yet hath not so much wit to stay a while,
Till I bemoan my late excessive loss.
WAL. 'Swounds! 'tis dinner-time, I'll stay no longer.
Hark you a word, sir.
PIS. I tell you, sir, it would have made you whine
Worse than if shoals of luckless croaking ravens
Had seiz'd on you, to feed their famished paunches,
Had you heard news of such a ravenous rout,
Eeady to seize on half the wealth you have.
WAL. 'Sblood! you might have kept at home, and be hang'd.
What a pox care I?
_Enter a_ POST.
POST. God save your worship: a little money, and so forth.
PIS. But men are senseless now of others' woe:
This stony age is grown so stony-hearted,
That none respects their neighbours' miseries.
I wish (as poets do) that Saturn's times,
The long outworn world, were in use again,
That men might sail without impediment.
POST. Ay, marry, sir, that were a merry world indeed: I would
hope to get more money of your worship in one quarter of a year
than I can do now in a whole twelvemonth.
_Enter_ BALSARO.
BAL. Master Pisaro, how I have run about,
How I have toil'd to-day to find you out!
At home, abroad: at this man's house, at that.
Why, I was here an hour ago and more,
Where I was told you were, but could not find you.
PIS. Faith, sir, I was here, but was driven home.
Here's such a common haunt of crack-rope boys,
That what for fear to have m'apparel spoil'd,
Or my ruffs dirtied, or eyes struck out,
I dare not walk where people do expect me.
Well, things (I think) might be better look'd unto:
And such coin, too, which is bestow'd on knaves,
Which should, but do not, see things be reform'd,
Might be employed to many better uses.
But what of beardless boys or such like trash?
The Spanish galleys! O, a vengeance on them!
POST. Mass, this man hath the luck on't: I think I can scarce
ever come to him for money, but this "A vengeance on't" and
that "A vengeance on't" doth so trouble him, that I can get no
coin. Well, a vengeance on't for my part; for he shall fetch
the next letters himself.
BROWN. I prythee, when thinkest thou the ships will be come
about from Plymouth?
POST. Next week, sir.
HEIGH. Came you, sir, from Spain lately?
POST. Ay, sir: why ask you that?
HAR. Marry, sir, thou seem'st to have been in the hot
countries, thy face looks so like a piece of rusty bacon. Had
thy host at Plymouth meat enough in the house when thou wert
there?
POST. What though he had not, sir? but he had: how then?
HAR. Marry, thank God for it; for otherwise he would doubtless
have cut thee out in rashers to have eaten thee: thou look'st
as thou wert thorough broiled already.
POST. You have said, sir; but I am no meat for his mowing,[499]
nor yours neither. If I had you in place where, you should find
me tough enough in digestion, I warrant you.
WAL. What, will you swagger, sirrah? will ye swagger?
BROWN. I beseech you, sir, hold your hand! get home, ye
patch![500] cannot you suffer gentlemen jest with you?
POST. I'd teach him a gentle trick, and I had him off the
Burse; but I'll watch him a good turn, I warrant him.
MOORE. Assure ye, Master Towerson--I cannot blame him.
I warrant you it is no easy loss;
How think you, master stranger? by my faith, sir,
There's twenty merchants will be sorry for it,
That shall be partners with him in his loss.
STRAN. Why, sir, what is the matter?
MOORE. The Spanish galleys have beset our ships,
That lately were bound out for Syria.
STRAN. What not? I promise you, I am sorry for it.
WAL. What an old ass is this to keep us here.
Master Pisaro, pray despatch us hence.
PIS. Master Vandal, I confess I wrong you:
But I'll but talk a word or two with him,
And straight turn to you. [_To_ HEIGH.] Ah! sir, and how then, faith?
HEIGH. Turn to us? turn to the gallows, if you will.
HAR. 'Tis midsummer-moon with him: let him alone.
He calls Ned Walgrave Master Vandal.
WAL. Let it be Shrovetide, I'll not stay an inch. Master Pisaro.
PIS. What should you fear? and, as I have vow'd before,
So now again, my daughters shall be yours:
And therefore I beseech you and your friends
Defer your business till dinner-time;
And what you'd say, keep it for table-talk.
