grooterly strange, ic seg you wat, if dat ghy speak to me, is
dat ghy love me?
LAU. Is't that I care not for you? Is't that your breath
stinks? If that your breath stinks not, you must learn sweeter
English, or I shall never understand your suit.
DEL. Pardonnez moi, madame.
MATH. With all my heart, so you offend no more.
DEL. Is dat an offence to be amorous de one belle gentlewoman?
MATH. Ay, sir, see: your belle gentlewoman cannot be amorous of
you.
MAR. Then if I were as that belle gentlewoman's lover, I would
trouble her no further, nor be amorous any longer.
ALV. Madonna, yet de bellezza of de face, beauty, de form of
all de corpo may be such, dat no periculo, nor all de mal
shance, can make him leave her dolce visage.
LAUR. But, signor Alvaro, if the periculo or mal-shance were
such, that she should love and live with another, then the
dolce visage must be left in spite of the lover's teeth, whilst
he may whine at his own ill-fortune.
VAN. Dat's war, maitresse, for it is untrue, saying, dey wint
he taught dey verleift lie scrat sin gat.
MATH. And I think, too, you are like to scratch there, but
never to claw any of my sister's love away.
VAN. Dan sal your sistre do gainst her vader's will, for your
vader segt dat ic sal heb bar vor mine wife.
LAUR. I think not so, sir, for I never heard him say so; but
I'll go in and ask him if his meaning be so.
MAR. Hark, sister; signor Alvaro saith, that I am the fairest
of all us three.
LAUR. Believe him not, for he'll tell any lie,
If so he thinks thou may's be pleas'd thereby.
Come, go with me, and ne'er stand prating here,
I have a jest to tell thee in thine ear
Shall make you laugh. Come, let your signor stand:
I know there's not a wench in all this town
Scoffs at him more, or loves him less than thou.
Master Vandal, as much I say for you;
If needs you marry with an English lass,
Woo her in English, or she'll call you ass.
MATH. Tut, that's a French cog; sure, I think,
There's ne'er a wench in France not half so fond
To woo and sue so for your monsieurship.
DEL. Par ma foi, madame, she does tink dare is no wench so dure
as you: for de fille was créé dolce, tendre, and amorous for
me to love her. Now me tink dat I, being such a fine man, you
should lova me.
MATH. So think not I, sir.
DEL. But so tink esh oder demoisella.
MATH. Nay, I'll lay my love to your command,
That my sisters think not so. How say you, sister Mall?
Why how now, gentlemen, is this your talk?
What, beaten in plain field! Where be your maids?
Nay, then I see their loving humour fades,
And they resign their interest up to me;
And yet I cannot serve for all you three:
But lest two should be mad, that I love one,
You shall be all alike, and I'll love none.
The world is scant, when so many jackdaws
Hover about one corse with greedy paws.
If needs you'll have me, stay till I am dead;
Carrion for crows, Mathea for her Ned;
And so farewell. We sisters do agree
To have our wills, but ne'er to have you three. [_Exeunt._
DEL. Madame, attendez, madame--is she allé?
Do she mocque de vous in such sort?
VAN. O de pestilence! O, if dat io can neit de se Englese sprek
vel, ic sel her fader seg how is to pass gecomen.
_Enter_ PISARO.
ALV. Ne parlate: see here, signors, de father.
PIS. Now, friends, now, gentlemen, how speeds your work?
Have you not found them shrewd, unhappy girls?
VAN. Master Pisaro, de dochter Maistris Laurentia, call de
dyel, den ass, for dat ic can neit English spreken.
ALV. And dat we sal no parlar, dat we sal no havar dem for de
wive.
PIS. Are they so lusty? Dare they be so proud?
Well, I shall find a time to meet with them:[516]
In the mean season, pray, frequent my house.
_Enter_ FRISCO, _running_.
Ho! now, sirrah, whither are you running?
FRIS. About a little tiny business.
PIS. What business, ass?
FRIS. Indeed I was not sent to you, and yet I was sent after
the three gen'men that dined here, to bid them come to our
house at ten o'clock at night, when you were abed.
PIS, Ha! what is this I Can this be true? What, art thou sure
the wenches bad them come?
FRIS. So they said, unless their minds be changed since; for
a woman is like a weathercock, they say, and I am sure of no
more than I am certain of. But I'll go in and bid them send you
word, whether they shall come or no.
PIS. No, sirrah, stay you here. But one word more:
Did they appoint them come one by one, or else
Altogether?
FRIS. Altogether! Lord, that such a young man as you should
have no more wit! Why, if they should come together, one could
not make room for them; but coming one by one, they'll stand
there, if there were twenty of them.
PIS. How this news glads me, and revives my soul!
How say you, sirs? What, will you have a jest
Worth the telling; nay, worth the acting?
I have it, gentlemen--I have it, friends.
ALV. Signer Pisaro, I pray de gratia wat manner sal we have?
wat will the parlar? what bon do you know, Signer Pisaro, diche
di noi, Signer Pisaro?
PIS. O, that youth so sweet
So soon should turn to age! Were I as you,
Why, this were sport alone for me to do.
Hark ye, hark ye. Here my man
Saith that the girls have sent for Master Heigham
And his two friends: I know they love them dear,
And therefore wish them late at night be here,
To revel with them. Will you have a jest,
To work my will and give your longings rest?
Why then Master Vandal and you two
Shall soon at midnight come, as they should do,
And court the wenches; and to be unknown,
And taken for the men whom they alone
So much affect, each one shall change his name:
Master Vandal, you shall take Heigham, and you
Young Harvey, and Monsieur Delion, Ned,
And under shadows be of substance sped.
How like you this device? how think you of it?
DEL. O de brave, de galliard devise: me sal come by de nite and
contrefaire de Anglois gentlehommes--dites-nous ainsi, Monsieur
Pisaro?
PIS. You are in the right, sir.
ALV. And I sal name me de Signer Harvey, and Monsieur Delion
sal be de piccolo Signer Ned, and when Madonna Laurentia sal
say, who be dare? Monsieur Vandal sal say, O my sout lady, hier
be your love Maestro Heigham. Is no dis de bravissime, Master
Vandal?
VAN. Slaet up den tromele, van ick sal come up to de camerken,
wan my new wineken slaet up den tromele, van ick sal come.
PIS. Ha, ha, ha, Master Vandal!
I trow you will be merry soon at night,
When you shall do indeed what now you hope of.
VAN. I sal you seg, vader, ic sal teash your daughter such a
ting make her laugh too.
PIS. Well, my sons all (for so I count you shall)
What we have here devised, provide me for;
But above all, do not (I pray) forget
To come but one by one, as they did wish.
VAN. Mar, hortens vader, ic veit neit de way to your hous,
hortens sal Master Frisco your maniken come to call de me, and
bring me to your house.
PIS. Yes, marry, shall he. See that you be ready,
And at the hour of eleven soon at night,
Hie you to Bucklersbury to his chamber,
And so direct him straight unto my house.
My son Alvaro and Monsieur Delion
I know do know the way exceeding well.
Well, we'll to the Rose in Barking for an hour:
And, sirrah Frisco, see you prove no blab.
[_Exeunt_ PISARO, ALVARO, DELION,
_and_ VANDAL.
SCENE III.
FRIS. O monstrous! who would think my master had so much wit
in his old rotten budget? and yet, i' faith he is not much
troubled with it neither. Why, what wise man in a kingdom would
send me for the Dutchman? Does he think I'll not cozen him?
O fine, I'll have the bravest sport! O brave, I'll have the
gallantest sport! O, come now, if I can hold behind, while I
may laugh a while, I care not. Ha, ha, ha!
_Enter_ ANTHONY.
ANTH. Why, how now, Frisco; why laughest thou so heartily?
FRIS. Laugh, Master Mouse, laugh! Ha, ha, ha!
ANTH. Laugh! why should I laugh? or why art thou so merry?
FRIS. O Master Mouse, Master Mouse! it would make any mouse,
rat, cat, or dog laugh, to think what sport we shall have at
our house soon at night. I'll tell you all: my young mistress
sent me after Master Heigham and his friends to pray them
come to our house, after my old master was abed. Now I went,
and I went; and I run, and I went; and whom should I meet but
my master Pisaro[517] and the strangers; so my master very
worshipfully (I must needs say) examined me whither I went.
Now, I durst not tell him an untruth, for fear of lying; but
told him plainly and honestly mine errand. Now, who would think
my master had such a monstrous plaguy wit? he was as glad as
could be; out of all Scotch-and-notch glad; out of all count
glad: and so, sirrah, he bid the three uplandishmen come in
their steads, and woo my young mistresses. Now it made me so
laugh to think how they would be cozened, that I could not
follow my master. But I'll follow him: I know he has gone to
the tavern in his merry humour. Now, if you will keep this as
secret as I have done hitherto, we shall have the bravest sport
soon, as can be. I must be gone: say nothing. [_Exit._
ANTH. Well, it is so;
And we will have good sport, or it shall go hard:
This must the wenches know, or all is marr'd.
_Enter the three Sisters._
Hark you, Miss Mall, Miss Laurentia, Miss Mat:
I have such news (my girls) will make you smile.
MAR. What be they, master? how I long to hear it!
ANTH. A woman right, still longing and with child
For everything they hear or light upon.
Well, if you be mad wenches, hear it now.
Now may your knaveries give the deadliest blow
To night-walkers, eavesdroppers, or outlandlish love,
That e'er was stricken.
MATH. Anthony La Mouche,
Move but the matter--tell us but the jest;
And if you find us slack to execute,
Never give credence, or believe us more.
ANTH. Then know, the strangers, your outlandish loves,
Appointed by your father, come this night
Instead of Harvey, Heigham, and young Ned,
Under their shadows to get to your bed;
For Frisco simply told him why he went.