HAR. Marry, and I shall; a right good motion.
Sirs, old Pisaro is grown kind of late,
And in pure love hath bid us home to dinner.
HEIGH. Good news, in truth. But wherefore art thou sad?
WAL. For fear the slave, ere it be dinner-time,
Remembering what he did, recall his word:
For by his idle speeches you may swear,
His heart was not confederate with his tongue.
HAR. Tut, never doubt; keep stomachs till anon;
And then we shall have cates to feed upon.
PIS. Well, sir, since things do full so crossly out,
I must dispose myself to patience:
But for your business, do you assure yourself,
At my repairing home from the Exchange,
I'll set a helping hand unto the same.
_Enter_ ALVARO _the Italian_.
ALV. Buon giorno, signor padre: why be de melancholy so much
and grave in you? a-wat news make you look so naught?
PIS. Naught is too good an epithet by much
For to distinguish such contrariousness.
Hath not swift fame told you, our slow-sail'd ships
Have been o'ertaken by the swift-sail'd galleys,
And all my cared-for goods within the lurch
Of that same caterpillar brood of Spain.
ALV. Signor, si; how de Spaniola have almost tack de ship dat
go for Turkey: my padre, hark you me one word: I have receive
one letter from my factor de Venise, dat after one picolo
battalion for one half-hour, de come a wind fra de north, and
de sea go tumble here, and tumble dere, dat make de galleys run
away for fear be almost drowned.
PIS. How, sir?
Did the wind rise at north, and sea wax rough,
And were the galleys therefore glad to fly?
ALV. Signor, si; and de ship go drite on de Isola de Candy.
PIS. Wert thou not my Alvaro, my beloved:
One whom I know does dearly count of me,
Much should I doubt me, that some scoffing Jack
Had sent thee, in the midst of all my griefs,
To tell a feigned tale of happy luck.
ALV. Will you no believe me? See dere den: see de letter.
PIS. What is this world, or what this state of man?
How in a moment curs'd, in a trice bless'd!
But even now my happy state 'gan fade,
And now again my state is happy made.
My goods all safe, my ships all 'scap'd away,
And none to bring me news of such good luck,
But whom the heavens have mark'd to be my son!
Were I a lord as great as Alexander,
None should more willingly be made mine heir,
Than thee, thou golden tongue, thou good-news teller!
Joy stops my mouth-- [_The Exchange bell rings._
BAL. Master Pisaro, the day is late, the bell doth ring:
Wilt please you hasten to perform this business?
PIS. What business, sir? Gods me, I cry you mercy.
Do it? yes, sir, you shall command me more.
TOW. But, sir, what do you mean? do you intend
To pay this bill, or else to palter with me?
PIS. Marry, God shield, that I should palter with you:
I do accept it, and come when you please,
You shall have money; you shall have your money due.
POST. I beseech your worship to consider me.
PIS. O, you cannot cog! go to, take that.
Pray for my life: pray that I have good luck,
And thou shalt see I will not be thy worst master.
POST. Marry, God bless your worship, I came in happy time.
What, a French crown! sure, he knows not what he does. Well,
I'll be gone, lest he remember himself, and take it from me
again.
[_Exit_ POST.
PIS. Come on, my lads! Master Vandal, sweet son Alvaro.
Come, Don Balsaro, let's be jogging home.
By'r laken,[501] sirs, I think 'tis one o'clock.
[_Exeunt_ PISARO, BALSARO, ALVARO, DELION,
_and_ VANDAL.
BROWN. Come, Master Moore, th' Exchange is waxen thin;
I think it best we get us home to dinner.
MOORE. I know that I am look'd for long ere this.
Come, Master Towerson, let's walk along.
[_Exeunt_ MOORE, BROWN, TOWERSON, _Strangers_
_and Merchant_.
HEIGH. And if you be so hot upon your dinner,
Your best way is to haste Pisaro on,
For he is cold enough, and slow enough;
He hath so late digested such cold news.
WAL. Marry, and shall. Hear you, Master Pisaro.