I need not to instruct--you can conceive--
You are not stocks nor stones, but have some store
Of wit and knavery too.
MATH. Anthony, thanks
Is too-too small a guerdon for this news.
You must be English! Well, Sir Signer Sowse,[518]
I'll teach you tricks for coming to our house.
LAUR. Are you so crafty? O, that night were come!
That I might hear my Dutchman, how he'd swear
In his own mother-language that he loves me.
Well, if I quit him not, I here pray God
I may lead apes in hell, and die a maid,[519]
And that were worser to me than a hanging.
ANTH. Well said, old honest huddles. Here's a heap
Of merry lasses! Well, for myself,
I'll hie me to your lovers, bid them mask
With us at night, and in some corner stay
Near to our house, where they may make some play
Upon your rivals; and when they are gone,
Come to your windows.
MAR. Do so, good master.
ANTH. Peace! begone.
For this our sport somebody soon will mourn.
[_Exeunt Sisters. Manet_ ANTHONY.[520]
_Enter_ PISARO.
PIS. How favourable heaven and earth is seen
To grace the mirthful complot that is laid!
Night's candles burn obscure, and the pale moon,
Favouring our drift, lies buried in a cloud.
I can but smile to see the simple girls,
Hoping to have their sweethearts here to-night,
Tickled with extreme joy, laugh in my face;
But when they find the strangers in their steads,
They'll change their note, and sing another song.
Where be these girls here? what! to bed, to bed!
Maudlin, make fast the doors, rake up the fire.
_Enter the three Sisters._[521]
God's me! 'tis nine o'clock! hark, Bow-bell rings.
Some look down below, and see who knocks. [_Knocking._
And hark you, girls, settle your hearts at rest,
And full resolve you, that to-morrow morn
You must be wed to such as I prefer;
I mean Alvaro and his other friends.
Let me no more be troubled with your nays:
You shall do what I'll have, and so resolve.
_Enter_ MOORE.
Welcome, Master Moore, welcome.
What wind, a God's name, drives you forth so late?
MOORE. Faith, sir, I am come to trouble you:
My wife this present night is brought to bed.
PIS. To bed? and what hath God sent you?
MOORE. A jolly girl, sir.
PIS. And God bless her. But what's your will, sir?
MOORE. Faith, sir, my house being full of friends,
Such as (I thank them) came to see my wife,
I would request you, that for this one night
My daughter Susan might be lodged here.
PIS. Lodge in my house? welcome, with all my heart.
Mat, hark you, she shall lie with you:
Trust me, she could not come in fitter time.
For (hear you, sir) to-morrow in the morning
All my three daughters must be married.
Good Master Moore, let's have your company;
What say you, sir?
_Enter a Servant._
Welcome, honest friend.
MOORE. How now, sirrah, what's the news with you?
PIS. Mouche, hear you: stir betimes to-morrow,
For then I mean your scholars shall be wed.
What news, what news, man, that you look so sad?
MOORE. He brings me word my wife is new fall'n sick,
And that my daughter cannot come to-night;
Or if she does, it will be very late.
PIS. Believe me, I am then more sorry for it.
But for your daughter, come she soon or late,
Some of us will be up to let her in,
For here be three mean not to sleep to-night.
Well, you must be gone: commend me to your wife.
Take heed how you go down: the stairs are bad.
Bring here a light.
MOORE. 'Tis well, I thank you, sir. [_Exit._
PIS. Good night, Master Moore: farewell, honest friend.
Come, come--to bed, to bed: 'tis nine and past.
Do not stand prating here to make me fetch you,
But get you to your chambers. [_Exit_ PISARO.
ANTH. By'r Lady, here's short work! hark you, girls,
Will you to-morrow marry with the strangers?
MAR. I'faith, sir, no. I'll first leap out at window,
Before Marina marry with a stranger.
ANTH. Yes, but your father swears you shall have one.
MATH. Yes, but his daughters swear they shall have none.
These whoreson cannibals, these Philistines,
These tango-mongoes shall not rule o'er me.
I'll have my will and Ned, or I'll have none.
ANTH. How will you get him? how will you get him?
I know no other way except it be this,
That when your father's in his soundest sleep,
You ope the door, and run away with them.
ALL SISTERS. So we will, rather than miss of them.
ANTH. 'Tis well-resolved, i' faith, and like yourselves.
But hear you! to your chambers presently,
Lest that your father do descry our drift.
[_Exeunt_ SISTERS.
Mistress Susan should come, but she cannot;
Nor perhaps shall not, yet perhaps she shall.
Might not a man conceit a pretty jest,
And make as mad a riddle as this is?
If all things fadge now,[522] as all things should do,
We shall be sped; faith, Mat shall have her due.
FOOTNOTES:
[507] _i.e._, Marvel.
[508] Meaning Cavaliers.
[509] _Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris._
[510] This story had become familiar in consequence of T. Lodge's
"Scilla's Metamorphosis," printed in 1589.
[511] The copies of 1626 and 1631 read this line--_for you I tired
them, for you I brought them up;_ but the pronoun _I_ is redundant both
for sense and measure.
[512] [Old copies, _God-ye_.]
[513] [Inventions.]
[514] [Old copies, _Fraunce_.]
[515] All the copies read _sell_ for _feel_; but it was an easy
misprint.
[516] To be even with them.
[517] The old copies read, _Whom should I meet but my master and M.
Pisaro_.
[518] She addresses herself to her absent outlandish love, who is to
pretend to be English.
[519] This proverb occurs twice in Shakespeare, in "Much Ado about
Nothing," and in "The Taming of the Shrew," and Malone and Steevens
laboured in vain to discover its applicability. It is also to be met
with in H. Chettle's "Patient Grissel," 1603, where Farnese observes
to Julia, "Then I perceive you mean to _lead apes in hell_," and she
replies, "That spiteful proverb was proclaimed against them that
are married upon earth, for to be married is to live in a kind of
hell.... Your wife is your ape, and that heavy burden wedlock, your
jack-an-ape's clog: therefore I'll not be tied to't." This does not
throw any new light upon the matter, nor explain why old maids are
destined in the infernal regions to this duty. If old bachelors
were supposed to be transformed there into apes, it would be very
intelligible.
[520] The stage direction in the old copy is only _Exeunt_; but Anthony
remains.
[521] The re-entrance of the Sisters is not marked in the oldest
edition.
[522] [Old copies, _not_.]
ACT IV., SCENE I.
_Enter_ VANDAL _and_ FRISCO.
VAN. Where be you, Master Frisco.
FRIS. Here, sir, here, sir. Now if I could cozen him. [_Aside._
Take heed, sir, here's a post.
VAN. Ic be so groterly hot, dat ic swet. O, when sal we come
dere.
FRIS. Be you so hot, sir? let me carry your cloak; I assure you
it will ease you much.
VAN. Dere, here, dere, 'tis so dark I can neit see.
FRIS. Ay, so, so. Now you may travel in your hose and doublet.
Now look I as like the Dutchman as if I were spit out of his
mouth.[523] I'll straight home, and speak groot and brood, and
toot and gibberish; and in the dark I'll have a fling at the
wenches. Well, I say no more. Farewell, Master Mendal, I must
go seek my fortune. [_Exit_ FRISCO.
VAN. Mester Frisco, Mester Frisco! what sal you no speak I make
you de fool? Why, Mester Frisco! O de skellum, he be ga met de
cloak! me sal seg his mester. Ha! Mester Frisco, waer seed-e
Mester Frisco? [_Exit_ VANDAL.
_Enter_ HARVEY, HEIGHAM, _and_ WALGRAVE.
HAR. Goes the case so well, Signer Bottle-nose?
It may be we shall overreach your drift.
This is the time the wenches sent us word
Our bombast Dutchman and his mates will come.
Well, neat Italian, you must don my shape:
Play your part well, or I may 'haps pay you.
What, speechless, Ned? faith, whereon musest thou?
'Tis on your French corrival, for my life.
He comes _et vostre_, and so forth,
Till he hath foisted in a brat or two.
How then, how then?
WAL. Nay, I'll geld him first,
Ere that infestious losel revel there.
Well, Mat, I think thou know'st what Ned can do:
Shouldst thou change Ned for Noddy, me for him,
Thou didst not know thy loss, i' faith thou didst not.
HEIGH. Come, leave this idle chat, and let provide
Which of us shall be scarecrow to these fools,
And set them out the way?
WAL. Why, that will I.
HAR. Then put a sword into a madman's hand.
Thou art so hasty that, but cross thy humour,
And thou'lt be ready cross them o'er the pates:
Therefore, for this time, I'll supply the room.
HEIGH. And so we shall be sure of chat enough.
You'll hold them with your flouts and gulls so long,
That all the night will scarcely be enough
To put in practice what we have devised:
Come, come, I'll be the man shall do the deed.
HAR. Well, I am content to save your longing.
But soft, where are we? Ha! here's the house.
Come, let us take our stands: Frank, stand you there,
And Ned and I will cross [to] t'other side.
HEIGH. Do so; but hush! I hear one passing hither.
_Enter_ ALVARO.
ALV. O de favourable aspect of de heaven! 'tis so obscure, so
dark, so black, dat no mortal creature can know me: I pray a
Dio I sal have de right wench. Ah si, I be recht: here be de
huis of Signer Pisaro; I sal have de Madonna Marina, and darvor
I sal knock to de door. [_He knocks._
HEIGH. What a pox! are you mad or drunk?
What do you mean to break my glasses?[524]
ALV. Wat be dar glasses? What drunk? what mad?
HEIGH. What glasses, sir? why, my glasses: and if you be so
crank, I'll call the constable. You will not enter into a man's
house, I hope, in spite of him?
HAR. Nor durst you be so bold as to stand there,
If once the master of the house did know it.
ALV. Is dis your house? be you de signor of dis casa?
HEIGH. Signor me no signors, nor casa me no casas: but get you
hence, or you are like to taste of the bastinado.
HAR. Do, do, good Ferdinand; pummell the loggerhead.
ALV. Is this neit the house of Mester Pisaro?
HEIGH. Yes, marry, when? can you tell? how do you? I thank you
heartily, my finger in your mouth.
ALV. What be dat?
HEIGH. Marry, that you are an ass and a loggerhead, to seek
Master Pisaro's house here.
ALV. I pray de gratia, what be dis plashe? What do ye call dis
street?
HEIGH. What, sir? why, Leadenhall. Could you not see the four
spouts as you came along?
ALV. Certamente, Leadenhall, I hit my head by de way; der may
be do voer spouts. I pray de gratia, wish be de way to Croche
Friars?
HEIGH. How, to Crutched Friars? Marry, you must go along till
you come to the pump, and then turn on your right hand.
ALV. Signor, a Dio. [_Exit_ ALVARO.
HEIGH. Farewell, and be hang'd, signor!
Now, for your fellow, if the ass would come.
_Enter_ DELION.
DEL. By my trot, me do so mush tinck of dit gentlewoman, de
fine wensh, dat me tinck esh hour ten day, and esh day ten
years, till I come to her. Here be de huis of sin vader, sal
aller and knock. [_He knocks._
HEIGH. What a bots ails you, are you mad?
Will you run over me, and break my glasses?
DEL. Glasses! wat glasses? Pray, is Monsieur Pisaro to de
maison?
HAR. Hark, Ned, there's thy substance. [_Aside._
WAL. Nay, by the mass, the substance is here,
The shadow's but an ass. [_Aside._
HEIGH. What Master Pisaro?
Loggerhead! here is none of your Pisaros?
DEL. Yes, but dit is de huis of Mester Pisaro.
WAL. Will not this Monsieur Motley[525] take his answer? I'll
go and knock the ass about the pate.
HAR. Nay, by your leave, sir, but I'll hold your worship.
This stir we should have had, had you stood there.
WAL. Why, would it not vex one to hear the ass
Stand prating here of dit and dan, and den and dog?
HAR. One of thy mettle, Ned, would surely do it.
But peace, and hark to the rest.
DEL. Do no de fine gentlewoman Maitresse Mathe dwell in this
plashe?
HEIGH. No, sir; here dwells none of your fine gentlewomen:
'twere a good deed, sirrah, to see who you are. You come hither
to steal my glasses, and then counterfeit you are going to your
quean's.
DEL. I be deceve dis dark night. Here be no wensh, I be no in
de right plashe. I pray, monsieur, wat be name dis street, and
wish be de way to Croche Friars?
HEIGH. Marry, this is Fenchurch Street, and the best way to
Crutched Friars is to follow your nose.
DEL. Vanshe Street! How shance me come to Vanshe Street? Vel,
monsieur, we must aller to Croche Friars. [_Exit_ DELION.
WAL. Farewell, fortypence,[526] go seek you, signor. I hope
you'll find yourselves two dolts anon. Hush, Ferdinand, I hear
the last come stamping hither.
_Enter_ FRISCO.
FRIS. Ha! sirrah, I have left my fat Dutchman, and run myself
almost out of breath too. Now to my young mistresses go I;
somebody cast an old shoe after me.[527] But soft: how shall I
do to counterfeit the Dutchman, because I speak English so like
a natural? Tush, take you no thought for that; let me alone for
_squintum squantum_. Soft, here's my master's house.
HEIGH. Who's there?
FRIS. Who's there, why, sir, here is--nay, that's too good
English. Why, here be the growte Dutchman.
HEIGH. Then, there's not only a growte head, but an ass also.
FRIS. What be you? you be an English ox to call a gentilemoan
ass.
HAR. Hark, Ned; yonder's good greeting.
FRIS. But you, and you be Master Mouse that dwell here, tell
your Matressa Laurentia dat her sweetheart, Master Vandal,
would speak with her.
HEIGH. Master Mendall, get you gone, lest you get a broken
pate, and so mar all. Here's no entrance for Mistress
Laurentia's sweetheart.
FRIS. God's sacren, wat is de luck now? Shall not I come to my
friend Master Pisar hoose?
HEIGH. Yes, and to Master Pisaro's shoes too,[528] if he or
they were here.
FRIS. Why, my growte friend, Master Pisaro, doth dwell here.
HEIGH. Sirrah, you lie; here dwells nobody but I, that have
dwelt here this one and forty years, and sold glasses.
WAL. Lie farther: one and fifty at the least.
[_Aside._
FRIS. Hoo, hoo, hoo? Do you give the gentleman the lie?
HAR. Ay, sir, and will give you a lick of my cudgel, if ye stay
long and trouble the whole street with your bawling. Hence,
dolt, and go seek Master Pisaro's house.
FRIS. Go seek Master Pisaro's house! Where shall I go seek it?
HEIGH. Why, you shall go seek it where it is.
FRIS. That is here, in Crutched Friars?
HEIGH. How, loggerhead, is Crutched Friars here? I thought you
were some such drunken ass, that come to seek Crutched Friars
in Tower Street. But get you along on your left hand, and be
hanged! You have kept me out of my bed with your bangling a
good while longer than I would have been.
FRIS. Ah, ah! How is this? Is not this Crutched Friars? Tell
me. I'll hold a crown they gave me so much wine at the tavern,
that I am drunk, and know not on't. [_Aside._
HAR. My Dutchman's out his compass and his card;
He's reck'ning what wind hath drove him hither.
I'll swear he thinks never to see Pisaro's.
FRIS. Nay, 'tis so; I am sure drunk. Soft, let me see, what was
I about? O, now I have it: I must go to my master's house and
counterfeit the Dutchman, and get my young mistress. Well, and
I must turn on my left hand, for I have forgot the way quite
and clean, [_Aside._] Fare de well, good friend; I am a simple
Dutchman, I. [_Exit_ FRISCO.
HEIGH. Fair weather after you: and now, my lads,
Have I not played my part as I should do?
HAR. 'Twas well, 'twas well. But now, let's cast about,
To set these woodcocks farther from the house,
And afterwards return unto our girls.
WAL. Content, content. Come, come, make haste. [_Exeunt._
_Enter_ ALVARO.
ALV. I go and turn, and dan I come to dis plashe, I can no tell
waer, and sal do I can no tell wat. Turn by the pump? I pump it
fair.
_Enter_ DELION.
DEL. Me aller, end aller, and can no come to Croche Friars.
_Enter_ FRISCO.
FRIS. O miserable black pudding! If I can tell which is the
way to my master's house, I am a red herring, and no honest
gentleman.
ALV. Who parlato daer?
DEL. Who be der? Who aller der?
FRIS. How's this? For my life, here are the strangers! O, that
I had the Dutchman's hose, that I might creep into the pockets!
they'll three fall upon me, and beat me.
ALV. Who go der ander?
DEL. Ami.
FRIS. O, brave! Tis nobody but Master Alvaro and the Frenchman
going to our house, on my life. Well, I'll have some sport with
them, if the watch hinder me not. Who goes there?
DEL. Who parle der? In wat plashe, in wat street be you?
FRIS. Why, sir, I can tell where I am. I am in Tower Street:
where a devil be you?
DEL. I be here in Leadenhall.
FRIS. In Leadenhall? I trow I shall meet with you anon. In
Leadenhall? What a simple ass is this Frenchman! Some more of
this. [_Aside._
Where are you, sir?
ALV. Moi? I be here in Vanshe Street.
FRIS. This is excellent, i' faith; as fit as a fiddle! I in
Tower Street, you in Leadenhall, and the third in Fenchurch
Street; and yet all three hear one another, and all three speak
together. Either we must be all three in Leadenhall, or all
three in Tower Street, or all three in Fenchurch Street, or
all three fools.
ALV. Monsieur gentlehomme, can you well teash de way to Cruche
Friars?
FRIS. How, to Crutched Friars? Ay, ay, ay, sir, passing well,
if you will follow me.
DEL. Ay, dat me sal, monsieur gentlehomme, and give you tanks.
FRIS. And, Monsieur Alvaro, I shall lead you such a jaunt that
you shall scarce give me thanks for. [_Aside._] Come, sirs,
follow me. Now for a dirty puddle, the pissing conduit, or a
great post, that might turn these two from asses to oxen by
knocking their horns to their foreheads.
ALV. Where be de now, signor?
FRIS. Even where you will, signor, for I know not. Soft, I
smell: O pure nose!
DEL. What do you smell?
FRIS. I have the scent of London stone as full in my nose, as
Abchurch Lane of mother Wall's pasties. Sirs, feel about: I
smell London stone.
ALV. What be dis?
FRIS. Soft, let me see; feel, I should say, for I cannot see. O
lads, pray for my life, for we are almost at Crutched Friars.
DEL. Dat's good: but what be dis post?
FRIS. This post? why, 'tis the Maypole on Ivy Bridge going to
Westminster.
DEL. Ho[w,] Westminster! how come we to Westminster?
FRIS. Why, on your legs, fools: how should you go? Soft, here's
another; O, now I know indeed where I am. We are now at the
farthest end of Shoreditch; for this is the Maypole.
DEL. Shoreditch? O Dio! dere be some naughty ting, some spirit
do lead us.
FRIS. You say true, sir, for I am afeard your French spirit is
up so far already, that you brought me this way, because you
would find a charm for it at the Blue Boar in the spital. But
soft, who comes here?
_Enter a_ BELLMAN.
BEL. Maids in your smocks,
Look well to your locks;
Your fire and light;
And God give you good night!
DEL. Monsieur gentlehomme, I pray parlez one, two, three, four
words vor us to dis oul man.