HAR. Many Pisaros here![502] Why, how now, Ned,
Where is your Mat,[503] your welcome, and good cheer?
WAL. Come, let us follow him. Why stay we here?
HEIGH. Nay, prythee, Ned Walgrave, let's bethink ourselves.
There's no such haste: we may come time enough.
At first Pisaro bad us come to him
'Twixt two or three o'clock at afternoon:
Then was he old Pisaro; but since then,
What with his grief for loss and joy for finding,
He quite forgat himself, when he did bid us,
And afterward forgat that he had bad us.
WAL. I care not. I remember it well enough:
He bad us home, and I will go, that's flat,
To teach him better wit another time.
HAR. Here'll be a gallant jest, when we come there,
To see how 'maz'd the greedy chuff will look
Upon the nations, sects, and factions,
That now have borne him company to dinner.
But hark you; let's not go to vex the man.
Prythee, sweet Ned, let's tarry: do not go.
WAL. Not go indeed! you may do what you please:
I'll go, that's flat: nay, I am gone already.
Stay you two, and consider further of it.
HEIGH. Nay, all will go, if one. Prythee, stay.
Thou'rt such a rash and giddy-headed youth,
Each stone's a thorn. Heyday! he skips for haste:
Young Harvey did but jest; I know he'll go.
WAL. Nay, he may choose for me. But if he will,
Why does he not? why stands he prating still?
If you'll go, come; if not, farewell.
HAR. Hire a post-horse for him (gentle Frank),
Here's haste, and more haste than a hasty pudding.
You madman, madcap, wild-oats! we are for you,
It boots not stay, when you intend to go.
WAL. Come away then. [_Exeunt._
SCENE II.
_Enter_ PISARO, ALVARO, DELION, _and_ VANDAL.
PIS. A thousand welcomes, friends. Monsieur Delion,
Ten thousand bien-venus unto yourself.
Signor Alvaro, Master Vandal,
Proud am I, that my roof contains such friends.
Why Mall, Laurentia, Mat! Where be these girls?
_Enter the three Sisters_.
Lively, my girls; and bid these strangers welcome.
They are my friends, your friends, and our well-willers.
You cannot tell what good you may have on them.
Gods me! why stir you not? Hark in your ear:
These be the men, the choice of many millions,
That I, your careful father, have provided
To be your husbands; therefore bid them welcome.
MATH. Nay, by my troth, 'tis not the guise of maids
To give a slavering salute to men: [_Aside._
If these sweet youths have not the wit to do it,
We have the honesty to let them stand.
VAN. Gods sekerlin, dats unfra meskin, Monsieur Delion, dare de
grote friester, dare wode ic zene, tis un-fra daughter, dare
heb ic so long lovde, dare heb my desire so long gewest.
ALV. Ah! Venice, Roma, Italia, Francia, Angliterra, nor all dis
orb can show so much bellezza, veramente de secunda Madonna de
grand beauty.
DEL. Certes, me dinck de mine depeteta de little Anglois de me
maitresse Pisaro is un nette, un becues, un fra, et un tendra
demosella.
PIS. What stocks, what stones, what senseless trunks be these!
When as I bid you speak, you hold your tongue.
When I bid peace, then can you prate and chat,
And gossip. But go to, speak and bid welcome,
Or (as I live) you were as good you did.
MAR. I cannot tell what language I should speak:
If I speak English (as I can none other)
They cannot understand me nor my welcome.
ALV. Bella madonna, dere is no language so dolce; dolce, dat is
sweet, as de language dat you sal speak, and de velcome dat you
sal say, sal be vel perfectamente.
MAR. Pray, sir, what is all this in English?
ALV. De usa sal vel teash you vat dat is; and if you sal
please, I will teash you to parlar Italiano.
PIS. And that, methinks, sir, not without need:
And with Italian too a child's obedience,
With such desire to seek to please their parents,
As others far more virtuous than themselves
Do daily strive to do. But 'tis no matter:
I'll shortly pull your haughty stomachs down.
I'll teach you urge your father; make you run
When I bid run, and speak when I bid speak.
What greater cross can careful parents have [_Knock within._
Than careless children? Stir, and see who knocks.
_Enter_ HARVEY, WALGRAVE, _and_ HEIGHAM.
WAL. Good morrow to my good Mistress Mathea.
MATH. As good a morrow to the morrow-giver.
PIS. A murrain! what make these? what do they here?
HEIGH. You see, Master Pisaro, we are bold guests.
You could have bid no surer men than we.
PIS. Hark you, gentlemen; I did expect you
At afternoon, not before two o'clock,
HAR. Why, sir, if you please, you shall have us here at two
o'clock, at three o'clock, at four o'clock; nay, till to-morrow
this time; yet I assure you, sir, we came not to your house
without inviting.
PIS. Why, gentlemen, I pray, who bad you now?
Whoever did it, sure, hath done you wrong;
For scarcely could you come to worser cheer.
HEIGH. It was your own self bad us to this cheer,
When you were busy with Balsaro talking.
You bad us cease our suits till dinner-time,
And then to use it for our table-talk:
And we, I warrant you, as sure as steel--
PIS. A murrain on yourselves and sureness too!
How am I cross'd! God's me, what shall I do?
This was that ill news of the Spanish pirates,
That so disturb'd me. Well, I must dissemble,
And bid them welcome; but for my daughters,
I'll send them hence; they shall not stand and prate. [_Aside._
Well, my masters, gentlemen, and friends,
Though unexpected, yet most heartily welcome--
Welcome with a vengeance [_Aside_]--but for your cheer,
That will be small: yet too-too much for you.
[_Aside._
Mall, in and get things ready. Laurentia,
Bid Maudlin lay the cloth, take up the meat.
Look, how she stirs; you sullen elf, you callet!
Is this the haste you make?
[_Exeunt_ MARINA _and_ LAURENTIA.
ALV. Signor Pisaro, nè soit so malcontento: de gentlewoman
your figliola dit parla but a litella to de gentlehomo our
grande amico.
PIS. But that grande amico is your grande inimico:
One, if they be suffered to parlar,
Will poll you, ay, and pill you of your wife.
They love together, and the other two
Love her two sisters: but 'tis only you
Shall crop the flower that they esteem so much.
ALV. Do dey so? Vel let me lone, sal see me give dem de such,
grand mock, sal be shame of demselves.
PIS. Do, sir,
I pray you do: set lustily upon them,
And I'll be ready still to second you.
WAL. But, Mat, art thou so mad as to turn French?
MATH. Yes, marry, when two Sundays come together.
Think you I'll learn to speak this gibberish[504],
Or the pig's language? Why, if I fall sick,
They'll say the French _et coetera_ infected me.
PIS. Why, how now, minion! what, is this your service?
Your other sisters busy are employ'd,
And you stand idle: get you in, or--
WAL. If you chide her, chide me, Master Pisaro;
For but for me she had gone in long since.
PIS. I think she had; for ye[505] are sprites to scare her;
But, ere't be long, I'll drive that humour from her.
ALV. Signor, me thincks you soud no make de wench so hardy, so
disobedient, to de padre as dit madonna Mat.
WAL. Signor, methinks you should learn to speak before you
should be so foolhardy, as to woo such a maiden as that Madonna
Mat.
DEL. Warrant you, monsieur, he sal parle, wen you sal stand out
de door.
HAR. Hark you, monsieur, you would wish yourself half-hanged,
you were as sure to be let in as he.
VAN. Mack no doubt, de Signer Alvaro sal do vel enough.
HEIGH. Perhaps so; but methinks your best way were to ship
yourself for Stoade, and there to barter yourself for a
commodity, for I can tell you, you are here out of liking.
PIS. The worst perhaps dislike him, but the best Esteem him
best.
HAR. But by your patience, sir,
Methinks none should know better who is lord,
Than the lady.
ALV. Den de lady? vat lady?
HAR. Marry, sir, the lady Let-her-alone: one that means
To let you alone for fear of trouble.
PIS. Every man as he may: yet sometimes the blind may catch a
hare.