FRIS. Yes, marry, shall I, sir. I pray, honest fellow, in what
street be we?
BEL. Ho, Frisco! whither frisk you at this time of night?
DEL. What, Monsieur Frisco?
ALV. Signor Frisco?
FRIS. The same, the same. Hark ye, honesty; methinks you might
do well to have an M under your girdle,[529] considering how
Signor Pisaro and this other monsieur do hold of me.
BEL. O sir, I cry your mercy: pardon this fault, and I'll do as
much for you the next time.
FRIS. Well, passing over superfluical talk, I pray, what street
is this? for it is so dark, I know not where I am.
BEL. Why, art thou drunk? Dost thou not know Fenchurch Street?
FRIS. Ay, sir, a good fellow may sometimes be overseen among
friends. I was drinking with my master and these gentlemen, and
therefore no marvel, though I be none of the wisest at this
present. But I pray thee, good-man Butterick, bring me to my
master's house.
BEL. Why, I will, I will: push! that you are so strange
nowadays; but it is an old-said saw, honours change manners.
FRIS. Good-man Butterick, will you walk afore?
Come, honest friends, will you go to our house?
DEL. Oui, Monsieur Frisco.
ALV. Si, Signor Frisco.
SCENE II.
_Enter_ VANDAL.
VAN. O de skellum Frisco, ic weit neit waer ic be, ic go and
hit my nose op dit post, and ic go and hit my nose op dandern
post. O de villain! Well, waer ben ic now? Haw laet sein is
dut neit Croche Friar, ya seker so ist and dit Mester Pisaro's
huis. O de good shaunce! well, ic sal now have de wenche.
Laurentia, Mestris Laurentia!
_Enter_ LAURENTIA, MARINA, MATHEA, _above_.
MAR. Who's there? Master Harvey?
MATH. Master Walgrave?
LAUR. Master Heigham?
VAN. Ya, my love, here be Mester Heigham, your groot frind.
MAR. How, Master Heigham, my groot frinde?
Out, alas! here's one of the strangers.
LAUR. Peace, you mammet! let's see which it is. We may chance
teach him a strange trick for his learning. Master Heigham,
what wind drives you to our house so late?
VAN. O my lief meskin, de love tol you be so groot, dat it
bring me out my bed voor you.
MATH. Ha, ha! we know the ass by his ears: it is the Dutchman.
What shall we do with him?
LAUR. Peace! let him not know that you are here. Master
Heigham, if you will stay awhile, that I may see if my father
be asleep, and I'll make means we may come together.
VAN. Dat sal ic, my loove. Is dit no well counterfet? I speak
so like Mester Heigham, as 'tis possible.
LAUR. Well, what shall we do with this lubber--Lover, I should
say?
MATH. What shall we do with him?
Why, crown him with a----
MAR. Fie, slut! No, we'll use him cleanlier. You know we have
never a sign at the door: would not the jest prove current to
make the Dutchman supply that want.
LAUR. Nay, the fool will cry out, and so wake my father.
MATH. Why, then we'll cut the rope and cast him down.
LAUR. And so jest out a hanging. Let's rather draw him up in
the basket, and so starve him to death this frosty night.
MAR. In sadness, well-advised. Sister, do you hold him in talk,
and we'll provide it the whilst.
LAUR. Go to, then. Master Heigham, O sweet
Master Heigham!
Doth my father think that his unkindness
Can part you and poor Laurentia? No, no,
I have found a drift to bring you to my chamber,
If you have but the heart to venture it.
VAN. Ventre? sal ic go to de sea, and be de sea, and o'er de
sea, and in de sea, voor my sweet love.
LAUR. Then you dare go into a basket? for I know no other means
to enjoy your company than so, for my father hath the keys of
the door.
VAN. Sal ic climb up tot you? sal ic fly up tot you? sal ic?
what sedgy?
MATH. Bid him do it, sister; we shall see his cunning.
LAUR. O, no; so you[530] may catch a fall. There, Master
Heigham, put yourself into that basket, and I will draw you up.
But no words, I pray you, for fear my sisters hear you.
VAN. No, no, no word. O de sout wench! Ic come, ic come!
LAUR. Are you ready, Master Heigham?
VAN. Ya ic, my sout lady.
MAR. Merrily then, my wenches.
LAUR. How heavy the ass is! Master Heigham, is there any in the
basket but yourself?
VAN. Neit, neit; dare be no man.
LAUR. Are you up, sir?
VAN. Neit, neit.
MAR. Nor never are you like to climb more higher.
Sisters, the woodcock's caught, the fool is cag'd!
VAN. My sout lady, I be noc neit up; pull me tot you.
MATH. When, can you tell? what, Master Vandal?
A weather-beaten soldier, an old wencher,
Thus to be overreach'd by three young girls!
Ah! sirrah, now we'll brag with Mistress Moore,
To have as fine a parrot as she hath.
Look, sisters, what a pretty fool it is!
What a green, greasy, shining coat he hath.
An almond for parrot! a rope for parrot![531]
VAN. Do you mocque me? seger, seger, I sal seg your vader.
LAUR. Do, and you dare: you see here is your fortune.
Disquiet not my father; if you do,
I'll send you with a vengeance to the ground.
Well, we must confess we trouble you,
And over-watching makes a wise man mad,
Much more a fool: there's a cushion for you.
MATH. To bore you through the nose.[532] [_Aside._
LAUR. To lay your head on.
Couch in your kennel, sleep, and fall to rest,
And so good night; for London maids scorn still,
A Dutchman should be seen to curb their will.
VAN. Hort ye, daughter, hort ye, God's seker-kin? will ye no
let me come tot you? ic bid you let me come tot you. Wat sal
ic don? ic would neit vor un hundred pound Alvaro and Delion
should see me op dit manner. Well, wat sal ic don? ic mout neit
call, vor de wenshes will cut de rope and break my neck. Ic
sal here bleiven til de morning, and dan ic sal call to Mester
Pisaro, and make him shafe and shite his dauctors. O de skellum
Frisco! O dese cruel hores!
_Enter_ PISARO.
PIS. I'll put the light out, lest I be espied;
For closely I have stolen me forth a-doors,
That I might know how my three sons have sped.
Now, afore God, my heart is passing light,
That I have overreach'd the Englishmen.
Ha, ha! Master Vandal, many such nights
Will 'suage your big-swoll'n bulk, and make it lank.
When I was young--yet though my hairs be grey,
I have a young man's spirit to the death,
And can as nimbly trip it with a girl
As those which fold the spring-tide in their beards.
Lord, how the very thought of former times
Supples these near-dried limbs with activeness!
Well, thoughts are shadows, sooner lost than seen.
Now to my daughters and their merry night.
I hope Alvaro and his company
Have read to them moral philosophy,
And they are full with it. Here I'll stay,
And tarry, till my gallant youths come forth.
_Enter_ HARVEY, WALGRAVE, _and_ HEIGHAM.
HEIGH. You madman, wild-oats, madcap! where art thou?
WAL. Here afore.
HAR. O, 'ware what love is! Ned hath found the scent;
And if the coney chance to miss her borough,
She's overborne, i' faith; she cannot stand it.
PIS. I know that voice, or I am much deceived.
HEIGH. Come, why loiter we? this is the door.
But soft; here's one asleep.
WAL. Come, let me feel.
O, 'tis some rogue or other: spurn him, spurn him.
HAR. Be not so wilful, prythee: let him lie.
HEIGH. Come back, come back; for we are past the house:
Yonder's Mathea's chamber with the light.
PIS. Well, fare a head, or I had been descried.
God's me! what makes the youngsters here so late?
I am "a rogue, and spurn him:" well, Jack-sauce,
The rogue is waking yet to spoil your sport. [_Aside._
WAL. Mat, Mistress Mathea! where be these girls?
_Enter_ MATHEA _alone above_.
MAT. Who's there below?
WAL. Thy Ned, kind Ned, thine honest trusty Ned.
MAT. No, no, it is the Frenchman in his stead,
That Monsieur Motleycoat, that can dissemble.
Hear you, Frenchman, pack to your whores in France:
Though I am Portingal by the father's side,
And therefore should be lustful, wanton, light;
Yet, good-man Goosecap, I will let you know
That I have so much English by the mother,
That no base, slavering French shall make me stoop:
And so, Sir Dandelion, fare you well.
HEIGH. What, speechless? not a word? why, how now, Ned?[533]
HAR. The wench hath ta'en him down, he hangs his head.
WAL. You Dandelion, you that talk so well,
Hark you a word or two, good Mistress Mat:
Did you appoint your friends to meet you here,
And being come, tell us of whores in France,
A Spanish jennet and an English mare,
A mongrel, half a dog and half a bitch,
With trandido, dildido, and I know not what?
Hear you, if you'll run away with Ned,
And be content to take me as you find me,
Why so--la, I am yours: if otherwise,
You'll change your Ned to be a Frenchman's trull!
Why then, Madame Delion, je vous laisserai a Dieu et la bonne fortune.
MATH. That voice assures me that it is my love.
Say truly, art thou my Ned? art thou my love?
WAL. 'Swounds! who should I be but Ned?
You make me swear.
_Enter above_ MARINA.
MAR. Who speak you to? Mathea, who's below?
HAR. Marina.
MAR. Young Master Harvey? for that voice saith so.
_Enter_ LAURENTIA.
LAUR. Speak, sister Mat, is not my true love there?
MATH. Ned is.
LAUR. Not Master Heigham?
HEIGH. Laurentia! here.
LAUR. I' faith, thou art welcome.
HEIGH. Better cannot fall.
MATH. Sweet, so art thou.
MAR. As much to mine.
LAUR. Nay, gentles, welcome all.
PIS. Here's cunning harlotries! They feed these off
With welcome and kind words, whilst other lads
Revel in that delight they should possess.
Good girls, I promise you, I like you well. [_Aside._
MAR. Say, Master Harvey: saw you, as you came,
That lecher, which my sire appoints my man?
I mean that wanton, base Italian,
That Spanish-leather spruce companion,
That antique ape, trick'd up in fashion?
Had the ass come, I'd learn him difference been
Betwixt an English gentleman and him.
HEIGH. How would you use him, sweet, if he should come?
MAR. Nay nothing, sweet, but only wash his crown.
Why, the ass wooes in such an amorous key,
That he presumes no wench should say him nay:
He slavers on[534] his fingers, wipes his bill,
And swears, "in faith you shall," "in faith I will;"
That I am almost mad to bide his wooing.
HEIGH. Look, what he said in word, I'll act in doing.
WAL. Leave thought of him--for day steals on apace--
And to our loves. Will you perform your words?
All things are ready, and the parson stands,
To join our[535] hearts in hearts, our hands in hands.
Night favours us, the thing is quickly done;
Then truss up bag and baggage, and begone;
And ere the morning, to augment your joys,
We'll make you mothers of six goodly boys.
HEIGH. Promise them three, good Ned, and say no more.
WAL. But I'll get three, and if I get not four.
PIS. There's a sound card at maw[536]--a lusty lad!
Your father thought him well, when one he had.
HEIGH. What say you, sweets? will you perform your words?
MATH. Love to true love no lesser meed affords.
We say we love you, and that love's fair breath
Shall lead us with you round about the earth:
And that our loves, vows, words, may all prove true.
Prepare your arms; for thus we fly to you. [_They embrace._[537]
WAL. This works like wax. Now, ere to-morrow day,
If you two ply it but as well as I,
We'll work our lands out of Pisaro's daughters,
And cancel all our bonds in their great bellies.
When the slave knows it, how the rogue will curse!
MATH. Sweetheart.
WAL. Mat.
MATH. Where art thou?
PIS. Here.
MATH. O Jesus! here's our father.
WAL. The devil he is!
HAR. Master Pisaro, twenty times good morrow,
PIS. Good-morrow? now, I tell you, gentlemen,
You wrong and move my patience overmuch.
What, will you rob me, kill me, cut my throat,
And set mine own blood here against me too?
You huswives, baggages, or what is worse.
Wilful, stubborn, [and] disobedient!
Use it not, gentlemen; abuse me not,
Newgate hath room, there's law enough in England.
HEIGH. Be not so testy; hear what we can say.
PIS. Will you be wiv'd? first learn to keep a wife:
Learn to be thrifty, learn to keep your lands,
And learn to pay your debts too, I advise, else----
WAL. What else? what lands? what debts? what will you do?
Have you our land in mortgage for your money?
Nay, since 'tis so, we owe you not a penny.
Fret not, fume not, never bend the brow:
You take ten in the hundred more than law.
We can complain--extortion--simony--
Newgate hath room, there's law enough in England.
HEIGH. Prythee, have done.
WAL. Prythee me no prythees.
Here is my wife! 'sblood, touch her, if thou dar'st.
Hear'st thou, I'll lie with her before thy face
Against the Cross in Cheap--here--anywhere,
What, you old crafty fox, you--
HEIGH. Ned, stop there.
PIS. Nay, nay, speak out; bear witness, gentlemen.
Where's Mouche? charge my musket! bring me my bill!
For here are some that mean to rob thy master.
_Enter_ ANTHONY.
I am a fox with you; well, Jack-sauce,
Beware, lest for a goose I prey on you.
[_Exeunt_ PISARO _and daughters_.
In, baggages! Mouche, make fast the door.
WAL. A vengeance on ill luck!
ANTH. What, never storm,
But bridle anger with wise government.
HEIGH. Whom? Anthony, our friend! Ah, now our hopes
Are found too light to balance our ill-haps.
ANTH. Tut, ne'er say so, for Anthony
Is not devoid of means to help his friends.
WAL. 'Swounds! what a devil made he forth so late?
I'll lay my life, 'twas he that feigned to sleep,
And we, all unsuspicious, term'd a rogue.
O God! had I but known him, if I had,
I would have writ such letters with my sword
Upon the bald skin of his parching pate,
That he should ne'er have liv'd to cross us more.
ANTH. These menaces are vain, and helpeth nought;
But I have, in the depth of my conceit,
Found out a more material stratagem.
Hark, Master Walgrave, your's craves quick despatch,
About it straight, stay not to say farewell.
[_Exit_ WALGRAVE.
You, Master Heigham, hie you to your chamber,
And stir not forth: my shadow, or myself,
Will in the morning early visit you.
Build on my promise, sir, and so good night.
[_Exit_ HEIGHAM.
Last, yet as great in love as to the first,
If you remember, once I told a jest
How, feigning to be sick, a friend of mine
Possess'd the happy issue of his love.
That counterfeited humour must you play;
I need not to instruct, you can conceive,
Use Master Brown, your host, as chief in this:
But first, to make the matter seem more true,
Sickly and sadly bid the churl good night.
I hear him at the window: there he is.
_Enter_ PISARO _above_.
Now for a trick to overreach the devil.
I tell you, sir, you wrong my master much,
And then to make amends, you give hard words:
H' hath been a friend to you; nay, more, a father.
I promise you, 'tis most ungently done.
PIS. Ay, well said, Mouche; now I see thy love,
And thou shalt see mine one day, if I live.--
None but my daughter, sir, hangs for your tooth:
[_Aside._
I'd rather see them hang'd first, ere you get them.
HAR. Master Pisaro, hear a dead man speak.
Who sings the woful accents of his end.
I do confess I love; then, let not love
Prove the sad engine of my life's remove.
Marina's rich possession was my bliss:
Then in her loss all joy eclipsed is.
As every plant takes virtue of the sun,
So from her eyes this life and being sprung;
But now, debarred of those clear-shining rays,
Death for earth gapes, and earth to death obeys.
Each word thou spak'st (O, speak not so again)
Bore death's true image on the word engraven;
Which as it flew, mix'd with heaven's airy breath,
Summon'd the dreadful sessions of my death.
I leave thee to thy wish, and may th' event
Prove equal to thy hope and heart's content.
Marina to that hap that happiest is!
My body to the grave, my soul to bliss.--
Have I done well? [_Exit_ HARVEY.
ANTH. Excellent well, in troth.
PIS. Ay, go, ay, go: your words move me as much,
As doth a stone being cast against the air,
But soft, what light is that? What folks be those?
O, 'tis Alvaro and his other friends,
I'll down and let them in. [_Exit._
_Enter_ BELLMAN, FRISCO, VANDAL, DELION, _and_ ALVARO.
FRIS. Where are we now, gaffer Butterick?
BEL. Why, know you not Crutched Friars? where be your wits?
ALV. What be this Croshe Friars? vedte padre dare; tack you
dat; me sal troble you no far.
BEL. I thank you, gentlemen, good night:
Good night, Frisco. [_Exit_ BELLMAN.
FRIS. Farewell, Butterick: what a clown it is.
Come on, my masters, merrily: I'll knock at the door.
ANTH. Who's there? Our three wise wooers?
Blockhead our man?
Had he not been, they might have hang'd themselves,
For any wenches they had hit upon.
Good morrow or good den,[538] I know not whether.
DEL. Monsieur La Mouche, what mack you out de huis so late?
_Enter_ PISARO _below_.
PIS. What, what; young men and sluggards? fie for shame!
You trifle time at home about vain toys,
Whilst others in the meantime steal your brides.
I tell you, sir, the English gentlemen
Had well-nigh mated you and me, and all.
The doors were open, and the girls abroad:
Their sweethearts ready to receive them, too;
And gone, forsooth, they had been, had not I
(I think by revelation) stopp'd their flight.
But I have coop'd them up, and so will keep them.
But, sirrah Frisco, where's the man I sent for?
Whose cloak have you got there? How now?
Where's Vandal?
FRIS. Forsooth, he is not here: Master Mendall, you mean, do
you not?
PIS. Why, loggerhead, him I sent for; where is he?
Where hast thou been? How hast thou spent thy time?
Did I not send thee to my son Vandal?
FRIS. Ay, Monsieur Mendall. Why, forsooth, I was at his
chamber, and we were coming hitherward, and he was very hot,
and bad me carry his cloak; and I no sooner had it, but he
(being very light) firks me down on the left hand, and I turn'd
down on the left hand, and so lost him.
PIS. Why, then you turn'd together, ass?
FRIS. No, sir, we never saw one another since.
PIS. Why, turn'd you not both on the left hand?
FRIS. No, forsooth: we turned both on the left hand.
PIS. Heyday! Why, yet you went both together.
FRIS. Ah, no! we went clean contrary, one from another.
PIS. Why, dolt--why, patch--why, ass, on which hand turned ye?
FRIS. Alas, alas! I cannot tell, forsooth: it was so dark I
could not see on which hand we turned; but I am sure we turned
one way.
PIS. Was ever creature plagued with such a dolt?
My son Vandal now hath lost himself,
And shall all night go straying 'bout the town;
Or meet with some strange watch that knows him not,
And all by such an arrant ass as this!
ANTH. No, no, you may soon smell the Dutchman's lodging.
Now for a figure--Out, alas! what's yonder?
PIS. Where?
FRIS. Heyday! heyday! a basket? It turns, ho!
PIS. Peace, ye villain, and let's see who's there?
Go, look about the house! Where are our weapons?
What might this mean?
FRIS. Look, look, look! There's one in it; he peeps out.
Is there ne'er a stone here to hurl at his nose?
PISA. What, wouldst thou break my windows with a stone?
How now, who's there I who are you, sir?
FRIS. Look, he peeps out again! O, it's Monsieur Mendall, it's
Monsieur Mendall. How got he up thither?