HEIGH. Ay, sir, but he will first eat many a fly[506]. You know
it must be a wonder if a crab catch a fowl.
VAN. Maer hort ens; if he and ic and Monsieur Delion be de
crab, we sal kash de fowl well genough, I warrant you.
WAL. Ay, and the fowl well enough, I warrant you; and much good
may it do ye.
ALV. Me dinck such a picolo man as you be sal have no de such
grande luck, ma dere.
DEL. Non da monsieur, and he be so granda amorous op de
damosella, hec sal have Maudlin, de wit wench in de kichin, by
Maitre Pisaro's leave.
WAL. By Master Pisaro's leave, monsieur, I'll mumble you,
Except you learn to know whom you speak to:
I tell thee, François, I'll have (maugre thy teeth)
Her that shall make thee gnash thy teeth to want.
PIS. Yet a man may want of his will, and bate an ace of his
wish. But, gentlemen, every man as his luck serves, and so
agree we. I would not have you fall out in my house. Come,
come, all this was in jest: now let's to't in earnest--I mean
with our teeth, and try who's the best trencher-man. [_Exeunt._
FOOTNOTES:
[493] _Alvaro the Italian_ is also mentioned, but he does not enter
till some time afterwards.
[494] By _Master Strangers_ he means the "other merchants," as he knows
Delion and Vandal.
[495] According to Heywood's, "If you know not me, you know nobody,"
Part II., Queen Elizabeth, when she christened the Royal Exchange,
after it had been built by Sir T. Gresham, changed its name from the
_Burse_, which it had been previously called--
"Proclaim through every high street of this city,
This place be no longer called a Burse,
But since the building's stately, fair, and strange,
Be it for ever call'd the Royal Exchange."
Sig. H 2. The terms were afterwards often used indifferently, and
Pisaro, just before, calls the _Exchange_ the _Burse_.
[496] _Away_ is omitted in the two last impressions.
[497] [A quibble on _antique_ and _antic_.]
[498] This word seems to have puzzled our dictionary-makers very
needlessly. Mr Todd quotes Skinner, who derives it from _top and turf_:
the etymology is very simple, and will be acknowledged the instant it
is stated: _topsy-turvy_ is only an abbreviation of _topside t'other
way_, or the upper end of anything turned downwards--_i.e._, bottom
upwards. Archdeacon Nares got as far as _top side_, but _turvy_, he
acknowledged, set his ingenuity at defiance.
[499] A proverbial expression. _Mowing_ is a corruption of mouthing.
[500] A common term of abuse at that period, derived from the clowns or
fools, and in reference to their dress.
[501] _i.e._, By our Ladykin.
[502] Walgrave, abstracted, does not perceive that Pisaro has gone out,
for which Harvey laughs at him, _Many Pisaros here_! In the same
sense, in act v., Laurentia says, _Many Balsaros I_.
[503] Meaning Mathea.
[504] Gibberish is no doubt derived from _gibber_, and it means idle
nonsense. Whether _gibber_ comes from _geber_, as Dr Johnson contends,
must remain in doubt.
[505] [Old copies, _we_.]
[506] "The blind eats many a fly," was proverbial, and, according to
Henslowe's Diary, formed the title of a play by Thomas Heywood, under
date of November 1602. [See Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, p. 359.]
ACT III., SCENE I.
_Enter_ FRISCO.
FRIS. Ah, sirrah, now I know what manner of thing Paul's is;
I did so mar'l[507] afore what it was, out of all count; for
my master would say, would I had Paul's full of gold; my young
mistress and Grimkin Taylor would wish they had Paul's full of
needles. I once asked my master half a yard of frieze to make
me a coat, and he cried, Whoop holiday! it was big enough to
make Paul's a nightgown. I have been told that Duke Humfrey
dwells here, and that he keeps open house, and that a brave
sort of Cameleers[508] dine with him every day: now if I could
see any vision in the world towards dinner, I would set in a
foot. But the best is, as the ancient English Roman orator
saith, Solame-men, misers, housewives, and so forth[509]. The
best is, that I have great store of company, that do nothing
but go up and down, and go up and down, and make a grumbling
together, that the meat is so long making ready. Well, if I
could meet this scurvy Frenchman, they should stay me, for I
would be gone home.
_Enter_ ANTHONY.
ANTH. I beseech you, monsieur, give me audience.
FRIS. What would you have? What should I give you?
ANTH. Pardon, sir, mine uncivil and presumptuous intrusion,
who endeavour nothing less, than to provoke or exasperate you
against me.
FRIS. They say, a word to the wise is enough, so by this little
French that he speaks, I see he is the very man I seek for.
Sir, I pray, what is your name?
ANTH. I am nominated Monsieur La Mouche, and rest at your bon
service.
FRIS. I understand him partly yea, and partly nay. Can you
speak French? Content pour vous, monsieur, madame.
ANTH. If I could not, sir, I should ill-understand you; you
speak the best French that ever trod upon shoe of leather.
FRIS. Nay, I can speak more languages than that: This is
Italian, is it not--Nelle slurde curtezana?
ANTH. Yes, sir, and you speak it like a very natural.
FRIS. I believe you well. Now for Dutch--Ducky de do, wat heb
ye gebrought?
ANTH. I pray stop your mouth, for I never heard such Dutch
before broached.
FRIS. Nay, I think you have not met with no peasant. Hear you,
Master Mouse (so your name is, I take it), I have considered
of your learning in these aforesaid languages, and find you
reasonable so, so. Now this is the matter: can you take the
ease to teach these tongues to two or three gentlewomen of mine
acquaintance, and I will see you paid for your labour.
ANTH. Yes, sir, and that most willingly.
FRIS. Why then, Master Mouse, to their use I entertain ye,
which had not been but for the troubles of the world, that I
myself have no leisure to show my skill. Well, sir, if you'll
please to walk with me, I'll bring you to them. [_Exeunt._
SCENE II.
_Enter_ LAURENTIA, MARINA, _and_ MATHEA.
LAU. Sit till dinner's done? not I, I swear:
Shall I stay, till he belch into mine ears
Those rustic phrases and those Dutch--French terms,
Stammering half-sentences, dogbolt eloquence?
And when he hath no love, forsooth, why then
He tells me cloth is dear at Antwerp, and the men
Of Amsterdam have lately made a law,
That none but Dutch, as he, may traffic there.
Then stands he still, and studies what to say;
And after some half-hour, because the ass
Hopes (as he thinks) I shall not contradict him,
He tells me, that my father brought him to me,
And that I must perform my father's will.
Well, good-man goose-cap, when thou woo'st again,
Thou shalt have simple ease for thy love's pain.
MATH. Alas! poor wench, I sorrow for thy hap,
To see how thou art clogg'd with such a dunce.
Forsooth, my sire hath fitted me far better:
My Frenchman comes upon me with the Sa, sa, sa:
Sweet madame, pardonnez moi, I pray:
And then out goes his hand, down goes his head,
Swallows his spittle, frizzles his beard, and then to me:
"Pardonnez moi, mistress Mathea,
If I be bold to mack so bold met you,
Think it go will dat spur me dus up you:
Dan cast neit off so good and true lover,
Madame Celestura de la (I know not what)
Do oft pray to God dat me would love her:"
And then he reckons a catalogue of names,
Of such as love him, and yet cannot get him.
MAR. Nay, but your monsieur's but a mouse in cheese,
Compared with my signor. He can tell
Of lady Venus and her son blind Cupid;
Of the fair Scilla, that was lov'd of Glaucus[510]
And yet scorn'd Glaucus, and yet lov'd King Minos;
Yet Minos hated her, and yet she holp him.
And yet he scorn'd her; yet she kill'd her father
To do him good; yet he could not abide her.
Nay, he'll be bawdy, too, in his discourse,
And when he is so, he will take my hand.
And tickle the palm, wink with his one eye,
Gape with his mouth, and--
LAU. And, hold thy tongue, I prythee: here's my father.
_Enter_ PISARO, ALVARO, VANDAL, DELION, HARVEY.
WALGRAVE, _and_ HEIGHAM.