PIS. What, my son Vandal! how comes this to pass?
ALV. Signor Vandal, wat, do yo go to de wensh in dit little
basket.
VAN. O vader, vader! here be sush cruel dochterkins, ic ben
all so weary, all so weary, all so cold, for be in dit little
basket. Ic pray help de me.
FRIS. He looks like the sign of the Mouth without Bishopsgate
gaping: a great face and a great head, and no body.
PIS. Why, how now, son! What, have your adamants
Drawn you up so far, and there left you hanging
'Twixt heaven and earth, like Mahomet's sepulchre?
ANTH. They did unkindly, whosoe'er they were,
That plagued him here, like Tantalus in hell,
To touch his lips like the desired fruit,
And then to snatch it from his gaping chaps.
ALV. A little farder, Signer Vandal, and den may put you head
into de window, and cash de wensh.
VAN. Ic pray, vader, dat you help de me; ic pray, goody vader.
PIS. Help you, but how?
FRIS. Cut the rope.
ANTH. Sir, I'll go in and see.
And if I can, I'll let him down to you. [_Exit_ ANTHONY.
PIS. Do, gentle Mouche. Why, but here's a jest.
They say, high climbers have the greatest falls.
If you should fall, as how you'll do, I know not,
By'r Lady, I should doubt me of my son.
Pray to the rope to hold. Art thou there, Mouche?
_Enter_ ANTHONY _above_.
ANTH. Yes, sir. Now, you may choose whether you'll stay till I
let him down, or whether I shall cut him down?
FRIS. Cut him down, Master Mouse; cut him down, and let's see
how he'll tumble.
PIS. Why, sauce, who ask'd your counsel! let him down.
What, with a cushion too? why you provided
To lead your life as did Diogenes;
And for a tub to creep into a basket.
VAN. Ic sal seg you, vader, ic came here to your huis, and
spreak tol de dochterkin.
FRIS. Master Mendall, you are welcome out of the basket. I
smell a rat: it was not for nothing that you lost me.
VAN. O skellum! you run away from me.
PIS. I thought so, sirrah; you gave him the slip.
FRIS. Faugh! no, forsooth, I'll tell you how it was. When we
came from Bucklersbury into Cornhill, and I had taken the
cloak, then you should have turned down on your left hand, and
so have gone right forward, and so turned up again, and so have
crossed the street; and you, like an ass----
PIS. Why, how now, rascal, is your manners such?
You ass! you dolt! why led you him through Cornhill?
Your way had been to come through Canning Street.[539]
FRIS. Why, so I did, sir.
PIS. Why, thou sayest ye were in Cornhill?
FRIS. Indeed, sir, there were three faults: the night was dark,
Master Mendall drunk, and I sleepy, that we could not tell very
well which way we went.
PIS. Sirrah, I owe for this a cudgelling.
But, gentlemen, sith things have fallen out so,
And for I see Vandal quakes for cold,
This night accept your lodgings in my house,
And in the morning forward with your marriage.
Come on, my sons; sirrah, fetch up more wood. [_Exeunt._
FOOTNOTES:
[523] Frisco puts on Vandal's cloak.
[524] Heigham pretends that he is a dealer in glasses.
[525] Another name for a clown or fool.
[526] [A proverbial expression, of which this appears to be the
earliest occurrence in print. Its import is not particularly clear;
but see Hazlitt's "Proverbs," 1869, p. 128.]
[527] _i.e._, For luck in his undertaking.
[528] Playing upon the words _hose_ and _shoes_.
[529] A common expression in old writers, indicating that some party
has not been treated with sufficient respect. M is short for Master,
and Frisco addresses himself to the Bellman, who had merely called him
Frisco. Thus, in "Eastward Ho!" act iv. sc. 1, Quicksilver asks, "Must
Golding sit upon us?" To which the constable replies, "You might carry
an M under your girdle."
[530] The copy of 1616 has it as it is here reprinted, but the two
later editions read, _O no, so he may catch a fall_, as if replying to
Mathea.
[531] This expression seems to be proverbial, and Nash or Lilly
(for the authorship is disputed) used it as the title to one of the
Mar Martin tracts. Skelton, in his poem, "Speak Parrot," has the
expression, "Parrot must have an almond." It is met with in Middleton's
"Spanish Gipsy," act ii. sc. 1; in Ben Jonson's "Magnetic Lady," act v.
sc. 5; in Dekker's "Fortunatus," act i. sc. 1, and various other plays.
The lines from Butler are in point with reference to the latter part of
the line, _a rope for parrot_.
Could tell what subtlest parrots mean;
What member 'tis of whom they talk,
When they cry "_rope_" and "walk, knava, walk."
[532] [A play on the double meaning of the word _cushion_.]
[533] In all the quartos this line is given to Walgrave: it appears to
belong to Heigham, as Harvey speaks next.
[534] Old copies, _not_.
[535] Old copies, _join, as_.
[536] Maw is a game at cards, frequently mentioned in old writers.
[Probably the four was the best card.]
[537] Of course, coming down upon the stage first, as the preceding
dialogue takes place while the lovers are below and the ladies above.
[538] Even.
[539] Now called Cannon Street.
ACT V., SCENE I.
_Enter the three Sisters_.
LAUR. Nay, never weep, Marina, for the matter;
Tears are but signs of sorrow, helping not.
MAR. Would it not mad one to be crossed as I,
Being in the very height of my desire?
The strangers frustrate all; our true loves come,
Nay more, even at the door, and Harvey's arms
Spread as a rainbow, ready to receive me,
And then my father meet us. O God! O God!
MATH. Weep who that list for me, i' faith, not I,
Though I am youngest, yet my stomach's great.
Nor 'tis not father, friends, nor any one,
Shall make me wed the man I cannot love.
I'll have my will in faith; i' faith, I will.
LAUR. Let us determine, sisters, what to do.
My father means to wed us in the morning,
And therefore something must be thought upon.
MAR. We'll to our father, and so know his mind,
Ay, and his reason too: we are no fools,
Or babies neither, to be fed with words.
LAUR. Agreed, agreed: but who shall speak for all?
MATH. I will.
MAR. No, I.
LAUR. Thou wilt not speak for crying.
MAR. Yes, yes, I warrant you; that humour's left.
Be I but mov'd a little. I shall speak,
And anger him, I fear, ere I have done.
_Enter_ ANTHONY.
ALL. Whom? Anthony, our friend, our schoolmaster?
Now help us, gentle Anthony, or never.
ANTH. What! is your hasty running chang'd to prayer?
Say, where were you going?
LAUR. Even to our father,
To know what he intends to do with us.
ANTH. 'Tis bootless, trust me; for he is resolv'd
To marry you to--
MAR. The strangers?
ANTH. I' faith, he is.
MATH. Faith, he shall not.
Frenchman, be sure we'll pluck a crow together,
Before you force me give my hand at church.
MAR. Come to our father: speech this comfort finds,
That we may scold out grief, and ease our minds.
ANTH. Stay, stay, Marina, and advise you better.
It is not force, but policy must serve.
The doors are lock'd: your father keeps the key;
Wherefore unpossible to 'scape away:
Yet have I plotted, and devis'd a drift
To frustrate your intended marriages,
And give you full possession of your joys.
Laurentia, ere the morning's light appear,
You must play Anthony in my disguise.
MATH. } Anthony, what of us? What shall we wear?
MAR. }
ANTH. Soft, soft, you are too forward, girls, I swear,
For you some other drift devis'd must be:
One shadow for a substance; this is she,--
Nay, weep not, sweets, repose upon my care,
For all alike, or good or bad, shall share.
You will have Harvey, you Heigham, and you Ned.
You shall have all your wish, or be I dead;
For sooner may one day the sea lie still,
Than once restrain a woman of her will.
ALL. Sweet Anthony, how shall we 'quite thy hire?
ANTH. Not gifts, but your contentments I desire:
To help my countrymen I cast about,
For strangers' loves blaze fresh, but soon burn out.
Sweet rest dwell here, and frightful fear abjure:
These eyes shall wake to make your rest secure;
For ere again dull night the dull eyes charms,
Each one shall fold her husband in her arms;
Which if it chance, we may avouch it still,
Women and maids will always have their will. [_Exeunt._
SCENE II.
_Enter_ PISARO _and_ FRISCO.
PIS. Are wood and coals brought up to make a fire?
Is the meat spitted, ready to lie down?
For bake-meats I'll have none, the world's too hard.
There's geese, too, now I remember me;
Bid Maudlin lay the giblets in paste.
Here's nothing thought upon, but what I do.
Stay, Frisco, see who rings: look to the door,
Let none come in, I charge, were he my father.
[_Exit_ FRISCO.
I'll keep them, whilst I have them. Frisco, who is it?
_Re-enter_ FRISCO.
FRIS. She is come, in faith.
PIS. Who is come?
FRIS. Mistress Sushance, Mistress Moore's daughter.
PIS. Mistress Susan, ass? O, she must come in.
FRIS. Hang him, if he keep out a wench:
If the wench keep not out him, so it is.
_Enter_ WALGRAVE _in woman's attire_.
PIS. Welcome, Mistress Susan, welcome.
I little thought you would have come to-night;
But welcome (trust me) are you to my house.
What, doth your mother mend? doth she recover?
I promise you, I am sorry for her sickness.
WAL. She's better than she was, I thank God for it.
PIS. Now, afore God, she is a sweet, smug girl!
One might do good on her; the flesh is frail,
Man hath infirmity, and such a bride
Were able to change age to hot desire.
Hark you, sweetheart:
To-morrow are my daughters to be wed,
I pray you, take the pains to go with them.
WAL. If, sir, you'll give me leave, I'll wait on them.
PIS. Yes, marry, shall you, and a thousand thanks:
Such company as you my daughters want;
Maids must grace maids when they are married.