PIS. Unmannerly, untaught, unnurtur'd girls!
Do I bring gentlemen, my very friends,
To feast with me, to revel at my house,
That their good likings may be set on you,
And you, like misbehav'd and sullen girls,
Turn tail to such as may advance your states I
I shall remember't, when you think I do not.
I am sorry, gentlemen, your cheer's no better;
But what did want at board, excuse me for,
And you shall have amends be made in bed.
To them, friends, to them; they are none but yours:
For you I bred them, for you brought them up,[511]
For you I kept them, and you shall have them:
I hate all others that resort to them.
Then rouse your bloods, be bold with what's your own,
For I and mine (my friends) be yours or none.
_Enter_ FRISCO _and_ ANTHONY.
FRIS. Gi' ye[512] good-morrow, sir. I have brought you monsieur
Mouse here, to teach my young mistresses: I assure you
(forsooth) he is a brave Frenchman.
PIS. Welcome, friend, welcome. My man (I think)
Hath at the full resolv'd thee of my will.
Monsieur Delion, I pray question him:
I tell you, sir, 'tis only for your sake
That I do mean to entertain this fellow.
ANTH. A bots of all ill luck! how came these here?
Now am I pos'd, except the wenches help me:
I have no French to flap them in the mouth.
HAR. To see the luck of a good fellow: poor Anthony
Could ne'er have sorted out a worser time.
Now will the pack of all our sly devices
Be quite laid ope, as one undoes an oyster,
Frank Heigham and mad Ned, fall to your meuses,[513]
To help poor Anthony now at a pinch,
Or all our market will be spoil'd and marr'd.
WAL. Tut, man, let us alone: I warrant you.
DEL. Monsieur, vous estes tres bien-venu: de quelle pais estes
vous?
ANTH. Vous, that's you; sure he says, how do men call you.
Monsieur la Mouche?
MAR. Sister, help, sister! that's honest Anthony,
And he answers your wooer cujus contrarium.
DEL. Monsieur, vous n'entends pas: je nè demande point vostre
nom.
MATH. Monsieur Delion, he that made your shoes, made them not
in fashion; they should have been cut square at the toe.
DEL. Madame, my shoe met de square toe, vat be dat?
PIS. Why, sauce-box! how now, you unreverent minx!
Why, in whose stable hast thou been brought up,
To interrupt a man in midst of speech?
Monsieur Delion, disquiet not yourself,
But as you have begun, I pray proceed
To question with this countryman of yours.
DEL. Dat me sal do tres bien, but de bella madonna, de jeune
gentlewoman, do monstre somesing of amour to speak lot me, et
pour ce, monsieur, mee sal say but two tree four five word to
dis François: or sus, monsieur La Mouche, en quelle partíe de
France etiez vous nè?
HAR. Francis.[514]
HEIGH. Ned.
WAL. What, let me come.
Master Pisaro, we have occasion of affairs,
Which calls us hence with speed; wherefore, I pray,
Defer this business till some fitter time,
And to perform what at the Exchange we spoke of.
ANTH. A blessing on that tongue, saith Anthony.
[_Aside._
PIS. Yes, marry, gentlemen, I will, I will.
Alvaro, to your task: fall to your task!
I'll bear away those three who, being here,
Would set my daughters on a merry pin:
Then cheerly try your lucks. But speak and speed;
For you alone, say I, shall do the deed.
[_Exeunt_ PISARO, HARVEY, WALGRAVE, _and_
HEIGHAM.
FRIS. Hear you, master Mouse, did you dine to-day at Paul's
with the rest of the gentlemen there?
ANTH. No, sir, I am yet undined.
FRIS. Methinks you should have a reasonable good stomach then
by this time: as for me, I can feel[515] nothing within me from
my mouth to my cod-piece, but all empty: wherefore I think it a
piece of wisdom to go in and see what Maudlin hath provided for
our dinner. Master Mouse, will you go in?
ANTH. With as good a stomach and desire as yourself.
FRIS. Let's pass in then.
[_Exeunt_ FRISCO _and_ ANTHONY.