Is't not a merry life, think'st thou, to wed,
For to embrace, and to be embrac'd abed.
WAL. I know not what you mean, sir.
Here's an old ferret, pole-cat. [_Aside._
PIS. You may do, if you'll follow mine advice.
I tell thee, mouse, I knew a wench as nice.
Well, she's at rest, poor soul, I mean my wife:
That thought (alas! good heart) love was a toy,
Until--well, that time is gone and pass'd away--
But why speak I of this? Hark ye, sweeting,
There's more in wedlock than the name can show;
And now (by'r Lady) you are ripe in years.
And yet take heed, wench, there lies a pad in straw;
WAL. Old fornicator! had I my dagger,
I'd break his costard. [_Aside._
PIS. Young men are slippery, fickle, wavering;
Constant abiding graceth none but age;
Then maids should now wax wise, and [should] do so,
As to choose constant men, let fickle go.
Youth's unregarded and unhonoured:
An ancient man doth make a maid a matron,
And is not that an honour, how say you?
How say you?
WAL. Yes, forsooth.
O old lust, will you never let me go. [_Aside._
PIS. You say right well; and do but think thereon,
How husband's honour'd years, long car'd-for wealth,
Wise stayedness, experienc'd government,
Doth grace the maid, that thus is made a wife,
And you will wish yourself such, on my life.
WAL. I think I must turn womankind altogether, and scratch out
his eyes; for as long as he can see me, he'll ne'er let me go.
[_Aside._
PIS. But go, sweetheart, to bed: I do thee wrong.
The lateness now makes all our talk seem long. [_Exit._
How now, Mouche, be the girls abed?
ANTH. Mathea, and it like you, fain would sleep,
But only tarrieth for her bed-fellow.
PIS. Ha! say you well: come, light her to her chamber.
Good rest wish I to thee. Wish so to me;
Then Susan and Pisaro shall agree.
Think but what joy is near your bed-fellow:
Such may be yours. Take counsel of your pillow:
To-morrow we'll talk more; and so good night,
Think what is said may be, if all hit right.
WAL. What, have I pass'd the pikes? knows he not Ned?
I think I have deserved his daughter's bed.
ANTH. 'Tis well, 'tis well: but this let me request,
You keep unknown, till you be laid to rest:
And then a good hand speed you.
WAL. Tut, ne'er fear me,
We two abed shall never disagree.
[_Exeunt_ ANTHONY _and_ WALGRAVE.
FRIS. I have stood still all this while, and could not speak
for laughing. Lord! what a dialogue hath there been between
age and youth. You do good on her? even as much as my Dutchman
will do on my young mistress. Master, follow my counsel, then;
send for Master Heigham to help him, for I'll lay my cap to
twopence that he will be asleep to-morrow at night, when he
should go to bed to her. Marry, for the Italian, he is of
another humour, for there will be no dealings with him till
midnight; for he must slaver all the wenches in the house at
parting, or he is nobody. He hath been but a little while
at our house, yet in that small time he hath licked more
grease from our Maudlin's lips than would have served London
kitchenstuff this twelvemonth. Yet, for my money, well fare the
Frenchman! O, he is a forward lad, for he'll no sooner come
from the church but he'll fly to the chamber; why, he'll read
his lesson so often in the daytime, that at night, like an
apt scholar, he'll be ready to sell his old book to buy him a
new. O, the generations of languages that our house will bring
forth! why, every bed will have a proper speech to himself,
and have the founder's name written upon it in fair capital
letters, "Here lay," and so forth. [_Aside._
PIS. You'll be a villain still. Look, who's at door. [_Exit._
FRIS. Nay, by the mass, you are Master Porter, for I'll be
hanged if you lose that office, having so pretty a morsel under
your keeping. Ay, go, old huddle, for the best nose at smelling
out a penfold that I know. Well, take heed, you may 'haps pick
up worms so long, that at length some of them get into your
nose, and never out after. But what an ass am I to think so,
considering all the lodgings are taken up already, and there's
not a dog-kennel empty for a strange worm to breed in.
[_Aside._
SCENE III.
_Enter_ ANTHONY.
ANTH. The day is broke. Mathea and young Ned,
By this time, are so surely link'd together,
That none in London can forbid the banns.
Laurentia, she is near provided for;
So that if Harvey's policy but hold,
Elsewhere the strangers may go seek them wives.
But here they come.
_Enter_ PISARO _and_ BROWN.
PIS. Six o'clock, say you? Trust me, forward days.
Hark you, Mouche, hie you to church,
Bid Master Bewford be in readiness.
Where go you? that way?
ANTH. For my cloak, sir,
PIS. O, 'tis well. And, Master Brown,
Trust me, your early stirring makes me muse,
Is it to me your business?
BROWN. Even to yourself.
I come, I think, to bring you welcome news.
PIS. And welcome news more welcome makes the bringer.
Speak, speak, good Master Brown, I long to hear them.
BROWN. Then this it is. Young Harvey, late last night,
Full weak and sickly came unto his lodging.
From whence this sudden malady proceeds
'Tis all uncertain; the doctors and his friends
Affirm his health is unrecoverable.
Young Heigham and Ned Walgrave lately left him.
And I came hither to inform you of it.
PIS. Young Master Harvey sick? Now, afore God,
The news bites near the bone; for, should he die.
His living mortgaged would be redeem'd,
For not these three months doth the bond bear date!
Die now? Marry, God in heaven defend it!
O my sweet lands, lose thee I nay, lose my life!
And which is worst, I dare not ask mine own,
For I take two-and-twenty in the hundred,
When the law gives but ten. But should he live,
He careless would have left the debt unpaid,
Then had the lands been mine, Pisaro's own:
Mine, mine own land, mine own possession!
BROWN. Nay, hear me out.
PIS. You're out too much already,
Unless you give him life, and me his land.
BROWN. Whether 'tis love to you, or to your daughter,
I know not certain; but the gentleman
Hath made a deed of gift of all his lands
Unto your beauteous daughter, fair Marina.
PIS. Ha! say that word again, say it again!
A good thing cannot be too often spoken.
Marina, say you, are you sure 'twas she?
Or Mary, Margery, or some other maid?
BROWN. To none but [to] your daughter, fair Marina.
And for the gift might be more forcible,
Your neighbour Master Moore advised us
(Who is a witness of young Harvey's will),
Sick as he is, to bring him to your house.
I know they are not far, but do attend,
That they may know what welcome they shall have.
PIS. What welcome, sir? as welcome as new life
Given to the poor condemned prisoner!
Return, good Master Brown, assure their welcome:
Say it, nay, swear it: for they're welcome truly;
For welcome are they to me which bring gold.
See down who knocks?[540] It may be there they are.
Frisco, call down my sons: bid the girls rise!
Where's Mouche? What, is he gone or no?
_Enter_ LAURENTIA _in Anthony's attire_.
O, hear you, sirrah: bring along with you
Master Balsaro, the Spanish merchant.
LAUR. Many Balsaros I. I'll to my love,
And thanks to Anthony for this escape. [_Aside._
PIS. Stay, take us with you. Hark, they knock again.
Come, my soul's comfort, thou good-news-bringer!
I must needs hug thee, even for pure affection.
_Enter_ HARVEY, _brought in a chair_, MOORE,
BROWN, ALVARO, VANDAL, DELION, _and_
FRISCO.
PIS. Lift softly, good my friends, for hurting him.
Look cheerly, sir, you're welcome to my house.
Hark, Monsieur Vandal and my other sons,
Seem to be sad, as grieving for his sickness,
But inwardly rejoice. [_Aside._] Monsieur Vandal,
Signor Alvaro, Monsieur Delion,
Bid my friend welcome, pray, bid him welcome.
Take a good heart; I doubt not, by God's leave,
You shall recover and do well enough.
If I should think so, I should hang myself. [_Aside._
Frisco, go bid Marina come to me. [_Exit_ FRISCO.
You are a witness, sir, of this man's will:
What think you, Master Moore, what say you to't?
MOORE. Master Pisaro, follow mine advice:
You see the gentleman cannot escape,
Then let him straight be wedded to your daughter:
So, during lifetime, she shall hold his land,
When now (being not kith nor kin to him)
For all the deed of gift that he hath seal'd,
His younger brother will enjoy the land.[541]
PIS. Marry my daughter! No, by'r Lady!
Hear you, Alvaro, my friend counsels me,
Seeing young Master Harvey is so sick,
To marry him incontinent to my daughter,
Or else the gift he hath bestow'd is vain.
Marry, and he recover? No, my son,
I will not lose thy love for all his land.
ALV. Hear you, padre, do no lose his lands, his hundred pond
per anno, 'tis wort to avar; let him have de Maitress Marina in
de marriage, 'tis but vor me to attendre one day more. If he
will no die, I sal give him sush a drinck, sush a potion, sal
mak him give de bonos noches to all de world.
[_Aside._
PIS. Alvaro, here's my keys; take all I have,
My money, plate, wealth, jewels, daughter too.
Now, God be thanked, that I have a daughter
Worthy to be Alvaro's bed-fellow.
O, how I do admire and praise thy wit!
I'll straight about it. Hear you, Master Moore?
_Enter_ MARINA _and_ FRISCO.
FRIS. Nay, faith, he's sick; therefore, though he be come,
yet he can do you no good. There's no remedy, but even to put
yourself into the hands of the Italian, that by that time that
he hath pass'd his growth, young Harvey will be in case to come
upon it with a sise of fresh force. [_Exit._
MAR. Is my love come, and sick? Ay, now thou lov'st me,
How my heart joys! O God! get I my will,
I'll drive away that sickness with a kiss.
I need not feign, for I could weep for joy. [_Aside._
PIS. It shall be so. Come hither, daughter.
Master Harvey, that you may see my love
Comes from a single heart unfeignedly,
See here my daughter: her I make thine own.
Nay, look not strange: before these gentlemen
I freely yield Marina for thy wife.
HAR. Stay, stay, good sir! forbear this idle work!
My soul is labouring for a higher place
Than this vain, transitory world can yield:
What, would you wed your daughter to a grave?
For this is but death's model in man's shape[542].
You and Alvaro happy live together.
Happy were I to see you live together!
PIS. Come, sir, I trust you shall do well again.
Here, here, it must be so. God give you joy,
And bless you--[_Aside._] not a day to live together.
VAN. Hort ye, broder! will ye let den ander heb your wife?
nempt her, nempt her, yourself?
ALV. No, no; tush, you be de fool, here be dat sal spoil
marriage of him. You have deceive me of de fine wensh, Signor
Harvey, but I sal deceive you of de mush land. [_Aside._
HAR. Are all things sure, father? is all despatched?
PIS. What interest we have, we yield it you.
Are you now satisfied, or rests there aught?
HAR. Nay, father, nothing doth remain but thanks:
Thanks to yourself first that, disdaining me,
Yet lov'd my lands, and for them gave a wife.
But next unto Alvaro let me turn,
To courteous, gentle, loving, kind Alvaro!
That rather than to see me die for love--
For very love--would lose his beauteous love.
VAN. Ha, ha, ha!
DEL. Signor Alvaro, give him de ting quickly sal make him die,
autrement you sal lose de fine wensh.
ALV. Oyme! che havesse al hora appressata la mano al mio coro,
O suem curato ate, I che longo sei tu avinato, O cieli! O terra!
PIS. Am I awake, or do deluding dreams
Make that seem true which most my soul did fear?
HAR. Nay, faith, father, it's very certain true,
I am as well as any man on earth.
Am I sick, sirs? Look here, is Harvey sick?
PIS. What shall I do? what shall I say?
Did not you counsel me to wed my child?
What potion? Where's your help, your remedy?
HAR. I hope more happy stars will reign to-day,
And don Alvaro have more company.
ANTH. Now, Anthony, this cottons as it should,
And everything sorts to his wish'd effect.
Harvey joys Mall: my Dutchman and the French,
Thinking all sure, laugh at Alvaro's hap;
But quickly I shall mar that merry vein,
And make your fortunes equal with your friends.
PIS. Sirrah Mouche, what answer brought you back!
Will Master Balsaro come as I requested?
ANTH. Master Balsaro? I knownotwho you mean.
PIS. Know you not, ass? did not I send thee for him?
Did I not bid thee bring him with the parson?
What answer made he? will he come or no?
ANTH. Sent me for him? why, sir, you sent not me,
I neither went for him, nor for the parson.
I am glad to see your worship is so merry. [_Knocking._
PIS. Hence, you forgetful dolt! Look down who knocks[543].
[_Exit_ ANTHONY.
_Enter_ FRISCO.
FRIS. O master, hang yourself! nay, never stay for a sessions.
Master Vandal, confess yourself! desire the people to pray for
you, for your bride she is gone: Laurentia is run away.
VAN. O de diabolo, de mal-fortune! is Maitresse Laurentia gan
awech.
PIS. First tell me that I am a lifeless corse!
Tell me of doomsday, tell me what you will,
Before you say Laurentia is gone!
MAR. Master Vandal, how do you feel yourself?
What, hang the head? fie, man! for shame, I say:
Look not so heavy on your marriage-day.
HAR. O, blame him not: his grief is quickly spied,
That is a bridegroom, and yet wants his bride.
_Enter_ HEIGHAM, LAURENTIA, BALSARO, and
ANTHONY.
BAL. Master Pisaro and gentlemen, good day to all.
According, sir, as you requested me,
This morn I made repair unto the Tower,
Whereas Laurentia now was married:
And, sir, I did expect your coming thither;
Yet in your absence we perform'd the rites.
Therefore, I pray, sir, bid God give them joy.
HEIGH. He tells you true; Laurentia is my wife.
Who, knowing that her sisters must be wed,
Presuming also that you'll bid her welcome,
Are come to bear them company to church.
HAR. You come too late: the marriage rites are done:
Yet welcome twenty-fold unto the feast.
How say you, sirs, did I not tell you true,
These wenches would have us, and none of you?
LAUR. I cannot say for these; but on my life
This loves a cushion better than a wife.
MAR. And reason, too; that cushion fell out right,
Else hard had been his lodging all last night.
BAL. Master Pisaro, why stand you speechless thus?
PIS. Anger and extreme grief enforceth me.
Pray, sir, who bad you meet me at the Tower?
BAL. Who, sir? your man, sir--Mouche--here he is.
ANTH. Who? I, sir? mean you me? you are a jesting man.
PIS. Thou art a villain, a dissembling wretch,
Worser than Anthony, whom I kept last!
Fetch me an officer! I'll hamper you,
And make you sing at Bridewell for this trick:
For well he hath deserv'd it, that would swear
He went not forth a-doors at my appointment.
ANTH. So swear I still: I went not forth to-day.
BAL. Why, arrant liar, wert thou not with me?
PIS. How say you, Master Brown? went he not forth?
BROWN. He, or his likeness did, I know not whether.
PIS. What likeness can there be besides himself?
LAUR. Myself, forsooth, that took his shape upon me.
I was that Mouche that you sent from home;
And that same Mouche that deceived you,
Effected to possess this gentleman;
Which to attain, I thus beguil'd you all.
FRIS. This is excellent; this is as fine as a fiddle! you,
Master Heigham, got the wench in Mouche's apparel; now let
Mouche put on her apparel, and be married to the Dutchman! How
think you, is it not a good vice?
MOORE. Master Pisaro, shake off melancholy:
When things are helpless, patience must be used.
PIS. Talk of patience? I'll not bear these wrongs?
Go call down Mat and Mistress Susan Moore,
'Tis well that of all three we have one sure.
MOORE. Mistress Susan Moore! who do you mean, sir?
PIS. Whom should I mean, sir, but your daughter?
MOORE. You're very pleasant, sir; but tell me this,
When did you see her, that you speak of her?
PIS. I? late yesternight, when she came here to bed.
MOORE. You are deceived; my daughter lay not here,
But watch'd with her sick mother all last night.
PIS. I am glad you are so pleasant, Master Moore;
You're loth that Susan should be held a sluggard.
What, man, 'twas late before she went to bed,
And therefore time enough to rise again.
MOORE. Master Pisaro, do you flout your friends?
I well perceive, if I had troubled you,
I should have had it in my dish ere now.
Susan lie here? I'm sure when I came forth,
I left her fast asleep in bed at home.
'Tis more than neighbourhood to use me thus.
PIS. Abed at your house? tell me I am mad.
Did not I let her in a-doors myself,
Spoke to her, talk'd with her, and canvass'd with her?
And yet she lay not here! What say you, sirrah?
ANTH. She did, she did: I brought her to her chamber.
MOORE. I say he lies, that saith so, in his throat.
ANTH. Mass, now I remember me, I lie indeed.
PIS. O, how this frets me! Frisco, what say you?
FRIS. What say I? Marry, I say, if she lay not here, there was
a familiar in her likeness; for I am sure my master and she
were so familiar together, that he had almost shot the gout out
of his toes' ends to make the wench believe he had one trick
of youth in him. Yet now I remember me, she did not lie here;
and the reason is, because she doth lie here, and is now abed
with Mistress Mathea: witness whereof I have set to my hand and
seal, and mean presently to fetch her. [_Exit_ FRISCO.
PIS. Do so, Frisco. Gentlemen and friends,
Now shall you see how I am wrong'd by him.
Lay she not here? I think the world's grown wise:
Plain folks, as I, shall not know how to live.
_Enter_ FRISCO.
FRIS. She comes, she comes! a hall, a hall!
_Enter_ MATHEA _and_ WALGRAVE _in woman's attire_.
WAL. Nay, blush not, wench; fear not, look cheerfully.
Good morrow, father; good morrow, gentlemen.
Nay, stare not, look you here: no monster I,
But even plain Ned, and here stands Mat my wife.
Know you her, Frenchman? But she knows me better.
Father! pray, father, let me have your blessing,
For I have bless'd you with a goodly son.
'Tis breeding here: i' faith, a jolly boy.
PIS. I am undone! a reprobate, a slave!
A scorn, a laughter, and a jesting-stock!
Give me my child, give me my daughter from you!
MOORE. Master Pisaro, 'tis in vain to fret,
And fume, and storm: it little now avails:
These gentlemen have, with your daughters' help,
Outstripp'd you in your subtle enterprises;
And therefore, seeing they are well-descended,
Turn hate to love, and let them have their loves.
PIS. Is it even so? Why, then I see that still,
Do what we can, women will have their will.
Gentlemen, you have outreach'd me now,
Which ne'er before you any yet could do:
You, that I thought should be my sons indeed,
Must be content, since there's no hope to speed:
Others have got what you did think to gain;
And yet, believe me, they have took some pain.
Well, take them: there: and with them God give joy.
And, gentlemen, I do entreat to-morrow,
That you will feast with me for all this sorrow:
Though you are wedded, yet the feast's not made.
Come, let us in, for all the storms are past,
And heaps of joy will follow on as fast.
FINIS.
FOOTNOTES:
[540] [This is supposed to be spoken from an upper chamber.]
[541] There is generally a considerable difference between stage law
and statute law.
[542] The two latest editions spoil the line by reading--
"For this is death's model in man's shape."
[543] [See note at p. 556.]
Transcriber's Notes:
Simple spelling, grammar, and typographical errors were
corrected.
Punctuation normalized.
Anachronistic and non-standard spellings retained as printed.
Italics markup is enclosed in _underscores_.